#Or whatever degree I plan on giving him in my modern au

[blueberrywhale123]

Ballet Les Mis

So I love ballet and I love the headcanons that Cosette is a ballet dancer. But I stumbled upon this video and am I crazy or does this seem like Courfeyrac????

So anyways I now headcanon that in high school, Courfeyrac took ballet.

[lady-lauren]

Heaven in Hiding

↣ Pairing: Kyojuro Rengoku x Fem!Reader

↣ Rating: Explicit, 18+ Only

↣ Word Count: 5.7k

↣ Warnings/Tags: modern college au, step-big bro!Rengoku, stepcest, a very slight yandere tone, a bit of enemies to lovers, use of “darling” and “good girl”, cuddling and flirting, the smut comes quickly because I can’t help myself, oral (fem!receiving), facesitting, hair pulling, a little biting/marking, unprotected rough/passionate sex, small belly bulge, creampie

↣ A/N: I’m not sorry. I needed to get this out of my system. I love this man and I have been a god damn emotional rollercoaster with this series, okay? He’s such a good big brother and I can’t stand it. 😭

Kyojuro takes delight in being a big brother. He’s a protector and provider by nature. So, when his father remarried, the union bringing a darling new step-sister into the fold, he found renewed pride and purpose in acting as your big brother.

Even though you don’t need a big brother—you’ve told him this a thousand times, insisted that since you’ve always been on your own, you can handle yourself. You’re only two years younger than him, a sophomore to his senior in college.

You’re independent, which Kyojuro appreciates. But you’re so pretty and always so alone. Alone at parties, smiling in the corner, fending off boys with impure intentions. Alone at the library, working tirelessly toward your degree. Alone in your apartment, sleeping in empty sheets.

He can’t stand the thought of you being alone. You need him. You’re a moon without a sun.

So Kyojuro determines the only way for you to let him in completely is to give you what all pretty, lonely girls desire—to be fucked stupid.

“Hello!” he announces at your door late on a Saturday night. He’s not surprised that you slam the door in his face upon recognizing his golden hair and flaming voice.

Persistent, he knocks again, telling the seam of the door that he’s brought food.

It takes a few moments, but your door creaks open again, slowly, hesitantly, as if you’re afraid he’s just going to rush inside. He does.

“Finals are just around the corner and I wanted to make sure you’re taking care of yourself.”

As he takes purposeful steps toward your kitchen, Kyojuro takes note of your apartment. Everything is clean, cute. There are scented candles burning and he can smell the remnants of a hot shower, steam and hints of vanilla and rose swirling in the air. Your television is paused on some Netflix show, a cozy blanket half strewn over the couch. Good, you’re indulging in self-care.

“I’m doing just fine on my own, thanks.”

“And that’s the problem!” He pulls fresh, hot food from the paper bag he’s brought as he speaks, setting containers of potato miso soup—of course he would bring you his favorite, you deserve nothing less—and various other comforting snacks on your countertops. “You don’t have to do everything on your own when you have me.”

You follow him to the kitchen, leaning against the doorframe with your arms crossed. You weren’t prepared for company, only dressed in a pair of soft shorts and a tank-top with no bra. He notices how you’re covering yourself, pressing your tits down and out of sight, hiding the sight of hard nipples. You’re alluring in the soft light; all smooth, dewy skin and sensual curves that would make any man weep.

“Thanks,” you sigh, “and sorry about trying to shut you out. I’m just not used to having a…a brother, or whatever you are.”

“Well, I’m happy to show you what big brothers are for.”

Even as you both sit to eat, you eye him like you don’t trust him. The problem is that you don’t know him. Even after a few years of being family, you’ve never given him the time of day to show you who he really is, how caring he is. Which is why he’s determined to sink beneath your skin tonight, open you like a parched flower to rain.

“You really don’t have to stay,” you mumble over a spoonful, still watching him with catlike perception.

“Why? Did you have other plans?” He looks around dramatically, long hair swishing as he makes the point.

“Kyojuro…I like being alone. It’s addictive, in a way. I like being able to do whatever I want, whenever I want. And I appreciate that you want to be some heroic big bro, but I don’t need you to do that.”

“Don’t you get lonely?” he says with a heavy knife’s edge of sincerity. The words slice through the calm and make you bristle.

“Everyone gets lonely. It’s human nature.”

“Well, you don’t have to be lonely,” he stands to begin cleaning, stopping next to your chair to pat your head softly. “Not with me around.”

He keeps his palm on your head for a moment longer, making you look up at him through your lashes with a concoction of emotion. Anger is present, anger that he’s here, once again attempting to push into your life. But there’s also a hint of adoration, a welling shine that gives him hope.

For you, it’s hard not to be sucked into the gravity well that is Kyojuro Rengoku. He’s blazing warmth and heartfelt smiles, with an eccentricity that is equal parts curious and lovable. He’s the promise of comfort, an assurance of safety. He’s big and strong and far too handsome for his own good—every girl at your university wants him and it’s hard not to fall prey to his blunt charm.

But you’ve always found solace in yourself, only ever trusted yourself. It’s hard to put your trust into anyone, even someone with such a pleasing disposition.

“What movie do you wanna watch?” There’s no question as to whether you want to do such a thing and spend more time with him. It’s a given for him. You’ve let him in, so now he’s going to stay.

“I’m not picky,” you rummage around the kitchen as he slinks into the living room, “just put on whatever you want.”

When you’ve taken enough time to steel yourself, taking deep breaths to calm your shot nerves of your expected alone time being overtaken, you return to him.

Kyojuro has taken residence on your small couch, stout legs spread across the cushions. He’s big in your space, muscular and barrel-chested as one arm hangs across the back of the couch. Like you, he’s casual tonight, gray sweatpants and a tight black t-shirt with the Slayer University emblem on his chest.

With a beaming, almost sheepish smile, he pats his stocky thigh in invitation.

“No,” you hiss.

“Oh, come on! I bet you haven’t had a good, old-fashioned cuddle in a long time.”

The startled look on your face confirms his thoughts.

He’s perceptive, it’s what has made him a great college athlete. He knows you well enough to be aware that you’re no fumbling virgin; you prefer one-night stands, in and out sexual gratification with no messy strings of feelings wrapped around your heart. But that means when it comes to gentle, caring human contact, you’re absolutely touch-starved. He wants to give you what no one else can—the warm, comforting embrace of a brother.

Like an offering, he holds his hand out to you. Palm up, big fingers barely curved and beckoning come here.

You mumble something under your breath, some curse against god, but you take his hand anyway.

Your bodies meld together easily. Your softness melts against his muscles, your ass settling between his spread thighs and your legs draping over one of his. Enthusiastically, he wraps an arm around your shoulders and squishes your cheek against his plush chest.

“See? This is nice!” He beams, proud and loud and practically stewing in happiness.

Shifting a bit to find comfort, you settle on having your hands against his chest, his steady heart beating against your fingertips, ringing in the ear he’s trapped against him.

“Yeah,” your voice is muffled against his brawn, “it’s alright.”

It’s more than alright. Kyojuro can feel the tension in your shoulders fade as he runs his fingers along your arm, up and down, back and forth, a gentle sweeping of touch. You sink deeper into him as he scrolls aimlessly through the streaming platform, nuzzling your head against his chest. You’re quiet, but that’s alright. He just wants you to feel comfortable and realize that you’re safe with him.

He decides on something simple to watch, some nature documentary he’s already seen before as background noise. He doesn’t care what plays; all his attention is set on you.

Fingertips trail up your neck, his thumb caressing your jaw. He expected you to squirm a bit, perhaps protest, but you are content to just curl up against him and hum.

“Feel good?”

“Mhm, yeah. Guess I could get used to this.”

Kyojuro takes the initiative of pulling you in even closer, big hand dipping to your waist and shoving you against his body. His fingers spread wide, his thumb presses against the fat of your breast, his middle finger curving against the underside. His instincts tell him to squeeze, but he presses his teeth together and flexes his jaw to stop himself.

You’re not naive. Your senses are on high alert being pressed against his big, warm body, and you’re acutely aware of his touch against your breast. Instead of slithering away from him, you coil yourself against him tighter. One of your hands slides up his chest, wrinkling his soft t-shirt as your fingers come to rest on his neck, right at his pulse.

“Kyo…” you whisper, turning your cheek to look up at him. He stares down at you a little too intently, honey and ruby eyes waiting, watching. “Why did you come here tonight?”

“To be a good big brother,” he answers immediately.

“So good little sisters just get food and cuddles? Nothing else?” You’re teasing him, one of your manicured nails tapping at the side of his full lips.

He’ll give you whatever you want, whatever it takes to open you to him, let him be part of your life, part of you.

“I’ll give you anything you want. Name it, and it’s yours.”

His heart is pounding in his ribcage as you move in his lap, straddling his waist. Your tits press against his chest, your cunt nestled against the ridge of his hardening cock that he can’t keep hidden in his sweats.

You play with the long hair that frames his face, twirling red tips between your fingers.

“We really shouldn’t…”

Your lips brush against his, just out of reach, hips rocking against him.

“But we definitely should, right?”

“We tell no one,” you warn.

“Our little secret.”

He takes the initiative, running his hot hands up your sides, feeling every dip and curve as he settles his palms on your tits. Thumbs roll over your already hard nipples, bushy eyebrows pulling up in delight as you give him your first moan.

One hand drags to your face, thick fingers squishing into your cheeks as he pulls your mouth closer to his.

“Let me show you what big brothers are for, darling.”

His kiss is like fire, all consuming, powerful. He slides his tongue into your mouth without prompting, cock growing fully hard when you respond in earnest. Your hands cup his face as you moan into his mouth, tongue tangling with his as you grind into his lap. He wanted you to be enthusiastic, but this—this is heaven.

Just a few touches and you’re already melting to his flames, ready to be burned.

He knew such a pretty, lonely thing just needed to be fucked. And he’ll fuck you just right, in all the ways you’ve ever desired. That’s what he’s here for—to provide in all the ways no other man can.

“Off,” you whisper into his mouth, fingernails plucking at his shirt. “Take this off.”

He breaks away from you for just an instant, grabbing his shirt behind his neck and ripping the fabric away from his heated skin. He does the same for you, tossing your tank top over your head so your tits can spill out in front of his face.

“You’re beautiful,” he says in quick reverence, leaning forward to lick one of your nipples into his mouth. His hands are rough, one gripping into your ribs and pushing you down into the couch cushions while the other kneads into the flesh of the breast in his mouth.

You moan and squeak at his actions, making room for him to settle between your spread legs. His weight is so heavy between your thighs. He feels like passion, like a promise.

“Have you been taking care of yourself?” he asks rather sternly, spit dripping from his lips as he moves from one breast to the other.

You flush hot; he can feel how your skin reacts to him.

