#this is all i want from season two please

[ladysharmaa]

Why don't you love me?

Anthony Bridgerton x reader

Summary: Y/n and Anthony are in an arranged marriage. When she stops trying to make the relationship work and be the perfect wife, Anthony realizes what he's lost. Will he be able to get her back?

(gift is not mine)

It wasn't the marriage she wanted. And it wasn't what he wanted, because, in fact, he didn't even want to be married. And he didn't mind showing it. But for Y/n, she tried to make the best of their unfortunate situation.

It all started at the beginning of the season when Violet Bridgerton decided that her firstborn had been single for too long. So, she spoke to Y/n's parents, who were good friends of hers, and they both decided that a marriage between the two would be beneficial to both families. Anthony was going to have the support of someone who would take Violet's place as Viscountess and Lady Bridgerton. For Y/n's life, in this society, having a husband was essential and this marriage would allow social advancement.

Thus, Anthony and Y/n agreed with this decision. The preparation for the wedding was carried out quickly and this event was the biggest news for days. Lady Whistledown didn't help matters either by immediately releasing an advert showing her doubts about Anthony having a wife.

This only worsened Y/n's mood, who already feared being married to Viscount Bridgerton, as she was now doubting all the lovers Anthony could take to their bed. Would he not respect their marriage? Did she just want an heir and take care of the children? With these doubts, she said the "I do" in front of hundreds of people watching the ceremony, and allowed just one tear to fall.

From the beginning, Anthony made a point of making it clear that their marriage was purely a compromise, and that he would never truly love her. He was going to fulfill his role and try to have an heir and outside the house, they would act like a happy couple, but it wouldn't go beyond that. In silence, Y/n just offered him a nod, showing that she understood.

However, since then, nothing has happened between them. Anthony allowed her to have her own room, something Y/n was more than grateful for. Having to look at the face of her husband who would never love her every time she fell asleep would be too painful.

She was expecting that on some nights he would enter her room to try to get her with child. But none of that happened, which only confused Y/n more. Was he so disgusted by the idea of being married to her that he didn't even want to have pleasure with her?

So she tried to distract herself with tasks that could take some of the work off Anthony's shoulders and try to be the perfect wife. But Anthony still refused to spend more than five minutes alone with her. At breakfast, he was already at the office when Y/n woke up to go eat, at night he preferred to spend time with his brothers instead of returning home. He was making everyone's life difficult and Y/n was starting to get more and more sad. Would this be her routine until the end of her life? Trying to please a husband who didn't want her?

It was on a summer afternoon that Y/n, upon returning from a social gathering with Anthony's mother and sister, realized how hot the mansion was. She quickly remembered how Viscount's office, the few times she had been there, was directly in the sun which made it even hotter. So she decided to be brave and try to have at least a friendly relationship with her husband, so she went to the kitchen to get a glass of water.

With growing nerves, Y/n went to Anthony's office door and knocked on the wood. After hearing Anthony's voice, she opened the door, finding him plus Benedict, who had become good friends with Y/n.

"Oh, I apologize if I am interrupting." she said shyly, keeping to the doorway.

"You are." Anthony immediately agreed in a deep voice, not paying attention to her and turning his attention back to the papers.

At the same time, his brother hurried to assure Y/n, "You're not interrupting anything. You even saved me from Anthony's boring lecture here."

The woman smiled uncomfortably. "Right. I just came to bring you a cup of water. It's so warm outside. I wasn't aware you were here, Mr. Bridgerton, but I can go and also bring you some water."

"Thank you, Y/n, I would—"

However, he couldn't finish his sentence as Anthony hit the table, causing his wife to jump in fright and immediately take a step back. Her reaction made Anthony's expression show some regret, but he quickly hid it. A silence fell between the three.

"I'm fed up, Y/n! Can't you understand that men are trying to work?! Go back to your life of looking at flowers and walking around without having to do anything and leave!"

Y/n's mouth opened and closed several times, trying to understand what had just happened. Finally, she pursed her lips and her eyes turned cold. "I apologize, Lord Bridgerton. It won't happen again. If you'll excuse me."

When she left the room, Benedict looked at his brother in shock. "That was so harsh. The poor girl was trying to be nice and cared enough to bring you a glass of water. If you don't want it, I'll have it. I'm talking about the glass and her."

"Don't you dare." he muttered with a clenched jaw, glaring furiously at Benedict. Where did this anger come from just thinking about Y/n with another man? "Now, let's go back to discuss how you spent money on a bet."

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Y/n's behavior with Anthony changed completely. Everyone noticed that the Viscountess finally reached her limit, and stopped being the friendly wife, now looking coldly at her husband whenever they passed each other in the mansion. However, as a couple and heads of the family, they still had obligations to fulfill together.

Public appearances were more tense, but they still managed to keep a smile on their faces and talk to all the ladies who asked about their marriage and when they would have children, giving short answers so that nothing would end up in Lady Whistledown's hands. They also attended a horse race, even betting on different horses that would win. Y/n ended up winning the bet, and her smug look irritated Anthony for the rest of the day, something his brothers were quick to tease him about.

But despite not liking Anthony after his cruel words, which Y/n still thought about constantly, she adored his sisters and mother. They had accepted Y/n into the family, including her in their gatherings and even being a should to cry on. Daphne had already said more than once that she would have no problem going to Anthony and try to talk some sense into him, but Y/n refused. Anthony already didn't like her, if he thought she was turning his family against him he would hate her even more. And she didn't need to make her life worse than it already was.

One day, when she went with Anthony to the Bridgerton mansion to drop off some documents, Hyacinth, Anthony's younger sister, took her aside. Y/n followed the girl to the bathroom where she, with teary eyes and trembling lips, asked her if she was going to die when she started bleeding from her lady parts. Hyacinth also revealed to her that she wanted to go to her mother, but she had gone shopping with Francesca and was alone at home with just Collin. Y/n, very calmly and gently, assured her that it was a normal thing and that all women went through this, explaining what she should do.

It was no secret that Y/n was happy that Hyacinth trusted her with this scary situation and that she was able to help the girl. Despite all the problems in her marriage, she now had a role in helping Anthony's sisters and she never wanted to fail in that.

To Y/n's surprise, Hyacinth ended up giving her a big hug, remaining attached to her for the rest of the afternoon. Her period was making her so affectionate, more than she already was, that Y/n couldn't stop a big smile from appearing on her face at receiving so much affection.

Anthony, when he finally finished talking to Collin about the documents he brought, I was surprised to see his sister on the couch hugging Y/n. "Hyacinth, what are you doing?"

"Hugging my sister-in-law, brother. But you don't know what that is, do you?" she snapped. The girl's change in mood made Y/n have to put a hand over her mouth to keep Anthony from hearing the laughter that escaped her.

The shock on Anthony's face was comical. His little sister was basically choosing Y/n over him. And in truth, he didn't judge her because his wife was, without a doubt, better than him. And she deserved so much better.

On the other hand, his heart warmed when he saw the bond that the two had created. It was clear that Y/n felt great affection for his family. Could it be that if he had accepted this marriage from the beginning, they would now be a happy family? That they would spend afternoons together, cuddling on the couch and talking to his siblings? All these thoughts were racing through his mind, and the guilt was growing so much that he felt like he was going to vomit.

"Lord Bridgerton?" that sweet voice he had come to adore brought him out of his thoughts. He hated that since he snapped at her, she never called him by his first name again.

"What?" he asked, still disoriented.

Y/n was looking at him like he was stupid. "I asked if you were ready to leave. Hyacinth already went to her room to rest. I would like to do the same. So you must make haste."

Her bossy tone almost made his lips curl into a smile, but he controlled himself in time. "Of course, wife. We shall leave now. But I have to ask, what happened between you and my sister?"

"All you need to know is that she's fine and she's a woman now. But don't worry, as your wife, I'll handle these situations. Unless you prefer me to go look at the flowers, take a walk, and do nothing?"

The hint, which was delivered with great anger, caused the man to blush in shame and lower his head. Y/n didn't wait for his answer, taking her coat from a maid and walking to the carriage. He had screwed everything up.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

A few more days had passed and the situation between Y/n and Anthony had only gotten stranger. The day after the situation with Hyacinth, Y/n was coming down from her room to go get breakfast, as she always did, when she came across Anthony at the table, appearing to be waiting for her to eat.

Y/n stopped abruptly, looking at him in shock. "What are you doing?"

"I'm waiting for you so we can have breakfast. I have to go see my brothers again today to talk business, so I was thinking you could come with me and spend some time with my sisters. My mother She's also been saying how she hasn't seen you in a while. That is, only if you want to go. If not, I'll just go… Or I'll stay here to keep you company, whatever you want." he choked up, finishing his speech by drinking some milk, perhaps to calm his nerves.

Y/n remained in place without moving. She looked at Anthony strangely, as if doubting that those words had even come out of his mouth.

"It was silly of me to ask—"

"No," she interrupted him. "It's fine. I would actually like to go and spend time with your sisters. They are lovely. I shall go get ready then."

"Aren't you going to have breakfast with me first?"

"Lord Bridgerton, I've been eating breakfast alone since we got married and I came to live with you. I think you can handle doing the same for a day. Excuse me." she said with an exaggerated smile, turning her back on him and starting to go back to her room. However, she turned back to go get a cake that was on the table. "But I'm hungry so I will eat this in my chambers."

"Call me Anthony!" he exclaimed before she was completely gone. He had a desperate look, almost looking like he needed to hear his name come out of her lips.

"No."

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Like every year, the Queen decided to throw a ball to celebrate the Diamond of the Season. The most eligible maiden on the marriage market. Y/n still remembers the first ball she attended — Daphne was the diamond of the season, but Y/n also managed to dance with a few suitors. Of course, in the end, she didn't end up marrying any of them. However, the nerves she felt at that ball were equal to or less than what she felt today: her first ball married to Anthony.

The Viscount and Viscountess had entered together, her hand resting on his arm, followed by Violet and the rest of his siblings. Tonight they would have to be on the lookout for suitors who might want to dance with Francesca, the diamond of the season.

Anthony quietly appreciated his wife. She looked breathtaking in her dress, her hair neatly tied back that showed off her majestic earrings, given by Anthony on their wedding day. He was proud to have a wife like Y/n, and he regreted that he hadn't shown it since day one.

While the Bridgertons started to go their own way, interacting with other people and dancing, Y/n preferred to stay in the corner watching the couples dancing. She longed to experience that with Anthony, but not in a forced way like some were. No, she wanted it to be felt, for them to dance to the music and really appreciate that moment.

But instead of her husband approaching her, it was another man, Earl Cavendish. Y/n remembered some moments when she had already seen him, as he was looking to get married this season. As she approached her, with a confident air, Y/n lowered her head to compliment him, "Good afternoon, Earl Cavendish."

"Lady Bridgerton, a pleasure to meet you. I must say, you look flawless. Would you give me the pleasure of dancing with me?" he extended his hand.

Y/n's eyes widened, not knowing what to do. People had already started looking at them, whispering among themselves. However, she didn't have to respond to the invitation as she felt an arm wrap around her waist and bring her closer to him.

"Excuse me, Earl Cavendish, but I want to have the pleasure of dancing with my beautiful wife first." Anthony said with his jaw clenched, looking him up and down menacingly. "I'm sure you will be able to find other ladies to dance with tonight. Just not my wife."

The two men looked at each other for a few seconds, neither of them wanting to back down. Anthony grew more and more furious, her wrists clenching and bringing Y/n even closer to him, but careful not to hurt her.

"Very well. I shall leave. I hope to see you again someday, Lady Bridgerton."

"I will —" Anthony began by exclaiming in anger as the Earl walked towards another woman, not having liked the way he looked at what was his.

"You will do nothing." the Viscountess snapped coldly. "I can't understand you, you ignore me, you treat me badly, and then you act protective when another man shows interest in me? I never said anything about you having lovers, even though I didn't like that in our marriage."

"What? I've never disrespected our marriage like that, Y/n. In the past I've done a lot of things, but since we got married the only woman I'll look at and touch is you. I don't want anyone else."

"You have a funny way of showing it." she laughed sarcastically, feeling increasingly emotional. "I have to go get some air. You should go check on Francesca again."

Feeling the cold night air, Y/n's heart began to calm down. It was so difficult having to deal with Anthony's changes of attitude, she couldn't understand him. She just wanted to be loved, and since that wasn't possible, she preferred that they stay as far away from each other as possible since being friends didn't seem to be an option either.

"I'm sorry." the voice she had come to know so well whispered behind her. Y/n refused to turn around, leaning against the balcony and taking deep breaths to control her emotions. "I shouldn't have acted the way I did. I know that marrying me shouldn't have been your choice either, but I was scared. I was scared to have a wife, because that meant I had another person in my life that I could lose ."

She finally had the courage to turn around and look into Anthony's brown eyes. They held back tears and showed the sadness, regret and anger that Anthony felt.

"I'm so angry with myself for the way I treated you. You deserve so much better than this. And I'm sorry I couldn't give you that. The cruel words I said to you but didn't mean. I was scared to let you in. in my heart, so I tried to push you away. Believe that all I want is to have you in my arms. To love you. To start a family with you. Please, I promise I will do better. And every day I will try to reward you for what you do.

"Lord Bridgerton—"

"Please, call me Anthony. It pains me when you call me like that. Reminds me that I was… Am so close to losing the best thing of my life. I will kneel before you and beg for forgiveness if that's what you want." he murmured with a hand over his heart, beginning to kneel on the ground without hesitation.

"There is no need for that… Anthony." she enjoyed seeing the relief and happiness that spread across his face upon hearing his first name. "I just don't understand why you didn't love me? And now you want to try to make our marriage work?"

"That's the thing, I have always loved you. I love you. My whole body, my heart, feels love for you. That has never changed." he revealed desperately. "I was a coward and didn't know how to deal with my feelings. Because they are so strong that my heart feels like it's going to come out of my chest. Please, give me another chance."

"Hmm, I don't now." The look of disappointment was so marked on Anthony's face, almost looking like he was ready to burst into tears, that Y/n stopped his suffering and showed him an amused smile, making him understand that she was joking. "I think I want you to suffer a little more to get my forgiveness."

"I will do anything for you, Y/n. Ask me the world and I will give it to you."

"Such a romantic now, aren't you?" she whispered, admiring his features.

She didn't realize their faces were so close until she felt his nose trace the delicate skin of her cheek. A gasp escaped her mouth, and Anthony took the opportunity to connect their lips in an unforgettable kiss.

Anthony pulled away quicker than he wanted, but he needed to make sure this was really what his wife wanted. "I love you."

"Kiss me again, and maybe I will also tell you that."

And what his wife wanted, he did. The two remained on the balcony, enjoying the comfort the other gave them. They still had a long way to go, but they knew that from that moment on, their lives would change drastically for the better. They had each other.

#anthony bridgerton #anthony bridgerton x reader #bridgerton #bridgerton imagine #benedict bridgerton #anthony bridgerton x you #collin bridgerton #daphne bridgerton #eloise bridgerton #bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton x female reader #anthony bridgerton x y/n

[ham1lton]

summer came like cinnamon (so sweet)

pairing(s): logan sargeant x reader. oscar piastri x reader.

warnings: mentions of mental health, dieting, fractured friendships and constant mention of jim’s ice cream parlour. also different povs, it goes through the minds of all three of the main characters.

summary: after their rookie season, in a bid to repair their friendship, the two drivers decide to take their new paycheques and go explore the sun, sea and sands of greece. what they didn’t anticipate was to bump into you.

wordcount: 5.6k

author’s note: this is my first semi-interactive fic, please give it some love <3 any major issues in travelling and stuff like in terms of logistics? please ignore. also let me know who you’re planning on choosing. team oscar or team logan?

— wanna be updated on the next parts? join my taglist! —

— part one of the summer lovin’ series. —

[ i ain’t a kid no more / we’ll never be those kids again ]

logan didn’t know why he was so overwhelmed with anxiety, when he knocked on oscar’s door on that rainy thursday night.

this was his oscar, the oscar that had practically grown up with him. the one who knew how he liked his toast and that he was fond of a burger with all the extras. that he had a scar on his left ankle from when he was a kid and wrestled with his brother after watching too much wwe.

ever since he had signed to williams and oscar had been a mclaren driver, they had hardly talked in comparison to their pre-formula one days. when he had crashed out during a race, he half expected oscar to text him or come knocking on his hotel door.

he didn’t. logan pretended he wasn’t surprised.

fuck it. bite the bullet. he lifted his hand high and knocked on the door. three quick taps in succession.

“one moment!” oscar called from inside. logan would wait, even if that old lady from room 135 kept looking at him like he was an intruder. maybe he was. he hadn’t been in oscar’s room for a while.

oscar opened the door with messy hair and a shirt that had been clearly shoved on before he opened the door.

“logan? hi.” oscar swallowed. the awkwardness in the space between the two of them felt heavy. “you okay mate?”

“yeah! yeah.” logan fake laughed, rubbing his sweaty palms against his jeans. “just wanted to come see you.”

“i’m here.” oscar grinned, with no teeth, at his own joke. “wanna come in?”

“sure. kinda awkward talking in the hallway anyways. that old lady is about five minutes from calling the cops on me.”

“oh that’s just brenda.” oscar said after leaning out and getting a glance at the woman, who waved at him. he waved back. “she’s harmless.”

logan followed oscar into his room. it was bigger than his and he didn’t know if feeling jealous was appropriate. he had felt many emotions when it came to oscar; happy, sad, angry, and others. he didn’t want jealousy to join the list.

“sorry, my room is a mess. i wasn’t expecting company.” oscar laughed with no heart behind it as he sat down on his unmade bed. “take a seat logan, you’re giving me anxiety just standing around.”

logan immediately sits down on the desk chair.

“so, what are your plans for the summer?”

“mine?” oscar thinks to himself. “probably just to go see my family and my friends back home.”

“i was thinking maybe we could, i don’t know.” logan bites his lip anxiously. “do something together?”

“like what?” oscar is curious now, his eyes focused.

“maybe go on that european holiday we always talked about? we have the money now and no parents to tell us no like last time.” logan speaks in a rush. “but obviously if you say no, dude that’s totally fine.”

logan looks at oscar, who’s actually considering it? he thinks to himself for a moment before turning to logan.

“how many days?”

“as long as you’d like.”

“where would we go?”

“anywhere you’d want.”

“make a decision, logan. i’ll say yes or no.”

“we always wanted to go to greece? how about there? maybe for three weeks?”

“we should go for a month. we can travel.”

wait. so that means? oscar’s face is still impassive. he doesn’t say yes or no, but he is still considering it. that’s a positive.

“that’s fine. i’m flexible.”

“i’ll plan it.” oscar nods.

“so is that a yes?”

“obviously.” oscar finally smiles, open and dazzling. logan grins too, allowing himself to bask in the approval. he was almost 67% sure that oscar would say no. he’d already done the maths, but it wasn’t his strongest subject anyways.

“i’ll text you the details.” oscar nods and logan gets up, running a hand through his hair. giddy with happiness that he’ll finally win his best friend back. this’ll be the trip that heals them. that heals him.

-❀-

oscar gets stressed when he’s not in charge. everything has to go through him. the plans, the schedule and especially the driving. he’s never liked being in the passenger seat. his hands get fidgety and he doesn’t know how to calm them down.

he’s lucky that logan is all too happy to sit in it, his eyes focused on making the perfect road trip playlist. for some reason, they’d decided to drive from london all the way down to munich.

they’d already driven down from london and through the eurotunnel and took a break sightseeing in france - which oscar had already scheduled for. they ate their weight in croissants. they ate steak and frites. logan had bought them matching ‘i ♥︎ paris’ t-shirts and oscar rolled his eyes but packed it neatly in his suitcase anyways.

they hadn’t talked about anything other than surface level topics. logan talking about his favourite sports teams, them both discussing the grid and plans for the upcoming season and the usual small talk about their family’s wellbeings.

they didn’t talk about how they ignored each other unless a camera necessitated a conversation. they didn’t talk about logan’s bad season. they stayed up till stupid hours watching badly dubbed french movies and ordering takeout.

they drove to germany, dropped off their rental car and then got a plane from munich to athens. it wasn’t very long at all but logan still curled up against the window and tried to sleep. they were both connected to the spotify account on logan’s phone - logan using his headphones and oscar with his airpods. their road trip playlist still playing.

oscar didn’t know why he didn’t take them out, even when the playlist inevitably repeated itself.

-❀-

they’d been in athens all of two days when they met you. logan had gone an insanely bright red when he’d forgotten his sunscreen had ran out. oscar laughed at first but then ran to the nearest pharmacy to grab emergency sunscreen and aloe vera for the both of them.

after slathering themselves, they’d decided to seek refuge in a small ice cream store. despite the hot weather, the store was almost completely empty besides the two of them and you. you were fiddling with your phone in the corner as you attempted to hook it up to the speakers.

“fuck’s sake!” you shout quietly, frustratingly trying to make it work. “i can’t do this shift without any music. my thoughts’ll drive me insane.”

“um?” oscar breaks the awkward silence. you jump and turn around. the first thing that they both notice is that you’re pretty. really pretty. even in the unflattering oversized neon green work t-shirt.

“sorry! sorry! i apologise. i didn’t think anyone was in the shop. please forgive me.” you look flustered as you move to quickly wash your hands and dry them. “what would you both like today?”

to be honest, logan hadn’t been thinking about the ice cream. oscar didn’t need to think, he was going to get his usual order.

“can i get two scoops of mint chocolate chip?”

“oh that’s disgusting. i forgot that you eat that.” logan shakes his head in shock.

“it’s good. you’re just a hater.” oscar rolls his eyes. “stick to your boring vanilla.”

“it’s a classic!” logan turns to you and asks for two scoops of vanilla and one scoop of mango. you smile and begin to start their orders.

“you guys aren’t from around here, are you?” you ask.

“nah. the accents give it away?” logan laughs as he slings an arm around oscar’s shoulder. oscar rolls his eyes again but makes no move to push him away.

“yeah. a little bit.” you pinch your fingers together as you say it. “i’m not really from here either.”

“no?” oscar replies this time, curious.

“international student. this was one of the few places that’d hire me with my insane schedule. i’m lucky i have the next month off, thankfully.”

“aren’t you going back home?”

“i could if i wasn’t scheduled to work here practically every day for the next month.” you finish logan’s order and move on to oscar’s. you shrug. “and i need the money. the job could be worse really, i just wish the speaker fucking worked and the air conditioning. luckily i stand close to the ice cream.”

“what do you study?”

“archaeology.”

“best place for that is probably here.”

“yes. i don’t know why but ever since i was a little girl i knew i wanted to come to greece and study here. this is the less glamorous side of it but i’m here doing what i love.”

“that’s all that matters right?” logan chimes in. you nod as you scan their orders into your till.

“that’ll be €7.62.” you say. “cash or card?”

“cash.” oscar says as he pulls out his wallet. he’s infinitely glad he’d prepared and went to the cash exchange in london before he’d left. logan doesn’t even bother to offer, he picks up his ice cream and starts to eat it.

oscar hands you the cash as logan moves to a booth right by the open door to take advantage of the breeze. you count back the change and place it right in his hand. his heart doubles a beat as your hands touch for a moment but the moment is broken as your phone suddenly decides that now is the time to work.

the speakers start blaring natasha bedingfield’s ‘pocketful of sunshine’. you curse, close the till with your hip and turn to fiddle with the playlist.

oscar thinks he’s a little in love.

-❀-

logan knows that oscar likes you, which is a problem because he likes you too.

this road trip was supposed to be about finding themselves, not finding you. yet, when they find themselves back in your ice cream store the next few days, it’s no coincidence.

“you’re back again! the american and australian.” on day four, you’re not alone this time. you have a colleague, a girl who’s slightly older than you. she smirks at the two of them like she knows a secret they don’t know. “i’m not the only international one here!”

the speakers seem to work normally today, playing elton john as you hum along with it. your colleague decides that it’s time to take her lunch break, slipping off her apron and leaving the three of you to it.

“same thing as every day? or are we changing it up?”

“what do you recommend?” logan asks earnestly. he’s not losing oscar to you, maybe if he charms you enough, you’ll pick him. he doubts you will.

“everything is good here but if you really want my opinion? the chocolate fudge is a real crowd pleaser.”

“i’ll take two scoops of that and oscar’ll just have mint chocolate.” logan pulls out his wallet, opens it to find a mix of euros in there. he takes a moment to pick at the right change when you shake your head at him.

“no, it’s fine. it’s on the house today. i’m in a good mood.”

“why?”

“a lot of reasons. you know what? i forgot that i didn’t even introduce myself. i’m y/n.”

“we know.” oscar is amused.

“how? are you psychic? i used to know a psychic once and i also watched that’s so raven. great show.”

“your name badge.” logan nods at your shirt as he eats a spoonful of ice cream. you were right, it’s amazing. not too sickly but just the right amount of chocolate.

“oh.” you bite your lip in embarrassment as oscar takes his ice cream.

“i’m oscar and the american is logan.” logan smiles and waves his free hand at you. “is the shop always this empty?”

“no. it’s really busy after school and at peak times. you just always come quite early. lucky. it’s hell in here when it’s busy.” you seem relieved for the topic change. “you both here on holiday?”

“yeah. a break from our jobs.”

“lucky. my best friend is back home and i wish she was with me. she’s planning on coming up at some point thankfully. i hate being here without all my friends.”

“i can be your friend.” logan says. then he immediately regrets it. what if you think that he’s a weirdo? but when your face lights up, he realises that regret was a fleeting feeling.

“i’d love that. let me take your number. one of the guys from my class is hosting a beach party tonight if you both wanna come.”

logan looks at oscar who shrugs as if to say ‘i don’t mind if you don’t’. logan turns back to you, who is the middle of unlocking your phone and grins.

“we’ll be there.”

he types his number in your phone and sends a message to himself to save yours.

“i’ll text you the details.”

the speaker interrupts the moment that you have as it starts to malfunction. you curse again and throw your hands up in annoyance.

“stupid fucking speaker! so stupid!”

-❀-

the party is already well underway, when oscar and logan arrive. logan didn’t bother with buttoning up his shirt. he wasn’t necessarily the most confident man in the world but he was comfortable with his nakedness in a way that oscar didn’t think he’d ever be. oscar was in a undershirt with a loose overshirt.

you finally make your way over to them, panting slightly. you’re wearing a plain white bikini with an open oversized orange and yellow patterned hawaiian shirt. your hair is free from the bun they’ve seen you in work with. you smile, easy and happy.

“my two favourite customers!” you sling an arm around the two of them, hugging them so close that they can smell your perfume. “come on, let me introduce you to the five other people i know.”

you lead them down to the bonfire, where three girls and two other guys are crowded around. they cheer when you arrive with the two of them.

“guys, this is oscar and logan.” they wave politely. “oscar and logan, this is anya, jerome, alex, sienna and jaya.”

the group all cheer and welcome the two guys. it’s clear that everyone is already buzzed. oscar has never really been a big drinker so he declines a beer when offered. logan shotguns it, the residue dripping down his face. you laugh and attempt to wipe it off his face. logan goes lax in your touch and oscar can’t watch anymore.

the speaker that someone played is playing shakira as the two of you giggle in your own little world. oscar turns to jerome? or was it alex? and starts a conversation. talking about some footy game that they were watching earlier. oscar is about as into football as the next guy, but he really needs to focus on something else besides the two of you.

oscar knew that logan had always harboured some sort of inferiority complex when it came to the two of them, but logan had something that oscar doesn’t think he’d ever have - being genuinely likeable.

oscar knew he’d have to win because no one would support him as a loser. logan is just likeable regardless of what position he’s in - an underdog if he loses and a force of nature when he wins.

likeable gets the girl.

-❀-

you decide to walk the two of them to the end of the beach. the night is inky black and the only light is the remnants of the bonfire you’d lit earlier. logan is buzzed, oscar is distant and you’re still vibrating from the fact that logan made the two of you run into the cold water with him in the middle of the night.

“tonight was fun! i’m glad you were both able to make it!” you lean in and hug them both goodbye. logan swears you’d lingered a little longer while hugging him. “i’ll see you both at jim’s ice cream?”

“what is that?” logan asks bluntly. oscar elbows him lightly, not hard enough to cause damage but just enough to wind him slightly.

“the ice cream parlour she works at dumbass.” he turns to you. “we’ll see you there”

“well, i do work there. so yeah.” you laugh. all twinkly and bright. then you’re waving and jogging back to your friends. oscar watches logan look at you and sighs.

“come on man, let’s get you back.”

-❀-

logan wakes up with a hangover the next morning. oscar is a good friend and runs to the continental free breakfast and sneaks him out some waffles, croissants and eggs. he walks to the pharmacy again, paying for some ibuprofen (at least he hopes that’s what it is) with his cash and runs to the corner store to grab some extra snacks.

logan’s eyes are wide with both joy and disbelief. joy that something is there for his splitting headache and disbelief that oscar would do that for him. oscar feels a little ball of guilt unravelling inside. how bad had he let their friendship become?

they spend the day inside for the most part. watching television together. then they go outside to the pool, logan immediately jumps in but oscar sits on the side. he pulls out his phone and scrolls through the texts that he’s been ignoring. the ones from some friends, his mum, and you?

it’s not a coincidence right? that you spent the whole evening with logan and text him the next day?

he holds the phone close to his chest. he doesn’t want logan seeing this. he doesn’t know why that is. he quickly texts you back. then logan shouts.