“Wha…what do you mean?”

As his teeth delicately scrape against your nipple, he flashes his eyes up at you over the curve of your tits. You know exactly what he means.

“I…” you trail off, suddenly bashful even as you press your pussy closer to him, finding relief by rubbing your dampening folds against the hard ridge of his cock.

Kyojuro mumbles your name into your skin, “How do you make yourself cum?”

The question is genuine. He needs to know. He wants to know how to please you, he wants to know if you really do take care of yourself.

“Oh god,” you groan and throw your arm over your eyes, whimpering as he takes your tits in both hands and squeezes. “I…fuck, I have toys.”

“Do you? What kind?” He trails his mouth lower, relishing how your hips buck one last time, searching for his cock, as he moves himself down your body.

“I—” you suck in a deep breath as he hooks his fingers in your sopping little shorts, tugging the material down your thighs. “I h-have a vibrator, but mostly I j-just use a big dildo. I…I like to feel full.”

“I’ll make you feel full, darling. I promise.”

He spreads you open, one of your legs dangling off the couch and the other propped against the back cushion. Your pussy is already sloppy, slick and wet in anticipation of him. He shoves his golden head between your thighs, using his thumbs to spread apart your folds and just look at you. You’re perfect—such a perfect little step-sister indeed.

“It’s amazing how wet you are for me.” The praise makes you mewl, hips wiggling as one of your hands tangles in his long mane of hair. He can feel your temptation to tug him closer, nails pressing into his scalp.

But the sight of your plush thighs spread wide gives him such a tempting thought, one he can’t deny.

“I want you to sit on my face.” He pulls himself away from you, big shoulders rolling as he sits up onto his knees. He rubs his drooling, aching cock through his pants at the sight of you spread naked below him.

“But you were already right there,” you huff and sit up, shooting him that angry glare he loves so much.

“I know, I know,” he grins, “but I want your thighs smothering me. So, sit on me fully, yeah? No hovering.”

You nod in agreement as he sits on the floor, laying his head back and flat against the cushions, thick neck tilted back. You don’t hesitate to throw your leg across his pretty face, letting his lips ghost along your skin as you settle your hips above him. He locks his brawny arms around your legs, eager to bring your wet cunt to his mouth.

He groans in ecstasy as your weight presses down against him, your pussy sweet against his lips as he takes his time to flatten his tongue and draw one long, hot stripe through your folds.

Immediately his eyes flare open, catching your gaze from up above.

“Fuck you’re…tasty.”

His face feels too good smothered between the flesh of your thighs, lips and tongue hungry within your folds. Strong hands are careful not to bruise your skin, pulling your weight farther down onto his face until he’s drowning in you.

Your head hangs low as jolts of white-hot heat spread from where his mouth is working at you, playing with you, tongue painting long, broad strokes up and down your pussy. Your thighs begin to shake and he takes it as a sign of triumph, eagerly eating more and more. Your cunt is syrupy and hot, dripping down onto his tongue and his cheeks.

If he suffocated here and now, he’d die a happy man between your legs.

One of his hands falls to his lap, fisting at his dripping cock, red and angry and still begging for release against the blonde, downy hair of his stomach. Sticky pre-cum leaks from his flushed head, pooling into his skin and clothes as his cock bobs and twitches at the sounds of your moans. Quickly, he lifts his hips just enough to pull his cock free, hand wrapping around his throbbing skin to pump his shaft to the rhythm of his tongue inside of you.

“Oh, oh fuck,” you press your lips together, stomach pulling tight as his tongue thrusts up inside of you, “fuck, fuck, fuck that’s so good, Kyo,” it is all a messy whisper, just hot air blown into the dimly lit room.

Your hips jerk and roll from his ministrations, bursts of pleasure spreading over your nerves like hot, rippling webs beneath your skin. His tongue presses against your tight hole, gathering the mess of your slick onto his tongue and drinking like a man parched.

His tongue soothes over you, lapping slowly and pulling you away from the churning coil within your belly. He wants you to savor this, to beg for him, beg for your big brother to let you cum on his face.

“Please,” your voice is wavering as his lips move against your folds, “p-please, suck my clit, make me cum.”

His cock twitches with every plea.

You double over in pleasure as he heads your plea, nails scraping into the couch as you cling on for dear life. His tongue swirls over your clit quickly and with fervor, tight circles to make your vision go blurry. He’s always been proud of how well he eats pussy, and he’s never enjoyed one more than yours.

He squeezes the base of his cock to keep himself from cumming, letting his dick throb and pulse in anticipation of being inside your sweet cunt.

You’re getting closer to the edge with every curl of his tongue, the tip of it fast and hurried as he licks against your swollen clit. Kyojuro feels as if he is on fire and drowning all at the same time, lungs struggling to take in just enough air to keep himself above the surface of bliss.

The noises he makes are suppressed, being soaked up by your cunt. The vibrations from his mouth only add to your building delight, making your hips become more desperate. Continuous moans of your own spill down over your bodies, whimpers and a line of “please, please, please.”

He purrs into your flesh, “Who do you want to make you cum, darling? Say my name.”

Kyojuro can feel you sinking, each purposeful lick against your pussy sending you deeper and deeper into a pleasant abyss. His tongue is far too skilled; he knows exactly how to lap and kiss at you to keep your body shaking and wanting, all his attention centered around the tight bundle of nerves that has your belly tightening over and over again.

“Kyo–Kyojuro!” you all but scream, thighs pressing in closer to his head, his long hair sticking to the sweat of your skin.

“You can do better.”

The look on your face above him is priceless, nearly fucked out already and all you’ve had of him is his tongue.

“Fuck!” You squeeze your eyes closed as pleasure overtakes you, now riding his face as you chase your high. “Oh, oh Kyo, please, big brother please.”

Your orgasm spills onto his cheeks as you find your release, ecstasy blooming from where his mouth is still relentlessly licking between your folds. Your walls clench and unclench, looking for the fat cock that should be filling your needy cunt. Your sanity momentarily slips away, mind and body overwhelmed with the feeling of him, of your fucking step-brother between your thighs.

Then, you fall, chest pressing into the couch and hips lifting so you don’t actually crush Kyojuro’s pretty face beneath you.

Kyojuro laughs triumphantly as he slips from between your legs, wrapping you in his arms so you can cling to him in your post-orgasmic high. He pulls you back into his lap, grunting as your messy cunt brushes against his still aching cock.

“You’re so good,” he kisses your forehead, hand petting over your hair as you bury your face into his neck, “you’re such a good girl, you know that?”

He keeps you engulfed in his brawn as you whimper, naked chest pressed against his.

When you pull back to look at him, your eyes are blazing, full of passion that mimics his own.

“I need you inside me, Kyo,” you whisper, pulling his lips down to yours for a sloppy kiss. You moan at the taste of yourself in his mouth, nails gripping into his muscles.

“Your wish is my command!” He beams with pride as he stands, throwing your naked body over his shoulder as he kicks off the rest of his pants and marches for your bedroom.

“Kyo!” You cough at his broad shoulder pressing into your stomach. “We could’ve just fucked on the couch.”

“Absolutely not!” He slams open your bedroom door with perhaps too much enthusiasm, the doorknob wailing against the wall. “Not when there’s a perfectly good bed to take you in.”

With his unparalleled strength, he easily manhandles you onto the bed, flipping you onto your hands and knees.

There’s no pause, no moment to breathe. Kyojuro is fast and sure with his movements, pulling you back by your hips and sinking you down onto his thick cock.

It’s hard for him not to just slam into you, his need for you seeping out of every pore and tensing every muscle. But he refrains, using you slowly, letting you sink back inch by inch on his throbbing cock.

The sound you make is divine, one of pure relief and satisfaction of finally being stuffed full. Your cunt sucks him in tightly, a wet vice clenching against the pulsing veins of his cock.

He groans as he finally bottoms out inside of you, unable to tear his eyes away from the sight of your pussy spread around him. You’ve finally let him in, let him break down your barriers and open yourself up to him in the most vulnerable of ways.

There is a warm burn from the way he stretches your pussy, sending your eyes rolling back as you suck in a deep breath. He stays still. He keeps himself sheathed deep inside of you, letting you feel the thickness of his cock, the heaviness of his thighs against yours.

“Better than your toys?” he asks, hands sliding up your sides to toy with your dangling tits, plucking at your puffy nipples.

“So much better, Kyo. You feel so fucking good.”

He cants his hips gently, pulling out just a bit before bullying back inside your depths.

“Yeah? You like feeling full with my cock inside you?”

Your head nods against the pillows, your hips wiggling back for more.

Kyojuro leans over your back as he grinds into your gummy core, kissing your shoulder blades and rocking against you. The need to protect, to provide, swells in his chest as you mewl for him.

“Gonna make you feel so good, darling. Gonna take such good care of you, promise.”

Flaming hair falls into his face as he pulls back, hands anchoring to your hips. His appetite for you is raging hotter than any fire he has ever conjured in his soul; he is bewitched, the sinful arch of your back imploring him to go deeper, to forget any inhibitions and become enraptured by your body. But still yet, he wants to savor you, to etch the vision before him into his memory, to play the sweet professions your lips spoke earlier on repeat. Oh, big brother, please.

The mattress dips under his heavy weight, causing your knees to spread farther into the divots created by his wake. A strong hand steadies you, thumb petting over your backside with care. He begins a steady pace, eyes gleaming as he watches your ass cheeks bounce against the slap of his skin against yours.

Heavy balls smack against your clit, making your body twitch with little shocks of bliss with every thrust.

“That’s a good girl,” he praises, “you feel so good wrapped around my cock. So fucking tight, all for me, right?”

“For you,” you choke out between plunges of his cock. “All for you, big brother.”

He knows you’re saying it just to turn him on—before tonight, you hardly ever called him brother, but now you’re far closer than two step-siblings ever should be. That thought makes him ache, heart pooling with pride.

He’s the best big brother, he can give you more happiness than anyone else.

One of his hands abandons your hip. His thick arm reaches forward and tangles in your hair, jerking your head back as he doubles down on his pace. Curses tumble out of your mouth now, free falling into the air and encouraging him to fuck you more recklessly. The fingers in your hair pull and tug gently, twisting and making you moan.

He’s rutting against you like you’re a bitch in heat, like the only thing that can bring you absolution is your step-brother’s cock. Your lust spills over into garbled moans of his name.

He pulls you up higher, leaning forward to capture your shoulder between his teeth. The bite is soft, just enough to mark you and make your body shiver from gentle pricks of pain. His body rocks against yours, over, and over, and over again. His cock rams so deep inside of you that he feels as if he’s fucking into your throat.

“You like getting fucked by big brother, yeah? Like how good I make you feel?” He growls into your neck, his hand on your hip still crushing you against him.

“Oh my god!” you cry out, hands flying to your breasts as you begin edging up the mountain of climax.

“Fuck, you’re sucking me in so tight, you gonna cum for me? Gonna cum just from my cock inside of you?”

His cock is unforgiving, plunging into you with reckless abandon as he keeps a tight pull on your hair. You feel so weak against him, so used by his massive body and hands, your cunt throbbing with every push of his cock, begging for release.

Every fresh plunge of his cock inside of you is wet, sloppy, squelching out into the darkness of your room.

Your bodies are passionate flames burning against each other, skin against skin and flesh into flesh. He’s mesmerized by you, how soft you are when you’re vulnerable, how your hands reach back for him and your nails scrape against his skin like you need him.

Kyojuro begins thrusting harder, more erratic than before. The lewd sound of your slick coating his cock gushes with every plunge. God, he feels so good, so full of passion above you, taking you like you truly belong to him, like he’s spoiling you rotten like every little sister deserves.

He lets go of your hair, your upper body falling back against the mattress. Your fingers twist in the sheets, your hips finding his rhythm and bouncing back against him with every thrust.

“Fuck, fuck, Kyo, fuck don’t stop, please, wanna cum on your cock!” Your pleas are muffled by the pillows in your face.

His hand slides to the back of your neck, fingers pressing against the delicate sides of your throat. You groan into the sheets at the feeling of his thick fingers pressing against your pulse. He can feel the power within his thighs as he slams into you, his cock buried so deep that he’s sure you will feel its ghost lingering within you for weeks to come.

Your sensitive clit aches from his balls barreling against you, your legs nearly crumpling from his weight behind you. He is wavering, coming close to the edge. His movements are slowing, finding that perfect pace to finally feel you come undone around him.

And then he finally feels it, the intoxicating suction of your cunt as you orgasm. The world stops for you as you scream his name over and over again, the milking compression of your pussy nearly enough to have him bursting his load inside of you. But he holds himself back, not ready to be done with you.

“You alright, darling?” He runs his fingers down your back tenderly, smiling as he feels the aftershocks of pleasure racing down your spine.

Your cunt flexes around him, clamping down like you’re sucking the last thread of orgasm into your body.

“God you’re so thick, Kyo. You h-have no idea how good you feel inside me, holy shit.”

He chuckles, slowly pulling his cock out of you, only to slam back in to hear you scream.

“Wanna watch your face as I fuck you,” he groans, pulling at your body and slipping out of you for only a moment before sliding back in again.

Your face is blissed out, lashes wet and lips swollen. He brushes his thumb over the apple of your cheek as he begins a new pace, softer and deeper as he curls one of your legs against your chest.

“You still feel good? Cause you’re so fucking pretty like this, love watching you take my cock.”

He knows you’re a little too full, too fucked out to answer, cunt stuffed so snugly around his cock he can feel every drag of your inner muscles. Keen, multicolored eyes admire how your flesh parts for him, drags along his length, coats his heavy cock with fresh cream with every push.

He won’t last long like this. Not with you whimpering, your hands pulling at his hair, bringing him down to kiss you like the world will end if you don’t taste him right this second.

“You’re mine to take care of you, know that, right?” he mumbles against your wet lips as you nod in earnest.

“God,” you groan as he pushes in deep, “you can take care of me any time, please god, as long as you make me feel this fucking good.”

Kyjuro sits back and hooks both of your knees over his strong arms, practically folding you in half as your hips roll back on the bed to take the power of his thrusts.

“No more shutting the door on me, yeah? Big brother can have you whenever he wants.”

“Yes, promise, promise.”

“Good girl. Can I cum inside you, darling?”

For a moment you look fearful, like the realization has just slapped in the face that your step-brother is just moments away from creaming inside your tight cunt. But quickly your attitude shifts, your hands moving to the backs of your thighs to help keep yourself spread for him.

“Please, Kyo, fuck wanna you feel you cum inside me. It’s all I want.”

Your affirmation makes his chest burn, like the sun is getting ready to burst within him.

He has you. You’ll never be alone again, you’ll always have your big brother beside you, inside you.

He finds the perfect pace, the one that has your walls sucking him just right, the tip of his cock curving against the spongy spot inside you that feels so fucking good. Your tits are bouncing with every push of his hips, your head thrown back against the pillows and his name on your lips like a permanent stain.

You’ve been his heaven in hiding, haven’t you? So close but just out of reach. But now he has you, and he’s never letting go.

From this angle, he can see his length inside you, just barely. He can see his cockhead deep in your belly, bulging every time he plunges deep inside you. Fuck, he’s inside you, making your cunt his, pleasing you so well you can barely speak.

Something primal kicks in his chest, in his brain, and he lets out a final, long groan as he comes undone inside of you. Hot streams of cum fill your tight cunt, spurting down the sides of his cock where your pussy clings to him. His thick cock twitches and throbs at the sight. You moan into the sheets, back arching at feeling so fucking full, so satisfied to have his cum spilling out down your thighs.

After a few moments of shameless staring, he pulls out of you with a hefty sigh.

You whine as you finally get to release your own legs, body stiff from being curled against his.

He falls to the crumpled bed beside you, glorious arms stretching above his head as the swirls of lust finally dissipate. He can hear his own heart thumping in his chest, a steady pitter-patter of hot rain cooling inside of him.

“Mhm, you’ve made quite a mess, Kyo.”

But you don’t seem to mind it, looping one of your legs around his even as cum continues to drool against your skin, sinking into your sheets.

“This isn’t a one-time thing,” he states bluntly, blowing hair out of his face. “You’re far too tasty not to eat again.”

You giggle, leaning over to where you can kiss him lazily, taking the time to really taste him.

“I wouldn’t think so. Family is for life, I suppose.”

His ears burn as you call him family, that prideful, protective feeling welling in his chest again.

“Any time you want me to take care of you, you just call me, okay?”

“I promise, Kyo.”

And he was right. All pretty, lonely girls desire to be fucked until they lose their minds. Even you. You start to call him just about every day, let him walk you to class, even smile when he teases and praises you instead of glowering. You’re his now, his perfect little-step sister, his best kept secret. 

Kyojuro couldn’t be prouder to be your big brother.

[underragingwaves]

Rating: Teen & Up Audiences Word count: 1.4k Warnings: incest, mention of suicidal ideation Written for: day five of the @vikingsevents Vernal Equinox event, which featured the picture prompt that I used in the above banner. A bit later than planned due to a bit of a writer's block that has been resolved with the help of friends. (Y'all know who you are, merci. 💕) Also, this is a modern AU because reasons.

“Ow!”

“Don’t be such a baby!”

“I’m not,” says Hvitserk, pouting with hurt and cradling his stinging hand against his chest. “You’re being mean to me. Ubbe”– he demands in the next moment –“tell her she’s being mean!”

His older brother heaves a sigh. Stretches his legs out so far that he has to slide down in his seat just a bit. “You’re being mean,” says Ubbe, tapping Amma’s shin with his bare foot. His grin broadens far too much for Hvitserk’s liking. “Just so you know.”

Amma huffs. “Enabler.”

“Me?” Ubbe raises his hands as if surrendering. “I’m not doing anything.”

“Except what he tells you to,” snipes Amma, jerking her chin at Hvitserk, “and indulging that bratty behavior of his to boot while I’m standing here working my ass off – no, that is not an invitation to ogle my ass or touch it”– she snaps out, swatting Ubbe’s reaching hand away and dancing out of his reach too expertly –“and neither one of you has lifted so much as a finger to help me.”

“I wanted to help!”

“You nearly set yourself on fire!”

Hvitserk blinks rapidly. Glances down at the section of the table Amma just slapped him away from. Sure enough, there is a burning candle that he’s pretty sure wasn’t there a minute ago. Or, well, he’s sure that it might have been there but he definitely did not register it being there – let alone saw its flame – and so he heaves a sigh and fixes Amma with his best apologetic look.

“Stop it.”

“Are you…” Ubbe actually leans forward in his seat, looking perturbed and interested all at once. “Are you trying to give Amma your best puppy eyes?”

Hvitserk inhales. Nods vigorously in response.

He scowls when Ubbe’s initial chuckle of mirth erupts into a full-blown laugh. Gods help him, his brother actually snorts and grins broader than Hvitserk’s seen him do in at least four months.

“It’s not that funny,” says Hvitserk, pouting all the worse for it.

“Ha!” Ubbe’s nose wrinkles, amused, when he leans back in his seat again and gestures airily at Hvitserk. “No, really, keep going, I want to see her crack and do unspeakable violence to you.”

“She wouldn’t!”

“She would!”

“She definitely would,” says Ubbe with no small degree of relish as Amma’s snap lands an octave higher than her usual ire. “Keep going, brother, and she’s going to mix something else into that herbal tea…”

“Don’t be stupid, Ubbe, these herbs leave traces. And we’re making a compress, not a tea, because somebody here doesn’t know when to call it quits on the free parkour or whatever the fuck that was.” She shakes her head, multi-colored braids swinging to and fro as she emphasizes her discontent, and fixes Hvitserk with a stare that is eerily reminiscent of the looks his mother gives him when he’s shit outta luck and needs to start counting to ten. “What on earth were you thinking, climbing that tree and then attempting to jump to the other tree? Oh, let’s see all the ways I can kill myself today?”

“I wasn’t going to kill myself,” sulks Hvitserk, “not in front of the dog, anyway.” He bites his lip as Ubbe’s stare suddenly turns a good deal darker than usual. Hvitserk’s the first to look away, as he always is these days since… No. Not since anything. “I just… got the distance wrong. Like when I was out skating”– he explains –“and I flipped the wrong way on the pipe and boom. Happens.” He shrugs. Hisses as the movement sends a sharp, searing pain through his shoulder. “I’m not used to trees.”

“No shit, Sherlock,” rumbles his brother, in such a way that Hvitserk full well knows there is a more-or-less affectionate eyeroll attached to the words.

“City boy,” hums Amma good-naturedly as her hands deftly ground some of the herbs into a fine pulver. “However did you survive all these summers in Kattegat, hm?”

“Luck,” offers Hvitserk, though Ubbe’s “me!” rings out louder.

Amma’s smile dimples her cheeks. “Bit of both, maybe,” she concedes, heading off any sort of would-be argument with a well-practiced air. “Honestly, though, Ubbe, you picked a fight with a sheep only yesterday. Seems like you’ve got a thing or two…”

“Hey, that sheep is evil.”

“Mister Fluffers?” gasps Hvitserk, chancing a glance at Ubbe’s rather impassive face now. “You dare speak such things about the Supreme Lord of Woolgathering?”

“The fucking what now?” asks Ubbe, raising his voice over Amma’s wild cackle of laughter that makes Hvitserk grin too. “Hvitserk! You called it what?”