“hey oscar! come in! the water is gorgeous.”

oscar grins and slips into the water, keeping his shirt on.

-❀-

the two of them end up at the steak restaurant together that night. they’re both dressed as nicely as possible. oscar in a nice sweater and logan in a dress shirt. the maître d’ smiled knowingly at the two of them and led them to their table.

“he thinks we’re together.” oscar whispers to logan.

“are we not?”

“we are in the literal sense. i meant in the romantic, relationship sort of sense.” logan laughs and bats his eyelashes all coy.

“oh no! oscar are you breaking up with me?”

“obviously. i’m leaving you for my secretary.” oscar’s deadpan voice just makes logan laugh harder.

“i knew it, that skank! i’ll get him fired.” oscar laughs too, breaking out into an easy smile that comes easily when logan’s around.

the sounds of the restaurant move around the two of them as they peruse the menu for a long time. it’s been a while with no conversation when oscar bites the bullet and brings it up.

“hey.” logan looks up. “i’m sorry.”

“for the secretary? don’t be. i’m running away with the pool boy.” oscar shakes his head, smiling.

“no.” oscar says. “for what happened. letting our friendship fall to the sidelines. i didn’t mean it but it didn’t excuse it. i really do like being your friend logan. i wouldn’t jeopardise that.”

logan is silent. oscar wonders if he’s crossed some unspoken line. he bites the inside of his cheek and looks at the wall of the restaurant’s decor. it’s all dark in here. would it kill them to buy some light bulbs? he understands its for ‘ambiance’ and that shit but he’s worried that he won’t be able to find his steak in the darkness.

“i was gonna say i was sorry. i thought it was my fault. that you didn’t want to be friends with,” he cuts himself off, laughing awkwardly. “a loser.”

“no. that wasn’t it. you’re not a loser, not to me.”

“i am. that’s a fact. it’s okay. you’re very nice for that but, it’s just not true.” logan swallows thickly. “now, should i get potatoes or fries as my sides?”

oscar doesn’t comment on logan’s facial expression, that he looks like he’s holding it together by a thread. he knew emotional vulnerability took a lot out of him but it was harder on the person who admitted failure.

“potatoes.” logan grins and nods before calling over the waiter.

-❀-

the next time you saw the two guys was two days after the bonfire party. they came in laughing at a joke that had happened way before they had even walked in. you find yourself standing up as soon as they enter.

“hi! y/n!” logan’s smile is always wide and happy to see you. oscar’s smile is muted but it’s still sweet. “what would you recommend for me? i liked the chocolate fudge.”

“hmm,” you think, running your hand along the counter. “we have a new flavour, chocolate covered raspberry? it’s quite popular. i think you’d like it.”

“i trust your judgement, ice cream girl.”

you crack a smile at the nickname, the smile so big that it momentarily hurts your face for a moment. you turn to oscar.

“and what about you?”

“same as usual, two scoops of vanilla.”

you nod, getting to work on the ice creams. you even offer to pay for them but they argue, threatening to shove it all in the tip jar anyway. oscar pays and when your back is turned, logan shoves twice the amount into the tip jar.

“wanna sit with us in the booth today y/n?” logan asks, taking a spoonful of his ice cream. “it’s not like anyones here.”

oscar looks up at you with his wide eyes, not really eating his ice cream. he just swirls it, until it turns into a sort of thick soup. you shrug and slide into the booth across from the two of them. you don’t have anything else to do and if a customer does decide to walk in? well, you’ll just slide back behind the counter.

“so, what’s your plan for the future?” logan grins. “and i know it’s the worst possible question to ask any young person but i’m curious. what’s the goal? is there one? it’s okay if there isn’t.”

“dream is to become an archeologist and backup plan? i don’t know. work in an office or something? maybe teaching. i haven’t thought that far ahead just yet.” you bite your lip and look out the window for a second. the day is hot, and you’re stuck inside. “what about you two? what do you do?”

“we uh, we drive.” logan looks at oscar.

“oh like uber? cool.”

“yeah, isn’t it?” oscar smiles at you.

“i still haven’t gotten my licence just yet. taxis aren’t too expensive and public transport is decent. also everywhere i need to be is pretty much walkable.” you smile at them. “have you visited all the touristy places yet?”

“not everywhere but we’re here for a while. we’re going to travel to santorini, mykonos and corfu. i’ve already planned them out.” oscar swallows his bite of ice cream. “scheduled to the exact moment we get there and get back.”

“an exotic european vacation.” you grin, waggling your eyebrows. logan laughs despite the joke not being very funny. “i’m jealous.”

“you could come with us.” oscar blurts out, his cheeks pinkening. “you’re probably busy though right? don’t worry about it. it’s weird.”

“no, no. it’s not. it’s very sweet and tempting.” you look outside the window again. “i’m not free for the whole time, but, definitely i could join you for a week? jim won’t care.”

“jim’s a real person?” logan asks, eyes wide. you laugh.

“yeah! he’s british actually. came over here when he retired and bought this place. he was one of the few people that’d hire me. my mum’s british.” you nod. “it’s a pretty decent job. if you ignore these hideous uniforms.”

you pull on the neon jim’s ice cream parlour shirt, face crumpling in disgust.

“you look good.” logan says, shyly, as he tongues the last of his ice cream. “this is good too. the ice cream. i knew i trusted you for a reason.”

-❀-

santorini is exactly like the instagram photos. well, despite being slightly too hot, a little less vibrant and he’s here with you and logan. logan has kept his shirt on this time, a loose linen blue one with a pair of shorts and flip flops. you’re dressed in a white skirt, a cropped tank top with a massive handbag.

oscar wants to do something crazy, like reach out and hold your hand or put his arm around your shoulders. he doesn’t because he’s not insane but he thinks about it for a solid moment. thinks about the way you’d curl into him or the way your shampoo would smell. he shakes his head.

“you don’t like it?” the two of you turn to look at him. fantastic. now he looks weird. his eyes widen.

“no, no! i love it. it’s lovely.” he reaches into his pocket, shaking hands grabbing his phone as he takes a picture. “i was thinking about the best angle to take this picture for my mum.”

“i’ll take a photo of you against the backdrop? maybe the both of you. your mum might like that. logan said you two were childhood best friends right?”

oscar nods. at least you bought his story. he stands against the barrier and smiles, awkwardly. he’s sure that all the other tourists are looking at him and thinking ‘what a weirdo, his crush on her is so obvious. she wants his best friend clearly, why even try?’

after a moment, logan stands next to him. logan dissipates the awkwardness with a wave of his hand and the two of them fall into an easy grin. when logan leans in and tells a joke, oscar finds himself laughing loudly with the click of your camera as background noise.

he sends it to his mother later on, when he’s in his hotel room with logan snoring in the room across from him. she texts him back quickly.

-❀-

— from mum.

well, it looks like you’re having fun honey!

— to mum.

yeah, i am.

-❀-

it doesn’t even feel like a lie when he messages her back in the cooling heat.

-❀-

it’s three days into the trip and two weeks into knowing the guys that you realise that you have a crush. it’s only a small inkling but you know it’s serious because no matter how much you try to dissuade it, it keeps popping up.

when you’re eating, when you’re brushing your teeth and even when you’re picking your outfit with him in mind. does he like blue? is he more of a yellow guy? or is it pink that’ll catch his eye?

the three of you head to a restaurant that night. it’s a seafood place, the three of you laughing and joking about something you’d seen earlier. they look good. smell good too. they even argue over who’s going to pay for the meal and look at you like you’ve got three heads when you offer to pay.

“it’s fine y/n, you’re a student.” oscar says, smiling as logan gives up. he pays quickly, all cash with no fuss. “we can get it.”

“ubering must make you a lot of money.”

“yeah. something like that.” he smiles again. this time with no teeth as he gets the receipt.

-❀-

logan goes to bed early that night, citing something about his family being desperate to check up on him. it leaves just the two of you outside in the corfu evening air.

“want to go for a walk?” you ask, looking at him earnestly.

“yeah. sure.” he’s trying not to be too eager. not to scare you off. the two of you start walking down the street.

“i always like to go for a slow walk after a big dinner. i feel like it probably helps with digestion.” you speak quietly, as if not to disturb the silence of the street. he likes your voice and is willing to listen at any volume you decide.

“i think it does. i try not to eat too much.” oscar responds, shoving a jittery hand in his pocket. “i can’t gain any weight for my job.”

“yeah, logan said. that’s weird. what kind of uber driver has a weight limit?” he shrugs and smiles. “do you miss australia?”

“sometimes. i’m used to travelling though. i’ve done it for so long.” he looks at you. “what about you? do you miss your home?”

“eh, i wanted to get out of there as soon as possible. i wanted to remake myself. i was gonna do it all y’know? a name change and everything.” you look up at the stars for a moment. “i didn’t go through with it. even if i changed my name, i’d still be y/n really. inside.”

“i get that. i think.” oscar looks at the gorgeous landscape in front of him. he ignores all the people milling around the two of you. to him it’s just you, him and the view. “so, y/n-“

your phone interrupts him. a loud, obnoxious ringing noise. you mouth an apology at him when you look at the caller id.

“sorry, it’s my best friend. she wouldn’t call me if it wasn’t important. she’s more of a texter anyways. do you mind?” you point at your phone. he shakes his head with a smile. you disappear to take your call and he finds a bench to sit on. he leans back, closes his eyes and takes a deep breath.

what was he thinking? asking you out? thank god the world or fate or god or whoever is in charge, stopped him before he made the biggest mistake of his life. you liked logan and he didn’t blame you. he really, truly didn’t.

when you come back, you ask him what he was going to ask. he shrugs. it wasn’t important anyways, he says. he asks what happened with your friend and listens you chatter all the way back about your friend’s current work drama.

-❀-

the next morning, logan and you head down to breakfast together. it’s a continental breakfast that the hotel offer. it’s good, with a wide spread of toast, pancakes, omelettes, cereal, fruit and sausages. you load up your plate, happy to get food for free even though technically you paid for it.

logan’s plate is smaller. you think about what they said earlier about weight limits and feel a pang of sympathy. i mean, your job was not very well paid but at least it gave you freedom in your spare time to do and eat whatever you want.

“is oscar not coming?” you ask, forking a fluffy piece of omelette and hash browns in your mouth. it’s gorgeous and you’re hungry.

“nah. he’s not feeling too good. i’ll bring him some breakfast in a bit.” logan methodically goes through his breakfast. slow, small bites and chews it for as long as possible. “wanna go for a swim later? it’s hot as hell outside. i feel my skin melting off.”

“you are going a little red.” you tease. he smiles again, shyly. his face does go red when you lean forward and press your cold cup against his cheek. “a little better?”

“it’d be better if you’d go swimming with me.” he smiles.

“of course i will. can’t leave you by yourself. who knows what’ll happen.” he laughs this time. “now wanna try some of this omelette?”

he sits politely as you lean over and feed him a forkful of the spinach and cheese omelette. for a moment, the two of you look into each other's eyes as you feed him. he turns away as soon as it’s okay and chews the bite.

“good?”

“yeah. yeah. it’s good.” he smiles at you. “let me just get some more water for us, be back in a moment.”

“is it getting too hot for you?” you tease.

“a little.” he sheepishly grins again. “let me cool down.”

-❀-

it’s your last day with the two of the guys before they drop you back off at the bus stop to go back to athens. your heart is still pinching at the thought of leaving, but you decide your last day can’t be in vain. they’ll be going home soon so it’ll be the best time to admit what you already knew. what you had known for the whole time.

you’d been on the phone with your best friend who had helped you to write a pros and cons list.

— pros - you could be a girlfriend to a great guy. you would be happy. you would have a rich boyfriend (your bff added that). you could touch them in any way they’d let you. you could sleep together. you could also sleep together (bff again). you would have a great time. you would have fun. would it improve your life? potentially.

— cons - they could say no and you’d have to jump off a cliff. they could be dating each other and you’d be embarrassed that you didn’t figure it out. they could laugh at you. they could be disgusted. they could be nice about it and gently let you down. they’re not even from anywhere close to greece. it’d be a long distance relationship. could you even deal with that?

you shake your head and lift your hand up to his bedroom door. the wood is cold under your knuckles. the world still moves around you, tourists laughing in their rooms and people walking around. their voices murmuring.

as your hand hovered there, you thought for a moment. about how this could change everything. was it too soon? too risky? then you remembered, it’s now or never.

take the plunge and with that, you knock.

liked by anyaaaa, alexjohnson and 183 others.

yourusername: this summer is going well. made two new friends, spent half of my savings and made some new memories and isn’t that what life is all about?

anyaaaa: when are you coming back? miss u girl!!

-> yourusername: soon! i just need to figure something out first.

-> anyaaaa: you’ll figure it out. you always do. can’t wait till you come back <33

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#summer lovin’ ❀ #jayde’s works ☆ #formula one x reader #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 smau #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #f1 texts #f1 fanfic #oscar piastri smau #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri x logan sargeant x reader #logan sargeant smau #logan sargeant imagine #logan sargeant x reader #logan sargeant #formula one smau #formula one imagine #logan sargeant x you #f1 x you #ls2 x reader #op81 x reader #op81 x you #ls2 x you

[yeonzzzn]

jay au where y/n is also an idol and they have a situationship and they always do tiktok challenges together and when jay recorded a challenge with other idol y/n is like OHHHHH SO YOU *TALK* WITH OTHER GIRLS? and is sooooo jealous (literally me in my silly little delulu head cause wdym jay talks with other ppl???)

NO BC I AM IN LOVE WITH THIS CONCEPT‼️‼️such a cute idea!

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

it’s just a tiktok challenge

paring: jay x afab!reader word count: 1.6k

You didn’t know what was worse:

1: Your situationship with Jay or  2: The fact that this situationship with Jay is a secret. 

You obviously didn’t understand how the world didn’t already know the two of you are more than just friends. Mostly since anytime there’s a new TikTok challenge, you were always the first person Jay called and vice versa. 

Of course, Jay used the challenges as one of the excuses to see you out in public. To drag you to whatever good spot for the challenge and have it secretly be a date afterward. 

Being idols has made it hard for the two of you to officially slap a label on whatever it is that your relationship is. Jay was your best friend and you were his, so obviously when the two of you are seen in public together or doing the TikTok challenges no one bats an eye at it. And anytime either of you has been confronted on whether it’s more than friends, you both deny everything. 

It sucked, truly. To keep the situationship such a secret.

Jay felt the same way. He hated having to find ways to sneak you into the dorms or sneak into yours just to have a quick fuck or spend as much time with you as possible in a way that the public eye wouldn’t know anything. All Jay wanted to do was scream from the rooftops about how in love with you he was. And the only way he knew how to voice that was through this situationship and the TikTok challenges. 

He’d always sneak glances at you while doing the challenge, as in a way of hoping you’d see it. Jay knew you had feelings for him too, you’ve both discussed your feelings, just not in depth. 

Both are so in love with each other but neither of you knew it. Thinking it was just a small crush mixed with friends with benefits and acting innocent when the cameras are on.

Sometimes you’d both risk getting caught, having a quick make-out session behind the stages or stairs or closet or wherever Jay was able to pin your body against him. Just to get his fix of you before having to go back to pretending. 

It’s award show season and all the idols are gathered in one place, taking selfies and videos, going on Instagram lives together, and of course; TikTok challenges. 

Jay searched the sea of idols for you, constantly checking his phone to see if you’ve texted him, but have yet to hear from you. 

Sunghoon nudges Jay’s side, teasing him about you and Jay flips him the bird, “Shut up! Don’t speak too loud.” 

Of course, his group knew about the two of you, and the same with your group. Who else was going to help film the challenges and sneak you both in and out of your company buildings and dorm rooms? 

Jay slides his hands into his pockets, releasing a sigh as he continues to search for you, only for Chaewon to pop up at his side, “Jay! Want to do our new choreography dance challenge with me? Please!” 

She clung to his arm, smiling at him. Jay shrugged, smiling back, “Sure why not! How about in the hallway? It’s got pretty good lighting.” 

Chaewon agreed, asking Sunghoon to film the challenge. Sunghoon took a smirking glance at Jay and agreed. 

Jay didn’t do challenges without you. It was always you or the members he did them with. So this was the first time since before meeting you that he’d do a challenge with another idol. 

They filmed the dance challenge, then Jay offered Chae to do their comeback title challenge too, to which she agreed. 

Your group arrived a bit late but still just in time. You smoothed out your white cropped tank top and double-checked your fishnet tights underneath your white jeaned shorts, your group was set to perform early on into the show, so you all showed up already ready. 

“He already thinks you’re sexy, YN, stop fidgeting with your outfit,” one of your elder bandmates teased, pinching your cheek, “You’re cute, he knows it.” 

You couldn’t lie and say you were just trying to make sure the outfit was okay, mostly when in reality you were hoping Jay’s jaw would drop at the sight of you. 

You released a sigh, looking out around the stage and the sea of people, trying to find him. You found his group, seeing all the boys huddled together and laughing at something Jake was showing them on his phone, but Jay wasn’t there, Sunghoon was also missing. 

You glanced more around the crowd, finally eyeing the two boys and Chaewon walking back to their seats. You watched as Jay and Sunghoon gave her a smile and nod before parting ways, reuniting with their groups, and seeing Jay pull his phone from his pocket. 

Pulling your phone from your back pocket, you went to his messages, typing out that you could see him and comment how handsome he looked, only to be distracted by another notification on TikTok: Enhypen posted a video! 

You smiled and clicked the notification, expecting it to be something silly Jay and Sunghoon just filmed, only for your smile to slowly drop at seeing Chaewon by Jay’s side. 

As if on cue, you received a text from Jay.

Jay: Where are you? I want to see you before you perform. I bet you look so pretty :(

You locked your phone and ignored his message. 

Jealousy wasn’t a normal emotion for you. You haven’t had to ever feel it, really. Yes, there were *small* moments but it wasn’t ever anything major. Until today. 

Your group was finally called to perform, your headsets and equipment being handed to each of your group members and being escorted to the stage. 

The performance was three song lengths long, and you kept your smile the entire time, only making eye contact with Jay once, trying your best to keep your eyes everywhere but at him. 

Once the performance was over, your group headed to a changing room. You glanced down at your phone, seeing multiple texts. 

Jay: god you look so good  Jay: <3 <3 <3 <3 Jay: those fishnets are killing me YN  Jay: meet me at the stairs the moment you see these  Jay: fuck the things I want to do to you right now. 

You thinned your lips in a line, debating to either ignore him or go to him. 

You went to him. 

You had barely pushed the door open to the stairs and took two steps down before Jay had his hands on your waist, lifting you off the stairs and pinning you to the wall, his lips crashing to yours. 

His hand trailed down to your thighs, pushing his fingers between the strings of your fishnets and squeezing the plush skin, “Fuck you’re so hot,” he whispered between kisses, shoving his tongue down your throat and rocking his growing hard length against your tummy. 

You placed your hands on his shoulders, slightly pushing him back from you so you could catch your breath, resting your head against the wall. 

It took one look at your face for Jay to realize something was wrong. Normally you’d be jumping his bones at this moment, but you’re clocked out and far away from here, far from him. 

He cupped your face, resting his forehead against yours, “What’s wrong, honey?” 

You sighed, pouting your lips and moving your head away from his and his hands, “Oh, nothing.” 

Jay took a step back from you, raising a brow, “That attitude says otherwise.” 

You crossed your arms, slouching against the wall, “What reason would I have to be upset, Jongseong?” 

He stared at you, running through every possible thing that could be upsetting you and then it finally clicked. 

Jay smirks, placing both his hands on either side of your face, “You’re jealous, aren’t you?” 

You weren’t shocked that Jay figured it out so quickly, he knew you inside and out. 

You shrugged, looking away from him. 

Jay pressed his body back against yours, bringing his face close to yours, brushing his lips against your ear, “You’re so hot when you’re jealous.” 

He nibbles on the shell of your ear and you bite your tongue to keep from whimpering, “I am not jealous.” 

Jay traces his lips down to your neck, “Baby, it’s just a TikTok challenge.” 

You scoff, “So you talk with other girls then?” 

“You are so jealous,” he chuckles against your neck, “Chaewon and I are under the same company, I can do challenges with her.” You tried to push him away again, but his body held firm against yours. 

You pouted more and tried to hold yourself together from exploding out your emotions. 

“Baby,” he whispered, moving his face back to yours, once again cupping your face, “You’re the one that I want, okay? I love you. I want you. There’s no need to be jealous over a TikTok challenge. There’s still so much more I can do with you.” 

You stared into his brown eyes, “You love me?” 

He chuckled, “Of course I do.” 

You felt stupid for being jealous, mostly when Jay is allowed to have other friends to do challenges with. You felt stupid for being jealous when he was in love with you. How silly you felt as you curled your lips into a small. 

“There’s that smile I love,” he smiled back, rubbing his thumbs against your cheeks, “Now,” he went back into a whisper, sliding his hands down to your ass, “I have about thirty minutes before my group is called to perform, let’s make it count, ya?” 

You attach your lips to his, your hands working at his belt. 

At least to say, you both made every second of that thirty minutes count.

— perm taglist: @alvojake @ikeuverse @woniebae @shawnyle @kangnina @jwnghyuns @in-somnias-world @zyvlxqht @aaa-sia @wonniethepoo @addictedtohobi @eneiyri @sparklovespink @skzenhalove @fakeuwus @cherry-park @vousty @ladyartemesia @psh9 @cmoundiamante @enhaverse713586 @wondipity @lhsvibez @belowbun @jaeyunq @rikizm @kaykay11sworld @pockettwinzz @vixialuvs @seunghancore

#yeonzzzn asks #jay bae #jay park #park jay #jongseong park #park jongseong #reader x jay #jay x reader #park jongseong x reader #reader x park jongseong #enhypen #enhypen x reader #reader x enhypen #enhypen fanfic #enhypen fanfiction #enhypen imagines #enhypen scenarios #yeonzzzn writing

[i-hate-accidents]

i hate accidents: the ball

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, intersectional low self-image of y/n, positive/supportive families, nondescript mention of gagging (not related to self-image) in [III.iii], sexually charged 18+ interactions in middle to end of [III.iv]—minors dni, please stop at the end of the paragraph that begins "you repeat his words with sped up mockery"; you may resume at "you jut out your hip"

word count:  15.7k (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.

tagged: @omgsuperstarg @stvrdustalexx @bedobeeeee @crazymar15 @kahhorri @mayalopes @benedictbridgertonss @athensflower @02wrldz @queerlavalier @merlslrem @pillsbury-doughgirl @lamourdure3ans and all who have read either/both sections one and two—thank you. <3

𝄆 ⚘ ✸ III.i ✸ ⚘ 𝄇

“you look like a princess, y/n!” hyacinth squeals in delight.

“i regret not being of age yet to attend balls,” gregory sighs.  “i would have been honored to ask you for your first dance.”

you beam at the youngest bridgertons with all the fondness in your heart.  judith, an elderly maid of number five, had attempted to dispel hyacinth and gregory from the room as your hair was done, but you had asked her to please allow them to stay.  the two kept you at ease throughout the foreign process, and their sweet sincerity kept you grounded amidst the anxiety that still floods your veins.

“you are both too kind.  and fear not; tomorrow morning we will have a ball all of our own,” you lean in for a whisper, them following suit to listen.  “and perhaps we will need the talents, and bravery, of a young sorceress and a young knight to save the guests from the intrusion of an unruly wyvern.”

“you promise?!” hyacinth and gregory yell at the same time.  you hold out your pinky finger, just as you used to do with your siblings, and the two young ones wrap their pinkies around yours.

“i promise.”

“you are all done, miss y/l/n,” says alice, placing the last pin into your hair.  she steps back and curtsies.  her formality towards you renders you uneasy; she treats you as above her but you are of the same world.  you school your facial features from showing your unease; you do not want to upset her or have her wrongly think that she has done something wrong.

“no need to call me ‘miss.’  i am simply y/n!”  you grin at alice.  “a friend.”

she smiles, albeit a bit sheepishly. 

“of course, y/n.  are you ready to see yourself?”

you shudder in a breath.  you had asked not to be prepared in front of a mirror.  to have seen your transformation so readily reflected at you at every point of this process—

you exhale frantically.  the maids and genevieve had graciously accommodated your wishes, both going so far as rearranging this room and her fitting room to avoid any lines of your sight with a potential reflection; you were, and are, utterly grateful.  

but i am unable to delay the inevitable any longer.

standing up and squaring your shoulders, you give alice a feeble nod.  she bows her head in response, a small, encouraging smile on her lips, and leads you to the mirror as hyacinth and gregory turn in their seats to watch you cross the room.  

it is just a dress.  it is just a tiara, and just some jewelry, and just some gloves, and just some shoes, and just a bit of makeup.  it is just you.  it is still you.  be the courageous person you are, y/n.

or—

just before you see even a miniscule bit of your reflection in that accursed mirror, you shut your eyes tight.

—be a coward.

you continue step by agonizing step, approximating where the mirror is, and shudder in another breath.

perhaps i am being too dramatic.  perhaps i can faint and feign illness.  perhaps i shall run away by way of the nearest window.  perhaps i—

“the mirror is to your left, y/n; whenever you are ready,” coaxes alice.

you exhale once more.

or perhaps, i should open my eyes.

and so you do.

oh.

“oh,” you say aloud.

the person you see in the gilded full-length mirror is, somehow, a complete stranger and entirely you.

the one time you’ve worn makeup before was for your elder sister’s wedding:  a bit of your mother’s rouge on your cheeks and lips to have some color to your otherwise dull face.  now, your cheekbones glow with a blush much more complimentary to your complexion than a mere red as your lips shine with a gossamer of a similar shade.  entirely new to you are the glimmering minerals on your eyelids that magically bring attention to your eyes and make them shine like starlight.

your eyebrows have been plucked (much to your initial pain but your current appreciation), maintaining their shape and fullness but now without strays.  

soft tendrils of curls frame your face, and your hair—normally worn down when not working—has been pulled back into a loose coiffure and styled with sprigs and small blooms, the crown of your head graced with a silver tiara.

“this,” violet smiled fondly when she first set the tiara on top of your head, “is the tiara i wore to my first ball after my presentation.  i had insisted on keeping it, thinking i could pass it on to my daughter when her first ball had come.  but daphne was resolute on having her own tiara, and eloise was resolute on not wearing any,” violet laughed, her eyes shining when they connected with yours, “i see now, though, perhaps it was always meant to be yours.”

“violet, i— i cannot wear this.  it is too— it’s too—”

sumptuous?  opulent?  regal?  

no.

well, yes, the tiara is all those things.  but those were not what had concerned you then.  it’s too—

“beautiful,” you admitted quietly.

something as beautiful as that surely does not belong on the head of someone like you.

“well,” violet smiled, “then you are merely proving my point, my dear.  it perfectly suits you.”

you hold out your hands, flare out your fingers, and stretch out your arms, examining the dark forest green of your long satin gloves, mesmerized that a muted color with such depth and richness could be achieved through dyes.

moving your hand, you touch one of the small rosewhite pearls adorning your earlobes and, with your other hand, touch the inky oblong pearl that shimmers violet, indigo, and green as it hangs from the thin, black velvet choker around your neck.

“my dear,” mama appeared in your doorway one evening as you wrote at your table, “do you require jewelry for your occasion?”

“oh.  i suppose i do?  i hadn’t given it much thought.”  jewelry had been the last thing on your mind of things that terrified you of the impending ball.

“well, if you have not been offered anything by the bridgerton family yet, i thought— i thought perhaps you might like these.”

she approached you, a small wooden box in her hand, and placed it on your table.  taking the box into your hands, you looked at it and then up at mama.  she smiled at you but something of her countenance seemed strained.  nervous.  you offered her a smile in an attempt to assuage whatever concerns preoccupied her mind and, turning back to the box, unclasped it open.

“these are the earrings and necklace i wore when i married your papa.  they were gifts from your grandmama that were gifts from her mama.  i had tried giving them to your sister when she was to be married, but she thought…  they are plain, nothing like what those fashionable people wear, i am certain; but if you have nothing else, i—”

you shot up from your seat, throwing your arms around your mama, feeling how she reeled from the ferocity of your sudden embrace, as you clutched onto the box of her wedding jewelry.

“they are beautiful, mama,” you said quietly but emphatically as the vehemence of your emotions tried to trap your words in your throat.  “they are the most beautiful things i have ever seen, and i am so— i am so honored to be bestowed with the blessing of wearing them, and of wearing them proudly.  thank you.”

you heard how mama sniffed her nose, and how she tried to hide it, as she gently rubbed your back, as she always had in your moments of vulnerability.

“i love you, my child.”

“i love you, mama.”

you then touch your exposed shoulders.  the neckline of your dress, nowhere near your neck, follows the curved peaks of your breasts to meet and form a small v-shape in the crevice of your bosom.  

“where is the chemise?” was the first thing you had said when you first tried on the gown at the modiste.

genevieve grinned.

“there is none.”

your jaw dropped.

“then what of a stay?  what sort of stay would be worn with this?”

turning slightly, and noting your rather bare upper arms in the process, you angle your exposed back towards the mirror.  another v-shape, its furthest point down a third of your bare spine.  

“my dear, both you and i know that you already know the answer to your inquiry.”