“Oi, Sigurd wanted to name it Patrocles,” says Hvitserk rather sourly, “and Ivar wanted to kill it and name it Mutton Chop retroactively. Because, you know, our gay brother and our psycho brother are totally normal people who can be trusted to name a sheep.”

“And you called it”– glares Ubbe –“Mister Fluffers, Supreme Lord of Woolgathering, instead?”

“King of the Silent Lambs, Master of Pufferjackets,” adds Hvitserk, rather unhelpfully, “First of his Name, Guardian of Feta Cheese. It had to be named something and you were… not here,” he finishes lamely, knowing exactly where Ubbe had been. “Someone had to…”

“Gods spare me.”

Hvitserk fidgets. “You don’t like it?”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” interjects Amma, “we’re not doing this. Nope. I’m not listening to either one of you waffling on about what name was given to this sheep as if you’re picking the name of your firstborn child.” She tosses a bundle of herbs at Ubbe. “Pluck,” she instructs, “leaves and flowers off the stems. Please.”

“Don’t I get…”

“Here,” sighs Amma, moving around the table and pressing a mortar and pestle into Hvitserk’s hands before unceremoniously dropping flowers in his lap. “Crush them best you can, hm? You’ll likely smell like roses and arnica for a bit, though.”

“Arnica?”

“The yellow ones,” mouths Ubbe, already diligently plucking away at lavender and other herbs Hvitserk doesn’t know how to name. His brother’s frown is very apparent as he looks at Amma. “Are you sure this will help?”

“He’s already taken a painkiller,” says Amma, shrugging, “and Ingrid makes these herbal compresses all the time when she’s got a moment to spare. She made me help too many times. Seen it work just as many times, though. It’ll work for him.”

“I’m fine,” grounds Hvitserk out, though the act of slowly grinding the petals is sending fresh aches down his arm. “Just… need to…” His cheeks flush with warmth as Ubbe and Amma fix him with twin stares. “You’re creeping me out, doing that.”

Amma’s brow arches. “You’re in pain.”

Ubbe’s flinch is barely perceptible, but Hvitserk has grown too accustomed to registering his brother’s every move by now. There’s a bruise on his hip the size of Ubbe’s hand, give or take, and he isn’t entirely sure how Ubbe thinks they’re going to hide that detail from Amma when she finally sees the damage the tree and then the ground did to the rest of him. He can’t even ask Ubbe about how to talk around it, now, because she’s been right there since he climbed that damn tree to get away from… from…

“I’m fine,” he says again, swallowing the taste of his brother’s lips back down into the roiling pit of his belly. Hvitserk fidgets in his seat. “Let’s just.. get this done. And Ubbe can help me put it on, later.”

“Scared I’ll do unspeakable things to you when you’re shirtless, little waffle?” leers Amma, using the stupid childhood nickname she gave him years ago when they first visited the farm. She shakes her head. Wrinkles her nose for good measure. “You ain’t my type. Nor you,” she adds, nudging Ubbe’s foot with her own. “I’ve sworn off all men, you know.”

“Your greatest victory is our biggest tragedy,” grins Ubbe, handing her the separated flowers and leaves one by one. “How’s Thora faring these days, hm? Still bullying Ivar every chance she gets?”

“Someone has to,” snorts Amma. “That man is the very definition of play stupid games, win stupid prizes. Did I tell you about the time he had gotten it into his thick sku–”

Thanks, mouths Hvitserk wordlessly, meeting Ubbe’s eyes and maintaining that contact for the first time since this morning. His cheeks color an even deeper red by the feeling of heat that rushes through him at his brother’s patient, unwavering gaze. Were they alone…

Later, gestures Ubbe behind Amma’s back, smiling that soft smile that he somehow always manages to reserve only for Hvitserk while also tilting his head and humming along in all the right places with Amma’s long tale about Ivar, Thora, and a wild horse. Ubbe’s eyes never leave Hvitserk’s face. When it’s just us.

Hvitserk is the first to look away.

[breitzbachbea]

Day 1: Writer & Artist [TurGre]

The first entry of (hopefully) five for @hwsrarepairweek2022! "My door waited wide open for you. Why were you so late?" (From a translation of "Güz" by Nâzim Hikmet).

Ship: Turkey/Greece (Sadık Adnan/Herakles Karpuzi) Set in a Human AU (Modern Day Germany) Read it here on ao3

The AU this is set in was the product of an ask sent in by the lovely @needcake, which you can read here for more context!

There is no poetry featured in here, because I am far more comfortable with writing prose, but I was inspired by the poetry of Nâzim Hikmet. The title of this One Shot is a reference to his poem "Bor Oteli". You can read an English translation of it and listen to a reading by the author himself here.

Somebody With Green Eyes

The door opened during a round of applause and the subsequent steps into the basement were swallowed by it as well.

A straggler so late in the evening was rare, but every audience member was appreciated.

Actually not a bad idea to come late, then one could miss out on Gilbert’s delusions of grandeur – or any writing skill, was the last thought in Sadık’s head before he turned around.

Messy brown bangs that framed a beautiful, if often quite sleepy looking face. Clad in a long coat and with no attempt to remove it, Herakles sat down in the last row of chairs.

Sadık turned back before they could make eye-contact. Leah, the author who led the workshop and moderation for their public readings, was still talking to the last author. A young woman called Irina, recently joined their workshop, kid of Russian immigrants. Wanted to write children stories. Odd as the genre was for a room full of adults, Sadık had found it quite charming.

Now he couldn’t listen to a word said on stage, their voices fading into a background noise that was occasionally amplified by audience murmur or laughter.

He still had five minutes until he had to be on stage. Enough to excuse himself to one of the other writers and leave the entire event.

There were two problems with this plan – He wasn’t going to give anyone any idea that he wasn’t proud of his hard work and there was only one exit, which meant he had to pass by Herakles in his attempt to avoid him.

He looked down on his printed-out pages of poetry. He would have simply transcribed his messy pages of the writing process into a neater version, but Leah had insisted he have a digital copy of them somewhere.

He didn’t like the impersonal way the computer-generated letters looked, but it wasn’t shame or embarrassment that had made him resist Dilan’s suggestion.

“You should ask the twinsies next door if they know some German studies or whatever student who wants to get practice as editor in. Maybe that way it’ll look on a printed page like you chicken-scrawl it into your notebooks.”

He had felt no embarrassment when he had gotten the pages printed at the copy shop, by an employee who could very well read both languages, and he felt no shame to recite them to an audience who, at times, wouldn’t even appreciate the beauty in the lines of the one they spoke.

But instead of Herakles, his mother might as well had wandered in, to witness how her son was squandering his hard-earnt architecture degree and all of her high hopes that he’d take after her exceptional career-driven life instead of his father’s exceptionally unambitious househusband ways.

He looked back down onto his poems.

His head slowly lifted and he risked another look at Herakles. He knew he liked poetry; perhaps he had studied it as well. These deductions and assumptions he could make from their heated arguments and their quiet night time chats. Working for the Professor of Ancient History at the local university, the poetry Herakles’ was perhaps most familiar with would have been the poetry of epics.

Perhaps Sadık could broaden his horizons a bit.

He uncrossed his legs and got up when Leah had already started with his introduction.

On stage, he took a look around the room.

Most of the people looked at the stage; a few talked with the person next to them. The pattern was repeated with the other workshop members who sat in the first row. Poor Irina had been hogged by Gilbert, who was talking with a cocky and self-confident expression. Sadık snorted.

He thanked Leah after the introduction, before she settled back into her armchair and he behind the table next to her.

One last time, he glimpsed up from his writing and into the room. Herakles had lost his coat but donned a faint smile while he slouched in his chair.

Sadık cleared his throat and began to read.

It was a wild mix, not only of languages. He had written poems of different lengths and inspired by different styles. He even had sat down and familiarized himself with a few basics and variations of German poetry.

He had written about nature, about work and about homesickness. How the birds sang in a dense forest here and how different it felt to the ones of his home in the cold months; about how one walk past a coffee roast house during a warm summer evening would transport him right back to Anatolia.

He had written about being a stranger in a strange land; about feeling isolated and profound bonds with people of all sorts.

He had written about love. During and after each poem he often let his look wander around the room, but when he had written about the longing for another, nebulous person, his look was glued to the page. He didn’t want to risk looking up and locking eyes with Herakles. He didn’t even feel safe when it was Turkish he had used to express his feelings with, technically impenetrable for the other but bearing his soul with no cover to hide behind.

Afterwards, Sadık talked shortly with Leah about it –

“Did you find out yet if that one has been published in German translation yet?”

“No, not yet.”

- and took a few questions from the audience –

“Are the German parts you read translation of the Turkish ones?”

“No. They’re their own verses. The idea behind this was that every part of the poem should stand on its own. So you’ll get a different experience if you only understand the German parts and so will someone who only understands the Turkish parts. And then, of course, having both is yet another experience. But they’re all written to follow the same … overarching vibe or theme, so that there’s still cohesion.”

- before he sat down in the first row once more.

“If I had known that this kitschy shit gets attention, I wouldn’t have bothered and just brought my diary to read from,” Gilbert said.

“That would be a better mystery story than the crap you usually write,” Sadık replied and adjusted his belt. “An easy one, you know, ‘The case of the old virgin’, but still better than your usual shit.” He grinned at Gilbert, whose retort was cut short by Leah:

“Mister Beilschmidt, would you please come up?”

Thus, a peeved glare was Gilbert’s last message, Sadık’s reply a bark of laughter.

While Gilbert hopped onto stage, Irina leant over to him. “I really like your reading voice! Those were beautiful poems, but the way you read them!” The delight in her voice and the sparkle in her eyes behind the glasses spoke for itself and Sadık smiled brightly with some faux-humbleness.

“Thank you,” he replied. Gilbert had already begun to talk to the audience, but Sadık only listened to him with half an ear.

He forgot to return the compliment to Irina as well as he was in thought for the next ten minutes. Only once did curiosity win over and he looked over his shoulder.

While Gilbert was reading a tense hunt for clues in an old countryside hotel, Herakles’ eyelids kept falling shut. Sadık nearly broke into a laughing fit.

After Gilbert had finished his reading and the following short talk, Leah had wrapped the evening up. Once she had thanked everyone who attended, who had made the event possible and advertised future readings and events by herself and others, the crowd began to disperse.

Leah was talking to one of the other organizers, a few of the other writers talked to each other and some had been approached by audience members.

If Herakles hadn’t already left, Sadık could slip into the crowd and hit the trail without him noticing. He’d have to act fast, however, before too many people had left already –

“Hey.” Sadık stopped rearing his head and looked up at the person in front of him.

“… Hey,” he responded once he had caught his tongue.

Herakles had already put his trench coat on, but not buttoned it up. Around his neck he wore a puffy scarf that looked like Natasa had leant it to him.

“I didn’t know you wrote poetry,” Herakles broke their awkward stare-off.

Sadık chuckled. “Well, now you do.” He reached underneath his seat to pull his bag up and his writing away. He looked back up at Herakles with a roguish grin. “You think it’s good?”

Herakles’ head ever so slightly dropped to the left and the right while Sadık got up and grabbed his jacket. With a smile, Herakles said: “I enjoyed it more than the other guy’s crime story at least.”

Sadık gave a short bark of laughter. “Oh, you don’t know half of it, Gilbert’s been trying to make it work since forever.” Bag on the chair, he slipped into his jacket and glanced at Herakles. “You got time for a coffee?”

The smile grew a little. “Sure, why not.”

Sadık waved Leah goodbye while they waited for the aisle to clear up. There was a bit of commotion at the staircase and at first, Sadık thought one of the guests had forgotten something downstairs.

Once the man had made it down the stairs, he knew better and laughed. “I wonder why he didn’t wait for Gilbert upstairs, but you’d probably go grey if Gilbert found someone to talk their ass off.” He gently nudged Herakles with his elbow and then pointed at Ludwig, who currently looked left and right to scan the room. “That’s Gilbert’s younger brother.”

“Oh, I know him.”

Sadık looked at him. “You know Ludwig?”

“Yeah. He’s a STEM student, but he often shows up to Professor Tufter’s Ancient History lectures and the Ancient History colloquium.”

“I see,” Sadık answered. “What’s a colloquium?”

The aisle was more or less cleared, which Ludwig used to make it to the front. His eyes landed on Herakles and a second later, he stopped in his tracks.

“Oh, good evening, Mister Karpuzi.”

“Hello Ludwig,” Herakles answered and Sadık noticed Ludwig hold his breath for a second as cogs turned behind his startled eyes.

He was composed again within a moment. “What are you doing here?”

Sadık put an arm around Herakles’ shoulders and answered before he could: “He came here for my reading.”

Herakles glares at him, the relaxed expression now tainted with a noticeable furrow between his brows.

“Oh, interesting,” Ludwig said when a hand came down on his shoulder.

“Lutz, there you are! You’re late!”

Ludwig turned to Gilbert, who leaned onto his shoulder despite being the shorter one of the two. “Yes, sorry, but I was out with friends and it all got late. It was a bit spontaneous –”

“Awww, the boy is finally making friends!” Gilbert gushed with a grin and put an arm around his brother’s shoulder to squeeze him close, completely unaware of the annoyed frown on Ludwig’s forehead.

“You’ve made quite the assumption there,” Herakles told Sadık while the other two were busy with themselves.

Sadık still wore his cocksure grin. “What? Am I wrong?” He patted Herakles’ shoulder before he dropped his arm. “Come on, let’s get some coffee.”

Once they had made it upstairs and outside, the cold air hit them square in the face. Both of them groaned and Sadık pulled up the hood of his jacket. Herakles buried his face in his scarf.

The electric display at the tram stop told them it’d be twenty minutes before the next one came.

“It always takes so long to catch a ride home around here,” Sadık said.

“Especially around this hour,” Herakles agreed.

“How about we walk for a bit to the next stop? It’ll keep us warmer than standing around here and we’ll get home nonetheless.” Sadık frowned. “Did you come here without a hat?"

“Yes.” Herakles’ teeth chattered.

“You’re a dumbass.”

“Shut up.” Herakles hunched his shoulders and began to walk.

They walked in silence for a while, past several story high city blocks from all kind of eras. The few shops that were housed in some of the ground floors were all closed, nary one of them lit.

Herakles’ teeth still chattered. To keep his own from it, Sadık asked: “Where do you want to get coffee?”

“You were the one who suggested it,” Herakles mumbled and Sadık wanted to pull him close, press his head to his chest to ease the cold for the poor soul. “You should be the one to know where to get some.”

“I think there’s a bar somewhere down this street,” Sadık said. “Fancy, though. And pricey.” He wasn’t sure how fancy the place actually was, but definitely catering to another clientele than him. “Probably don’t know how to make a decent coffee.”

“I think the best bet would probably be Am Knoten on the way home,” Herakles answered.

“Yeah, yeah … maybe the bakeries are still open … “

“And there’s this one café …” Herakles sucked in air and Sadık wanted to put his arm around him and ruffle through his hair so badly. Press his gloved hands to the flaming red ears.

“Yeah, that’s probably still open … and I know they make decent coffee.” Sadık stared unabashedly as they made their way down the road towards the square with the next stop. “Or … We go home and I make us some coffee at home. Turkish coffee. The good stuff.”

Herakles, who seemingly tried to disappear into his coat like a turtle, didn’t react for a while. “Yeah,” he whispered at some point. “Yeah, that sounds good.”

Sadık kept his thoughts at bay about helping Herakles out of his clothes and wrapping him in a blanket, how his hands would roam all over his body to help him warm up.

He flung his arm around the other’s shoulders and pulled him close. “I think there’s a kebab place around here, perhaps that one’s still open so you don’t have to wait in the cold, you icicle.” He rubbed his shoulder and laughed, but Herakles didn’t say a word. He only leant his head towards Sadık’s body and Sadık swallowed.

He tucked away his thoughts and feelings for a future poem.

[starzgaze]

Modern au: science major albedo!

(a/n: this is my take for the modern au lol also I got inspo from @/saekogun so please check them out)

he would definitely be tired 24/7

like he always have eyebags under his eyes it's really concerning

he is usually tucked in with his load of work and is always in his laboratory with sucrose or some other students

he also sometimes becomes the substitute teacher sometimes if the their teacher doesn't come in for the day for personal reasons so he would usually take the role to teach the class

tbh him teaching the class is sometimes even better than the teacher teaching the class

his silky voice circling around the room gives off a chill vibe and it's very calming and soothing atmosphere to learn in

he simplifies the lessons in the end to make it easier for his classmates to understand it

also because I'm planning to make this into an au, of course theres gonna be an mc (it's gonna be you or an oc but I will not be using the name but whenever I will the MC it would be probably my main oc or just the usual y/n you see on tiktoks)

kaeya always flirt with albedo with stupid science jokes or pick up lines

he's also very popular? well to be honest expected because albedo is one of the top students in his school

probably has a reward for making a new invention that benefits society and probably has a shit ton of degrees? he's a prodigy so he has a lot rewards that's what I'm saying

whenever Klee visits him, klee always play with his hair and albedo will never take it off until the end of the day

not alot of people has the privilege to interact with albedo because he's always occupied in his laboratory or dorm unless you're MC/y/n-

but yea you can bring him out if you use y/n/MC as bait to bring him out to embrace sunlight

he always bring a sketchbook that's pretty small so he can bring it everywhere (to sketch your beautiful/handsome face-) and he always have this lovestruck face whenever he's with you

whenever he brings Klee with you, you 3 looks like a big cute couple with their child and he enjoys the feeling whenever an old couple come up to the three of you and say " Awww that's a cute kid you two have there" and watches you get flustered and try to explain to the couple that you two aren't dating (yet) and that you're just babysitting with albedo

albedo enjoys your company, you're ideas are great or motivation to keep him going and continue his work and work the the fullest even if your ideas are just stupid jokes

you joke alot that what that you and albedo are also another match made in heaven (because with other characters you or the MC gets confused as a couple to other strangers or people on the streets) and albedo just sits there trying to decode your words if you just confessed that you might have feelings for him-

he gets jealous not very easily? no actually I kinda take it back it's pretty easy to make him jealous if he's in that stage of down bad, cause in the start he would think that this is a short obsession and he would conclude that he will be over with this obsession after like a week like with his other interests or work, BUT ITS FAILED AND IT DIDNT WORK LOl

the more he deep down into researching you, stalking your socials, observing you from afar, even having a separate notebook full of information of you, your hobbies, your part-time workplace, pretty much everything about your life

whenever you interact with him, his words gets very jumbled and he has a hard time to figure out what words to use to talk

also random headcanon, he wears this labcoat that has some patches you stitched on because you noticed it has a big hole and you asked albedo if you can fix it in a weird way and of course he accepted it and now it has big patch that has whatever you want to envision as

man I have no ideas anymore but albedo is rotting i

my mind alot so

also maybe the thought albedo and kaeya dating and having the same obsession on mc/y/n is ahsjdjdjkd

imagine the power they hold

[westiec]

June 17: Chengxian 💜🖤💕

childhood friends to lovers/QPPs, ace Jiang Cheng, bi & aro Wei Wuxian, modern AU

(A/N: If you're wondering about a certain other someone, he will have a wonderful, full life of his own in Suzhou in this AU but is not in this story. 💙 There are some brief mentions of offscreen ace-antagonism, not by anyone we know.)

Read on ao3

Jiang Cheng had been Wei Ying's best friend in the whole world for his entire life.

Okay. Well, not quite his entire life, but certainly since Wei Ying’s parents moved to California when he was little little, which was about as far back as Wei Ying could remember anyway. Wei Ying’s baba and Jiang Cheng’s baba had grown up in Wuhan together and been best friends when they were kids, so naturally, when Wei Ying’s family moved into the same neighborhood as the Jiangs, it made perfect sense for Wei Ying and Jiang Cheng to become best friends too.

It was Jiang Cheng who had taught Wei Ying that he didn't have to be afraid of dogs, by introducing him to Princess, Jasmine, and Lil' Love. Lil' Love lived up to her name, coming and quietly sitting in all her fluffy glory on Wei Ying’s lap every time he went over to play.

It was also Jiang Cheng who Wei Ying got drunk with for the first time. They snuck booze from the cabinet where Wei Ying’s parents kept it and laughed at the faces each other made with every shot until they stopped tasting the harsh burn, and then laughing more just because.

(Wei Ying’s mom had not laughed, not at the time, when the two teens had been sick as anything the next morning, but instead made them a gloriously greasy late breakfast and gave them lots of advice about proper hydration.

Then she told Jiang Cheng’s mom and let her scold them.)

It was Jiang Cheng who came out first, their first semester in college, when he told Wei Ying he didn't think he wanted to have sex with anyone, ever, and asked if Wei Ying thought that meant no one would ever want to date him. Wei Ying hugged him tight and told him he didn't know about everyone out there, but he knew Jiang Cheng was the best guy in the world and would be an awesome boyfriend, and he'd fight anyone who said differently.

Jiang Cheng found a group on campus for third culture LBGT kids, and Wei Ying went with him, as a supportive ally.

Which was how Wei Ying figured out that he was not just a supportive ally.

In listening to the others talk about orientation and identity and attraction and cultural expectations, Wei Ying realized that what he'd always assumed was normal—finding all kinds of people physically attractive, regardless of their gender—was actually his bisexuality. So that was kind of cool.