“oh, my good g—”

never, in your life, has the expanse of your upper body been so naked and on display than in this ball gown.

“i do not mean to doubt your artistry, genevieve; truly!, the dress is magnificent, but—” you turned to kathani, who had exclaimed and clapped with immense delight upon seeing you in the gown, “is this—— permissible?”

the viscountess had arched an eyebrow at you then.

“y/n y/l/n, concerned with the rules of society?  and of high society, at that?”

“no— no!” you yelled all too loudly as genevieve chortled and placed pins for final alterations into the dress.  “i just, i just do not want to embarrass you and your family, is all.”

you had not meant for your voice to come out so quiet and small.  the older women’s faces softened immediately.

“you could never embarrass us, y/n,” kathani stated with such tenderness.  then she smiled.  “you look beautiful.”

the off-white base layer of the dress feels luxurious against your skin, the fabric hugging your upper body, puffing out at the sleeves, and, from the underbust, flowing and falling into a cone silhouette for the skirt—but what truly awes you is the artistry of the outermost layer.  a cream translucent silk, the piña seda (you recall genevieve proudly naming it as) of the outermost layer glistens while you sway and turn your body, light shifting and transforming the ever beauty of the dress, the swish of the skirt moving like how waves are described in the passages of your books and in the reminiscing of your parents’ memories.  lined at the underbust begins the intricate thicket of embroidered foliage, painstakingly threaded with innumerable shades of greens and blues, a shimmering teal threaded throughout to gleam in tandem with the sheen of the fabric.  the embroidery of foliage then grows and thickens as it cascades down the middle of the dress and comes to an encircling end a few inches above and around the floor-length hem.  in the negative space of the piña seda are spread out, small ivory embroideries of floral motifs.  

it is a dress deserving of someone most beloved in titania’s garden court. 

“indeed,” genevieve affirmed, a smile on her lips akin to kathani’s.  “those in attendance will not be prepared.  you will look the most beautiful of all.”

and perhaps…

perhaps you should be unnerved by how different your dress will be from the others’ of the ton.  perhaps you should be unnerved by how easily you will stand out from the crowds.  perhaps you should be unnerved by the attention, the whispers, the stares you will inevitably receive with your dress, with your appearance, with your presence, with your very existence.  but, instead— 

“i do look like a princess,” you say finally.  quietly. 

you do look beautiful.

like you could belong amidst the ton.  

like you could belong with the bridgertons.  

like you could belong with him.

𝄆 ⚘ ✸ III.ii ✸ ⚘ 𝄇

“are you anxious, y/n?”

you turn to gregory at your side and see the swell of worry in his eyes.

“what gives you that impression?”

“you are shaking terribly,” hyacinth comments from your other side, replacing her usual pluck and wit with a worry akin to her brother’s.  

the two had volunteered to escort you from the dressing room that you had been prepared in to the grand staircase of number five.  with their arms hooked around yours, gregory on your left and hyacinth on your right, the youngest bridgertons have been walking you down the corridor.  your heart aches with anguish:  you know you have failed when the children are the ones to care for the adult.

“i am sorry to have concerned you both.  yes, i— i am anxious.”

“it is reasonable to be anxious.  but there are a great many cakes at these balls, or so i’ve heard, so you can eat one, and then another, to help ease your nerves!”

“how is that of any help, gregory.”

“it is plenty of help!”

“to eat and eat when she is already uneasy?  the last time you were uneasy, you nearly—”

“do not recount that in front of y/n!”

“why not!”

“it is not— it is not proper!”  gregory’s voice jumps in pitch, causing a swift blush to form on the apples of his cheeks.  hyacinth snorts.

“why does your voice do that?”

“i do not know!  kate said it is natural for bo— for young men to experience such a thing!”

“aren’t young men meant to be tall?”

“i am an inch taller than you now!”

“you are not!”

“i am too!”

you laugh.  the youngest bridgertons halt their dispute and look at you. 

“i must say, your usual squabbling is keeping me much at ease,” and you offer a sympathetic smile to gregory.  “i am sorry that it seems to be at your expense, however.”

his eyes shine.

“you need not worry about me!  i am glad to see you smile.”

“i as well,” hyacinth adds.  you turn to her and see how her eyes shine too. 

“i am most grateful to you both for being at my side on such a night.”

“we are most grateful for you, y/n.”

“that is something, and probably the singular thing, hyacinth and i can agree upon.”

you plant soft kisses on the tops of their heads, just as mama and papa and your elder sister had done when you were their ages.  gregory and hyacinth nestle their heads into your upper arms and only part from you when the three of you reach the top of the first set of steps.  

“are you ready?” 

though you wish to say ‘no,’ you brace yourself with a deep inhale and nod.

your heart quickens with each step as time around you slows.  your mouth has gone dry, and your body feels entirely numb, sensation only returning to you when you feel hyacinth and gregory unhook their arms from yours.  turning your head, you see them stepping backwards, away from you, leaving you at the center of the landing to the rest of the grand staircase.  you face forward once more, and ahead, below, you see the gentlemen and ladies of bridgerton house, waiting for you, looking at you.  

you swallow. 

for the very first time, in your dress, by yourself, you take a step forward.

breathe, y/n.  shoulders back; tilt your chin up, but not too much; just as kathani had taught you.  and just, breathe.

but it is hard to breathe with all eyes on you.  with—

i must control myself.   i must not seek him out.  i must not seek out his face.  i must not seek out those o—

you step on the hem of your dress and feel yourself start to fall forward.  thankfully, god, for whatever reason, has blessed you with enough dexterity in this very moment, and you manage to catch yourself from tumbling down the steps as you hear gasps from above and below you.  you mumble an apology (you don’t know why; it is not nearly loud enough for anyone to hear) and offer everyone a smile.  upon seeing their relaxed shoulders and reassured expressions, you continue to descend the staircase.

stupid benedict.  distracting me in remembering how to walk, and how to breathe, and how to— 

oh.  

i am doing it again.

shit.

goddamnit, stupid benedict!

somehow, you reach the landing of number five’s entrance hall without any additional accidents and, approaching the bridgertons, immediately look to the viscountess.  as if knowing you seek her approval, kathani nods her head; a beam illuminates her countenance.  you feel yourself ease, your shoulders relaxing (that you promptly square again; you are, after all, pretending to be a lady for the night), your heart racing less, if only minutely, and manage a smile.  you feel someone take hold of your gloved hand and, turning to face the source, see violet gazing at you. 

“beautiful.”

it is all she says, but with such tenderness in her voice, it makes your heart swell.

“the importance of appearance,” rasps eloise, causing you to turn to her, “and the lengths gone to achieve so-called perfection of such, especially for those of feminine disposition, is an entirely antiquated, offensive concept that must be eradicated from our, and all, societies—— but you do, look, beautiful, y/n.”

you grin. 

“we’ll eradicate it together; and with help along the way, i am certain.”

when she responds in kind, you turn to the gentlemen, and, to your mortification, colin and anthony bow at you.  the high society etiquette directed towards you from your friends overwhelms you with an embarrassment that you cannot even begin to fathom; they haven’t performed such formalities towards you since your first meeting all those months ago.  but, in spite of your horror, the sincerity of their intentions, as well as their countenances, touches you deeply.

“madame delacroix and the maids have outdone themselves,” remarks anthony.  “as mother and eloise have said, you look beautiful, y/n.”

“indeed,” colin beams.  when he turns to benedict, however, his smile transforms into an expression befitting of a fairytale creature; one with mischievous intentions.  “what say you, brother?”

you follow his line of sight and connect with ocean eyes.  the flood of self-consciousness and the tempo of your heartbeats magnify hundredfold under his gaze, the butterflies within you fluttering the most violently they ever have, and you feel as though your entire body has been set ablaze.

anthony, with what looks like a smirk, nudges his brother with his elbow.  as if suddenly aware of where he is, benedict hastily bows at you and, returning his ocean eyes to yours, says,

“you look— well.”

you hear eloise snort.  turning your head towards her, you see she has completely sucked in her lips.  to her left, kathani smiles massively.  to kathani’s left, violet remains ever poised but with wide, sparkling eyes.  you still feel self-conscious but are infinitely amused by whatever is happening to the bridgertons and, with a playful smile on your lips, return your gaze to benedict.

“thank you, mr. bridgerton.  i had felt uneasy with an unnerved stomach earlier, but i am glad to know that my health appears to be in proper order.”

and you deeply curtsy at him. 

from above you hear the sweet giggles of the youngest bridgertons.  ahead, in your periphery, you see how anthony closes his eyes as he sucks in air through his nostrils and how colin, with an unabashed laugh, clasps his hand onto benedict’s shoulder.

“well!” anthony booms, attempting to control his smile on what ought to be an authoritative expression. “i believe we have a ball to commence.  shall you lead the way, viscountess?”

and with an expression both equal in authority and warmth, kathani declares,

“i shall.”

𝄆 ⚘ ✸ III.iii ✸ ⚘ 𝄇

you had grown ease of mind knowing that you would not be asked to dance.  not only were you a stranger to everyone in the ton aside from the bridgertons and penelope, you were also not handsome like the debutantes flitting about the room, swishing prettily in their gowns, strategically but delicately fluttering their eyes at a gentleman with which they wished to dance.  with anonymity and a plain face, you enjoyed the haven of people observing, snickering at the artifice and smiling at the sincerity.  kathani chatting with her guests.  anthony standing by her side.  penelope dancing with colin.  eloise hiding behind a plant.  violet beaming at her family.  (you tried to convince yourself that you had not noticed the absence of a particular person.)  your nerves have finally begun to calm, finding content in your station at the margins of the dance floor.

when colin bridgerton approaches you, hand outstretched in your direction, with a twinkle in his eyes.

“miss y/l/n, may you do me the honor?”

“i’m sorry, what?”

he laughs.

“will you dance with me?”

you gape at him.

“you’re mad.”

“my mind is perfectly intact.”

“this is unwise.”

“this is the best decision i have made this night.”

“i shall surely step on your toes.”

“i have worn my sturdiest shoes for the occasion.”

the corners of your mouth tug down into a moue at the third bridgerton’s stubborn charm.  his grin merely widens as your eyes narrow to slits at him.  penelope approaches from behind the beguiling imp and smiles warmly at you.

“it will be fun,” she encourages. “i promise.”

penelope!  no!

“et tu, brute?” you bemoan.

she shrugs.

“what is a ball without dancing?” penelope offers.  sweet innocence colors her voice, but the delighted glint in her eyes reveals her true duplicitous nature.  she knew exactly how to play the game of this conversation, no doubt a devious plot concocted between her and her beau.

you sigh.

“fine,” you huff, slapping your hand into colin’s palm.  “i would be honored, mr. bridgerton.”

the diabolical duo laughs at the sarcasm that drips from your words as colin leads you to the lineup on the dance floor.  

–

“how is the dance treating you, miss y/l/n?” 

“i hate you.” 

colin guffaws.  (you see in your periphery how heads shift towards him and how eyes narrow at you.  the partner you had just left looks at you with particular scrutiny.)

“if your hatred towards me is the cost of you enjoying the ball, then it is a burden i shall carry, and happily so.” 

“has anyone ever told you how infuriating you bridgertons are?” 

“no, but we very well know that we are,” he grins, “and we take immense pride in it.”

you groan, throwing your head back.  (you hear murmurs around you.  not ladylike.)

“are you truly not having fun?”  the gentleness in his voice makes you look back at him.  his expression is soft.  sad.  guilty.  “we can leave the lineup, if that is what you would like.” 

you consider his words and his offer.

“i am having fun,” you reply truthfully.  his eyes light up at that and your heart warms at the sight.  “it is just— being in a circumstance so wholly unfamiliar— it’s overwhelming, is all, i think.  but…” you feel a smile form on your lips, “knowing that you all—as infuriating as you bridgertons are—are here with me, by my side, wanting me to enjoy myself, wanting me to be happy, it makes all the overwhelming feeling worthwhile.  i am happy.  you all make me happy.”

colin doesn’t say anything.  he just stares at you as the two of you dance still.  you are about to inquire—

“i am grateful to call you my friend, y/n.  becoming your friend has been one of the greatest blessings to have been bestowed upon me and my family.”

you suck in a breath. 

as is becoming yours has been one of mine.

but another thought also lives in your mind.  so, on the exhale of your breath, you smirk.

“only second to falling in love with penelope, yes?”

he laughs, an uncharacteristic shy smile forming on his lips as he looks at his feet and then back at you, eyes shining incandescently.

“i hope you do not take offense to being second.”

“being second to penelope is truly, sincerely, still a victory in of itself.  you are very blessed, indeed, to be her premier.”

you did not think colin’s eyes could shine brighter than they had mere moments prior, but you suppose— no, you are certain that this is the effect that the love of penelope featherington has on the third eldest bridgerton:  the light in colin’s eyes is absolute radiance.

“‘very blessed’ is to put it very lightly.”

with unabashed grins, you and colin continue to dance.  you have to walk most of the steps, often keeping good on your promise and stepping on his toes, but your partner is deterred neither by your incompetence nor by his injuries.  the two of you laugh (drawing leers from the other guests, you notice but brush off) and end your dance with exaggerated flourishes of a curtsy and a bow to one another.

“you underestimate your dancing skills, miss y/l/n,” colin remarks with a beam.

“see if you feel the same after tending to your bruises, mr. bridgerton,” you beam back.

“colin bridgerton!”

you both whip your gazes to the call of colin’s name and see a man fastly, eagerly approaching.

“hastings!” 

hastings?  why does that sound familiar? 

colin and the absurdly handsome man embrace, smiles broad and sincere. 

“i was uncertain you would be joining us on this occasion.”

“we would have seen to arriving early, as we had intended, but augie is proving to be quite unpredictable with his tantrums as of late.”

“he must take after his uncles,” colin smirks with odd pride.  that makes the other man chuckle.

“unfortunately, it seems to be so.”

he then shifts his gaze onto you.  his expression is curious and— sweet?  kindly.  you feel yourself become rather self-conscious as you notice, in your periphery, colin assuming a posture of gentlemanliness.

“my apologies for my dreadful manners.  simon, this is miss y/n y/l/n.  y/n, this is simon basset.”

simon bows most graciously at you.

“good evening, miss y/l/n.  it is a true pleasure to finally meet you.  i am simon basset, daphne’s husband.”

daphne?  

as in daphne bridgerton?

you recall the day you and benedict toured the art gallery:  a portrait, a fairly recent one, it seemed, of a beautiful young woman and a beautiful young man—the duchess and the duke of hastings, the plaque read.

your jaw drops.

“you are the duke!”  you remember the etiquette kathani taught you.  “your grace!”  and you sloppily curtsy.

simon laughs.

“that is hardly necessary.  please, if you feel comfortable in doing so, call me simon.”

“yes— of course!, your— simon,” you compose yourself.  “and you may call me y/n; i would prefer it, actually.”

simon grins.

“then, y/n, may i have the honor of having your next dance?”

your jaw drops again, your composure completely falling away.  you look at simon, who is utterly amused by your reaction, and then to colin, who is utterly delighted by the turn of events, and back to simon.

“that is a mistake.”

that earns guffaws from both of the men.  (you feel stares falling upon them and, once again, scowls falling upon you.)  

“i am more than willing to make that discovery for myself, if you will allow it.”

you throw back your head (ignoring the additional glares shot your way) and, with a sigh, whip it back to look at simon with a fatigued, but earnest, smile.

“i shall allow it.”

colin bows his head at you, his grin having never left his countenance since the end of your dance together, and steps to the side as you place your hand into simon’s outstretched one and are led to the next lineup by the duke.

–

“has the duchess accompanied you to the ball this evening?”

“while it is poor courtesy to speak on behalf of my wife when she can speak for herself, i can say, with confidence, that she would much rather you call her daphne.”

“kathani had taught me your society’s etiquette in preparation for the ball, in the event it would be necessary,” you roll your eyes.  “while i find it all utterly ridiculous, and entirely unnecessary for me in particular, i want to honor the knowledge that my teacher has bestowed upon me as a way to honor her.”

simon grins.

“you are a dedicated student.  indeed, she is in attendance.  the last i had seen her, she was tending to benedict.”

your heart sinks.

oh no.

“tending to benedict?  is he unwell?  did something happen?  is he all right?”

you hear how your voice rises in pitch and grows louder and more frantic with each word.  (you try not to care for the stares that you feel on you.  they are not of importance right now——or ever.)

is that why i have not seen him all night?  because he is in poor condition?  shall i leave the ball?  shall i see where he is being tended to?  shall i—

“y/n?”

oh.  yes.  you were having a conversation with simon.

“sorry, what did you say?”

“i had said that i did not mean to worry you,” simon says sincerely, but there is something in his smile.  not suspicious, neither mocking nor teasing.  it is as if he is withholding the full expression of his emotion.  “i simply mean that she is speaking with him and— encouraging him, is all.”

you feel the entirety of your body, mind, heart, and soul ease; but now, you are perplexed.

“encouraging him?  whatever for?”

“i had not stayed with them long enough to hear the details of their conversation; i had sought you out rather immediately.”

“me!”

the dance had timed perfectly that upon receiving such information, you are forced to turn to another partner (who is unnerved to have you as a temporary companion).  when you reunite with simon, his chuckling has mostly subsided.

“indeed.  the viscount had encouraged me to ask you for a dance.  the viscountess then stated that you required the practice.”

“i—— am utterly lacking in words in how to respond to that.”

“if it is of any comfort to you, it was something i had already intended on doing.”

“that is, rather strange?”

he grins.

“i can see how that is so from your perspective, yes.  but from mine,” and it surprises you how suddenly simon’s countenance softens, “i had to find out for myself how wonderful this y/n y/l/n is to have so easily won the affections of all the bridgertons at number five.  daff and i, as well as francesca, were becoming quite jealous that we did not have the good fortune to spend time with you as the rest of the family has had.”

“the family has… spoken of me?”

“in these past months of knowing you, you have become their most beloved topic of conversation.  hyacinth and gregory idolize how resplendent of a storyteller you are.  eloise adores being challenged by your intellect.  colin aspires to your ferocity of quick wit.  kate cherishes every discussion you share together.  anthony reveres your unwavering resolve.  violet becomes overcome with delight at every recounting of a memory in which you are involved.  and benedict…”

you swallow.

“yes?” 

you hear how feeble and quiet your voice has become.  

“never stops speaking of you; so much so that it would be impossible to abridge what he loves in you.”

you shut your eyes closed at the words “he loves” and attempt to control the tears that threaten to flow at the word “you.”  

the love he has for you is not the love you have for him.

“i— i did not know that they held me in such high regard,” you whisper.

you flutter your eyes open, grateful that no tears have fallen, and are greeted by the gentlest of smiles from simon.  it assuages your soul.

“the highest of regards.  they care very deeply for you.”

“and i care very deeply for them,” you declare softly.  you then feel yourself break out into a smile.  “i cannot say the same for you, yet, but i can see it forthcoming.”

simon throws his head back with a loud laugh, your smile transforming into a large grin (as you ignore the scowls that fall upon you).  simon whips his head back to you, and he too wears a large grin.

“i am honored that you see the potential within me.”

with a final spin, you and simon release the other’s hand, ending the dance in a curtsy and a bow, both of your grins non-faltering.

“thank you for bestowing me the honor of dancing with you.”

you snort.  (you hear scoffs and other suppressed noises of disapproval.)

“i fail to see how much of an honor it is to have someone incessantly knock into you, but if such is your feeling,” you curtsy with much theatricality and, upon your rise, let out a sigh of relief.  “now, i shall retire to the margins once more.”

simon, once again, looks as if he is withholding the full expression of his emotions, but in it you detect— delight?  you narrow your eyes.

“what?”

“you are not meant for the margins, y/n; please forgive me,” and with that, simon bows, his smile still non-faltering, and turns to leave you in the middle of the dance floor.

you are about to call out his name, curious and agitated by his vagueness—

“y/n?”

you turn around to the familiar voice and are greeted by a smiling anthony.

“oh no.  are you going to ask me for the honor of having my next dance?”

the viscount looks as if he is about to howl with laughter and attempts to mask it, poorly, with his absurdly elated smile.

“is the idea of dancing with me truly so appalling?”

“the idea of dancing more is what i find so appalling.”

“i shan’t force you to do anything you do not want to do.”

“but how will your pride take it?”

this time anthony fully howls (earning looks of confusion at the host and their looks, predictably, turning to glares when they trace the impropriety back to you).

“i am always working on humbling myself,” he says, his expression softening.  “i assure you that i, as well as my pride, can manage your rejection if it means that you are happy.  you need not worry about my well-being.”

these damned bridgertons, and their damned charm, and their damned sincerity.

despite your internal accusations, you smile.  you offer your hand (hearing a gasp or a few around you), and beaming, anthony takes it.

–

“you look like a princess, y/n!”

the saccharine words of hyacinth echo in your mind.  with the transmutative magics of your fairy godmothers in mama, violet, kathani, genevieve, judith, alice, and the maids of bridgerton house, the impossible was made possible:  you look like a princess.  but it is not until this very moment, after descending a regal staircase, after entering this enchanting ball, after dancing with two dashing gentlemen and now a third, that you feel like a princess.  you recall how you and your siblings played imagination; how you often asked to be the princess; how you did it so often that mama sewed you a dress from scraps of fabric and papa crafted you a crown out of discarded branches and your elder sister announced you as princess y/n whenever you played and your younger sibling waltzed with you around the first floor of your home.  it makes you elated with childlike wonder how fortunate you are to be here and how lovely it is to be here, how strange and wonderful it is that imagination has become real life; as if it is all a wish for which you did not know you had wished, a wish that you did not know you had wanted to come true until it came true.

but—

“is there something on your mind, y/n?” you hear anthony ask, sometime after returning to him as your partner.  “you seem pensive.”

“ah, yes.  despite my gripes with you, and your brother, and your brother-in-law insisting on dancing with me—”

“i gave you an option not to do so!”

“i am not finished speaking!”

he huffs out air through his nostrils, waiting with what seems to be a morsel of patience for you to continue.

“despite my gripes with you, your brother, and your brother-in-law insisting on dancing with me—” anthony gives you a tired look that of an older sibling; you grin, “i am enjoying myself.  i just wish, i just wish my family could be here with me, to enjoy it too.”

anthony’s expression softens immediately, and it makes your heart tighten.  you know with what gravity, duty, and love he looks after the entirety of his family; you have witnessed it at every given second since becoming his friend.  if someone were to be with you as you navigate this pain, you are glad that it is anthony.

“we shall invite them to the next ball we host,” he declares.  your jaw drops.  “it was a lack of foresight on my part for not doing so for this occasion, and i shan’t make that error again.”

you try to do rough estimations of what costs that would entail for the bridgertons— dresses and coats and shoes and four to six sets of two abstained days of work at least.

“anthony, i cannot possibly ask you to—”

“you did not ask,” he grins.  “i offered.  and i do so wholeheartedly.  it shall not be a trouble for us, just strategic planning as kathani and i work the books.  and before you protest—” you frown, both disappointed and flattered that anthony could sense your retaliation, “it is something i—as well as the rest of the family, i am certain—wish to do.  if you won’t consider it for yourself and your family, then perhaps consider it as a gift to us selfish bridgertons.” 

that makes you laugh loudly as you feel tears form in your eyes (whispers of you be damned).  expression turning gentle once more, anthony continues,

“it would be an honor to finally meet your family.  if they are even an inkling like you, then they must be truly wonderful, indeed.”

with a small sniffle of your nose and all the gratitude in your heart, you smile.

“they are.  they are truly wonderful.  i love them so much.”

anthony smiles in return with a nod of his head.

“then it is settled.”

“you are a good brother, anthony.”

you have wondered often if that is something anthony knows.  while the bridgertons’ love for one another is apparent in all that they do and say and breathe, you haven’t heard them say very complimentary things to one another, particularly to the eldest.  it is typical of families to tease and to jest, you know that intimately, but you also know how important, then, it is to tell your family what you truly think of them, how you truly feel of them.  they ought to know just how much they are loved.

though his overall demeanor is composed and dignified, the softness in anthony’s eyes reveals his true emotion.

“and you are a good sibling, y/n.”

< their dance eventually comes to an end.  someone approaches them. >

“good evening, brother,” benedict turns his ocean eyes to you.  “good evening, y/n.”

“good evening, benedict.”

you vaguely hear something in your periphery.  you turn to it and see a brilliant grin lighting up the viscount’s countenance.

“huh?”

“i had said that the viscountess is calling me over to her.  i must pardon myself.”

“oh.  yes.  farewell, anthony.”

his grin broadens, dimples forming in his cheeks, and he bows.  you see how, as he brings himself upright, his eyes shift towards his brother, the delight in his grin never leaving but something in his eyes… softening?  before you can fully process it, he has turned and now walks towards kathani.

you turn back to benedict.

“i—— good evening, y/n.”

“good evening, benedict.  though, we have already greeted each other this night, just moments ago.”

“ah, yes— that—— that would be correct.  and— is… correct.”

he is anxious.  your heart aches at the sight, and you want to reach out and touch him, comfort him, ease whatever his concerns are—but you refrain.

benedict clears his throat.

“are you— are you enjoying yourself?”

while heavy by benedict’s current state, your heart cannot help but glow brighter at his question.

“yes, tremendously so.  the dancing has been plenty fun, despite how horrendous i am at it.”

that makes benedict laugh, and relief floods your body, mind, soul, and heart.  it is good to hear him laugh.  to see him smile.

“i do not think you are as horrendous as you think you are.  your form has been quite good.”

you cock your head, feeling the scrunch of your eyebrows and the smirk on your lips.

“you have been observing me?”

his jaw drops, his body stiffening again.  suddenly shy, he looks at his shoes and, with a cough, looks back up at you, and you attempt to hold in your gasp.

how.  

how is that, after all this time, he makes these butterflies within me flutter still.

“i— i do not have a clever diversion for that.  yes; yes, i have.  i suppose i have been building the— the courage within myself.”

“‘the courage’?  the courage for what?”

he swallows.

“to ask you to dance with me.”

oh.

“oh.”

he looks… he looks scared.  exposed.  vulnerable.

you feel them within yourself, too.

he offers his hand.

“may i dance with you, y/n?”

you place your hand in his.

“yes.  yes, you may, benedict.”

i am terrified of nothing else and would love nothing more than to dance with you.

benedict leads you to the floor, his ocean eyes never leaving yours, your eyes never leaving his.

the quartet starts up, and you detect how it is music for a waltz.  of all the dances you were taught, even you can admit that you were best at learning the waltz.  

…

you curtsy as he bows.  benedict places his hand on your waist, and you try not to elicit your gasp from feeling his touch.

< their dance commences.  they are silent.  a lot of staring and shit.

< notably, y/n is not cognizant of the ton’s perception of her while she dances with benedict as she had been with her previous partners.  it seems her sole focus in this moment is dancing with benedict, being with benedict.  her heart, mind, body, and soul is with him.

< y/n’s mind goes Rampant when benedict places his hand on her exposed shoulder. >

do not close your eyes, you reprimand yourself.  if you close your eyes, you will indulge.  you will indulge in this sensation.  in this touch.  in his touch.  in benedict’s bare hand on the expanse of your exposed skin.  in imagination.  in fantasies.  in thoughts.  in other thoughts on other parts of your body that you so, so very much want him to—

“i had not spoken properly.”

you try not to shudder a gasp upon hearing his voice.

“pardon?” you say, a bit breathless.  the dance calling for it, benedict twirls you, and you are now face to face again.

“earlier; when i had commented on your appearance, i had said you looked well.”

you snort, recalling the peculiar word choice, and that earns a smile from benedict.

“what i had meant to say is—“ he swallows, “you look beautiful, y/n.”

“i think,” you respond perhaps too swiftly, “that is testimony to genevieve’s skill and not to my appearance.”

“i think genevieve only enhances what is already there.”

you want to change, you don’t want to change— you do want to change the topic.  you cannot handle whatever— whatever benedict is insinuating.  the indecipherable, intense, attentive gaze of his ocean eyes on you.  it is so much; it is too much.

“she spoke of you.”

shit.  why did i say that?

his face immediately falls, ocean eyes transforming with it.

shit.

“genevieve spoke of me?  with you?  why?”

“kathani had accompanied me to the modiste, and i had shared with genevieve how i became acquainted with penelope and the bridgertons,” you half-truth.  “talking about the family, and then you, was a natural consequence.”

“what did she say?  about me?”

you try not to wince at the urgency in his voice.

“she shared how you and she had— an intimate and passionate acquaintance,” you divulge, using the words your friend had to describe the artists’ relationship.  perhaps you imagine the sensation, but you feel benedict wince as you dance.  “and that it was brief and no more.”

“she said that?  ‘brief and no more’?”

“indeed.”

he sighs.  you detect relief in the exhale, but perhaps you had, once again, imagined it.  you always had an active imagination; trying to bend what you perceive to what you wish was real.

“i see,” is all benedict says.

“do you care for her?” you inquire.  it is truly masochistic, what you are doing.  but you cannot help yourself.  it is something you often do when benedict is near.  when you and he are so close.

there is a small silence.

“i did.  at least, i think i did,” he shares. “i was hurt when our— acquaintance came to an end, but i was not heartbroken.  i had known nothing of heartbreak, not until—”

and he suddenly stops speaking, sucking in his lips.

“until?”

“nothing.  nevermind.  forget i had said anything,” he says all too quickly.  you laugh, and he scrunches his face in adorable disapproval at you.

“well, that only makes me the more curious, benedict!  the mystery of it, and your very clear blush, indicate it must have been quite the event.”

“i am not blushing!”

“you cannot lie about something i can literally see.”

“you are infuriating.”

“and what do you think you are?”

benedict just pouts at you, though you see the twinkle in his ocean eyes.  you want the twinkle to be of affection, but you will settle for amusement.  for friendship.  you take pride in how you can elicit this reaction out of him.  you take joy in how he can elicit this reaction out of you.  you love him, and you are grateful that is something you can say and know and feel.  even if he does not love you as you love him.

“the first time i felt heartbreak,” he begins, finally giving in.  you perk up in anticipation.  “was when— was when you had walked out of the house after i had crumpled the paper to the floor.”

you nearly stop in your tracks, halting your waltz with benedict entirely, until you find a way to recover and continue the steps with him.  he is looking intently at you, waiting for your response.  you inhale a breath and on the exhale say,

“oh.”

it is a pathetic response, but it is the only one you can muster at this moment.  breath has entirely left your lungs, your heart palpitates at a maddening rate, the lightning of benedict’s touch and proximity magnifying at every passing second.

“i had hurt you, this person whom i—” he swallows, “whom i care for, deeply and completely.  i was, and am, ashamed of my deed and the arrogant thoughts and beliefs that led me to do it.”

“i have long forgiven you for that, benedict.”

“it is something of which i am not deserving.”

“you cannot tell me what to think or do,” you challenge, arching an eyebrow at him to add levity to the conversation.  benedict smiles, despite himself, and it makes your body flood with relief and joy. 

“i would never dare.”

“as you shouldn’t,” you grin, then inhaling and exhaling through your nostrils.  “you need not flagellate yourself for what you did.  that accomplishes nothing, and guilt is entirely useless in the structures that be,” you say resolutely.  more softly, you continue.  “my forgiveness is something i gave you willingly because it is what i truly wanted.  because i knew, and know, how you wish to do better.  i see that in everything you do; in your art, in your character.  it is something i admire in you.”

benedict simply stares at you, his ocean eyes impossible to decipher again.  his gaze is overwhelming, but you refuse to break it.

“i was about to say how undeserving i am of your compassion,” he says, “but then swiftly realized you would have just admonished me.”

you laugh.

“you were correct in thinking so, yes.”

he looks at you still, his expression still impossible to decipher, but there is something soft about it.

“thank you, y/n.”

the butterflies within you flutter once more.

“and if you ever wish to discard your paper again,” you diverge from your feelings, “simply hand it to me.  i am always in need of more.”

he laughs fully, the corners of his eyes crinkling with delight, and you feel the flutterings violently rage within.  perhaps diversion was not the wisest choice (or perhaps it was, if it meant that you were the one to make benedict laugh like that).

“i have gotten quite good at maximizing the amount of negative space on a sheet, but nothing would delight me more than to support your writing.”

“i am most grateful for your patronage, mr. bridgerton.”

benedict makes something of a gagging noise, and you snort loudly.

“you are making it strange with the master-servant relation, y/n.”

“ah, so you are learning,” you comment with a sagacious nod of approval.  it is now benedict’s turn to snort.

“what can i say?” he grins.  “i have the greatest of teachers.”

“they have done quite well; please give them my regards.”

“i shall.”

and with the music coming to an end, you turn to face one another, wide and wild smiles on your faces.  you curtsy as benedict bows.  

“may i fetch you a drink?” he inquires after you are both upright again.

“is alcohol served at these occasions?”

benedict laughs.

“champagne it is.”

he gives you one more bow, lingering a moment more with one more smile, before taking off to retrieve your drink.

you try to bite back your smile, but it’s entirely useless.  you twirl in your spot, feeling the swish of your dress in the spin, for you cannot help yourself.  you cannot help how much joy radiates off of you in this moment, how giddy you are.  it feels like a fairytale.  you look in the direction benedict took off and feel your smile widen.

it is dangerous what you are doing— indulging in this.  but you do not care.

this is undoubtedly the most wondrous night of your life.

“so you’re the pauper that the bridgertons have invited to their ball.”

you freeze.

“how else would you have been asked to dance by the host—the viscount and a bridgerton, nonetheless; his two brothers; and the elusive duke of hastings?  it is an endearing sight, really.”

her posse snickers.

“the bridgertons have always been so kind and thoughtful in that way, extending their hands to the less fortunate.  why they chose you, however, remains a mystery.  if it were a pretty face that appealed to them, i perhaps could have understood, but you are simple at best.”

“you are cressida cowper,” you state.

penelope and eloise had warned you about a cruel creature amongst the ton, and the young woman before you matches all of the criteria they had described:  icy platinum hair, draconian eyes, and a haughty disposition that ought to be reserved for the royals.

cressida daintily gasps and smiles at you with what seems to be all the mockery she can muster.  

“i see that my reputation precedes me!  though, only those of my standing can refer to me as such.  cannot have my name tainted by the mouths of the lowly.”

you feel the gazes of other guests on you.  you hear muffled sneers.

this is entertainment for them.

you should say something, stand up for yourself— against cressida, against her posse, against the ton— but you don’t.  you can’t.  your mouth has gone dry, your mind has gone silent, your body has gone numb.  you have never, ever felt more powerless.

“your dress— did the bridgertons pay for it?  of course they did.  pity, though, for their wealth to go to waste on such an offensive thing.  allow me to assist you—”

and she pours her drink onto you.

you try not to gasp at the chill of the liquid making contact with your skin.  looking down, you see a reddish purple stain seep into the cream fabric of your ball gown as it continues to travel downwards.

you hear cressida giggle.  you look up.

“better,” she simpers.  “beautiful at last.”

her posse sneers with delight.  the guests who had tried to suppress their laughs do nothing to hide their mirth now.  

this is entertainment for them.  my humiliation— it is entertainment for them.

you step into cressida’s space, eliciting a stunned gasp from her as the others follow suit, and shove your face as closely to hers as possible.

“if we were not in your domain, i would rip out your delicate hair and strike my hand across your pretty little face.  but i am a lady—not in blood nor in title, but in character.  and with your words and your deeds, you have shown just how utterly undeserving you are of such a title with your complete void of morals, compassion, and integrity.  i do not care what you think of me, cressida, or what drinks you pour on me because i can rest easy in my sleep and waking hours knowing with perfect certainty that i am nothing like you.  i bid you good night.”

and maintaining the ferocity of your glare on her horrified eyes, you muster up the most mocking, deep curtsy you can, turn, hitch up your skirt, and run away.  you cannot care for the booming silence from that creature and her posse, for the murmurs and glowers of the ton thrown your way.  you cannot take time to process what words a flutters-inducing voice snarls at cressida.  

no. 

you must simply run away, quickly and efficiently, because you refuse to give into these monsters’ satisfaction of seeing your tears.

𝄆 ⚘ ✸ III.iv ✸ ⚘ 𝄇

the cool air of the night whips your face as you run as far and as deep as you can into the gardens.  you curse your damned shoes, for they are slippery and nothing like your sturdy boots, and they make you realize even further how much you have fucked up in allowing yourself to get this far.  in allowing yourself to go to the ball, in allowing yourself to dance, in allowing yourself to fall in—

feeling your shoe catch on something, you fall forward and throw your hands out in front of you, your gloved palms digging into the bark of a tree trunk as you attempt to steady yourself.  you attempt to control the staggered rhythm of your breath, the sobs that choke out of your throat, the palpitations that threaten to collapse your heart.

why did i allow myself to get this far?

“y/n—”

you snap your gaze over to the call of your name as your stomach knots, somehow, even now, with flutterings upon hearing his voice.

“benedict, no— just— no,” you manage to croak out, stepping away from where he approaches.  you hold up your hand, as if it is a magical force that will push him away.  it does not.  “just go, please, just go.”

“i refuse to leave you, y/n, you are hurt—”

you cackle, sniffling the snot that tries to escape your nostrils.  you push your remaining hand off the tree and turn towards him.  

“hurt?  what gave you that impression?  is it the tears?  they are just water, benedict, they will dry.”

“this is not the time to jest!”

“then what do you want of me!”

“to allow me to help you!”

“why!  why do you care!  why do you care for some, some low status person like me!”

“that is not how i see you!”

“THAT IS WHAT I AM.”

he freezes.  you feel yourself clenching your hands into fists, your nails digging into your palms through the satin of the gloves that were bought for you.

“you are the son of a viscountess, a brother to a viscount.  i wonder every day if my family will have enough food to eat at our one meal.  we—” you gesture between the two of you, “—are not of the same world.  and maybe, maybe it should have stayed that way.  to, to have stayed in our own worlds.  we should have stayed in our own worlds!”

“and is that what you want?” he shoots back.

“what?”  you snark.

“is that what you want?  for us to stay in our own worlds?”

you fall silent, words suddenly failing you, breath suddenly leaving you.  he huffs out a breath and continues.

“if that is what you want, i shall stay away from you.  i shall never bother you.  i shall never hurt you as i have.  we shall—” benedict swallows, “we shall forget each other.  if that is what you want, y/n, i shall give it to you.”

you do not respond to him.  you stare into him as he stares into you.

“is that what you want?”

you shake your head as you feel fresh tears rush to your eyes.

“then what do you want?” he softly asks.

you flutter your eyes closed and breathe in.  on your exhale, you open your eyes to the tear-blurry sight of benedict still looking at you with such tenderness in his ocean eyes.

“i want you,” you whisper.

you barely have time to process anything else when benedict surges forward and wraps his arms around you in a crushing embrace.  tears fall even harder than before as you cry into his chest and wrap your arms around him.

benedict pulls back from the embrace to look at you, to cup your cheek, to wipe away the tears that fall so quickly from your eyes.

“i want you, y/n.  i want to be yours.  i want to be in your world, i want our worlds to be one.  i want to go wherever you go.  i want to make you laugh and to make you smile every day and every night; i want to do everything with you.  i want to be with you, to share this life with you.  from the moment i met you, from the moment you intended to shake my hand, i have wanted nothing more than to share all the time i have on this earth with you.  i do not care for balls, i do not care for the ton, i care— i care for you, y/n.  these are not the circumstances in which i wanted to confess this, with you crying and us yelling at one another, but i must be true with you.  i—”

“benedict?”

“yes?”

“may i kiss you?”

benedict’s jaw drops and you laugh at his shock, sniffling your nose as you beam at him.  he quickly recovers, breaking out into the smile that has always made you flutter with butterflies, the smile that you always secretly hoped, dreamed, wished was reserved for you.  and you begin to think that, after all this time, perhaps it is.

“good god, please, yes—”

he barely completes his ‘yes’ when you jump forward to crash your lips into his.  benedict practically trips backwards with the force of your eager leap, the two of you laughing into your kiss at the messiness of it all, as he holds you both steady.

this is your first kiss.  you are so glad that it is benedict.  

and somewhere within you blooms the hope that he is your last first kiss.  

you have no idea what you’re doing, or what you should be doing, but you are far too much enjoying having benedict’s lips on yours, your hands on his cheeks, his hands on your waist, and your bodies pressing more and more into each other to give the slightest care.  and the smile you feel against yours makes you think that benedict doesn’t mind—at all.

you pull apart to breathe, but your lips do not move far from one another.

“i love you.”

“i love you, too.”

“and i am sorry.”

“for loving me?”

you feel benedict jump back as he holds you, his face absolutely crestfallen, panic flooding his eyes, and he’s about to open his mouth to speak when you giggle and peck his parted lips with yours.

“i’m teasing you, my love.”

benedict’s eyes soften but quickly glint with mischief.  you’re curious about the expression when you feel him tickling the sides of your waist.

“okay, okay!” you gasp with laughter as he tickles on. “i— i yield, i yield!”

benedict grins victoriously, his tickles fading into him softly rubbing circles on your waist.

“i am sorry for saying that is not how i see you, when you spoke of your social standing.  i had not meant it that way, but i understand now how it was understood, and i should not have said it as i did.  i know that i have lived a life of unfathomable ease with the wealth and circumstances into which i was born.  the privileges i hold are not things i had reflected on, really, until— until i met you.”

you soften at his earnestness, by the way he humbles himself before you.  but you cannot help the giddy mischief that bubbles from within.

“did you only reflect on your privileges as to win a femme’s favor?”

benedict’s jaw drops again, but you see how his ocean eyes shine with like-minded playfulness. 

“do you truly think so lowly of me?”

you grin.  

“perhaps.”

you feel benedict teasingly threaten his hands into tickling position onto your waist, and laughing, you shoo them away.  he grins and softens his gaze once more.

“what i wanted to say to you earlier is— i wish you did not speak of yourself so harshly.  as if you are unworthy of care from me because of your status.  i care for you, i love you, y/n,  as you are.  as you were, as you will be.  with all your circumstances, all your experiences, all your deeds, all your words, all your thoughts, all your feelings.  for your heart, for your mind, for your soul.  i love you because you are you, and i wish for you to see that, for you to see you as i see you.  as so many of us see you.”

“i— i do not know what to say.”

“you do not have to say anything; just to, if i may ask of you, seed my words into your heart and mind and soul and know them to be true, wholly and completely,” a playful smile forms on his lips.  “though, i must say, i am rather pleased with myself for rendering a writer with ferocious conviction speechless.”

you roll your eyes, but your voice is soft.

“you have had that effect on me for quite some time, benedict.”

benedict swallows and gently rubs circles onto your waist again.

“i love you, benedict.”

“i love you, too.”

< y/n and benedict, hand-in-hand, start to walk towards the house; they are taking their time. >

“are you certain you want to return the ball?” benedict inquires.  “we can stay here in the gardens and wait until the last of the guests have gone.”

you hum.

“i would like to dance.”

“ah, was there a gentleman or a lady who caught your eye, miss y/l/n?”

“oh, loads.  i hope it won’t make you terribly jealous, mr. bridgerton.”

“it will, but i shall simply stare at them maliciously if their hands are to roam.”

“yes, my form is reserved for your hands and your hands alone.”

you exchange grins.

“indeed.”

benedict nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck, and you laugh.  he lifts his head and plants a soft kiss on your temple.

“are you certain?  i do not mean to doubt you or your wishes to dance.  we can dance out here, under the bright light of the moon.  i want you to feel content and safe.”

“i do feel content and safe.  with you.  with the family.  within myself.  i shan’t let the ton or cressida ruin my first ball.  though, the idea of dancing in the moonlight is quite enticing.  perhaps another night?”

“you have my word,”  and bringing your hand to his lips, he kisses your knuckles.  a serene silence falls between you two until benedict makes some sort of a noise in his throat, as if to clear his voice.

“i, uh, must say,” benedict begins, “your confrontation with cressida was, uh, quite— alluring.”

you stop, letting go of his hand, and stare at him.

“alluring?”

a delicious blush colors your love’s face.

“indeed.”

a newfound bravery blooms in you.

you step into his space, not breaking eye contact with his blown out pupils, the ocean of his eyes mere outlines.  you sneak your lips towards his ear and hear a soft whimper emit from his lips.

“is that something of interest to you, mr. bridgerton?” you murmur, your bottom lip barely grazing his earlobe.  you feel him shiver and inhale.  “when you see someone be put in their place?”

he exhales frantically.

“it is something of interest to me when— when you do it,” he admits, as if out of breath.  you smile, pressing your bottom lip softly into his earlobe.  he does nothing to hold back his moan as you do everything in your power to hold in yours.

“that is good to know,” and quickly rip away from him.  

in your step back, you take in benedict’s state—flustered, expectant, ruttish—and wink at him.  you turn and walk away at your leisure, putting on a performance of superiority as you hide your own arousal.

it is only a few moments later that you hear benedict follow you.

“you,” he says, voice still fraught with desire but full with love, “will be the death of me.”

you look back at him and grin.

“and what would you like me to put on your epitaph?”

“benedict bridgerton, he who, in life and in death, loves the best soul to have ever existed.”

you cannot help your giddy self and close the distance between the two of you once more, grabbing his face and pressing your smile into his.  benedict happily obliges as he places his hands at the low of your waist and pulls you closer into him.

< they get into it! 

< y/n takes off her gloves so that she can touch benedict; she is about to throw them on the ground. >

“wait—”

and he takes your gloves.

“hm?”

“your gloves.  they were costly to make,” benedict states as he stuffs them into the inside pockets of his jacket.  “i don’t want to be flippant in letting them be discarded to the ground.”

you gape at him.

“you concern yourself with the cost of my gloves?”

“why, yes, of course, it is something i—”

you clutch onto the lapels of benedict’s jacket and push him backward into a nearby hedge, his mouth now agape and his pupils dark with a desire you very much want to satisfy.

“i find your consideration quite alluring.”

in the midst of his apparent arousal, benedict giggles, and that makes you grin.

“what is it?”

“a hedge, y/n?  of all things to anchor me against?”

you roll your eyes.

“it was this, benedict, or the bark of a tree.”

“ah, so i should be grateful then.”

you repeat his words with sped up mockery, making him laugh and the corners of his eyes crinkle in the adorable way that is so very distinctly benedict, and you capture your love’s lips again to shut him up, smiling and laughing into the kiss.

…

“what do you want?”

“you.  whatever you want, benedict, i want it.  please.”

“are you certain?” he breathes into your ear.

“god, yes, benedict, please, yes.”

“then—”

benedict positions his head downward, burying his face into the crevice of your bosom, and before you can even begin to tease him for his absurdity, you feel the wetness of his tongue flat against the curvature of your right breast.  your gasp of surprise quickly transforms into an ungodly guttural wail, feeling yourself dig your fingernails into benedict’s back, arching into him to steady yourself, as he painstakingly drags the flat of his tongue from your right breast against the expanse of your exposed chest to the length of your right shoulder.  dazed and euphoric, you feel how benedict sneaks towards your ear, hovers it, panting ragged breaths,

“i’ve wanted to do that since you descended the stairs in that dress.  and—”

taking your left hand, benedict pushes your middle finger and forefinger fully into his mouth.  he methodically works his tongue against them as he guides your hand to pull and push in him, his blown out pupils never once leaving your intoxicated stare.  you feel the desperate urge to throw your head back at the incandescent eroticism that throbs from your fingertips to the rest of your body, but may god smite you if you willingly tear your eyes away from the divine sight of benedict’s almost oceanless eyes gaping into you as his gorgeous mouth sucks on your fingers.  just before you feel as though you are to fully blank out and ascend into the heavens, benedict rips your hand out of his mouth, the action creating an obscenely delicious ‘pop’ sound, and, wrapping his hand around your wrist, pulls you back into him, your face finding respite just below his shoulder.

“i’ve wanted to do that since first drawing your hand.”

you laugh-cry into his jacket.

“shit, benedict.”

your love laughs and nudges his head into yours and rests it there as he softly rubs circles on your back with his thumb.

“please—” good god, breathe, “please remind me to ask you more frequently what you want.”

“did you enjoy it?”

“no, benedict, i quite plainly hated it.”

“i’d be glad to accept your critiques.”

“i know you would,” you smile into his jacket and, lifting your head, are greeted by your favorite sight:  benedict, with his soft smile and his gentle ocean eyes.

“i have never felt like that before,” you admit in a whisper.

“nor have i,” he whispers back.  that shocks you, and you must have made your reaction visible because benedict emits a laugh through his nose, soft smile and gentle ocean eyes unfaltering.

“but you have been with others before; you’ve had similar experiences, yes?”  

you had assumed that your exhilaration must have been, apart from it being benedict, rooted in your lack of experience in such things.

benedict brushes a loose strand of your hair away from your eyes and tucks it behind your ear, his hand moving down to cup your cheek, his thumb gently rubbing it.

“yes, but those were different.” 

you cock your head in response.  he smiles, as if it is apparent.

“because they are not you.”

the sweetness of benedict’s ocean eyes are quickly replaced with shock then delight and then you don’t know what because he closes them as you crash your lips into his.  whatever you had just felt before, you want it again.  you want benedict.  all of him.  and you want all of him to feel what you just had.

you lick his teeth, and granting your wish, benedict opens his mouth more, groaning, bringing his hands to the curvatures of your ass, pushing your bodies even closer together though no space left exists between the two of you.  you move your hand to the back of his head and, gripping a tuft of his hair, pull it roughly just as you capture his tongue with your mouth and suck hard.  the sounds that benedict produce in reaction are entirely inhuman, but you vaguely deduce he is trying to say your name, and you’ve never attended a concert but, my god, nothing will ever sound as harmonious as the symphony that is your name gutturally trapped in benedict’s throat.

continuing with the work you’ve done to undo benedict thus far, you take your other hand and start to rake it against his body, starting at the base of his throat, taking time and leisure to explore, lowering and pressing into his chest, wondering wildly what beauty exists behind his damned shirt, lowering and feeling the firmness of his stomach and trying not to completely undo yourself with the sinful, transcendent thoughts of putting your tongue there, lowering and lowering and touching something curious and unfamiliar and hard and—

when he pushes you off of him.

“benedict, i— i am so sorry,” you panic, “please, what did i—”

“no, no,” he swallows, “you did— you have nothing to apologize for, my love, you were— uh— you were doing quite——” he clears his throat, “you were doing quite well; very well, actually…”

you continue to frown, still concerned.

“then why are you so tottery?”

“because— because if we were to continue, i do not think— i know i would not last for— um, for very much longer.”

you jut out your hip, putting the knuckles of your fist on it, and furrow your eyebrows at him.

“benedict bridgerton, i still do not understand what you are trying to convey.  speak plainly.”

“we should stop.”

your jaw drops, as does your hand from your hip.

“why?” you practically whine.  you should be embarrassed by your desperation, but to be entirely frank, you couldn't care less.  benedict huffs out a laugh, still breathless, and, stepping towards you, lays a tender kiss on your forehead.

“as much as i would love for us to continue, i think being in the family gardens with a ball being held a few meters away is hardly an ideal location for the more— involved aspects of such activities.  the aspects i’d like to explain to you,” he takes another step into your space, lowering his voice to an unfamiliar but enrapturing gravel, “the aspects i’d like to show you.”

you swallow your whimper.

“i—— i would very much like that,” you manage.  and then you grin, “though, exploring such aspects in the family gardens sounds like it would be quite the adventure.  a calculated risk, if you will.”

the alluring tone of benedict’s voice is completely replaced with a giggle, and your grin broadens as you press even closer into him and nudge your nose against his.  benedict rests his forehead against yours and flutters his eyes closed.

“what did i do to have you love me back?” 

you flutter your eyes closed.

“you were you.  you are you.”

𝄆 ⚘ ✸ III.v ✸ ⚘ 𝄇

< ahead, y/n sees kathani.  she makes the connection that kathani must have accompanied benedict as a chaperone so that y/n wouldn’t be “disgraced” by having a man by himself chase after her.  

< as the two approach the viscountess, kathani recognizes how disheveled y/n and benedict look and promptly fixes them to look more presentable. she takes some hedge leaves out of benedict’s hair. >

“i see that you are well, y/n?” inquires kathani.

“never better, actually.”

she laughs, a smile falling on her lips.

“i am sincerely glad to hear that.”

< they walk closer to bridgerton house. >

“you are fortunate that it was not anthony who volunteered to chaperone.  he would have not reacted well to his loved one being dishonored, as he would say, particularly on family grounds.”

“oh dear,” you say, nervous and suddenly self-conscious.  you do not want to be the target of the eldest bridgerton’s wrath.  “what have i done to dishonor—“

kathani laughs.

“i wasn’t referring to you, chellam.  i was referring to him,” and she juts her chin out at benedict.

“me!”

“anthony will be furious when he finds out that you have been— private,” she says, gesturing to his newly tidied appearance, “with y/n in the gardens.  not very gentlemanly of you.”

“he won’t find out!” benedict pauses. “he won’t find out— right, kate?”

kathani just makes a face of feigned deep thought and you chortle.

“kate!”

“i do not keep secrets from my husband, benedict.”

“but what if it’s for love?” he implores.  he says it facetiously, but you feel with what conviction he exudes his true feeling.

kathani’s expression softens as she looks between you and benedict.  you offer a small nod and a smile, confirming her thoughts.  she beams at you but then narrows her eyes at benedict.  there is no heat to her gaze; she is, however, having the most sublime time making her brother-in-law squirm.

“i do not keep secrets from my husband, benedict,” kathani repeats.  benedict groans, throwing his head back like a disgruntled child, and you belly laugh at him.  

“i hope you are ready for gregory to be your second,” she continues.

you almost double over as benedict snaps his head forward to look at his sister-in-law.

“gregory!”

“indeed.  it is a shame as well— anthony’s accustomed second being the one he has to duel,” she sighs dramatically.  “oh well.  colin will make a fine replacement.”

“this family is ridiculous,” you declare, grinning like mad.  “gregory seems a tad young, though.  what about eloise?  i am sure she would be a more than suitable second for benedict.”

“oh, i have no doubt,” grins back kathani, “but i would not dare involve a woman in the idiocy of men and their ludicrous concepts of honor.”

you and kathani laugh loudly, delighted by how much you are enjoying yourselves, untroubled by benedict’s moping.

“it has been wonderful being in love with you, benedict,” you state simply.  “it’s a pity that it has to come to an end so soon."

kathani snorts.  benedict stops in his tracks and gapes at you.

“you think i would lose the duel!”

“anthony is more stubborn; he would let it fuel his will to live.”

“i think you underestimate how much i love you and how that fuels my will to live.” 

you smile.  in your periphery, kathani smiles. despite his current displeasure with you, your love smiles.

“i suppose i do.”

𝄆 ⚘ ✸ III.vi ✸ ⚘ 𝄇

< upon returning to the ball, y/n, benedict, and kathani see how anthony and violet are ensuring that the cowpers are leaving.  before the family leaves, y/n approaches cressida. >

“i do hope to see you at another one of these events.  if you find a way, of course, not to have yourself kicked out.” 

and you curtsy.  you turn to your love, his mouth in a wide smile and ocean eyes sparkling, and offer him a wink. you hear the quartet start up. 

“i believe it is time for another round of dancing.  care to be my partner?” 

“i would love nothing more.”

< they dance.  it is sweet, silly, romantic, and delightful.  both y/n and benedict touch each other beyond what is considered proper, like hands laying too low on the waist or eliminating the space between their bodies, but they truly do not care.  their unabashed joy is abundantly evident to everyone in the ballroom, but they are only focused on one another.  they are in their own world.  they giggle, they grin; it is the happiness they both deserve.  

< they dance the next set.

< after her and benedict’s third dance together, y/n makes eye contact with violet, who is at the margins of the dancefloor, eyes wide with joy. >

“as much as i love dancing with you, my love,” you beam, “i think i am in need of a new partner.”

< y/n approaches violet and with a bow asks her for the honor of being her next dance. though delighted, violet remarks how she is too old, and y/n says that the youngsters can learn a thing or two from her wisdom and skill. >

“we would need permission from the host,” offers violet.

“from anthony!  you birthed him!  you granted him permission to exist!”

that makes violet laugh.

< violet agrees, and they walk hand in hand to the dance floor.  in this dance, y/n and violet are partnered, benedict partnered with penelope, kathani partnered with anthony. >

…

“you’ve told each other."

“has anyone remarked how keenly insightful you are, violet bridgerton?"

“no,” the dowager replies with twinkling eyes, “but it is something of which i am well aware, and take great pride in.  i am happy for you both.”

“i am so glad to have your approval.”

“oh tosh!  as if a mother’s approval or disapproval can get in the way of real, true love.”

“perhaps so, but it is affirming to have the blessing from someone you so dearly love in a matter such as this.”

“you make it easy to love you, my dear.”

< the dance calls for a switch in partners.  y/n becomes partnered with penelope, and violet becomes partnered with benedict. >

“thank you, pen.”

“whatever for?”

“for bumping into me at the markets.”

penelope laughs.

“accidents are quite good, are they not?”

“i despise them, actually,” you declare with a grin.

< penelope reveals that benedict shared with her why he was not seen for the first three dances of the night. >

your jaw drops, and penelope merely titters in response.

“is that why i didn’t see him!  because he was lurking in the crowds to prevent men from approaching me?”

“it has been my discovery that the bridgerton brothers do not handle their jealousies well.”

“do you think gregory shall be the same?”

“oh, i am entirely certain.  he shall likely be the worst of all.”

the two of you snort as you are sent back to your partners, penelope with benedict and you with violet.

“and what has you and penelope in such giggles?”

“making barbs at your sons.”

violet laughs.

“they make it awfully easy to do so, do they not?”

< the dance comes to an end.  violet plants a soft kiss on y/n’s head.

< turning, y/n connects eyes with benedict who wears an incandescently happy expression. >

how could you not see it before?  how in love he is with you.

< tired but elated, y/n takes a break from dancing.  she reunites with the rest of the bridgertons at the ball.  y/n finally meets daphne, who remarks that she has heard so much about y/n.  eloise shares how the family wished to check in on y/n when she had returned to the ball to see that she was well; in a rare smile rather than a smirk, eloise shares that, upon seeing her dance and dance again with benedict, that she looked quite well indeed. at some point in the conversation with the bridgertons, y/n inquires when she can meet francesca.

< time passes, and joy is had amongst the bridgertons, penelope, simon, and y/n.  y/n cannot believe her happiness.