"So yeah, now we can be queer together!" Wei Ying said, when he excitedly shared his newfound realization with Jiang Cheng.

Jiang Cheng snorted. "Yeah, 'all' and 'nothing,'" he joked.

It was Jiang Cheng who'd helped him practice what to say to his parents when he wanted to change his major at the end of sophomore year, and Jiang Cheng who reminded him to eat and sleep and "take a fucking break, Wei Ying," those next couple semesters when he took way too many hours so he wouldn't have to rack up a whole extra year's worth of student loans to finish his new degree plan.

It was Jiang Cheng who graduated first, on a gorgeous blue-skyed sunny day in May, and Jiang Cheng who suggested Wei Ying keep living with him at his new apartment, so he wouldn't have to try to find a one-semester lease until he finished in December.

(They renewed the lease together every time.)

Jiang Cheng ribbed him playfully each time Wei Ying met someone new, but he was always there each times things fizzled out after a few months for reasons that never quite made sense to Wei Ying.

Jiang Cheng occasionally dated too, and Wei Ying was glad he never did have to fight anybody—though he did drive Jiang Cheng to the emergency room the time he came home with split knuckles from punching a guy who, "seemed to think I didn't know my own mind about certain things."

But dating sucked for everybody, right? It wasn't like Wei Ying or Jiang Cheng were in any hurry to settle down and do the whole spouse and kids thing or whatever. Wei Ying tried to imagine it and just... couldn't, though the image of Jiang Cheng with a baby was admittedly pretty cute.

~

It was not Jiang Cheng, but Jiang Yanli, a few months after she proposed to her girlfriend and they started planning their wedding, who Wei Ying finally asked, "Yanli-jie, how does a person decide someone else is their person?"

Jiang Yanli looked across the room to where Jiang Cheng was showing her soon-to-be-wife how to put side spin on a billiards ball and smiled. "I think you just know," she said. "You meet someone and you get to know them, spend time together, then one day you realize you love them and want to build the rest of your life with them."

Wei Ying wrinkled his nose. "I dunno if it works that way for me. Just some random person? I've never met anyone I can imagine wanting to live with all the time. Well, besides—huh..." he cut off suddenly and darted a look over at Jiang Yanli, who just calmly sipped her drink.

"Have you ever told him that?" she asked, after a moment where Wei Ying reassessed his entire life and dating history. "I think he might appreciate hearing it."

"I... huh. Yanli-jie, you're kinda blowing my mind here," he complained.

"I gathered," she said wryly, before fixing him with a smile that made all the hair on the back of his neck stand up. "Of course, I trust," she told him, "that I do not need to explain to you of all people how very dearly I hold my didi's happiness and well-being."

He swallowed and raised three fingers in the salute he'd used ever since the summer that—hah—he and Jiang Cheng had decided as kids that they would make their own oath of brotherhood like the heroes of their favorite show. "I, Wei Ying, swear to you that I would kick my own ass before I did anything to hurt him."

Jiang Yanli leaned over to knock her shoulder against his and nodded. "That's what I thought."

~

Turned out, dating Jiang Cheng didn't suck at all.

It felt easy in a way Wei Ying’s past dates never had, less like trying to keep up with a game whose rules everybody knew except him, more like... well, like spending time with his best friend in the whole world, but on purpose. There was also a tension in the back of Wei Ying’s mind that seemed to have lifted, though he couldn't quite pinpoint what it was that had gone.

It was Jiang Cheng who helped him figure it out.

"I think it's that now I'm able to count on this. On us," he said, when Wei Ying brought it up. "Before, whenever you went out with someone new, I wondered if this would be the time you'd find someone to fall in love with and leave me behind."

"Aww, Chengcheng! I would never!"

Jiang Cheng huffed and rolled his eyes, but his cheeks were pink. "Well, I know that now," he said, a pleased little smile breaking through his attempts at a scowl.

"As long as you're sure—" Wei Ying began, still getting used to thinking about himself with the word "aromantic." Still a so very sure that Jiang Cheng deserved to be fallen in love with.

"Hey!" Jiang Cheng cut him off. "None of that. I know you. And I know you don't see it this way, but I personally think it's pretty damn romantic that you choose to love me, on purpose."

"I simply have exquisite taste in life partners," Wei Ying sniffed, embarassed the way he always got when Jiang Cheng declared something he'd done "romantic."

"You do," Jiang Cheng agreed. "Someone told me a long time ago I was the best guy in the world and would make an awesome boyfriend, and that he would fight anyone who said differently."

Wei Ying laughed. "That's you and your sister I've promised to kick my own ass if I ever break your heart, then. Guess I'll just have to keep you forever."

"Damn right, you will," Jiang Cheng agreed, grinning smug and happy and breathtakingly beautiful. Wei Ying leaned across the couch to give him a sweet, closed-mouth kiss—the kind Jiang Cheng had shyly admitted he actually did like, a lot—and smiled too, at how lucky he'd gotten to be with his best friend in the whole world for his entire life.

🖤💜

Today's (extremely long!) thread was inspired by this WONDERFUL art of ace Jiang Cheng and bi & aro Wei Ying! Go give Midori some love on Twitter!

I spent a nonzero amount of time googling to double check when various terms and flags came into vogue, so if you're wondering, WWX & JC were in college in the early 2000s, before the ace and aro flags were designed. By the time they get themselves figured out, they can get their cute wristbands.

...which, yes, means these dingdongs spent about a solid decade living together before realizing that was what they wanted to do forever. 😉

This also means Jiang Yanli and her unnamed wife here are getting married between when California started recognizing same-sex marriages in 2008 and the Obergefell v. Hodges ruling in 2015! THIS SHIT'S RECENT!!!

Happy Pride, thank you for reading, check out more LGBTQIA+ sweetness on my #PrideMonthSnippets Masterpost!

[aphrodite-would-be-proud]

🕯Anon said: just wanna say I adore your writing and how you write Reiner and the kids and the other warriors is my favourite thing ever !! I just wanna give them all hugs :) do u have any hcs for the types of jobs you see them all doing in modernverse ?🕯

The types of jobs they have in modern au

{Annie, Bertolt, Colt, Marcel, Pieck, Porco, Reiner, Zeke, }

{Implied Reiner x reader}

{ "Porto" 1935 by Renato Natali 1883-1979 }

Annie is an Animal rescue worker.

Having had experience as a dog trainer before, it wasn't hard to find a full time job at her local shelter after graduating high school, having volunteered there before.

With time, effort and a lot of energy she made her way into the position of "animal control officer" now she spends her days busting animal's abusers doors and rescuing injured or neglected pets.

With long shifts and a high maintenance job, her time was all poured into her work. Usually she'd be exhausted after a long day.

Despite that, she's fulfilled and satisfied with her job. Not having to deal with a lot of people is a plus too, it's a hard job yes but she prefers it this way.

Her friends are bumped about not being able to see her a lot but they understand, plus she keeps in touch with them by lurking in the group chat only to send a snarky remark to stir the pot every now and then.

Bertolt sees her everyday because they work at the same animal shelter, even if their jobs are different they still walk home together, she also met some different people like Hitch and Marco at her job.

The kids love her job, they think it's badass, especially Gabi and Udo. Gabi because Annie gets to kick people in the face and Udo because he genuinely cares about animals.

She'd never tell anyone this, but part of the reason she wanted the job was because she felt guilty for her past self and wanted to fight for those who couldn't fight for themselves.

Bertolt is a veterinarian.

Having changed his mind post graduation and going to college instead of with Reiner, he graduated after 4 years of studying and is currently working with Annie at the local shelter while also planning to open his own clinic one day.

He takes some animals under his personal care for weeks or months even till they get adopted, he fears something bad will happen to the weak or ill ones if left at the shelter overnight.

Just like Annie, the job takes a lot of his time, not to mention caring for animals off of work. So he's in the same situation as her, but for the sake of his best friend he still finds time to visit and hang out once a week.

Reiner and him still text daily, it's mostly pictures Bertolt took of the animals, Annie on her break, interesting plants he finds along the way. And Reiner replies with pictures of the kids.

They still find time to play basketball together, they try to keep it a secret from Annie because she will kick their ass in it.

Bertolt is comfortable with his job, he feels like he belongs and likes being needed. Yes the long hours are a con but seeing the fruits of his labour grow and get better day by day makes it all worth it.

The kids like visiting his house because there usually will be a new dog or some animal in there every month or so, Reiner makes sure they don't bother the animals. 

Something he's never told anyone is a big part of the reason he changed his mind last minute was because Animals feel much safer and secure for him to work with than humans.

Colt is a college student working part time.

He's majoring in nursing, being a four years degree he's trying to balance his studies with work and taking care of Falco.

Zeke offered him to work full time after graduation at his clinic, since he's been working part time there for a while and the pay is good, plus it's really convenientnal.

He has worked different part time jobs in the past like a barista, flower shop assistant, tutor, kindergarten teacher, etc.

Between all his responsibilities he barely has time for himself, his courses end right before his work starts and the small bits in-between is spent on Falco and his friends. Zeke and Pieck try to take some of his responsibility but he refuses saying it's the least he could do to Falco.

He's really good at his job like multitasking, reading people, gaining their trust and having high stamina that he could stay for night shifts even.

He relies on coffee a lot.

Falco sees him as a real life superhero, they weren't that close before but after the incident he really started appreciating his big brother. 

Something he keeps inside is that despite pursuing this job because he genuinely wanted to make a difference in people's lives and help the sick, he also felt a crushing guilt after his parents passed away, and so he's trying to save other people's lives now instead.

Marcel is a pilot.

It's a dream he always had since middle school, soon after graduation he joined the military to gain enough flying hours and experience to apply to a commercial airline after taking some mathematics, aviation and some general flying courses.

He was officially hired as a pilot after getting his first class medical certificate to check his health.

His work isn't measured by hours to him but by days, he needs to be available 24/7 in case of an emergency call. Now he's working overseas and far away from his friends.

You've actually never met Marcel, only seen pictures of him and received letters. The person he keeps in touch with the most is Porco.

He likes his work, it's his dream. He doesn't like the work hours and being so absent from his friends and brother, he misses them so much at times.

Pieck is a tattoo artist.

Her shop is actually her old flower shop after she decided to change her career. She's always been good with plants and taking care of them, at that time Colt worked as her assistant. 

It wasn't till later after some years of practice and training under other artists that she was confident enough about her skills to start the project 

Her art is full of life, mesmerising and beautiful. She puts her soul in every piece and has gained a good reputation because of it, plus having really high ratings and strict hygiene rules, no health inspector could ever challenge her.

Having her own independent work meant that she has a very flexible schedule, being mostly free ment she could pursue other hobbies like gardening.