< the last dance is called.  benedict approaches y/n. >

“may i have the honor of being your final dance of the night?"

“you aren’t tired of me yet?”

“i shall never tire of you, y/n.”

upon taking your hand, benedict twirls you once then twice as he leads you towards the dance floor.  giggling and grinning, you decide to do the same to him, causing him to giggle and grin right along with you.

< they dance a fourth time. >

𝄆 ⚘ ✸ III.vii ✸ ⚘ 𝄇

< the guests have made their leave from the bridgerton ball.  colin, eloise, and violet have gone to their respective bedchambers.  

< anthony, benedict, kathani, and y/n walk up the steps of the grand staircase. anthony has his hand clamped on benedict’s forearm and pulls him up the steps with particular determination and quiet fury. >

“i know where i sleep, brother!  i have slept there since we were children!”

“i am well aware of that, benedict, and i am also well aware of how you— roam when enticed.”

benedict looks at anthony, to you (you just shrug as you look on at the exchange with excitement), and back to anthony.

“do you people really think so little of me!”

“i do not think little of you, brother, i just know you.”

benedict’s shock deepens incredulously, though you see the smile underscoring it all.

“i am a man of honor!  i am a gentleman!”

“yes, as am i, as is colin, as was father; all bridgerton men are, and all bridgerton men are idiots around the persons for whom they have affections.  now, go into your bedchamber,” anthony finishes as he shoves his younger brother into the room.

“you are a nightmare!” you hear your love shout from within.

“and you are to stay here for the remainder of the night!” he shouts back, leaning forward to grab the knob to benedict’s bedchamber and pulling the door shut with a loud thud.  he turns to kathani, composure returning to his senses. 

“my dearest, may you call samuel and lawrence, please?  i shall have samuel stationed here and lawrence stationed outside benedict’s window.  they will be paid double their wage for these extemporary responsibilities.”

you laugh with your whole stomach and feel tears sting your eyes.  you have no concern in hiding your howls until you remember hyacinth and gregory are asleep and promptly clamp your hand over your mouth.  your hand succeeds in muffling your laughter, but marginally.

kathani rolls her eyes at her husband and deeply sighs.

“i shall,” she replies, smiling at her love’s antics.

pleased with her answer, anthony right about turns at benedict’s door, places his hands behind his back, and stands up tall, taking his temporary duty as guard with the utmost gravity.  something then eases in his posture, and he turns to you.

“i hope you have enjoyed your night, y/n.”

your heart swells.

“it was wondrous, anthony.  thank you.”

he beams, brilliant delight in his eyes.

“i wish you good rest.”

and with a bow of his head, anthony turns away from you and assumes his station once more, gravity and perfect posture and all.

the viscountess turns to you, her smile having softened, and says, “let me escort you back to your bedchamber.  i shall help you prepare for bed.”

–

“despite his many flaws,” kathani says with all amusement and fondness in her voice as she removes the pins from your hair, “anthony is, indeed, a man of honor and honesty.”

“i never had my doubts, but—” you snort, “that has certainly proved it.”

“it is because he thinks so highly of you,” she shares, looking at you in the mirror.  you turn around in your seat and connect with her eyes, eyes that are filled with so much warmth.  “he cares deeply for you, y/n.  anthony is only that overbearing and overly protective when it comes to his family, and he sees you as our family.  we all do.”

you suck in air through your nostrils, feeling the swell of your heart.  how did you get so fortunate as to be so loved by this family?  

though, you detect something in kathani.  her words are sincere, of that you are not doubtful, but they do not seem complete.  it is as if she wants to say more, if the blossoming twinkle in her eyes is indicative of anything.  but kathani does not elaborate.  

instead, she picks up the brush on the vanity and gently brushes your hair.  it reminds you of when your elder sister used to brush your hair before bedtime.  you close your eyes, humming.

“i see you all as my family, too.”

𝄆 ⚘ ✸ III.viii ✸ ⚘ 𝄇

< the next morning, late morning.  the dining room. >

“you are infernal,” benedict deadpans to anthony, staring at his brother and taking his seat next to you.

“you are incorrigible; i was correct,” anthony responds, his eyes not leaving his paper.

“correct about what, brother?” hyacinth asks.

despite their current rivalry, benedict and anthony both freeze.  kate speaks on their behalf.

“your eldest had deemed it necessary to have lawrence stationed outside below benedict’s bedchamber window in the early morn and was proved correct in doing so; your second eldest had attempted to escape by way of that route.”

“stationed outside his window?  why would that be necessary?” gregory inquires.  he turns to benedict.  “and why were you trying to leave through your window?” 

in his periphery, benedict sees you whipping your head.  you seem to have suddenly found some interest in the painting on the wall faced away from the current scene.  he notices how you hide your smile behind your fist and how you attempt to suppress the convulsions of your laughter.  kate, on the other hand, unapologetically laughs.

“i am certain you will learn in due time, gregory.  it is something of a tradition, it seems.”

“will i get to participate in this tradition?” hyacinth enthuses.

“NO!” benedict and anthony shout in tandem.  they look at each other, and the elder gives a ‘see!’ face to the younger.  benedict just rolls his eyes.  

his eyes eventually land back on you:  you have now totally hidden your face in your hands with elbows perched on the table for support, any attempts at hiding your laughter now entirely gone.  your entire body vibrates as you somehow squeak and guffaw into the palms of your hands.

“ugh, why do adults always speak in such vague statements!” hyacinth grumbles as she slumps in her chair and crosses her arms.  she then suddenly shoots back up and looks at you.  “y/n, you only speak in riddles when we play!  may we play now?”

“yes!  may we play now?” gregory pipes up.

“please!” the two youngest plead in tandem.  benedict looks to you, and wiping away your hands to reveal your face red from laughter, you say,

“i would be— i would be delighted to do so,” you take sharp breaths in between attempts at controlling your laughter.  “perhaps—” you full on snort, and it makes benedict break out into a grin, “—perhaps, after the young sorceress and— and the young knight slay the wyvern, they— they will save the— the—” you laugh hard again, “the princess, captive and forlorn in her tower.”

gregory and hyacinth shout their joy and take off from the table.  

“you haven’t been excu!— oh, nevermind,” anthony grumbles in an uncanny, childlike resemblance to his youngest sibling.

benedict watches as you use your forefingers to swipe at the corners of your e/c eyes, fits of laughter still bubbling out of your mouth.

i love her, and she loves me, he thinks in awe.  it has been on repeat in his mind since you confessed to one another in the gardens just the night prior.  she is mine, and i am hers.

“your lordship,” you giggle still as you look at anthony, and benedict snickers, “may i be excused to play make-believe with your youngest siblings?”

anthony rolls his eyes with much theatricality, but his smile at you is sincere.

“you are not my sibling,” he states, but benedict catches how his elder brother quickly glances at him with eyes that say ‘yet,’ “you need not my permission, but yes, you may.”

you bow your head in dramatic gratitude, causing kate to titter and anthony to look to the ceiling, and you lift yourself up from your seat.

before you follow after his siblings, benedict reaches out and gently takes your hand.  you look at him, and he feels how his stomach flutters when his blue eyes makes contact with your e/c.  just as it did the first time, just as it did every time after.

benedict feels you softly rub three circles on his hand.  he softly rubs four circles on yours.

“good day, princess,” you say with a wink at your love, slowly slipping your hand away from his and then turning to walk out of the dining room.  benedict stares at you as you leave.

i love her, and she loves me.  she is mine, and i am hers.

“when do you intend on proposing, brother?” anthony smirks as he puts his teacup to his lips.

benedict smiles, looking off at where your laughter is heard. 

“later this afternoon.”  

anthony chokes on his tea, and kate, patting her coughing husband’s back, arches an eyebrow at her brother-in-law, amusement dancing in her eyes. 

“without a ring?” 

benedict turns to look at the couple and grins.  

“who said i don’t have a ring?”

“you are joking,” anthony says matter-of-factly.  “we all are excited at the prospects of y/n officially joining this family, but you just confessed your love for one another not even twelve hours ago.  we are still breaking fast!  there were guards at your door and your window!  how could you have already procured a ring?”

benedict smiles, digging into his pocket.

“i do not jest, brother.”

and, with pride, he holds up a thin band made of twisted paper.

“now, if you will excuse me,” benedict announces, lifting himself out of his seat, giving a kiss to the top of kate’s head, and ruffling anthony’s hair.  “i must be going.”

“and where are you off?” anthony demands as he straightens out his hair.

“do you think i am going to propose to y/n without asking her family’s permission first?  would not be very gentlemanly of me if i did.”

“how do you know where she lives!”

“that is what you were asking penelope last night,” kate answers.  anthony looks at his wife, incredulous and in awe.  benedict grins.

“exactly so, sister.  i’ve always known you held all the intelligence between you two.  i would have seen to it sooner, but—” 

an image of e/c eyes and ink-stained hands flashes in his mind, the flutterings in his stomach intensifying.  butterflies— that is what he will paint next, he decides.  

after he finishes his portrait of you.

“—i was held captive in my tower.”

#bridgerton #benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton fanfiction #benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton x you #benedict bridgerton x y/n #benedict bridgerton imagine #benedict bridgerton fluff #benedict bridgerton angst #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton x you #bridgerton x y/n #penelope featherington #kate sharma #anthony bridgerton #colin bridgerton #eloise bridgerton #gregory bridgerton #hyacinth bridgerton #violet bridgerton

[wandasfifthwife]

injured ✩‧₊˚

— hockey player/coach!wanda x afab/fem!reader

tw || hurt/comfort, wrist injury (r), angst w/ a happy ending, r gets a little bit in her head (thinks w is upset she got injured like her mom had years ago), nausea, discussions of blacking out (doesn’t happen), mentions of mommy issues, past verbal abuse hinted at, a kiss, love confessions, not proofread, shit writing

a/n || I originally said finger injury but I changed it since I’ve had personal experience with a wrist injury and I felt this for the scene better.

series m.list ✩ ══╡ ˚2.4k˚╞══ ✩ wanda m.list

Winter had rolled into season, signs of the transition showing itself in how cold the air got, how the streets lined themselves with street lights, and the snowflake decor in store windows. Your brother had texted you about possible plans, stating that your nephew is wanting to do the free outdoor skating they offered in town. You’ve done it every year with them, walk through the decorated city before skating on the rink for an hour. This would be the first year wands joined, she’s become a steady presence now, joining your family in most activities as she gets more involved.

Your brother drove you all over, his wife in front seat with the rest of you in the back. Wanda sat in the very back, kicking at the seat in front of her to get at Tyler. She’s been ruling him up lately, spiking his energy levels and ego. It’s normal, but at times it worries you with how aggressive he can take it, not realizing his movements are a bit thrown out of proposition, hand nearly missing the metal water bottle between the two of you.

“Wanda,” you scold, reaching behind the seat to swat at her, “cut that out.”

She puts her hands up in defense, finally sitting back and relaxing in the backseat. You saw it happen in slow motion, Tyler swinging back to hit at her thigh and Wanda reaching to snatch at his hand before he close.

“Wanda please, either of you could get hurt,” at your tone she stops, relaxing back and stoping her ministrations. The rest of the car ride was calm, you and your brother mainly holding the conversation.

“Can we get that fudge that we usually get? And this time I choose? Because you guys are terrible at choosing good flavors,” Tyler complains, already beginning to walk off.

Wanda had come to wrap your arm in hers, linking them as you wondered about the town. She wasn’t saying too much, personally feeling like she’s imposing on a family memory, but she felt it was enough to be present and witness the love you shared with your family.

“Want to try a bite,” you ask, holding out a small fork with the chocolate on the end of it.

“Hmm, peanut butter chocolate? Good choice Tyler.”

He grins, rambling to his parents then on how he got confirmation on how better he was at choosing items. She laughs at your deadpanned expression, a hand coming to squeeze yours in comfort, “you’re beautiful,” she mumbles, pressing a quick kiss to your lips to distract you from her earlier action. You push at her with a shy smile, crossing the room so you’re reunited back with your family.

You went to the same stores as the years before, stopping by to peek into the windows to see what they did this year for decorations. Wanda pulled your body closer to hers when you’d begin to shiver from the cold winds.

“Where’s this rink you all mentioned?”

“Out by where we came in. The next hour is starting soon so that’s where we’re heading now.”

“Don’t forget, this is a public rink. You can’t do donuts in the center and wipe out all the kids.”

“I’m not a psychopath.”

“Wanda,” you nudge her, “you did that just last week at the roller skating rink.”

“I didn’t ‘wipe out all the kids,’ one challenged me and they lost. Not my fault they wiped out.”

Turns out the rink was packed. A majority of the people skating were kids, looking between the ages of 6-12. Wanda kept a hand on you the whole time, body close to yours as you skate around the rink. She kept you warm, her side snuggling into yours, leaning to kiss your cheek often. You kept passing by your brother, seeing him try to help his wife off of the wall. She only skates during winter time, so once a year. Her legs turning into jello as she steps out onto the ice.

You had been laughing, looking back at the two of them when you heard the crash nearby. Turns out you should’ve given the speech to Tyler instead of Wanda because he actually did wipe a kid out. The kid cried in their spot, sitting where they fell with fat tears running down their face. You had crouched to help the kid, unaware of the person skating behind you with too much speed.

They brushed against you, knocking you off balance. You caught yourself from falling onto the kid, but you paid the cost.

The force at which you were shoved at plus the angle your wrist was at when you slammed it down, combined and met at a single spot in your wrist, snapping it. You’re wincing, pulling your hand off of the ice and cradling it into your chest.

The world looks a bit different, everything beginning to spin and turn blurry. Black dots appeared in your line of sight, uninjured hand gripping tight to the arms that are wrapping around you.

“No,” you take in a shallow breath, “faint. I feel faint.”

Whoever’s holding you doesn’t say anything, holding you in their arms as they skate you off the rink to lay you down on your back on a bench. You hear conversations, mind barely grasping what they’re saying as you’re focused on the pain growing in your wrist, the sensation of unconsciousness falling upon you.

“Shit. Should we drive to a nearby 24 hour clinic? They should be able to help if it’s just a sprain. I hope it’s just a sprain,” Wanda frets, eyes darting back to your figure often.

“Yeah. Yeah, let’s go. Can you carry her? You’ll have to hold her in the car.”

Her hands are scooping under you, gently as to not disturb you so she can walk you back to the car. Everyone’s thankful that you hadn’t parked far away, the car ending up only being a short walk down the street.

You fight with Wanda a bit when she has to move your body while getting into the car, stating how being placed like that will cause you to faint.

“I know, I know. I’m so sorry,” she’s resting your head back on her, adjusting your hand so it’s laid across your stomach. You’re clammy, breathing deep to try and compensate with the lack of it running through you.

“My wrist,” you try to tell her, using what you have to speak, “hurts.”

“I know, love. You took a tumble, landed on your wrist pretty bad.”

The drive’s only five minutes but it felt like the road kept stretching further and further. In your mind the drive felt overwhelming, those five minutes feeling like fifteen.

A nurse brought out a wheelchair, her and Wanda helping situate yourself so they can wheel you in carefully. You’re looking a bit better, nausea from earlier wearing off making your eyes look clearer.

“What happened?”

“I fell on the ice rink, I think I hurt my wrist badly.”

The nurse hums, “well do an x-ray then and figure out whats going on. Don’t worry about paperwork, your brother’s here filling that out for you, okay. What’s going to happen is that I’ll wheel you out so we can get a few scans and then the doctor will be back in to discuss further steps alright?”

Wanda’s standing in the corner, jittery as she waits for you to come back. She notices the redness in your eyes when you come back, the sight of your discomfort has anger flaring within her.

“What happened,” she asks once the nurse shuts the door.

“You heard her earlier, we took a few x-ray scans.”

“Did they hurt you at all? like when they moved you around—?”

“Yes of course it hurt, Wanda.”

“Hey,” she looks hurt from your sharp tone, “you know I didn’t mean it like that. I was just checking in on you.”

Your mind was having trouble distinguishing between two memories, walls being built in fear this situation would end up like the last one. Your brother steels you with a look, telling you to cool it, to relax and realize who it was you’re talking to.

She didn’t say anything after and you fear it’s because she’s upset with you, but if you had looked at her you would’ve found the opposite. She was biting at her nails, trying to deal with emotions of her own, the biggest one being concern. The door opens again, a woman with a long coat steps in, plastering on a smile when she sees you.

“Hey, how’re we doing today? I just got the results and it looks like you sustained a buckle break, meaning you half broke your bone. So we’ll fix you with a splint tonight to let the injury relax and allow the swelling to settle. You can come back tomorrow so we can put a cast on it, alrighty?”

She brought out a a black stuff cast, velcro used to snap the sides shut. The doctor helped you with the sling, apologizing when she notices the wince appear on your face.

“There, all set. Come in sometime tomorrow okay? Other than that you’re all set to head back home. Rest and ice it, and do not lift anything with that arm. Have a good night you guys.”

You feel Wanda’s eyes on you, assessing how you’re feeling and ensuring where you’re stepping is safe. She kept a hand ready at her side, fear still wracking her body since she saw you fall and cry out.

What she didn’t do was touch you. She stayed a foot away, leaving space between you.

It continued to happened on the car ride back to your brother’s home. A hushed conversation happening up front as you and Wanda sat in the middle row, Tyler taking the back seat this time. She wasn’t looking at you, face turned to look out of the window, the lights outside shining against her face. She wasn’t even reaching out for you, hands set rigidly in her lap.

The silence was suffocating between you two. Wanda was nervous, thinking of how you should sleep tonight to ensure you wouldn’t roll over into your wrist— and you were scared, fearing that she would scold you once you’ve gotten into her car.

Nothing was said. The cold air making you shiver. You hoped she’d catch the way your body shook from the cold, that she would coo like she does and give you her jacket. But she didn’t. Why do you keep expecting loved ones to keep expressing care when you keep messing up? You blink back tears, trying to keep it together as to not break down in front of Tyler.

Your brother parks the car, front lights turning off as he does, “Wanda I have some blankets in my closet you guys can borrow—pack that bed so she’s comfortable and not swinging her arm into a desk.”

“That would be wonderful. Thank you.”

She follows behind him, setting out to find these blankets so you’re more comfortable back home. Tyler says his goodnight as he scoots past the middle console.

“Night ty.”

“He loves you,” your brother’s wife says, helping you from the car, “he may not show that now, but I promise you he’ll be crying the second you two drive off.”

“He doesn’t have to cry over me.”

She clicks her teeth, reaching to rub your arm, “you’re worth crying over. He cares a lot, he’s just a dumb teenage who feels he can’t show his emotions around others.”

About five blankets are in Wanda’s arms when she walks back out, face set atop of them in hopes they won’t fall over. Your brother’s wife is attempting to help, opening the back door to wanda’s car so she can toss them in. She also helps you, setting a hand over the top of the car so you don’t hit your head.

“Thank you so much for having us over. Means a lot that you let me join as well,” Wanda says, hugging your brother and his family, “sleep well guys.”

“Anytime. Drive safe, keep us posted how tonight and tomorrow goes.”

She laughs, sliding a foot into the drivers seat, “of course, goodnight.”

Her car rumbles to life, the heat feeling amazing in her car since it’s been sitting the cold for a while. Shes backing it out, waving to them standing in the driveway before driving off. Your mouth is dry as you try to come up with something to say, but you snap it shut when it seems like Wanda wasn’t going to say anything anyways. Her eyes are transfixed on the road, street lights passing and flashing in and out of the car.

It feels as if the silence has forced itself in your lungs, making it almost impossible to breathe normally. Wanda’s oblivious to the fallout happening beside her, not until your taking in shuttering breaths. Her heart breaks at the tears on your face, eyes squeezed shut like you’re in pain.

“Does it still hurt?”

“I’m so sorry,” you cry, curling in on yourself.

She looks beside herself, “sorry? Wait why’re you sorry?”

“Like you aren’t aware,” you snap, voice cracking, “you were there, you saw me mess up.”

“You didn’t ‘miss up,’ some douchebag ran into you.”

“I should’ve seen it coming.”

“No, you weren’t. What the fuck, no you weren’t,” she gets angry, slamming on the car break as you come to a stop light, “how could you have possibly known that he was going to knock right into you like that?”

You shook your head, “whatever.”

“It’s not whatever. I’m sorry that you think this is your fault. It’s not, it was an accident.”

“Cut it out,” you raise your voice, “stop all of this.”

“Okay, what is going on?”

“You’re upset at me,” you choke on the last word, looking at her for the first time since you fell, “you’ve been avoiding me. Like I got cold in the car and you didn’t do that thing you usually do. You won’t look my way, or talk to me— do you still love m—“

She surges forward, connecting your lips together over the center console. You attempt to push back when the light turns green and cars behind you have started to exclaim their frustration.

“I absolutely love you,” she whispers, pinning you in your spot with her teary look, “and I promise I’ll never give you space like that again unless you promise to tell me if you need it, okay?”

You nod and she exhales shakily, pushing the car forward to finish the rest of the drive. She’s set a hand on your lap, fingers intertwined with yours; she squeezes three times every minute, repeating a love confession so that you never forget it.

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#competing series #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x afab!reader #wanda x reader #wanda x fem!reader #wanda maximoff x female reader #wanda x you #dom wanda #top wanda #wanda maximoff x you #marvel wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff fanfiction #wanda maximoff x fem!reader #Wanda maximoff x afab!reader #wanda x y/n #wanda maximoff fic #marvel wanda #wanda #wanda mcu #wanda marvel #wanda maximoff #wanda maxmoff x y/n #marvel fanfiction #hockey!au #hockey coach!wanda #hockey player!wanda #coach!wanda #marvel fic #wanda fanfic #wanda fluff

[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

You Call It Madness But I Call It Love

Chapter 13: You Made a Plaything Out of Romance

Chapter 13: You Made a Plaything Out of Romance

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader, Reader POV

Summary: When the reader left Payback 40 years ago after a falling out with her childhood best friend she never looked back, but when two men show up to her apartment and start asking her questions about the past, the reader begins to think those things can’t stay hidden and starts to question what’s real and what’s fantasy.  This is a re-telling of The Boys Season 3, where the reader is a supe who's known Soldier Boy since 1927. The chapters will fluctuate between past and present. This is chapter thirteen of my "You Call It Madness But I Call It Love" series. (I'm so bad at summaries please forgive me!)

Word Count: 7.3K (And every word hurts, except the beginning the beginning is nice and then it goes downhill)

Warnings: I'm going to label this one 18+. This one is sad guys. References to sex, Implied Sex, Nudity (lying in bed with someone the morning after), Brief explicit sexual encounter (it's like one sentence), Self-detrimental thoughts, Cursing, Drinking, Soldier Boy might be, is, really, absolutely, a little OOC, Soldier Boy is really all you need as a warning.

Note: This is told from Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. Reader is described as "curvy" occasionally. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal Monologue is in first person and is in italics

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

A/N: This one took me a while to write, because it was painful. I can neither confirm nor deny that I cried when I wrote it. But I hope y'all hate it as much as I do.

*********************************************************

1984

Soft light from under your floral curtains kisses your face as you wake from sleep, your arms tightening around Ben with a happy sigh as the memories of the night before blanket you in a soft cocoon of love and warmth. You had imagined that night many times over the years you'd been with Ben, but none of them compared to the real thing.

A dull throb of pain coats your limbs and body, that serves as a gentle reminder of exactly how you spent the late hours and the early hours of the morning with Ben, but it was a happy reminder. The memories of last night were passionate and more wonderful than you could have imagined. All thoughts of leaving him wiped away by one night filled with love that was all you wanted for so long. Because now there wasn’t a point in leaving, now that you had the one person you’d wanted since you were eight, you’d never leave him ever again.

You can feel the soft drag of Ben's hand against your back, coaxing you into a peaceful glow of contentment. You were laying on his muscular chest, your head directly over his heart, listening to the steady beat, your arm wrapped in an possessive hold over his body and you never wanted to leave. You wanted to exist in this moment the rest of your life, laying here with the man who'd had your heart for so long, finally at peace and finally allowing yourself to show him how much you loved him and how much he meant to you. Apart of you couldn't believe that this was real, and was worried that you'll wake up and the bed will be cold and Ben will be gone.

"Good morning." Ben's voice rumbles up through his chest. He moves his free hand to push back some of the hair that has fallen into your face, a content smile gracing his perfect lips as he allows his hand to brush over your cheeks.

"Good morning." You smile, leaning into his touch, before you press a kiss directly over his heart. "How long have you been awake?"

"Not too long."

"You didn't want to wake me up?"

"No." He murmurs, his hand still stroking your back in a soft smooth motion, that trails sunshine down your spine. "You're cute when you're asleep.

"Only when I'm asleep?" You tease, propping yourself up so you can look in his eyes, your hair tickling over his chest and you're sure that you must look ridiculous, but you don't care.

He looks better this morning than usual, you decide, noting the sweep of his dark hair over his brow and the sleepy haze in his eyes. His lips are a little red and swollen from when you kissed him and you assume your own look the same.

"No." Ben shakes his head, slowly, smiling down at you, and you can't help but kiss him, brushing your lips against his and letting him set your nerve endings on fire. Ben's happy smile against your mouth makes you want to melt into him and never leave, to curl up inside his heart and let yourself be filled with the glow of his love. “How are you?”

“Good, better than good.” You tighten your arm over his chest. “Just a little sore-“ You smile against his lips.

You hadn’t meant it like a bad thing, if anything, you liked it a little bit,  but judging by Ben’s reaction to those words you understood that he took it the wrong way. 

Ben’s eyes widen, his own smile faltering. He grabs the blanket wrapped around your waist raising it, so his eyes can trace your body to look for bruises. “Did I hurt you?” Ben’s eyes lock with yours once more, voice tinged with worry in a way that makes your heart skip a beat.

“No you didn’t.” Your hand gently falls on his cheek to reassure him. “It was perfect.” For a second you're afraid you said too much, but then Ben’s crooked smile breaks something inside of you.

“Yeah, it was.” He whispers, turning to press a kiss to your palm.

The look in his eyes is soft, filled with so many unspoken things that it makes you dizzy. He’s never once looked at you like that and you know you’ll never get used to it. Because he’s looking at you the way you saw the elderly couple look at each other all those years ago, when you longed for the same thing to happen to you, longed for a man to look at you that way. And you’re sure you’re looking at him the same way, because now it doesn’t matter. You don’t have to hide how you feel about him. There’s no more frustration or anger, there’s only love that crashes over your head and pulls you out to sea with Ben.

 “And It’s a good sore.” You smile sheepishly, cheeks blushing under his gaze. “I wouldn’t mind-um-getting used to it.”

“Oh really?”

You nod, hand still cupping Ben’s cheek.

“Huh.” Ben's smile turns into a mischievous smirk.

All of a sudden he flips you over so that you’re on your back with him hovering over you, smirk more pronounced than it was a few seconds ago. As he does so, your bed makes a terrible creaking sound and shifts to the right precariously on its last leg, literally.

You snort, pressing your lips together, body shaking with stifled laughs. Ben presses his head to your shoulder laughing too, the rich sound of his voice sending tingles down you spine. His eyes shine with laughter as he leans down to kiss you again.

“You owe me a new bed.” You mutter against his lips.

“I think we are both responsible for breaking it.” Ben's hands stroke along your sides, before he drops back down to kiss you.

“Well as slutty as you are I’d think that you would know how to avoid breaking one.” You tease raising a hand to brush his dark hair out of his eyes and Ben leans into your touch. You loved how he responded to you, it reminded you so much of how you felt whenever he touched you, like he couldn't get enough and he never wanted it to stop.

“Did you just call me a slut?” He pulls back with a frown.

“Yes. I did.” You laugh at his sullen expression.

Even when he frowns he's handsome. How did I get this lucky?

"You're lucky you're so cute." Ben sighs. “I’ve broken a few, but I will say I had the most fun breaking this one.”

His words make your heart thud madly in your chest in understanding. It confirms the thing that you had been thinking since you woke up, that last night meant everything to Ben too, that it wasn’t just sex for him. That he wanted to be there with you. And it made you smile wider.

Ben’s eyes are locked with yours, so much love and care slipping through his gaze that it makes you dizzy. “Next time we can break my bed. Just so we’re even.” He finishes capturing your lips with his, the words next time circling on your head on repeat.

You kiss him back eagerly, wanting to be lost forever in the warmth of the two of you together, because it’d finally happened, you’d finally gotten your Ben.

Your fingers scratch against the back of his head softly as you gaze up into his bright green eyes. You couldn’t believe it, after all these years he was yours, your best friend and now the man you love with all your heart. Your entire chest soars with emotion, smile stretching across your face so wide that you knew it probably wasn’t attractive but you couldn’t stop. You were so blissfully happy for the first time in years and you wanted to share that happiness with him the rest of your life.

“What?” Ben smiles down at you almost tenderly, so different than the way he looked when it wasn’t the two of you. One of his hands strokes the curve of your hip to bring your leg up to wrap around his waist the other brushes your wild tangles from your face, tracing the dips and curves of your cheek and jaw with a fingertip as if he wishes to commit each one to memory. He touches you with a reverence that you’d never imagine possible, a gentleness that is so different than Soldier Boy that it takes your breath away, like you’re a marble statue and he wishes to understand your beauty.

You move both of your hands to cup his cheeks feeling the wonderful scratch of stubble against the smooth skin, smile still firmly in place. And you finally say the three words that have haunted you since you were children. “I love you.”

Ben blinks. “What?”

“I love you Ben.” Your heart thuds madly in your chest remembering the past 24 hours when he made you feel special and loved, just how you’d imagined it so many times.

You didn’t think you’d ever be able to stop smiling, ever be able to stop feeling so warm as if you were catching fire.

Ben doesn’t move, his muscles tensing.

“Ben?” You’re still smiling, hoping that he’ll say it back, expecting that. Because how could he not? How could he not and be so caring and attentive? How could he make love to you like that, hold you close, take care of you after, dance with you, buy you a thoughtful gift, and take you out for your birthday each year and not love you? How could he look at you like you were the only person in the world and not feel the same way?

“I-“ He looks at you earnestly eyes soft in the morning light, his touch warm against your cheek, as if drinking you in. "I-" But then the softness in his green eyes is gone replaced by a familiar hardness that makes the warm feeling evaporate in your chest. Ben glances at the alarm clock on your bedside table. “Fuck is that the time?”

“What?” You ask confused by the change.

“I have a meeting with Legend.” He rolls off of you, pulling his face from your hands, and out of bed making it buck and shudder, not embarrassed by his nakedness. It was like he suddenly needed to be as far away from you as possible, and it was like someone dropped a bucket of ice water over your head.

You sit up, clutching the blankets to your chest in confusion. He moves around the room trying to find his clothes where you practically ripped them off his body last night.

“You do? I thought you just had the premiere tonight?”

Ben never scheduled things the same day as a premiere. He liked to spend the early part of the day drinking and imbibing in whatever he wanted so he didn’t have to be sober when he got there. He didn’t like to deal with the reporters, fans, and other people sober. Honestly, you didn't either, but you'd rather acquire a buzz while you were there, rather than before.

But today was different. You were hoping that this time it meant you and Ben would spend the next hours together enjoying one another before you had to go, spending as much time together in bed as possible. Hoping that at the premiere maybe you could announce your relationship, not that the press deserved that, but after all these years you wanted people to know that Ben was yours and you believed that he would be happy to say that you were his. Especially given what he had said before taking you to bed.

“No. I’ve got to talk to him about some shit for that thing in Nicaragua. That fucker Stan is gonna be there-“ Ben walks around the room picking up articles of clothing and refusing to make eye contact with you.

“Are you sure? I thought we could go to that diner on the corner and get some breakfast.“ You try to catch his eye, but Ben turns away as if he's looking for his shoes, hard to believe given the fact that they were sitting in the opposite direction. "You really liked it last time-"

“Sorry baby I can’t.”

The nickname “baby” is like taking a bullet to the chest.  Ben never called you that, Sweetheart yes, Doll, yes, but never baby. It was reserved for the other women. The endless cycle of women that Ben bedded and then never talked to again. It was his way of putting distance between them and him and you knew that better than anyone. And the fact that he called you that made uncertainty pulse in the back of your throat. You try to shake it off and try again.

“Oh well. You’re still picking me up for the premiere right? We always go together-“

“I’m not sure how long the meeting will run so I’ll see you there.” He won’t meet your eye as he pulls up his pants, the harsh sound of his zipper like a slap in the face.

“But Ben-“ Your start to say, your heart sinking.

“I gotta fucking go.” Ben snaps.

“Oh, Okay.”

He looks in your general direction one more time, not quite meeting your eyes, and not apologizing, but then he turns and leaves the room, not even taking the time to put on his shirt or his shoes.

What just happened?

When you finally force yourself to get out of bed to go to the bathroom, you see your reflection in the mirror, hair a tangled mass, lips bright red and swollen from Ben, and the prominent mark he left behind in the shadow of your jaw that marked you as his.

As you stand there examining your reflection, the pain of his rejection hits you all over again, causing you to crumble against the counter, hands tightening so hand in the marble vanity that it comes apart in your hands.

You weren't sure if it was a rejection, rather it was the abruptness of how he left that scared you. How easily he slipped back into the façade of Soldier Boy after spending the entire night with you and making you believe that every moment was special.

The memory of last night sends a wave of warmth through your body, goosebumps prickling against your skin. But this time a cold shock of the way he left strikes your heart.

Maybe he really did have a meeting. But then why did he have to leave immediately after I told him that I loved him?

The memory of how happy you were in that moment makes you cry harder, when you told him the one thing you'd longed to for so long, while he looked at you with so much love that it made you feel more happy than you ever had.

You knew that Ben had a difficult time expressing that and feelings in general, but the way he acted last night at dinner and after when he made love to you, spoke greater than that. He had to love you, had to care about you.

Didn't he?

*******************************************************

"Indigo over here!"

"Indigo who are you with tonight?"

"Indigo what do you have to say about the rumors of you and Noir being in a relationship?"

The questions are coupled with flashes of brilliant light as you wave and force a wide smile on the red carpet. Tonight Legend had insisted that you wear the new supe suit he had designed for you, the one that didn't require a hood and the only thing that hid your identity was a black eye mask that looked suspiciously like the red one Countess wore.

But you weren't focused on that, or the reporters, all you could think of was Ben.

He hadn't called and hadn't answered any of the three phone calls that you placed to his apartment at the time you guessed he would be home getting ready. You even left messages, but he still never called.

Each minute you stayed away from him you could feel the crack in your heart growing wider and wider. You still didn't understand why he did that, why he left as soon as you said the words you wished to for so long.

You had felt like a weight had lifted from your chest when you said them, wanted to live in the warmth that followed as you gazed up at the man you loved finally able to let him know how you felt.

And then he'd run away.

You'd spent the rest of the time before the premiere trying to convince yourself that it was a coincidence, that maybe he really did have a meeting with Stan and Legend about Nicaragua. But you wondered why you weren't told about it.

Stan had been making such a big deal about it, about what it meant to finally have supes help in the military. Not to mention Stan usually liked having you at those kind of meetings, because you were able to keep Ben calm.

So then that begged the questions: Why did Ben lie? Why did he run away?

As you weave your way through the crowded lobby of the movie theater you spot Ben up ahead, his back was to you, but then you freeze halfway to him. His muscular arm is wrapped around Countess's waist, pulling her into his side so tightly that her free hand is resting on the front of his supe suit in the middle of his chest where you had pressed a kiss to hours ago. He leans down to whisper into her ear and she laughs, before whispering something back that makes Ben's hand squeeze her hip.

All of a sudden you're transported back to your 16th birthday, when Ben showed up with Missy Callahan, who flaunted him right under your nose. But this is worse.

It's worse because you can't think of anything else but last night, when Ben kissed you, held you close, made you feel more loved and appreciated than you ever had. When he made every moment you spent together feel special, when he made you feel like you were the only woman in the world.

Tears build behind your eyes as you stand there staring at them, all the other patrons passing by in shades of multicolored dresses and suits, with the sound of Countess's laughter echoing in your ears.

When Ben and Countess walk towards the theater you follow, hoping to catch his eye, wishing that he would look at you. They choose their seats in the front row, Countess sitting down on Ben's left, and just as you try to sit on Ben's right, Gunpowder slides into the seat on Ben's right, your usual seat.

"I was actually going to sit there." You say, and this time Ben looks away from Countess to see you for the first time. You wait to see some kind of recognition in his eyes, see some semblance of the man you woke up with in your bed, but you see none of the warmth he had earlier.

He looks indifferent, and the frustration and anger makes tears burn behind your eyes, but you keep them down.

"Sorry Indigo. The director told me to sit here because I'm in the movie." Gunpowder shrugs, but he doesn't quite meet your eyes.

Each time this had happened in the past Ben would shove either Gunpowder or Countess out of the seat so you could sit next to him, even though he hated that you usually mocked whatever movie it was endlessly. But this time Ben does nothing, only sits there.

How can he do this? How can he act like nothing happened between us? How-

The next thought is lost in another wave of emotion that crashes over your head, but you refuse to cry in front of Countess, who is the only one really looking at you. Ben's eyes are on you, but they're cold, unyielding, nothing like the soft clover they were last night when he took you to bed and made you feel special.

"Ben can we talk?" You ask.

"I don't want to miss the premiere." He replies, taking a swig from the glass full of scotch in the cupholder between him and Gunpowder.

"I think this is more important-" You begin to say.

"You should find a seat. The movie is starting." Countess interrupts with a smirk, running her hand up Ben's muscular arm where it lays on the arm between their chairs. You watch the drag of her hand and you feel like the sixteen year old girl in the monstrosity of tulle watching the boy you loved dance with another girl, who made you feel ugly and fat.

You hadn't felt like that girl in a long time, especially not in the last 24 hours when Ben made you feel beautiful and sexy in the best way. The memories of the time you spent together flash through your mind. When each time he moaned your name made you proud to know that you could do that to him, that you could cause him to fall apart, that you could leave your mark on him, make him be lost in you the way that you were lost in his every caress.

Ben doesn't say anything as the commercials begin to play behind you on the large screen, only sits there allowing Countess to touch him.

"Um- yeah. I guess I should." You whisper, swallowing the ball of emotion before shuffling away to find a seat. It's several rows back, in the aisle away from them, next to someone who smells like they've bathed in whiskey.

And damn it all it does is remind you of Ben. Your eyes don't leave him and Countess where they sit and each time you watch them whisper and hear her giggle you feel yourself sink lower and lower into the pit of despair.

Finally when the movie is over you try to chase after Ben, to corner him because you want to know why he's doing this, why he's acting this way, why he's finally allowing Countess to have him the way that she always tried to in the past. The exact thing that he and you mocked her for late at night when the two of you were talking at your apartment. Ben hated her almost as much as you did, or you thought he did.

But he expertly avoids you, like he knows you're following him, given his super-hearing it didn't seem that far from the truth. You follow him through the theater and into the banquet hall where the afterparty is occurring, ignoring the clinking of glasses, the soft music from the band on the stage, and the laughter coming from the people around you who are too drunk already to remember any of this.

Something you wish you were, drunk that is. You didn’t want to forget last night, you just wanted to know why Ben was acting this way. You didn't want forget the way he touched you, the way he felt, the way he made everything else melt away so that it was just the two of you, exactly what you had longed for. You wanted to understand.

Because maybe I did misjudge what last night was, but I couldn't have. The memory of this morning before he left blankets your mind in a cocoon of warmth all over again. You don't look at someone like that, hold them close like that, agree that last night was perfect if it was just sex.

The thought made you irrationally angry.

"Indigo." You hear someone say and touch your arm.

"Huh?" You turn to see Dr. Vogelbaum. He was wearing a dark blue suit, perfectly tailored, with a red tie. Very patriotic, but also surprising. He had never seemed the type to want to come to one of these premieres. "Dr. Vogelbaum, I didn't know you were here."

"I thought I'd come and see what all the fuss was about." He smiles tightly. "Would you like to dance?"

"Um-" You look over the crowds of people dancing in the center of the room. You didn't feel like dancing, you still wanted to corner Ben, drag him away to another room where you could ask him what the hell was going on. He'd never done anything like this before, never iced you out even when he was really pissed off, he'd always find you.

So why was this any different? Was he angry? Upset by what I said? Why would that upset him? You think about how happy he looked when you were laying on his chest and how he leaned into your touch. I thought he’d be happy. He was happy up until I said “I love you.” So why would that change anything?

"I don't really feel like dancing-"

"Please, oblige me. A woman as beautiful as you shouldn't be here alone." Vogelbaum smiles as he pulls you onto the dance floor, ignoring your protests.

You begin to sway back and forth to the song, but everything feels wrong. It makes you think of last night, when Ben held you close and finally kissed you for the first time while your song played. And now this entire night feels like a mistake, last night feels like a mistake, everything that's happened the past forty years feels like a mistake.

He spins you away from him, and as you turn you see Ben. You didn't realize that he was standing on the edge of the dance-floor watching you and Vogelbaum. His arm is still wrapped around Countess, who is practically attached at the hip, talking with another woman in a long blue dress in front of her. You watch his jaw tighten as he takes in Vogelbaum’s hand placement, a dark look flashing in his eyes, but just as you try to identify it, Countess drags her hand up the front of his suit, grabbing his attention, and goes on tiptoe to whisper something in his ear.

How could I have been so stupid?  You think to yourself watching him drop his gaze to her and smile. The thought makes tears burn against your eyes. You couldn't understand, couldn't understand why he was doing this, ignoring you and getting friendly with Countess. And you couldn't understand how he could shift from hot to cold so suddenly, how he could act like you were the only person he saw to not even looking at you, refusing to speak to you, acting cold and indifferent. Ben had never once done that to you, had never once acted that way, even when he was mad.

Vogelbaum pulls you back into his chest, but the way his body feels against yours is wrong. "He's quite the flirt isn't he?"

"Huh?" You look up from his tie.

"Soldier Boy." He's watching them over your head, but you don't want to look at them anymore, you don't want to watch Ben with Countess and feel ugly, feel like you weren't enough, feel like the girl who only had one friend and a mother she could never please.

"Yeah." You mutter.

"Legend mentioned that you were thinking about retiring." He continues oblivious to your current state.

The mention of your plan to leave makes you remember it. You hadn't thought about it since Ben picked you up for dinner the night before, when you had been drinking and finally decided to leave, to walk away from everything and do something for yourself.

And now you wished you had. You wished that you had slammed the door in Ben's face when he came to get you last night, wished that you had told him that you were leaving, and wished that you had been strong enough to say no to him. The memories of last night come back to you, how it felt to kiss him for the first time, how happy you were because you believed he loved you as much as you loved him, how he cared about your first time being special-

The tears are so close to falling now that your jaw is  clenched together so tight that you think you hear the crunch of your teeth cracking.

"Yes. I'm retiring." You respond.

"Well, if you're looking for a change of pace I might have a job for you."

"I'm not really a scientist-"

"It wouldn't be a science job and I think you should come to the lab this week-"

"The last time I was in a lab, all this supe shit started." You snap before you stop yourself. "Forgive me for not wanting to have that happen again."

"It's not an experiment." He continues to sway the two of you back and forth. "I've been working on a project with Stan and we both thought that you could help us."

"How?"

"Well we've been focusing on the next generation of supes and what that will look like-"

"Next generation?"

"Yes. And I know someone that might benefit from meeting you. I've been working very closely with him and he needs a strong figure in his life, you have some things in common-"

"I'm not interested in being a babysitter."

"Why don't you just come by this week and meet him? I'm sure you'd hit it off-"

"I said I wasn't interested." You pull yourself from his arms. "I'm done with all of this."

"Indigo-" He reaches for your wrist.

"If you touch me again, I'm going to rip off your arm." You force a smile knowing that the cameras are still flashing, and say it low enough so that he is the only one that can hear.

Vogelbaum immediately moves back from you, putting as much space as he can and you turn back to where you saw Ben standing a few minutes ago, but he's gone.

You stand there in the middle of the dance floor for a minute, not sure what to do, so you decide to go to the bathroom to collect your thoughts. And you immediately regret your decision.

Before the door of the bathroom opens all the way you know, call it a feeling or a psychic premonition, but you do.

You wish you were wrong, but you knew Ben better than anyone, or at least you thought you did.

You can feel it in the air, hear the rapid beating of their hearts and the loud moans, smell the sour odor of sweat, but you're still not prepared for what's waiting for you. Countess's hands are braced on the white marble of the sink in front of her, Ben's hand fisted tightly in her hair, pulling her head back to where his face is buried in her throat, her own face contorted in an expression of pure ecstasy, with each snap of Ben's hips as he crushes her against the sink.

The bathroom door slams shut loudly behind you, drawing Ben's gaze to where you stand, your hands clenched tightly into fists, the skin pulled tight over your knuckles. He freezes and for a moment you think he looks sorry, but then it's gone, fading into the hardened expression he's had since you told him that you loved him.

You don't know what to feel, anger, frustration, heartbreak, and rage all form a white hot ball in the pit of your stomach. You have the sudden urge to throw up and also burn the entire building down to the ground, but you can't move, can't look away from where they stand.

"Baby why'd you stop." Countess gasps, reaching back with a hand for Ben, but he steps away from her, to zip up his pants. Countess finally looks over at where you're standing and smirks. "Oh hey y/n. I didn't know you were here."

Her face is flushed red, almost the same color of her hair as she reaches down for her pants and drags them back up her body. The proud look in her eyes makes you snap your jaw together to fight the urge to rip her in half.

“There are private rooms for that.” You keep your voice as monotone as possible, pushing down the heartbreak and the anger that burns against your skin.

“It’s much more fun when anyone can walk in. Don’t you think so Ben?” Countess reaches for Ben, but he shrugs her off.

You bite the inside of your cheek so hard that you taste blood, trying very hard not to lose control. You prided yourself on that, you hadn’t lost control in all your years as a supe.

Ben doesn't say anything.

“Get out.” You snap.

“I don’t think I will. We were in the middle of something-“ Countess's sultry smile widens. "Maybe you should leave so we can fini-"

Her body flies forward towards you, until her throat is clutched tightly between your right hand. “I’ve never liked you Countess. Other than a flash of light you're pretty worthless. Your powers the only thing that make you special, and I know that you need both of your hands to use them, right?" Your hand tightens on her throat and you know the next day she'll have bruises.

I should just kill her right now. Who would miss her?

She gasps for air, clawing against your hand, eyes wide. She'd never seen you lose control before, never seen you use your powers quite like this, and the fear in her eyes makes you feel better.

“So I suggest you get out. Before I rip them off and make you eat them.”  You snarl before throwing her in the direction of the door behind you. She stumbles forward a step, placing a hand against the bathroom door as she catches her breath. When she turns back to look at you, her eyes are flashing with malice, but you can still see the pride under it all.

“Well I’ll see you two later. Hopefully we can finish what we started.” Countess smirks at you, recovering as she saunters out.

It takes an amazing amount of willpower not to drag her back into the room and rip her head off.

Ben adjusts his suit, not meeting your gaze. And for a second you think he looks guilty, but it’s gone as soon as you see it. His ridiculous helmet is laying on the floor next to him, probably took it off before-

Your jaw clenches together remembering what you walked in on.

“Ben why are you doing this?”  You say, composing your voice as much as you can. You force yourself to look him in the eye, you want him to see how hurt you are.

“Doing what?” He crosses his arms over his chest and raises an eyebrow.

"You’re pushing me away, avoiding me, and acting like last night didn’t mean anything-"

"It didn’t.” He states. Ben's jaw is clenched tight, shoulders tense, as he begins to slip back into the façade of Soldier Boy that he adopted after you both got the serum.

Tears burn against your eyes at his sharp tone. You let out a shaky breath. "I don’t believe you. You don’t act that way, kiss me, hold my hand, make love like that and then pretend it never happened.”

“We didn’t make love, we fucked.” He snaps eyes blazing. “Don’t turn this into something that it’s not.”

 “I’m not just talking about the sex. I’m talking about dinner, the dancing, remembering my birthday, getting me pearls because you remembered I lost mine, the fact that you had them play the song we danced to when we were 18-“

“So?”

“Why are you acting like you didn’t do any of those things?”

“I’m not saying I didn’t do them. I’m saying that you’re being damn hormonal and reading into it.”

“I’m not being hormonal!” You snap. “Are you really telling me that you did all of those things just to get into my pants and that you don’t feel anything for me? That what I said to you this morning meant nothing to you? After everything we’ve been through-“

“Everything we’ve been through?” Ben spits, suddenly angry. “All I know is for the last 40 years you’ve been getting in my way. You think I care about you? I don’t care about anyone! I’m Soldier Boy. I’m America’s first fucking superhero. And I could never care about someone like you. You’re pathetic. You’re always here, fucking with my decisions, following me around like a fucking lovesick puppy, standing in my damn way with those fucking stars in your eyes, trying to remind me of who I was before and I wish you would just fuck off!”

Your own anger surges up to push away the heartbreak at his harsh words. “You say that I’m always here, but it was your idea for us to do this. You did this to me Ben. I’m here because you wanted me to be, because you needed me. And it’s you that keeps showing up at my apartment. I don’t make you come over!”

The memory of the night he asked you to come with him rises at the back of your mind. You remember how happy you were to go with him because you thought it was as close as he would get to admitting that he loved you, and you had hoped that if you went with him it meant that he wanted to be more. You were not remembering wrong, you remembered exactly what he said that night, you knew that he acted like he needed you. So why was he lying now?

“I never wanted you here.” He takes a step forward, green eyes hardening. “I don’t fucking need you or anyone else. I’m not a pussy. I’m a man.”

Your teeth clench together in anger and frustration. “I don’t believe you. You say that you know all my tells when I’m lying, but I know yours too. So just tell me the truth!”

“That is the fucking truth. Are you too stupid to understand that? I don’t care about you, I never have!”

“Then why did you kiss me?”

Ben freezes.

“I didn’t initiate that kiss, you kissed me! You were the one that started whatever the hell happened last night!”

“So?”

“You’ve heard me talk about what I want. You addressed it at the table last night. You know that I want more than one night, you know that I want love, that I was willing to leave to find those things. I was ready to walk away from all of this Ben and then you fucked with my head. Did you kiss me and do those things because you thought it would keep me here with you? Because you can’t stand the thought of being alone?”

“I wouldn’t give a single fuck if you left. If you want to go then go. I won’t miss you and I’m not stopping you.”

 “I don’t believe you and I don’t understand why you’re doing this, why you’re trying to push me away and act like you don’t care about me-" You shake your head in frustration.

Ben advances on you, grabbing your shoulders so tightly you know there will be bruises. Ben never touched you when he was angry, sure he’d stare you down, but Ben never did anything to harm you. It’s why you were never afraid of him, because Ben didn't want to hurt you. Even this morning you remember how worried he'd looked when you said you were sore, when he thought that it mean he hurt you. Ben cared about you. You knew he did.

But for him to do this was shocking and you can’t fight the shudder of fear that creeps along your spine.

“You mean nothing to me.” He growls. “You’re just another woman with a warm pussy. That’s all you are. I fucked you because you needed someone to and I thought it might as well be me. I don’t care about you. I never did. And I could never love some one like you. So get the fuck out of my way.” Ben pushes you from him so harshly that you fall back against the wall.

The memory of what your mother shouted at you the night you told her you were going with Ben settles over your mind.

“You really think that disappointment will ever love you? Care about you? You are nothing to him, just another plaything. And the day he finally tosses you away, don’t bother coming back here.”

Your mother's words were harsh, cut to the quick. You hated to admit it, but she was right. You understood that now, understood that the last forty years and all the years of your friendship had been a lie.

Ben didn't care about you, probably never did, he just saw you as a tool for his own amusement, and his harsh words were enough to make you realize that the boy you knew was gone and enough to jolt you into the new harsh reality.

Your hand flicks and Ben's body flies into the concrete wall on the other side of the bathroom hard enough to crack the solid cement. You find your feet, rising to your full height, hands glowing bright purple. The entire room trembles with the force of your anger, the mirrors shatter on the bathroom wall, raining down glass and metal onto where Ben sits stunned on the tile that has begun to crack and split with your display of power.

“That night you came to me I chose you. I chose you, Ben. I left everything behind for you because you asked me to. And I regret it. I regret every moment I have wasted caring about you and taking care of you. I have made excuses for you my entire life. To my family, to society, to your damn team, and to myself. I have stood by you through all of this and I never complained because you were my friend. I was here before and after you decided to take the serum, when your father broke you, when your mother died, when you needed someone to sit with you because you couldn’t take the silence alone, but not anymore. I can’t do this. I can’t be the voice of reason or your fucking babysitter and I can’t be your damn conscience. I shouldn’t have to. You are a man after all, so do it yourself.” The tears are falling freely now, searing against your skin as they trickle down your cheeks. “I tried to cut you some slack because you were my friend Ben, and I loved you.” Your voice breaks when you use the past tense. “But maybe that’s my fault, I romanticized you. I shouldn’t have but I did. I ignored so many things because I loved you but now, I’m fucking done.” You reach up to grab the pearl necklace around your throat, the one that you thought was ridiculous to wear with the supe suit, but the one you kept on because you wanted to remember last night and rip it off, sending the pearls rolling in every direction.

Because now you just wanted to forget it all, forget your friendship, forget the years you spent together, forget all the nights he spent in your bed, forget last night, and forget him.

Ben stands from the ground, brushing off his supe suit and for a second you think he’s going to say something, but he doesn’t.

“I can’t do this with you anymore. I can’t stand by and watch you do this to yourself, embrace whatever the fuck kind of person you are now. I won’t. I never want to see you ever again. And the next time you touch me, I’ll kill you.” You turn to go, but then you stop short of the door. “You once told me that you never wanted to be your father, you wanted to be better than him. Funny. After all this time you still became him.”  You spit.

You throw open the door and storm out as the mindless drone of people talking, glasses clinking, and buzz of music settle over your ears. But you don’t hear it, all you hear is the harsh words of the only man you’d ever loved and the feeling of your heart breaking in your chest.

*******************************************************

A/N: Well this one was very sad and I hate myself for putting the reader through this. Let me know what y'all think :)

Thank you so much for reading! If you'd like to be added to the taglist let me know :)

Taglist: @roseblue373 @anundyingfidelity @cheynovak @cassiecasluciluce @muhahaha303 @deans-spinster-witch @kayleighmeister @demodemo909 @fruitfacess @bobbobbobinogs @bughill126, @simplyfixated @sleepjam, @tiredstrangerr @freefallthoughts,@onlyangel-444 @lov3vivian @mxltifxnd0m @mayafatimakhan @marvel-mistress

#soldier boy x you #jensen ackles soldier boy #soldier boy #soldier boy x female reader #soldier boy x reader #soldier boy fanfiction #soldier boy/ben #soldier boy fic #jensen ackles #the boys amazon #the boys fanfic #jackles #the boys #the boys season 3 #the boys series #the boys tv #the boys s3

[juniperskye]

Why are you in my head? Pt. 2

Sneak Peek: Eddie and you are soulmates. The legend of soulmates is that you start to hear one another’s thoughts around age 16 – not all the time, but when you’re feeling a strong emotion. It simply flows out of you and into the other, the legend also states that the closer you are, the more you can hear them. **The events of season 4 did NOT happen** I did also use some of the dialogue

Bold are Eddie’s thoughts; Italics are reader’s thoughts. (mind you, they are essentially hearing both sets of thoughts)

Eddie Munson x Fem Sunshine! Reader (Soulmate AU)

Fluff/Angst - Part 1

Word count: 2255

REQUESTS ARE OPEN - not edited - please be kind. Feedback is welcome if it's constructive!

Warnings: My blog is 18+, minors DNI, explicit language, no use of y/n, fem reader, mentions of drugs/sale of drugs/drug use, arguing, mentions of Eddie’s drug addict parents, teeny tiny glimpse into reader’s past, let me know if I missed any!

That being said I do not own the characters portrayed in this story.

So, I have 3 more parts mapped out for this story, making it 5 total parts. Please, Please, PLEASE let me know if you want it!!? I would love to write it.

Holy shit.

Holy shit.

You both let out a quiet chuckle.

All at once, colors were brighter, smells were sweeter, touches were softer. Everything came together in that moment; you couldn’t believe it. Here he was.

Before either of you could introduce yourself, the bell rang out, signaling that lunch was over. How long had you been standing here? Looking at him, seeing him for the first time, it made time stand still.

Don’t go. Not yet.

Neither of you made a move to leave. The cafeteria was slowly emptying around you, the reality of this moment creeping in. The second bell ringing brought you out of your thoughts, you looked into his eyes again and pulled back slightly.

“Shit! I can’t be late on my first day!” You hissed.

“Oh god O’Donnell is gonna kill me!” He facepalmed.

“You have O’Donnell this hour too? Also, you seem to be late to her class a lot.” You giggled.

“You’re in O’Donnell’s right now?” He questioned.

You nodded in confirmation. A grin took over his face, he grabbed your hand and began speed walking to her classroom. As you came up to the door, he looked over at you and nodded.

“Follow my lead.” He whispered.

You walked into the classroom, and everyone fell silent. Mrs. O’Donnell looked over at the two of you, and judging by her expression, she was less than impressed by your tardiness.

“Eddie Munson. I told you that if you were late to my class one more time I would be forced to fail you.” O’Donnell croaked.

“Mrs. O’Donnell, I understand that, but I couldn’t possibly let our new student wander the halls aimlessly.” He explained.

She looked at you, awaiting some sort of confirmation. When she was met with an enthusiastic nod from you, she finally relented. She looked down at her attendance chart and took note of the new student listed on it.

“Welcome to Hawkins High. Now both of you have a seat. Don’t make tardiness a habit.” She bit.

Eddie gestured for you to go first toward the back of the room. Once seated, he couldn’t take his eyes off of you. You couldn’t help the blush that crept its way onto your cheeks. His stare was keeping you from concentrating on Mrs. O’Donnell’s lecture about the debates you’d all be writing and then acting out in a week. You had no clue what the topics were, and you only hoped that she had put all the information on the handout that had been passed back to you.

God you’re so cute. I am so glad it’s you.

A giant shit eating grin enveloped Eddie’s face and you realized he must’ve heard that thought. You realized that you knew his name now, thanks to Mrs. O’Donnell, but he still didn’t know yours. You decided to pull out a pen and your notebook so you could write it down for him.