A peaceful and simple life where she can indulge in her art and be happy is all she ever wanted

Porco is a frequent customer of hers that gets a family discount, Zeke came once before and later sent his friend, a really tall and blonde woman who became her most frequent customer.

Zofia thinks her work is really cool and wants to go and just watch her do her thing, but it's frowned upon to have a kid just sitting at a tattoo shop.

Despite changing into this career, the town people still think of her as the sweet flower shop lady.

Porco is a bartender.

That job came to him by accident more than anything, he was working part time as a bouncer in a local bar but a slot was open after the old bartender suddenly quit and he gave it a chance.

He didn't expect to love it so much, neither did he know about his hidden talent in mixing drinks. So he took it as full time and changed to better bars after gaining the experience he needed.

Being naturally charismatic and good at influencing people, while also multitasking in making drinks and keeping a conversation going, he was instantly a hit in whatever place he worked at.

Working the night shift ment he's mostly free in the morning, he tries to help Pieck with her gardening and is actually attempting to grow some plants at his house.

Naturally whenever there's a gathering, he's the one mixing drinks and being the self assigned bartender who openly judges his friends for their choice in drinks. The charismatic persona being thrown out the window and replaced by a no mouth filter.

He genuinely cares tho, he's the one taking care of someone when they drink more they can handle. It's mostly Colt who underestimates his drinks and is left clinging to Porco who drives him home.

Because of his line of work, tattoos and general brash personality, the kids' parents don't like him even one bit. They're suspicious of him no matter how many times Reiner assures them he's trustworthy.

It's actually only Colt who trusts Falco with him, and maybe Zofia's mom who is at the bar every weekend. 

Reiner is a firefighter.

With his mother pushing him into this line of work, he applied for the physical and psychological exams after graduation before getting accepted. He wasn't unprepared per say but actually being in that line of work was more than he could ever prepare for.

It instantly took a great hit at his mental health, so much in fact that he was thankful Bertolt changed his mind last minute and didn't follow him in this job.

It was both everything he ever wanted, like saving people, helping children, animals and knowing it's him who saved them even if it means putting his own life at risk.

But also everything he hated, like the hunting faces and screams of the people who were far too gone for him to save, the recurring nightmares and constant guilt paired with imposter syndrome.

He works a 24/72 shift, meaning he works for a whole day before getting 3 days off. Approximately only working 7-8 days a month, not to mention unpaid leave, sick days and holidays.

So it both gave him a really tight schedule on some days and on others more free time than he knows what to do with, that's why he naturally took the main role of being the kid's caretaker. Looking after his little cousins genuinely helped him and he liked playing the big brother role.

Especially to Gabi, he was the only stable adult in her life. It's common knowledge that you call Reiner first for anything concerning her before her parents because he's more likely to answer and be available.

After meeting you, his life improved to the better as you moved in and became a trustworthy person in his life, someone he can depend on to take care of his little cousins on the days he works.

Not to mention that after you persuaded him to see a therapist, his mental health began improving too.

Gabi may or may have not committed arson at one point, she still wants to be a firefighter despite that and follow in Reiner's footsteps.

He hasn't told anyone beside you this, but he really fears for her, but doesn't have the heart to tell her no.

Zeke is a doctor.

Previously he worked in a hospital but was able to open his own clinic afterwards, Colt was a great help to him at that time when he was getting on his own feet and even worked a lot of unpaid hours.

After that he insisted Colt works an official part time job there with a much higher pay, till he graduates at least. Plus the experience will greatly improve his resume.

Zeke is brilliant at his job, he'd be a perfect doctor wasn't it for the fact he's a huge hypocrite who doesn't follow the advice he gives his patients. 

He does a side job in his free time that honestly no one of his friends know what it is, but they know it gained him a lot of connections and made new friends.

Something he always keeps buried inside was that he really never expected himself to become a doctor especially after what his dad did to his mother, and yet here he is. In some way it's like his own personal stepping stone to prove he's a better man than his father ever was.

Bonus:

Falco: middle schooler

He does volunteer work on the weekends, sometimes Udo joins him.

Doesn't want Gabi becoming a firefighter.

Likes all videogames , just all types.

Likes watching cartoons and medical shows with Colt who covers Falco eyes whenever an adult scene is on

His favourite food is chicken nuggets

Wants to try coffee

Is good at PE

Reads comic books

Likes yellow and blue

Gabi: middle schooler

Takes self defence classes and really wants to go to summer camp

Wants to be like Reiner, aspires to be as strong too.

Likes shooter videogames or really hard ones.

Likes watching Anime and cartoons

Her favourite food is Pizza

Wants to try energy drinks

Is also really good at PE and surprisingly good at puzzles.

Likes red and pink 

Udo: middle schooler

Takes music classes at the weekend, wants to go to science camp

Kinda wants to be like Reiner or an astronaut.

Likes calming videogames

Likes watching anime and Minecraft let's play

His favourite food is mac and cheese 

His favourite drink is strawberry milk

Is good at language classes and creative writing, he also just likes animals a lot.

Likes green and black

Zofia: middle schooler (could've been in a special program)

Takes music classes with Udo

Wants to be a lawyer

Likes co-op Videogames 

Likes watching true crime and youtubers drama

Her favourite food is Donuts

She likes strawberry milk and ice tea 

Is good at all classes

Likes white and purple

[unforth]

So keeping in mind that I’ve literally already written a 40k Destiel fic inspired by Selena Gomez’s “Back to You,” today it came up on my play list and I started to think about ficcing it again, but this time Wangxian. It’s just such a ficcable song, I can’t even.

Like, a modern AU (set in the US) where Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji were once dating, and Wei Wuxian started making friends with “the wrong sorts,” and so Lan Qiren forced Lan Wangji to dump him. They part ways for a few years.

Lan Wangji never really recovers, and he perfunctorily dates the people his uncle sets him up with, and his life kinda stalls...not that there’s anything wrong with it, just...it’s always the same, the same places, the same people, the same work, the same wake up time, the same daily routine, the same bedtime. Sometimes he’s not sure which he misses more - Wei Wuxian, or the disruption to his life that Wei Wuxian represents. He almost wishes that Wei Wuxian has gone as “bad” as Lan Qiren was so, so sure he would, because then it would be proof - that stepping outside the box is not the way to a good life, that Lan Wangji made the right choices even if he’s not happy with them, that kind of thing.

Wei Wuxian also never really recovers, but instead of letting it get him down, he’s even more determined to prove that he’s so much more than what snobs like Lan Qiren thought of him - and so are the friends he made, who are of course Wen Qing and Wen Ning. They also have really had a tough time, with a lot of people assuming the worst about them because of their family connections. The three make a pact together - to succeed, no matter what it takes, and to help each other whenever one of them starts to struggle. And it works. Though they’re a little behind their peers - they all go to college, and they all finish their degrees, they all get advanced ones. Wen Qing becomes a doctor. Wei Wuxian becomes an engineer. Wen Ning becomes a vet. They get respectable jobs, if poorly paid because that’s the economy in 2020s USA, and they’re slowly building lives for themselves. No one from the circles his adopted family move in will associate with him anyway - he got kicked out for some of his youthful shenanigans, and though he’s in touch with his siblings, his “parents” won’t acknowledge him - but he doesn’t care. He knows he’s succeeding, no matter what they say about him.

(read more)

Though Lan Wangji never stops thinking about Wei Wuxian, he refuses to Google him or look him up. Fantasize about him? Yes. Wish his current SO was them? Yes. Occasionally scroll through Jiang Yanli’s friends list just to make sure Wei Wuxian is still there? Yes. But he doesn’t look him up, doesn’t friend him, doesn’t outreach. Why should he? Some regrets are normal, but he’s over it - he’s definitely over it.

Not that Wei Wuxian expected him to. Lan Wangji broke his heart, and it hurt - oh, it hurt so much, but Wei Wuxian is definitely over him. Who needs that asshole anyway? Wei Wuxian knows his worth, and he doesn’t need the affection of someone who cast him aside at the say so of his uncle. If he occasionally comes moaning Lan Wangji’s name...that’s a perfectly normal thing to do as regards someone Wei Wuxian hasn’t dated in a decade, right? Lan Wangji was, and presumably still is, hot as fuck, and Wei Wuxian has a healthy labido

Which is to say, neither of them is over it at all.

Still, their mutual pining might have never come to a head if not for Lan Wangji’s best friend - Jin Zixuan - getting engaged to Wei Wuxian’s sister Jiang Yanli.

And then, suddenly, after so many years, they’re in frequent contact again - helping with planning the wedding - and, well...

For Wei Wuxian, it’s infuriating. There’s Lan Wangji, still quiet, still distant, and sometimes when Wei Wuxian glances his way, he can swear that he caught Lan Wangji looking at him with resentment and regret, which - that’s some fucking bullshit right there, cause it’s not Wei Wuxian who ditched Lan Wangji, not Wei Wuxian who caved to family pressure. That’s all Lan Wangji - what’s Lan Wangji got to resent?

For Lan Wangji, it’s awful. Wei Wuxian is at least 8 times more gorgeous than Lan Wangji remembers him being, tall and lithe, his hair long, his affect casual. Despite the same air of nonchalance he always projected, though, now he’s like that but ALSO educated, successful, and self-made. Every bad thing Lan Qiren said would come to pass for Wei Wuxian is now proven a lie, and Lan Wangji feels wretched about it. Even worse, Wei Wuxian is clearly single - and “ready to mingle,” as Lan Wangji believes the phrase goes. Literally anyone who breaths, of any gender, is apparently fair game, and Wei Wuxian flirts constantly, especially with members of Lan Wangji’s friends circle. Mo Xuanyu? The poor guy never knew what hit him. Lan Jingyi? Is like eight years to young for Wei Wuxian, but that doesn’t stop him. Ouyang Zizhen? Lan Wangji is pretty sure Wei Wuxian doesn’t even know Zizhen’s name - or his age - but again, when did any reasonable objection ever stop Wei Wuxian? Luo Qingyang? She’s a lesbian for fucks sake, but she apparently doesn’t mind, and even flirts back, and Wei Wuxian is incorrigible.

Maybe Lan Qiren was right after all.

Wei Wuxian is determined to flaunt what Lan Wangji missed out on, loudly and publicly. Mo Xuanyu does make for a fun fling, and Lan Jingyi is a good kisser but they never get farther than that. Ouyang Zizhen is definitely too young - and he’s straight - but he laughs along when Wei Wuxian is outrageous, and they understand each other. And Luo Qingyang...Wei Wuxian suspects she knows exactly what the score is, and is maybe even helping him.

Helping him make Lan Wangji miserable, that is.

Wei Wuxian is definitely not looking to accomplish anything else.

Unless he can secure a Plus One to the wedding, ideally one who can join the wedding party and stand beside Wei Wuxian when he and Jiang Cheng give Jiang Yanli away.