You caught his attention as you scribbled your name onto the paper, making sure to add a tiny heart next to it. You folded the paper up and passed it to him. If you thought his smile had been big before, well you were wrong, because you were sure this one would split his face in two.

A beautiful name for a beautiful girl.

Your face immediately heated and turned bright red. You just had to make it through a few more minutes, then this class would end, and you get to really talk to Eddie before your next one. Only a few more hours and you might actually get to spend some time with him.

You had called your parents after O’Donnell’s class to let them know you’d be getting a ride home with a friend. You didn’t want to tell them that you had met your soulmate just yet, you figured you should get to know him a little bit first.

When that final bell rang you all but ran out the front doors of the school. Eddie had told you to meet him at his van. As you glanced around the parking lot you could see the cliques, jocks hanging out by fancy sports cars, theater kids sitting on the picnic tables in the courtyard, and the Hellfire boys, well, they were loitering around Eddie’s big beat-up van.

His face lit up when he noticed you, that’s when you ran towards him. As you neared closer, he opened his arms and you leapt into them. He spun you around once before letting your feet land back on solid ground.

I want to kiss you so bad.

Please kiss me.

With that, Eddie leaned down and captured your lips in a sweet kiss. Eddie’s friends whooped behind you, which caused you to blush. You could see the confusion on some of their faces.

“Guys! This is her; this is my soulmate!” Eddie announced.

“Holy shit dude!”

“No way.”

“How much did you pay this girl to fake it for you?”

“Dude she’s way out of your league.”

“That’s awesome man!”

Eddie’s friends all spoke at once, it was hard to understand what any of them were really saying. But the gist of it was that most of them thought you were joking. You figured that his friends probably messed with him like this a lot, perhaps this was how their friendship was, lots of joking and messing around. Your heart hurt a little that his friends would assume you guys were lying, but you figured he’d tell you if it had upset him.

“Guys I’m serious! This is her, we met at lunch!” Eddie exclaimed.

“Hi.” You gave a small wave.

Eddie’s friends were bombarding the two of you with questions, faster than you could take in. It was pretty overwhelming, the way they were all talking over one another. Eddie was spitting out answers as fast as they were throwing questions, and your mind could not keep up.

This is…ok. Woah. Slow down. What is happening?

“Hey guys, I would love to sit and chat with you, but I think I am going to take my soulmate here out for a drive.” Eddie said, as his hand moved to your lower back, and he led you to the van.

“Thank you.” You whispered.

“You don’t have to thank me; I could hear how anxious you were. They can be a lot, especially when you’re not used to being around them all the time.” He laughed sheepishly.

“I appreciate it either way. The whole shared thoughts thing really comes in handy!” You huffed a laugh.

Eddie put his hand out to hold your as he drove you to wherever you were going…you should probably ask him where he is taking you.

That night, you and Eddie were out well passed curfew. You had talked about nothing and everything. You shared all your favorite things, your hopes and dreams, your deepest secrets. Sharing with Eddie was easy. Talking with him was like breathing, it came naturally – you guessed that was the whole “soulmate” thing at play.

It had been one week since that night and honestly, things had been really good. Eddie picked you up for school (he had yet to meet your parents yet), you sat with Eddie and the Hellfire guys at lunch, he walked you to your classes and waited for you at his van after school.

Things were perfect…or so you thought.

Soulmates had this sort of stereotype behind them. People always said soulmates didn’t fight, that the shared thoughts sort of helped to clear things up before they escalated to a full-blown argument. Things were meant to be easy, simple even. It was the fault of this stereotype that the argument threw you off guard.

The thought had slid into your mind during your last class of the day. You were sitting in history, listening to Mr. Warner drone on and on about a war, you were too distracted to remember which one it had been.

Two pre-rolls and a small baggie of shrooms…shit I gotta meet her in 5 minutes!

What the fuck is that about? You couldn’t help the upset feeling creeping into your veins. Pre-rolls had to be weed, and shrooms? Was Eddie buying drugs? And who is the girl he is meeting to get them from? Your mind was racing with all kinds of questions, you felt guilty about being mad at Eddie, but why would he keep this from you? You two had shared so much with one another in the last week.

When the final bell rang, you took your time getting your things from your locker and then slowly made your way to Eddie’s van.

As you approached it, you noticed a severe lack of brown curls. Your stomach sank, realizing that he still must be with her…whoever she was, buying drugs.

Why would he keep this from me?

The thought had hit Eddie like a freight train. He immediately kicked himself, he knew he should have told you about this side hustle of his, but he was scared you would judge him…but now you’d found out because his thoughts are so fucking loud and he’s a total jackass for keeping it from you.

He made quick work of the deal, it had been with some random theater girl and her boyfriend wanting to enjoy their weekend.

Eddie practically ran to his van to meet up with you and he noticed the far off look you were wearing.

“Hey baby!” Eddie reached to pull you into a hug.

“Hi Eddie.” You returned his hug with a noticeable lack of enthusiasm.

“Let’s go for a drive yeah? I want to talk to you about something.” Eddie suggested.

“Oh, yeah, okay.” You nodded.

The two of you got into Eddie’s van and he drove you to the clearing by the lake. There was a heavy awkward silence for a bit, your thoughts just circling round and around in your head. And judging by the look on Eddie’s face, he was clearly experiencing the same thing.

“I need to talk to you about something.” Eddie started.

“Okay…” You waited.

“I realize that a thought of mine may have made its way to you. A thought that had to do with something I have neglected to share with you yet. Listen sweetheart, I uh, I deal. It’s just to make some extra cash, ya know, to help Uncle Wayne out and to save until I have enough to get the hell out of this place.” Eddie rambled on.

“Wait a second. You’re the one dealing the drugs?” You asked.

“Yeah…did you think I was buying?”

“Eddie, you sell drugs? That’s illegal! I don’t understand, you could get a different job if you want to save money. Why would you do something so reckless?” You questioned.

“Woah. What the hell. I know it’s illegal, but I’m smart about it and didn’t you hear me? I am doing this for Wayne…and for us! Dealing makes me way more money than flipping burgers at big boy or renting out movies to asshole pre-teens. You’re my soulmate, I thought you’d at least try to understand!” Eddie snapped.

“Eddie, you purposely kept this from me. Which just proves to me that you know that this is wrong. I know that other jobs may not make you as much money, but at least they’re legal and don’t run the risk of you being sent to PRISON. Because that is where you would end up if you got caught Eddie. Prison! Did you ever stop to think about what that would mean to the people who care about you. To your uncle Wayne, to Dustin, to me? How could you be so careless?” You waved your arms as you spoke, growing more and more frustrated.

“Jesus. Of course you don’t get it!” Eddie sighed.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You couldn’t believe him right now.

“You were born with a fucking silver spoon in your mouth babe. You have never wanted for anything. Your parents are well off and you have always gone to good schools with new supplies and a nice backpack. I mean fuck, your parents moved you here, set up this incredible room for you, bought you a car, and still ask you what you need or want. I live in a trailer and before that, I was growing up in an even smaller trailer that my parents were doing and selling crack out of. I am doing what I have to, to make sure I am set up when it comes time for me to leave Hawkins.” Eddie was practically yelling by the end of his rant.

You sat there, your mouth opening, then closing again. You weren’t sure what to say. Eddie had clearly gone through some really difficult shit that you hadn’t been aware of, but he was also assuming that your life had been perfect, which couldn’t have been further from the truth.

This conversation had truly made you feel sick to your stomach. How was this meant to work. How was Eddie meant to be your soulmate if he thought so little of you. And how were you meant to be his soulmate if you couldn’t agree with what was clearly a part of his life. You clearly had a lot to think about and you couldn’t do that right now, not with the tension that was beginning to suffocate you in Eddie’s van. So you did what you thought best.

“Take me home please.” You whispered.

#eddie munson #stranger things #eddie munson stranger things #corroded coffin #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things 4 #eddie munson angst #eddie munson au #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x female character #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson angst blurb #sstranger things blurb #stranger things imagine #stranger things x you #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fic #mechanic!eddie #mechanic!eddie x reader #mechanic!eddie x y/n #dad!eddie munson #dad!eddie munson x mom!reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson fluff #why are you in my head #eddie munson x fem!reader fluff

[haikyu-mp4]

Mistletoe

word count; 531 – f!reader

Inarizaki were not exactly unfamiliar with pranks, but when everyone walked into the locker room after a tough winter practice, none of them could figure out who hung mistletoe over their door. Nonetheless, they kept getting dressed into their normal clothes while still discussing the odd decoration.

Everyone looked up when their captain knocked on the door instead of walking right in. “Manager coming in, everyone better be decent in 3… 2.. 1,” he announced before the door was opened, revealing you and Kita side by side. You had a kind smile on your face as usual, notebooks clutched to your chest.

“I just need to note down something I forgot, sorry for interrupting.” you started saying before frowning. “Why are you laughing?”

Snickers sounded throughout the room, some holding it in and some not. “It’s just...” Aran said, pointing at the branch that hung from the ceiling. “You two are under the mistletoe.”

You look up, tilting your head in confusion and looking back at the boys. “Did you guys hang this up here because you like kissing each other?” you asked without wavering, lifting an eyebrow and pointing your gaze more towards the second years. Some of them were even blushing.

Atsumu would not take this slander. “Well we don’t walk inside in pairs, but you two did,” he noted, crossing his arms. The guy was also not wearing his shirt, making Kita squint so he knew he would get a scolding later. However, he had more important things on his mind right now. There’s a reason Aran was trying his hardest not to smile too much. Kita would never in a million years deny kissing his crush.

“Please excuse them, y/n. We don’t have to-” Kita started saying, but he was shut up completely as you stood up on your toes and pecked his cheek before turning back to the boys.

“I need to know how many of you need new shoes next season,” you asked, clicking your pen and waiting for them to answer you. Kita had a light blush covering his nose as he glanced between you and his team, feeling like they were all staring at him. Not that he would have traded that for the world. He was so entranced by your confident professionalism and light humour in addition to the kiss, making him choke on any words he wanted to say.

“My shoelaces tore, so just laces I think,” Aran answered, saving you from further awkward silence. Suna said something about needing a new pair in a bigger size, and after just a minute, you had everything you needed.

“Great! Thank you,” you said, bowing to them before turning to Kita. He hadn’t noticed before, but now he could see your red ears and temples, a sudden shy smile on your face. “And to you, Kita.” you bowed again before turning around and walking out, leaving a stunned Kita to stare at the floor where you just stood.

Osamu whistled, putting his sweater on. “Didn’t know you had the hots for our manager.”

“Not another word from any of you about this or we’ll run double laps outside when the snow falls.”

masterlist

/It snowed like 2 weeks ago where I live so I got inspired, sorry for posting winter content in spring hehe

#kita shinsuke #kita x reader #kita x you #inarizaki #haikyuu #haikyu #haikyuu x reader #haikyu x reader #haikyu x y/n #haikyu x you #fanfiction #hq fluff #hq x reader #hq

[lanitalay]

Supernatural

Azriel Supernatural AU x reader

Summary: In which you encounter a couple of hunters during a case. 

A/N: I've been rewatching supernatural and i just love it. This is based on the early seasons. Hopefully the ACOTAR and Supernatural fandoms overlap.

Warnings: mentions of blood and death, nothing descriptive.

wordcount: 1.7k

Masterlist

“It’s totally vampires, Az. Remember that nest we took out in Idaho? They did the same thing with their victims.” Azriel bites his lip recalling that hunt, it was in the top ten worst moments of his life. “I know you’re right but those things give me the creeps. The way their fangs just-” he gags thinking about the extra set of teeth. 

“You big baby, it's just teeth. What gets me is the decapitation. Ghosts are easy. Salt. Fire. But these suckers are a nasty job.” You look over your notes before asking “do you think Cass and Rhys could give us a hand? I think we’ll be outnumbered.” 

He shakes his head “we could call but last time we talked they were up to their necks on a vengeful spirit case. Get this, the bones are scattered in different places because the deceased couldn’t decide where to be buried.” You chuckle. “Those two always get caught up in something like that. What about Mor? Or Amren? I’ll call them just in case.” 

Two phone calls later and no back up to show for it. “That was a bust.” Azriel nudges your arm. “Hey, we can do this. We can figure out a way to take them out one at a time.” You sigh and lean your head against the window. Watching as endless fields blur into one another. “You’re right, wake me up when we get there will you?” Before he can say yes you’ve dozed off. 

The road to Texas was long and lonely for Azriel. You slept the whole way and he was forced to keep himself company with mindless humming and singing lyrics from songs he probably misremembers. You’re usually the dj, but he knows if he messes with your tapes he’s in deep shit. You arrive at the usual dingy motel at around midnight. 

“Hey, sleepy head, we’re here.” Az is careful not to startle you, slightly shaking your arm with a scarred hand to rouse you from sleep without setting off your hunter instincts. “I’m awake.” You mumble but don’t move to get out of the truck. “I’ll go get us a room, while you wake up.” A hum is the only response he gets. 

When he returns he sees you unloading the truck with a pep in your step. “We’re in 9.” Once you’ve settled in, it dawns on you that you took a six hour nap on the ride here. There’s no way you’ll be able to fall asleep now. “Az, you want something to eat?” He yawns “no thanks, I’m going to turn in for the night.” 

“Well I’m not tired. I’ll grab a bite at that bar across the street and come back.” You put on your jacket and make the short walk to the hole in the wall establishment that always seems to accompany the motels you frequent. “One beer and a burger, please.” It 's quiet. You assume that it’s because it’s Tuesday. Until you overhear the conversation from two guys at the bar. “Six people went missing and all of them were last seen here, Sammy, something’s up.” 

“I know, Dean, but we’ve been here a week and no one can point us in the right direction. Maybe they left.” Hunters, and by the sounds of it, they are on the same case.  The bartender sets a pint in front of you, when it’s in your hand you walk over. “Are you two looking for a vampire nest?” They seem to have a language of their own, exchanging a few glances before the one with blondish hair says “depends, who’s asking?”

“Y/n, my partner and I just got into town after hearing about six disappearances. Looks like you two got a head start.” You sit with them in a shadowy corner of the bar as they tell you about the roadblocks they’ve encountered. “Most of them came here without telling anybody they knew, they weren’t regulars.” The taller one with brown hair finishes. 

“So they were lured.” They nod. “It’s been quiet since we got here.” You finish the burger and wipe your fingers with the thinnest napkin you’ve ever seen. “They got six people in two weeks, that’s enough blood to keep a nest alive for a month.” But something’s off and you can tell they feel it too. “What were your names again?” 

“I’m Sam.” “I’m Dean.” No way.

 “Winchester?” They nod. 

“That’s crazy! I knew your father! It’s sort of how I got started in all of this actually-” you stop yourself, John is dead now and these were his sons “I’m sorry for your loss, he helped a lot of people.” Az is going to freak when you tell him. Dean swigs his beer and says “yeah well, that’s what happens when you make deals with devils.” 

It’s tense for a bit while you finish your beer “well, if you don’t mind it, my partner and I could help on the case. Four machetes are better than two. We’re staying right across the street. Room 9. See ya, boys.” 

The next morning you tell Azriel about your encounter. “I’m telling you Az, they seem nice enough. If we team up it will be safer.” He’s unsure, always wary of strangers. “I don’t know, y/n-” just then, a knock at the door. You check the peephole before opening it. “Hi guys, this is my partner Azriel. Az, this is Sam and that's Dean.” The brothers brought coffee, by the looks of it it’s from the prehistoric machine in the lobby. “We talked about it and we agreed, working together will speed things along.” 

“Az?” He sighs. “Fine.” 

“He’s chipper,” Dean quips. “He’s not a morning person,” you quickly defend. You were the only one allowed to comment on his crankiness. 

After a day of following dead ends, you sit with Dean at the same bar. Sam and Az are still trying to find something in the archives. “So what’s the deal with you and your partner?” 

“Why? Are you interested?” He chuckles. “Just curious, your room had two beds. Are you two not involved?” Maybe it was the whisky, but you said “not romantically.” 

“So he won’t be upset if I buy you another drink with the intention of getting in your pants?” You roll your eyes. “Your reputation precedes you, Winchester.” 

“My reputation as a hunter or a ladies’ man?”

“Your reputation as a shameless flirt.” He leans closer to you “is it working?” You laugh and push him off. “No.” 

“So there is something between you and Azriel. I bet he’s clueless. I’ve seen it time and again.” You keep nursing your glass. “I wouldn’t say he’s clueless. But you know how this job is. One second you’re here and the next… I think we both agree that it’s better if we don’t cross that line with each other.” 

“But you could cross that line with me.” He winks. “No, Dean. I don’t think I could.”

 He straightens away from you and sips his beer. “You said you met my dad?” 

“Oh, yes. It was years ago, I was a freshman in college and a vengeful spirit was wreaking havoc on the campus. John showed up right before the son of a bitch gutted me. After that it was hard to go back to classes, you know?” 

“And how did you meet Azriel?” 

“Az and I met in a bar like this one, he had been hunting with his friends for a while and I hustled them for gas money.” 

“You play pool?” You shake your head and try to keep a straight face as you say “I play fools, Dean.” 

When Azriel and Sam returned, he did not like what he saw. In truth, he was glad to see you were having fun but he hated seeing you having fun with someone else. It's not like he could complain. You both refused to cross that line. Sleeping next to each other every night, on different beds was not the whirlwind romance he wanted to give you. It wasn’t the life you deserved. But he stuck by your side because everytime he wanted to slow down, to stop, maybe go back to school, you refused. “There are monsters, Az and we save people. I can’t go back to sitting in a classroom only to end up working in an office.” He wanted domesticity. He wanted a routine. He wanted a lawn to mow and to barbecue on weekends. But more than that he wanted you. 

“She’s a keeper, Az.” Dean joked as you sunk the last ball in the socket. Azriel clenched his jaw, not liking the familiarity with which Dean nudged your shoulder. It had only been a day since you met and you were acting like you’d known each other for years. 

“You don’t have to sleep here if you don’t want to.” Your face scrunches in confusion at his tone. “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“I’m sure you'd rather be with Dean right now.” 

“Azriel, don't be like that.” He shrugs “just saying, you two were making eyes at each other all day.” 

“We were not.” He doesn’t say anything else but there’s a tension that lingers. “I hate when you do this.” 

“I’m not doing anything.” 

“You’re picking a fight. You know I would never be with anyone else.” 

“You could.” 

“I don’t want to.” 

“Y/n-”

“I know Az, “the life’s too dangerous,” “we’d be more vulnerable,” “it just gives the bad guys ammunition.” I know the whole song and dance of why we can’t… I get it. But it makes me feel stupid when I could be out with someone who actually shows interest in me but I stay with you.” 

“I’m not holding you hostage, you can go if you want.” 

“You’re an idiot.” With a huff you storm out of the room. Not entirely sure where you’re going, you wander around the motel grounds for a while. Knocking on Dean’s door was an option, but you wanted to be alone. He was infuriating. Azriel knows which buttons to push and when. He does this every so often, picks a fight to create iciness between you. It makes temptation easier if you’re too mad at each other to give in, you suppose. 

It's past midnight, and the lights in room 9 are off. In your haste you forgot a key. You go to the lobby and are surprised to see an attendant. “Hi, I locked myself out of my room and my partner is asleep. Do you have a spare key by any chance?” 

“Of course, name and room number?” 

A click sounds from behind and you turn to see a man, turning the Open sign to Closed.  His neck is covered in scruff and bite marks. You look back at the attendant. The ledger, that weighs at least ten pounds, slams across your face. 

You wake up tied up and breathless in a windowless room. Six bloodied bodies surrounding you.

#acotar #acomaf #acosf #acofas #acowar #acotar fanfiction #azriel shadowsinger #acotar series #a court of thorns and roses #a court of silver flames #a court of mist and fury #a court of wings and ruin #supernatural #dean winchester #sam and dean #sam winchester #azriel #azriel acotar #azriel spymaster #azriel x reader #az x reader

[audiblehush]

Listen, I’m on the “I’ll believe it when I see it” train with all these inconsistent S3 rumors because 1) LOL the fucking Sun, people, really?! and 2) “Well, the friend of my friend said… and they’re really reliable! Trust me!” 🙄

But even if it all ends up being true: I’ve already seen a handful of great posts talking about no, it’s NOT actually harming Colin’s character, thanks, and would make a lot of sense from what we know about where he’s at mentally so far - I’ll try not to rehash stuff they’ve already argued really well… and probably fail once i get going 😬

But I would also like to throw out that canonically… Book!Colin ALSO had experience prior to his relationship with Penelope?? Not to rakeish levels, but yeah, he had sexual encounters with women… That he then specifically mentions as meaning NOTHING once he compares it to what he has with Penelope because with her there is actual LOVE built over YEARS of INTIMACY.

And since Show!Colin is markedly younger than his book counterpart, it would make sense that this is something he is exploring, whether the initial choice is through coercion from his brother(s), or because he is curious, or… whatever he reason is?? It doesn’t matter??

He’s YOUNG. Being young means being curious about sex! It often means learning over time the difference between mere physicality vs intimacy. Learning about sex can be messy, confusing, wonderful, terrible, mediocre, not what you thought it’d be, etc etc etc.

Regardless of if we’re taking about Penelope OR Colin: Context is everything and WE. DON’T. HAVE. ANY. YET.

Penelope has her own coping mechanism for what she’s dealing with on her own throughout the show with LW; why is Colin any different, whether that’s drinking, tea, sex, etc? He’s clearly exploring different aspects of himself and finding what appeals or doesn’t appeal to him. And that’s normal!!

The IRONY of people claiming they’re furious at Colin treating women like sex toys… when that’s exactly how some people view Colin for Penelope. He is more than a prop for her! Their whole story is that they choose each other after years of self discovery and recognition of each others true selves… ALL of their past experiences included.

Even if the rumored second instance is true… 1) it would clearly be used as a way to prove that he’s miserable and NEEDS love and Pen and intimacy and 2) characters make mistakes... often ones they learn from. Pen has made her fair share of poor choices, too. Colin has and WILL make mistakes because that is what interesting, developing characters do, yet y’all act like he is unforgivable for being given his own plot scenes. He is NOT just there to have sex with Penelope!! He is a character outside of his romance with his own struggles to grapple with!

Also, please be real - this was SO NORMAL for men during this era, especially at his age! Why are MODERN DAY AUDIENCES acting so fucking scandalized?? One or two instances doesn’t even make him a real rake, ESPECIALLY if it’s being framed as him realizing it isn’t what he ultimately wants! Why are you even watching this show if something like this is so offensive to you?!

If all this ends up being accurate (which again, I doubt), I will admit I’ll probably be picky about how it’s handled… but I’ve always felt that way about this pairing in the short time I’ve been in the fandom.

But I NEED people to chill the fuck out until the season actually airs. You’re lambasting something you HAVEN’T EVEN SEEN YET.

#bridgerton #polin #colin bridgerton #BREAKING: HEALTHY AND CURIOUS YOUNG MAN TRIES OUT SEX IN ERA-APPROPRIATE FASHION #MORE AT ELEVEN #I did not get out of Catholicism to be seeing this pearl clutching in a SMUTTY REGENCY SHOW #take your great value Christianity purity culture and GTFO

[letsgetrowdy43]

I want to hear more about Hayden’s birth

Okay, purr, so the second Quinn got on the flight to head to Edmonton for his third last game of the season Honey had her two best friends come over and help her take care of Warren because she knew she would be going into labour soon and wanted to make sure someone was there just in case for not only herself but also Warren.

It was kind of expected, but also she was really shocked and scared when she went into labour, mainly because Quinn wasn’t even in the same province and it was all happening so fast. One moment she was organizing the nursery with her one of best friends as the kids played in the playroom, and all of a sudden she just started getting contractions and then everything got really busy really fast. She called Quinn but he didn’t answer, cause he was on the ice, instead she left a short breathy voicemail and two short messages, and then she headed to the hospital.

She was actually pretty fine health-wise, but she was scared and felt really alone while waiting for Quinn. Even though one of her best friends was in the room she just needed her husband and a promise that he was gonna make it on time. Honey called his brothers and her family a few times to tell them that the baby was on the way and they chatted for a bit but then Quinn finally called her back and disrupted their peaceful phone call.

Quinn on the other hand was in a frenzy trying to get home. The second he read his text after doing his post-game interviews he was panicking trying to figure out the fastest route to get home.

He read the short "I'm in labour. Please come home" and immediately started to freak out that he was going to miss one of the singlehandedly important moments of his life. The second she picks up the phone he's like "Please tell me I didn't miss it" Honey just laughs at his slight panic, "Quinn I've been in labour all of an hour and a half, you have time," she laughs but then the laughs turn into tears, "I do need you to hurry up though, I really need you here," she sniffles into the phone which sends Quinn into an even deeper frenzy.

All the other dads in the locker room get it, but also are like "Act like you've been here before my god??" cause he is so all over the place and he has plenty of time to get home in time. He thankfully made it in time, and Hayden was born just a few short hours later.

Quinn definitely cried when he had his first kid, but there was something about having a little girl that had him really emotional, cause she was the most precious thing he had ever laid his eyes on. Honey had stayed pretty strong on the crying, but watching him interact with his daughter definitely had her emotional, he just kept whispering short "thank you's" and "she's perfect, you're perfect's" to his wife which had her on the brink of tears.

Honey was literally a god, she had the perfect birth and the nursing staff were literal gems and helped her through all of it.

Hayden kind of looks like a blonde carbon copy of Quinn and it's the cutest thing ever, whereas Warren carries a few of Honey's traits, Hayden is just all Quinn.

Warren got dropped off in the afternoon after everyone had had some time to sleep and the doctors and nurses had finished all of the post-birth routines. He was very excited to see Quinn again, squeals leaving his lips as Quinn retrieved him from Honey's best friend, the two of them hugging at the entrance of the hospital before Quinn told him all about his baby sister.

The little boy was a little skeptical because she was crying when he first walked in the room, but the second she was gently placed in his lap it all changed, he kept saying how much he loved his baby Hayd and how pretty she was as she rested in his arms. This had almost every adult in the room in tears as his little hands traced patterns on his sister's head, her eyes closing as she fell asleep in his lap.

it was definitely hectic, but also so cute, and everyone is just super happy to have a healthy baby and mama!!

#thelittlesthughesau!! #quinn hughes #dad!quinn hughes #quinn hughes blurb

[jo-harrington]

Pinprick (A Gutterballs Story)

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Jo!Reader

Summary: You're sitting down to listen to one of your favorite podcasts when you hear your name as one of a long line of Eddie's loves, and you have a moment of reflection.

Note: This is a very very very late post in dedication to one of my fandom loves @dr-aculaaa (who is very much on hiatus but still deserves all of the love us resident weirdos have to give) and not only one of my favorite fics Sunday Morning but the offshoot she made for Valentine's Day: Gutterballs.

IT STARTS OUT SWEET BUT ITS A LITTLE ANGSTY AT THE END. SORRY DRAC. WE SORT OF TALKED ABOUT THIS. THE TIMELINE.

You can find my masterlist here.

Please do not interact if you are not 18+.

Enjoy!

---

You're sitting on the floor.

To be completely honest, you shouldn't be on the floor. You knew that, your doctor knew that, your team knew that. In fact, they yelled at you when you got down there, legs akimbo in a way that was comfortable for you to sit in but uncomfortable for them to look at, so you could start ripping the sleeves off of this fucking jacket.

You're alone in the studio now, hours after everyone left.

It's just you, a bottle of Tums, your favorite fucking jacket, and the dulcet tones of the man who gave it to you coming from your phone.

“Welcome back to another episode of Gutterballs! My name is Eddie Munson..."

As if he had to introduce himself.

"Nerd," you scoffed fondly.

It's your Wednesday night ritual. Well, not the jacket or the floor or the tums...Gutterballs. At the least, you owed it to your former client; at the most, you owed it to your ex.

And Eddie Munson was both of those things.

Although "ex" is a relative term.

An ex wouldn't still send you a gift basket full of goodies every award season when you barely took care of yourself, the way Eddie did for you.

An ex wouldn't shoot an email with wardrobe recommendations when they hear about some charity concert or something, like you did for Eddie and Corroded Coffin.

Still telling me what to wear Jo?

He would email back almost immediately.

Doesn't seem like anyone else is. I saw you at Lolla Ed. Not cute.

Would be your response.

You don't think I'm cute anymore?

That would go unanswered though.

Until next time.

Because you were exes.

But an ex didn't keep the jacket their ex got them because it was their favorite. Exes didn't take apart said favorite jacket because it got a rip in the sleeve, and then plan to just cut two new sleeves for it. Nor did they spend the last 20-ish years mending the jacket that their ex-slash-former-client got them as an apology for a spontaneous kiss before a red carpet.

---

The CFCA awards ceremony wasn't the band's usual haunt but they had composing credits for a film score that was up for nomination. It was a big deal. Something that would take them to a new caliber of their career; not just rowdy rockstars, but well-rounded musicians.

So of course, they were running late.

Their suits all needed a bit of alteration, Eddie was chattering nervously as you hemmed his pants, Gareth drummed a beat on his leg with two of the hangers from your roll rack and Phil, the band's manager, yelling for you all to get a move on.

"Do you want them to look good or not!" You yelled right back. "I'm not having them go up for their award looking like shit Phil!"

"Yeah remember the Grammy's," Jeff pointed out. "That's why you got us a stylist in the first place."

"You'd have thought you paid them to be here or something," Phil grumbled at you from across the room.

"I do pay," you shot up at Eddie with a conspiratorial smile. "With my sanity."

This was your schtick. He let you dress him in whatever dark-romantic victorian-gothic-inspired outfits your former-Catholic heart could dream up, and in return you let him be the spieling midwestern boy that he really wasn't allowed to be anywhere else. Because yeah the band was in charge here really--they were the talent, the money--but Eddie didn't like the whole pomp and circumstance of celebrity. Not anymore, according to him at least.

"The drugs are fun until they're not," he told you once. "We're just...guys from Indiana."

So you'd let them be that in the safety of your studio, shithead manager be damned.

You severed the thread with a swift bite of your teeth and wished the guys good luck with hugs before sending them on their way.

But Eddie...Eddie chose that moment to kiss you.

Well, you kissed each other.

As everyone walked out of the studio to get down to the car, you kissed each other.

And you froze.

Both of you.

Because it was a romantic, world-ending kiss. A kiss of declaration. A kiss of familiarity. The kiss you gave someone when you loved them for a long time and didn't know how to tell them.

Only...you hadn't loved each other for a long time.

Had you?

Hadn't said anything of the sort at least.

That wasn't love...was it?

He left for the awards ceremony and you absolutely spiraled questioning it all. You thought about all the long walks down State Street discussing ideas for this event and that one. The way he got you a membership to the Art Institute so you could sit in front of Salome and Hercules for hours and be inspired. The nights that he just couldn't work on lyrics anymore, so he would come over to sit in absolute silence save for the droning sound of your sewing machine.

The aches of the world were just a little bit easier when you could be near each other, whether it was being inspired or talking shit or sinking further into oblivion.

Was that love?

Eddie must have spiraled too. Because he showed up at your studio past midnight, disheveled and with a green Marshall Field's bag in his hand. A bag containing, you'd find out later, a black wool and leather coat that sat in a window that you'd noted looked nice months ago. One he made the guys make a special stop for before the award ceremony so he could get you to make up for fucking up your professional relationship.

The apologies were stuck on the tips of your tongues though.

And there was a beat before some silent decision was made.

And your lips came back together again, solidifying that decision, even though the words weren't said.

---

“Today on Gutterballs,” Mrs. H’s announces on the phone, breaking you from your reflection, “our lovely listeners at home are in for a real treat. As we record and discuss topics such as first loves, lost loves, and, as you can see, from our current location -body modifications."

“First we have… A spool and thread for Jo."

"She used to poke my ankles like a voodoo doll when she hemmed my pants. I still have the scars, if you wanna check ‘em out. I think that was her way of saying I love you."

Yeah that was the way it was with the two of you.

All the ways you said I love you without the words being said.

And they would never be said.

But that was another story.

"Yeah," you agree with Mrs. H belatedly, seam ripper making quick work of a line of stitches. "Lost love sounds better than ex."

#eddie munson x reader #gutterballs #drac <3

[lulublack90]

Prompt 18 Neighbour AU

@wolfstarmicrofic April 18, word count 991

Remus Lupin had one asset, and that was his parent’s house. It was in the middle of the Welsh countryside. It was a mile walk to the little village, and the only thing it had going for it was the barn. It was light and airy and smelled of wood. 

Remus had spent a lot of time and effort converting it into a liveable space. The idea had been to sell it, but no one was interested in living so far away from the major cities. So, under the advice of his estate agent, he rented it out for short holidays. 

So far, it had been quite lucrative. With the money he made from that and his own job, he could afford chocolate whenever he wanted. 

The holiday season was coming, and he already had two weeks booked out. He tended to get a lot of city dwellers looking to get away from it all or families trying to get back to their roots. 

He checked his emails one morning with a fresh cup of tea and a plate of crumpets. HE filtered out the junk and found an inquiry email in his barn folder. He opened it.

A man was looking to hire the barn for the full summer and all of September as well. He was looking at three months of solid booking. It was a shame he couldn’t offer it, having already booked those two weeks. And he refused to let down his other guests. He typed a reply stating as much. He got a reply back almost instantly, asking if there was somewhere he could pitch a small tent. Mr Black said he would gladly still pay full price while his other guests used the barn. Remus couldn’t believe what he was reading. It seemed too good to be true. He sent a couple of pictures of his personal garden. The views weren’t as good, but it would be sheltered from the worst of the wind, and he could use Remus’s garden furniture. Again, the reply was quick. The man agreed and said he hoped he wouldn’t be any bother. 

Remus sent an invoice and got Mr Black to confirm he agreed to the price, and with the confirmation, he booked out the three months. He sat back with a pleased look on his face as he finished his crumpets. He just hoped that Mr Black would be a good neighbour as it was a long time to deal with a terrible guest. 

July arrived, and with it, a sleek black motorbike and an equally sleek owner. Sirius, as he demanded to be called, settled in instantly. He played his music a little loudly, but as it was to Remus’s taste, he decided to enjoy it. 

Remus found he quite enjoyed Sirius’s company, and they spent nearly every night in Remus’s garden drinking beers. Remus had even started making enough dinner for Sirius, though Sirius had told him he didn’t expect it but did appreciate it as he was useless at cooking.

It turned out that Sirius needed a break from his high-pressure job, which was why he’d come to Remus’s. 

“I hate it. It’s been my life since my mother found out she was pregnant with me. They own the company now, but my brother and I run it. He’s so much better at it than I am, and I swear he’d have such an easier time at it if I quit.” Sirius had admitted to him one August afternoon.

“Then why don’t you quit?” Remus asked as though it were an obvious solution. 

“Everything I own is tied up in the company. If I leave, I lose everything.” He shrugged. “My parents made sure it was that way after I went through a rebellious streak in my teenage years.”

“That’s terrible, Sirius. I wish I could help.” And Remus found he meant it. 

“Don’t fret about it. I’ll muddle through.” Sirius beamed at him as he patted Remus’s leg. “Right, enough feeling sorry for myself. I’m off for a walk. Care to join me?” Remus couldn’t think of any reason not to, so he took the proffered hand, and they strolled towards the village. 

Remus showed Sirius some of his favourite childhood haunts just off the beaten track, and they spent a wonderful afternoon in the thick foliage. 

Soon, the first week came around when Sirius would have to sleep in his tent. And, of course, the worst storm to hit Wales in over a hundred years decided to arrive that night. 

The trees were whipping back and forth, creaking and groaning. The fence surrounding Remus’s garden swayed dangerously. Remus refused to let Sirius stay out in this. He flung open the back door and yelled into the downpour. 

“Sirius! Sirius!” A face popped out of the zippered entrance of the tent. “Get in here!” Sirius shook his head. 

“I’m all good. Don’t fret.” 

Lightning cut across the sky, lighting the dark ground with its answering thunder not far behind. 

“Sirius, please! I won’t be able to sleep knowing you’re out here!” 

Suddenly, Sirius was streaking across the lawn and ran straight into Remus’s arms, knocking the lanky man back a few steps. Lighting flashed across the sky again and then another and another. The last bolt hit the cherry blossom tree in Remus’s garden, and a huge branch fell off and crushed the tent Sirius had been in moments before. 

“Yeah, probably a good call that Remus,” He joked. “Shall I put the kettle on?” Remus decided, not that he had much choice, that Sirius would be staying in his spare bedroom for the remainder of the two weeks. Maybe longer if the look Sirius was giving him meant what Remus thought it did. That night, they sat, snuggled up together on Remus’s tiny sofa in front of a roaring fire, sipping mugs of hot chocolate and listening to the storm wailing around them.  

#wolfstar #wolfstar microfic #wolfstar fic #wolfstar au #remus lupin #sirius black #remus john lupin #sirius orion black #sirius x remus #remus x sirius #sirius and remus #remus and sirius #welsh countryside #converted barn #you want to stay how long? #remus loves his chocolate #storm #falling tree #hot chocolate #neighbour au

[hellorosie]

are you still taking requests?? if so could you do something like. serial killer human al but instead of killing you he recruits you as a partner? you can make it smutty if you want but like. I want Al being marveled at your competence with dismembering a body for disposal ya know? anyways thanks i hope this isn't too weird

hello sweet anon, this request is everything and more. i will be writing a part two to your request that will be out tomorrow titled "bloodlust", so please enjoy part 1! <3 tags: cannibalism, murder, gore, animal death

 

Your dad knelt down so that he was eye level with you. You had been crying. In your shaking hand, he put the butcher’s knife. 

“This,” he said, pointing to the knife that you clutched carefully to your chest, “is the cycle of life and death.” He pointed to the deer he had shot that laid behind him. He said your name firmly, but lovingly, “Now, do what you have been taught.”

You took a shaky breath, nodded, and approached the dead deer. At the age of ten, you butchered the deer, just as your dad had taught you.

-

You sat on the porch step, elbows on your knees and your head in your hands, watching the moving company that was assisting your new neighbor. He looked to be the gentlemanly type, and you were sure if your ailing mother were able to come outside, she would be trying to make him into a potential suitor. You didn’t understand why a man dressed like that would want to move out to the country. 

Speaking of your mother, you heard her call for you from inside. You stood up and entered the house. You had set up her bed in the middle of the living room. She held out her empty water cup, and you gently took it from her and walked to the kitchen to fill it.

“What is all that commotion outside?” she asked. “Your dad will have a fit.”

Your dad was dead, but you were tired of reminding her about this. You took the now full glass of water back to the living room and set it on her nightstand, which you had also moved to the living room. You put your hands on your hips and bit your lip, as you always did when you were thinking.

“New neighbor,” you said to your mother. “We have a new neighbor.”

“Who on Earth would want to live here?” your mother muttered, taking a sip of water. Your mother’s moods were always changing, especially her mood regarding the house. This started happening after your dad had passed. He always kept the house in tip top shape, but ever since his passing, you tried to do everything exactly the way he taught you, but that wasn’t enough for your mother’s demented brain. Only your dad could please her.

“It is the house across the street,” you said aloud, but to no one in particular. Your mother wouldn’t remember the couple that had died there, and she also wouldn’t remember that it has been empty ever since. “I’m going to tend to the garden.”

“Bring me a strawberry, lovely,” your mother said with a smile. Strawberries were your mother’s favorite food, and luckily they were in season and in the garden. You smiled, nodded, then went back outside.

You peaked at the house across the street. The moving company was still working, but the man was nowhere to be seen. You shrugged and went to the garden to pick your mother a strawberry.

“What is that small shack you have there for?” an unfamiliar voice asked. You turned around and saw your new neighbor standing by the porch steps. He smiled at you kindly. 

“Smoking meat,” you said simply. 

“You hunt?” he asked, taking a step forward. 

You nodded.

“Alastor,” the man said, holding out his hand. You took a step forward and shook it, telling Alastor your name. “I must say, a country man I’ve never been, but it sure is beautiful out here.”

“What made you want to move here?” you asked, letting go of his hand. You were never good at small talk, and felt a bit awkward.

“New opportunities,” Alastor said with a smile. What opportunities, you wanted to ask, were out here in the middle of nowhere? You decided against asking. Alastor looked behind your shoulder. “You garden as well?”

“Yep,” you said with another nod. “Strawberries are Mom’s favorite.”

“You live with your mother?”

“I take care of her, yes.”

“And your father…?”

“Dead,” you replied. Alastor nodded.

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“He taught me everything I know,” you said, unable to stop yourself from bragging about your beloved father. “Hunting, butchering, gardening… he was really a man of the land.”

“Butchering?” Alastor said with a small laugh. “A little thing like you knows how to butcher?”

“Almost made a business out of it,” you said with a smile, “but the paperwork was too tricky for me.”

“How interesting,” Alastor said, and you could’ve sworn that in that moment, he was really looking at you. Not just as a thing, but as a person, and it had been a long time since someone looked at you that way. “How would you like coming over to my house sometime for tea?”

“Sure,” you said. “Mom usually takes a nap mid-afternoon; that would be the best time for me.”

“Mid-afternoon it is,” Alastor said. “How does tomorrow sound?”

“Okay,” you said, “I can come tomorrow.”

“Perfect,” Alastor said. “Then I will not bother you anymore. It was a pleasure meeting you.”

“You, too,” you replied. Alastor turned and walked away.

-

That night, you couldn’t sleep. You sat up in bed, turned on your lamp, and then stared at the wall in silence. The house was completely quiet, and you listened to the sound of your own breathing for comfort. You reached over for your journal in the drawer of your nightstand, opened it, and read a few pages. All the excerpts were about animals you had killed and butchered, in great detail. You started from the beginning at the deer you butchered when you were ten years old. 

“I remember being afraid,” you whispered as you read. “I remember being afraid that if I were to do what my dad had told me, that I would turn out like him.”

You closed your journal and got out of bed. You made your way quietly down the stairs, through the living room where your mother slept, and made your way outside. Barefoot, you walked in the grass until you reached the shed where you kept all your butchering and hunting tools. All of this had once belonged to your father, but now it was yours. 

You stood in the cool shed, closed your eyes, and breathed deep the smell of death and decay. Your heartbeat slowed, and you could feel your pupils dilate as you opened your eyes. You walked over to the slaughtering table and picked up the knife that lay there that you had forgotten to put back. You then exited the shed and walked to the garden. Quietly, you searched.

Finding what you were looking for, you lunged. In your hand was a squirming mouse. Impatient, you held the mouse down on the grass and brought the knife down upon it. Blood soaked your hand, and a drop landed in your eye. You held the mouse until you felt its heart stop beating. You were breathing heavily when you let go of the tiny corpse and dropped the knife onto the grass. 

“Well, well,” came a voice from behind you. You turned quickly and saw Alastor standing there. You looked directly in his eyes, and you saw what you’d see in your dad’s eyes when he was alive. 

Bloodlust.

-

“How long have you been killing animals?” Alastor asked. It was still nighttime, and the two of you sat at his dining room table. “Not including the animals you cook.”

“Since I was ten,” you replied. “Dad made me butcher a deer and something… woke up inside of me, I don’t know, something I’d be suppressing.”

“Had you killed anything before that?”

“Bugs,” you said, shrugging.

“How interesting,” Alastor said, and you could tell he meant it. 

There was a pause.

“I know who your father was, dearest,” Alastor said softly, but with a hint of danger in his voice. “The Butcher of Bakersville.”

You couldn’t help but smile.

“Is that why you moved here?” you asked. “No one’s stepped foot in this house since my dad killed the tenants. Are you a true crime fanatic or something?”

“I moved here,” Alastor said, “because I need an accomplice. An accomplice that knows their way around the knife… and accomplice who has worked with a killer before.”

“How many?” you asked. Alastor smiled wickedly.

“Too many to count.”

“How’d you know I helped my dad?” you asked. “The police don’t even know that.”

“I have a way of reading people,” Alastor said simply. 

“How do you kill?” you asked.

“Blunt force trauma.”

“That’s a bit boring.”

“I am much more composed than your father was… stabbing, is that correct?”

“Yes.”

“Stabbing marks an angry murderer.”

“My dad was a lot of things.” you said, agreeing, “and angry was one of them.”

“And he just abandoned the corpses?” Alastor asked. 

“Left them at the scene, yes.”

“What a waste of your talent.”

Your eyebrows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“What if I told you,” Alastor said, leaning forward. You did the same. “That you could taste divinity?”

“You’re a godly man?” you said with a small laugh.

“Some people say Eve ate an apple,” Alastor said smiling, “I say she ate flesh.”

“You’re a cannibal,” you said.

“In need of a butcher,” Alastor replied. “What do you say?”

“I say yes,” you replied.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #alastor x reader

[sardonic-the-writer]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐯𝐞'𝐬 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐀 𝐓𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐧𝐞𝐫 𝐖𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐈𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞

↳ includes: luther, klaus, and number five

↳ warnings: canon type threats from five

↳ notes: written so both ftm, mtf, or gn folks can read it. basically was just be being really self indulgent. enjoy

↳ song: dancin - krono remix—aaron smith

masterlist | commissions | carrd

𝐋𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫

• We all saw how he reacted to Viktor’s coming out in season three. The human equivalent of ‘he’s a little confused, but he’s got the spirit.’

• This time, he’s got a bit more experience understanding these things than the first time around. Might still ask Viktor a few things if he’s too embarrassed to question you directly, to which he is reminded that Viktor doesn’t speak for every trans person

• He eventually just ends up asking you what he wanted to know with a considerably more nervous tone

• Coming out party when?? Convinced that this guy just wants to have a party before the world ends at this point. Won’t have one if you’re not comfortable with it just like his brother, but he’d be so pumped if you did

• You’d think that walking around hand in hand with a big guy like Luther would stop people from yelling stuff at you, but you’d be surprised. In any case, he always makes sure to defend your honor, even if you don’t need it. He’s chivalrous like that

• Luther would be able to relate with any body dysmorphia you have on some sort of level—and in turn knows ways to combat it. It wasn’t easy to nearly die and wake up to the upper body of a monkey, so he had to adapt somehow, both mentally and physically

𝐊𝐥𝐚𝐮𝐬

• Oh, he’s so happy that you feel comfortable around him

• Klaus has always experimented with his gender and sexuality, never sweating the small stuff, so finding someone that he can share his experiences with on more than just a friendly level really excites him

• No matter what time period the two of you end up in, Klaus is always supportive of you, even if it gets him in some hot water with the locals and their opinions (i.e, your time spent in the sixties.)

• Probably steals your hormone boosters if you ever run out of them. Or buys them off a dealer or two. You don’t take drugs for so long without knowing a few people

• Please let him do your hair. Whether you’re looking to lengthen it or shorten it, or even just dye the thing, Klaus will clamor at the opportunity to play hairdresser. Only if you promise to do his own in return, of course

• “Fabulous! You look amazing!” He croons one day, pretending to swoon at the sight of you. Or maybe it was authentic. You could never tell with him. Either way it made you fight the urge to crack a smile

• “Klaus you literally just brushed my hair.” You snort

• “My point still stands. Fabulous I say!”

• In a similar note to that, Klaus would let you rummage through his closet for any sort of spare clothes or fashion inspiration if you run out of outfits/ideas for how to dress. He’s got a wide array of strange garments anyways; from multicolored skirts and dresses, to suits with sequins and eye catching patterns

• Be warned. He will want to matching couples outfits. And they will be atrocious

• On any of your bad days, Klaus makes sure to remind you of how brilliant you are. Most times he just describes you how he sees you through his eyes in an attempt to cheer you up, but sometimes he’ll simply slot himself next to you and hold you until you’re ready to talk about it

• For someone that’s infamous for not being able to stand silence, Klaus sure knows how to utilize it

𝐅𝐢𝐯𝐞

• Contrary to popular belief, Five does actually give two shits about you—and then some. You are his partner after all (How you managed that no one’s quite sure. The running theory between Diego and Allison is that he’s holding you hostage or blackmailing you somehow)

• His love for you means that he’s more than willing to try and understand your point of view on both the world and yourself. When he’s not trying to stop the apocalypse from ending the world and everyone in it, of course

• Often times brings Delores into the serious conversations you’ll have, claiming that out of the two of them she’s better at understanding these things

• Would burn down a building for you, and probably has already, so when you get misgendered or scrutinized Five won’t hesitate to threaten the person bothering you

• “Unless you have an aversion to keeping both of your eyes in their sockets, I suggest you back away from them.” He had hissed at a passerby on the street one day, clenching his fist with a deadly smile. And while he might not look threatening enough with his smaller frame in school boy shorts, the look in Five’s eyes had the other person scrambling away without a retort

• “Thanks.” You chuckle breathily at him after, shaking your head. “You don’t always have to do that, you know. Scare those guys off.”

• “Yeah, well, Lila would kill me if I didn’t. You’re one of the only people she actually likes.” Five rolls his eyes, doing a poor job at concealing the red tips of his ears. But you got the message

• “Sure thing Fivey.” You knocked his shoulder against your own, and held your hands up with a laugh when he sent a scathing glare your way

• He’s not the best at saying that he loves you, and that means everything about you, but he sure does try in his own little fucked up way

#tua #tua x reader #the umbrella academy #the umbrella academy x reader #the umbrella academy x y/n #the umbrella academy x you #luther hargreeves #luther x reader #luther x y/n #luther x you #klaus hargreeves #klaus x reader #klaus x you #klaus x y/n #five hargreeves #five x reader #five x you #five x y/n #x reader #headcanons

[lovinglylibelle]

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞

-navigation || masterlist-

pairing: fushiguro megumi x reader

genre: fluff

description: Megumi has always been curious about love, having never experienced it himself. So what happens when he meets someone from his past that might just be the key to changing all that.

requests: open

a/n: this is has been on my mind for a while and i tried sooo many times to write this, but it somehow wasn't giving the vibe i wanted it to give. However, writing it this time was better and i like how it turned out, may have gotten carried away down there but eh (is it obvious that i am absolutely enamored by Megs?) If you like it, please press that cute little heart in the bottom right corner and that reblog button just next to it. If you want more such fics, you can also drop a follow and i promise not to disappoint. Have a happy day ahead, keep yourself hydrated and well fed. Thank you

"Ya Itadori, do you think it will rain?" Kugisaki asked, shielding her eyes as she looked up at the sky. It was the beginning of Japan's rainy season and it seemed like Tokyo was about to welcome it too.

It was getting darker by the second as more and more clouds gathered, blocking out the rays of the sun and from the looks of it, the sky was ready to let down the first rain.

"It's definitely going to rain," Itadori replied. According to the duo, he had some sort of sensor in him that allowed him to predict the weather... keeping aside the fact that it was already visible.

Megumi sighed as he watched the two sorcerers, now trying to climb the lamp post in order to get a clearer view, wondering how he managed to get himself surrounded by them. Not that he minded it. He had gotten used to it.

The three were standing outside a movie theatre, waiting for the movie to screen. Kugisaki and Itadori had insisted upon watching the latest romance movie, the same old story about love.

Fushiguro Megumi didn't know a thing about love and it really wasn't a surprise. To him it was just a myth, a fool's errand that the world seemed to chase for reasons unbeknownst to him.

He didn't get it, truly, the concept of it foreign to him but he wasn't the one to blame for it. He didn't exactly have the chance to experience it: his parents abandoned him, his sister was in a magic coma, and his 'relatives' wanted to exploit him... the only thing close to love, affection, and warmth he had ever known, not that he would ever admit it to him or anyone, was the chaotic white haired man child known as Gojo Satoru, and the two idiots who seemed to have taken it upon themselves to be the bane of his existence. However, that was all platonic anyway.

Romantic love was something he had only read about in the various novels and mangas: that were neatly stacked in his dorm, or watched in movies like these, and yet they weren't enough to make him believe in the notion.

It felt fictional to him, a love that transcends all barriers, a love that makes one do irrational things, a love that is unconditional... the idea was too far fetched. Everybody wanted something in the world, he knew that, he experienced that on an everyday basis. And everybody was selfish when it came down to it, so something as selfless as love was odd for him, odder than the existence of curses and magic.

However, he did wonder what it felt like, to be in love and to feel that feeling that all these things portrayed. Will he ever feel that? it was a question that made him ponder sometimes. He wouldn't mind it if he did and wouldn't mind it if he didn't either.

This reverie of his might have been neverending if it wasn't for the loud shout that Kugisaki had let out. "Fushiguro, it's open!"

He nodded, making his way towards them but stopping short after feeling a strong and familiar cursed energy.

"Huh?" he questioned, his eyes narrowing as he scanned his surroundings. A nostalgic emotion making its way to his heart. What was it-

thud, he felt someone bump into him, making him stumble slightly before he caught himself.

Looking up, he noticed the culprit and was ready to give them a terrible look but as soon as his eyes met yours, his entire world seemed to have slowed down to a halt.

There you were turning around to face him as your hair cascaded around you, framing you delicately like the buds do the petals. Your eyes were wide with evident shock that was etched onto your face oh so sweetly. Your lips parting slightly as it finally began to rain... the first of its season.

The air around you seemed to shimmer and Megumi could have sworn that he had never seen anybody look as beautiful as you did in that moment.

"Oh my god, shit, i am so sorry." you said hurriedly, a shocked expression on your face. You kept a hand above your eyes to be able to see.

Megumi couldn't even breathe much less talk or comprehend whatever you were saying as he noticed the feeling from earlier creeping in again. He squinted at you, running a hand through his hair that was now soaked and sticking to his forehead.

As he took in your features, the feeling started to bloom into something more, recognition.

You had the same aura around you, as you did all those years ago, of comfort and safety that once was Megumi's only solace. Your clumsiness was intact too, barely taking a few steps before crashing into things as he recalled. Your hair was longer though and somehow it looked even more perfect than what he had remembered... And your eyes, oh your eyes, they were the dead give away.

They had that same glint in them, the same warmth and insatiable curiosity that always left him in awe. Even now they seemed to hold the entire universe in them and sparkle like a million stars resided in them.

"Y/n..?" he whispered, loud enough for you to hear over the rain and soft enough to not break the moment.

"What? How do you know my nam-" you replied, confused beyond your belief when a flicker of understanding crossed your mind and you lit up with the same feeling of recognition.

"Meg- Fushiguro? No way..." you chuckled incredelously, disbelief on your face.

"Hello to you too, Y/n" he said, a smile on his face. It was genuine, the smile, just like it used to be all those years ago when you two spent time together.

To Kugisaki and Itadori who were watching it all unfold from afar, it was truly a rare sight; to see the alleged sea urchin, make that face and that too in a serious way.

"It's been so long Fushiguro, you've not changed a bit." you said, tucking your hair behind your ear as you smiled back at him. The more Megumi observed you, the more aware he became of his surroundings. He felt his cheeks growing warm despite the cold rain that was falling relentlessly around him.

"well my teeth grew back," he joked, earning a soft laugh from you and a gasp of disbelief from the other two, who exchanged a look. At the sound of your laugh, Megumi felt his heartbeat pick up, he couldn't comprehend what was happening to him. It was the first time ever that he had felt all those things, was it the weather? was it the rain? was he getting sick? what was happening to him? was he okay?

"that they did... makes you less cute though." you commented, making him nod his head and his friends face-palm themselves.

If they had been standing closer to you, Kugisaki would have smacked the oblivious guy's head right in that instance but due to the distance she couldn't.

"So you are back?" Fushiguro asked as the two of you started walking, the rain almost forgotten now.

"Yeah, Gojo Sensei had insisted on it and well i did miss everything here, especially you." you said, a hopeful look in your eyes as they met his.

I missed you too, he had wanted to say but decided against it.

"So what brings you here?" he said instead, his hands in his pockets.

He was looking down on the street, various puddles forming due to the water. He stepped in one, watching it splash against his feet.

"Believe it or not, it's a mission. There is a cursed spirit right around the corner there, caused a few suicides over the week." you said pointing at the alley behind the theatre.

"Speaking of, i can feel it manifesting again." you added, stopping in your tracks.

"They already got you going huh? You should go and exorcise it, we can talk later." he said, stopping to face you. He didnt want to stop talking just yet but he knew that the exorcism was more important.

"Alright, see you back at the dorms?"

He nodded in reply,

"It really is nice to see you again Fushiguro, i'll see you later." you said, taking off towards the alley with your hands clasped behind your back.

Fushiguro watched you walk away and felt himself coming to his senses again, he could now feel every raindrop on himself that had seemingly disappeared when he was talking to you. He realised that he was soaked, his hair sticking to his face, his hands cold and clammy and yet he didn't mind it at all,

He was so lost in watching you walk away that he didn't realise when Kugisaki and Itadori had joined him.

"So... who was that?" she said, holding the umbrella that somehow magically appeared in her hand. Her eyes narrowing at Megumi.

"A friend,"

"Just, a friend?"

"Yeah, just a friend."

"Sureeee, you made us miss half the movie though."

"But it's just been ten minutes Kugisaki-" Itadori interrupted,

"Yeah yeah i know, i am exaggerating. Come on now and quit staring, you look like a creep for fuck's sake." she called out, making her way towards the entrance of the theatre.

"Shut up." Megumi replied, shaking his head but looking away too.

He was elated to see you again and was even looking forward to meeting you back at the school and introducing you to his new friends.

"For the record, I don't believe that she was just a friend." Kugisaki added as she sat on her seat inside the theatre. Megumi who was now dry, thanks to his shikigami, sat down next to her with a sigh.

He avoided her gaze as he replied, "I don't care."

He was glad that the cinema was dark enough to hide his face when he said that because despite everything, a small smile had found its way on his lips which he really did not want Kugisaki or Itadori to see or they wouldn't let him hear the end of it.

His eyes focused on the movie in front of him, a romance movie, about love and somewhere in his heart and beyond his consciousness, he knew that he had found the answer to most of the questions he had as he thought back to the encounter he just had with you.

He really was looking forward to seeing you again.

#𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐲𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐞 ��� #𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐲𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐞— 𝐣𝐣𝐤🥀 #megumi fushiguro #jjk fushiguro #fushiguro megumi #fushiguro x reader #fushiguro x y/n #fushiguro x you #fushiguro megumi x reader #fushiguro megumi x you #fushiguro megumi x y/n #megumi x reader #jujutsu megumi #jujutsu kaisen megumi #jjk megumi #megumi fushiguro x reader #megumi fushiguro x you #megumi fushiguro x y/n #megumi x you #megumi x y/n #fushiguro megumi fluff #megumi fluff #megumi fushiguro fluff #jjk x reader #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu sorcerer #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you