Cause, oh, the look on Lan Wangji’s face, if he’s forced to spend the entire wedding facing Wei Wuxian and his date? Priceless, definitely.

Lan Wangji is determined to give Wei Wuxian the space to do...whatever it is Wei Wuxian is doing. Wei Wuxian always was a whirlwind, and Lan Wangji has never wanted to control him, never known how to keep up. Still, it galls to see Wei Wuxian flirting, and it hurts to see Wei Wuxian act indifferently towards him, and it aches to remember that, had things been different, Lan Wangji could have been on the receiving end of all those lovely, carefree smiles.

Rather than deal with the difficulty he has breathing whenever he’s in the same room as Wei Wuxian is in the room, Lan Wangji throws himself into the logistic planning of the final weeks leading up to the wedding. He coordinates vendors. He soothes ruffled feathers. He makes sure the caterers know literally everyone’s dietary preferences and restrictions. He works, and he works, and he works, and he tries to do nothing but work, but sometimes...

...Wen Qing will wander by, take over his spreadsheet, and tell him to go socialize...

...or Wen Ning will intercept the decoration Lan Wangji was moving, lift it surprisingly effortlessly, and tell Lan Wangji to join the main gathering...

...or Luo Qingyang will come and lecture him about how hiding is dumb and maybe he’d actually meet someone new if he tried.

As if Lan Wangji will get to meet someone new.

As if Lan Qiren will let Lan Wangji be with them, even if Lan Wangji did.

They’re trying to help, but he can’t figure out why. Wen Qing and Wen Ning especially are barely even his friends - but they’re closer to Wei Wuxian than anyone else in the world...Lan Wangji can’t fathom what they’re up to. If he didn’t know better, he’d almost think they were trying to get him back together with Wei Wuxian? Which makes him think they don’t know Wei Wuxian half as well as they think they do, cause there’s no way that Wei Wuxian wants that - no way that Wei Wuxian wants him. Lan Wangji had his chance. He gets that.

(But, oh, it’d be nice to believe, even for a minute, even for a single dinner party, that maybe that would be something Wei Wuxian would want.)

But that’s impossible.

So Wei Wuxian flirts shamelessly.

And Lan Wangji hides behind duty and a stoic facade.

And the day of the wedding approaches - they get through the rehearsal dinner, the bachelor and bachelorette parties, the hangovers the next morning, all of it...and then it’s time.

Lan Wangji knows he should be watching Jin Zixuan, dressed in full Chinese traditional garb for an utterly Western style wedding, but instead he can’t keep his eyes off the opposite wedding party. Luo Qingyang is maid of honor, in a chongseom that makes no sense as either traditional Chinese or modern Western - and Jiang Yanli insisted on her brothers standing at her side, and so Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian are both there.

In tuxedos.

A sharp contrast to the robes in muted colors that Jin Zixuan picked out for his wedding party.

And Jiang Cheng still has a look on his face like he stepped in something gross and is too dignified to wipe it off on the carpeting, but Wei Wuxian...oh, Wei Wuxian is so perfect, absolutely flawless, and his pleasure is so obviious and uninhibited. From the moment the tent flaps open and Jiang Fengmian walks his daughter, in full Phoenix robes and an elaborate golden head dress (a family heirloom, no less), Wei Wuxian only has eyes for his sister, and his joy for her is spectacular and makes Lan Wangji’s chest ache.

As the ceremony commences - Western secular, seriously, what, not that it’s a surprise, Lan Wangji helped plan it, but it’s still weird - Lan Wangji looses himself in the rhythm of non-religious liturgy and imagining that, had his life gone differently, how Wei Wuxian looks now might have been how he’d have looked on their wedding day.

He wants that so badly.

He so, so desperately wishes that could have been.

For once, Lan Wangji isn’t wrong about Wei Wuxian’s train of thought. He’s got eyes for no one but Jiang Yanli - well, and a small aside of imagining all the ways he’ll make Jin Zixuan regret ever being born, should he ever hurt her. The ceremony passes so quickly he’s amazed - usually he’s super impatient and antsy during events like this - but no, he’s fine, he’s fine, he’s fine, he’s...and then it’s over, and he glances to the groom’s party, and he realizes...Lan Wangji is staring at him.

Reflecting back over the ceremony...Lan Wangji has been staring at him the whole time?

And seriously - what the fuck is up with that? What had Wei Wuxian done wrong this time? Was it the tux? Lan Wangji coordinated the rental, if he’d objected to the Western attire, he had plenty of time to say something. Was it the way Wei Wuxian was rocking back on his heels? As if Jiang Yanli didn’t know Wei Wuxian couldn’t stand still - as if she’d ever hold that against him! His mind scrambles through explanations, each more ridiculous and rude than the last...no matter what the reason is, he’s sure that his existence offends Lan Wangji, as it also offended Lan Qiren. If it didn’t, why would Lan Wangji have treated him so indifferently since they re-met?

(It definitely isn’t because Wei Wuxian has intentionally kept him at arms length, oh no, this - whatever this is - is absolutely entirely Lan Wangji’s fault.)

Still, now that he’s aware of Lan Wangji’s condemnation, Wei Wuxian can’t stop thinking about it. It preoccupies him all through agonizingly dull hour of taking group photographs in various places in the picturesque garden, and all through the brief period he actually gets to spend during the passed platter part of the reception - hors d’ouevres to tide the guests over while the family and wedding parties do the pictures - and all through the achingly dull meal. The food is good, Wei Wuxian supposes. The wedding has been nice, Wei Wuxian supposes. Jiang Yanli is elated, Wei Wuxian knows, and he’s delighted for her, but...somehow, the joy has drained out of the evening.

Fucking Lan Wangji - can’t behave himself for one fucking evening, he’s even going to ruin this for Wei Wuxian.

Fuck it - as soon as the meal is over, and the first dances done, and the reception switches from staid social affair to open bar dance party, Wei Wuxian resolves to get sloshed as fast as humanly possible. Anything to stop him from thinking so damn much.

Lan Wangji is one of a handful of designated drivers amongst the people in his generation - he’s expecting to do at least three runs back to the hotel, starting with the bride and groom, then all the Jin half-siblings, then probably the Jiangs, judging by how they’re behaving so far, and then...he doesn’t know, but he suspects there’ll be others. Looking around as the evening grows later, the music louder, and the dancing more raucous, he tries to do a mental tally, and realizes...something is wrong.

No, nothing is wrong...someone is missing.

Where’s Wei Wuxian?

Confused, Lan Wangji looks around again. Wei Wuxian had been dancing - with his sister, with his brother in law, with Luo Qingyang, with Mo Xuanyu, with the folks a half-generation younger like Lan Jingyi, with anyone or anyone, by himself...but no...Luo Qingyang is dancing with Wen Qing, if “intense dance floor frottage” can be considered dancing...and Jin Zixuan and Jiang Yanli are dancing together, and Mo Xuanyu is flirting with some guy Lan Wangji doesn’t recognize, and the half-generation younger folks are teasing some poor Jiang junior, and Wei Wuxian has been exuberantly present for much of the evening, and now he’s just...gone.

As drunk as Wei Wuxian appeared to be, that can’t be good.

So, concerned - just that Wei Wuxian is drunk and might have tried something dumb, like driving home himself, or gotten lost on the way to the bathroom, or needed to throw up, not about anything else, Lan Wangji is definitely not concerned about Wei Wuxian in any other respect - Lan Wangji goes in search of Wei Wuxian.

He checks around the outside of the tent - nothing.

He checks inside the venue’s main building - nothing.

He checks the bathrooms - nothing.

He checks the parking lots - nothing, and of course Wei Wuxian didn’t take a vehicle, he didn’t drive himself.

He checks everywhere he can think, as the night grows later and darker and the party proceeds and the oldest, most staid guests start to say their goodbyes.

Finally, tired, out of ideas, and disinterested in returning to the loud bright heat of the tent, Lan Wangji goes for a walk through the manicured grounds. Even in the dark of night, the place the Jin-Jiang’s chose is lovely. Scattered decorative lights cast barely enough light to navigate the lanes and paths, aided by a full moon and the occasional flicker of a firefly. There’s a koi pond in the center - they took a lot of pictures there - and a few stone benches around it, so Lan Wangji meanders in that direction. He can still hear the party. He’ll know when they need him. He really needs some time to himself - it’s all been too much.

He tries not to think too hard about what “it” actually refers to in that thought.

Nothing Wei Wuxian does diffuses the empty feeling in his chest; every drink, he feels worse. Every dance, he feels more like he’s putting on an act. His friends were starting to notice - Luo Qingyang and Wen Qing had exchanged a look and then rounded on him like they were going to pin him down and force him to...or try to force him to...talk about his ~feelings~, and so Wei Wuxian fled into the gardens, found a bench where he could listen to the soft sussuration of flowing water somehow audible over the thump of the bass, and breathe.

It’s been a long time since Wei Wuxian felt like he could breathe.

He still doesn’t feel like he can breathe.

Which is ridiculous, he knows, and he’s in the process of going into extensive internal detail of why it’s ridiculous when a damn ghost steps into the clearing around the koi pond...

...no, not a ghost...it’s Lan Wangji, cheeks pale from how much time he spends in doors, robes nearly white when their pale blue is washed out by the moonlight, hair raven falling about his shoulders. His headband frames his noble brow, and his corsage rains a trail of vining flowers over one shoulder like some strange epaulette, and oh, he’s gorgeous, and Wei Wuxian recognizes, to his horror, in that instant...

...he’s never, ever, ever been over Lan Wangji, and he never will be...

...and he’ll never, ever, ever get to be with Lan Wangji. Like, ever.

Lan Wangji is staring at him.

Fuck Wei Wuxian’s life.

“I’ll just...go...” Wei Wuxian mumbles.

The statement hangs heavy in the night air as Wei Wuxian rises, straightens his tux, heads toward the pathway that Lan Wangji just entered from...and then stops.

Because Lan Wangji has grabbed his forearm.

“Oh come on, man - what the fuck?” Wei Wuxian demands, yanking his arm away. “Look, I get it, I’m your least favorite person - well, the wedding’s done, you’ll never have to see me again if you don’t want. Is that what you want? Would that finally make you happy?”

He’s breathing hard by the time he stops talking, and Lan Wangji is still staring at him, and Wei Wuxian wants to flee - not to the tent, but to...literally anywhere...anywhere that Lan Wangji isn’t...except he can’t make his legs work, and he can’t seem to move, and Lan Wangji won’t. stop. staring. and then Lan Wangji opens his mouth, and it seems to be in slow motion, and is he actually going to speak, holy shit, Lan Wangji hasn’t said a word to Wei Wuxian since he said, “good bye” ten years ago, and then of all the fucking things to come out of Lan Wangji’s mouth, all he says is,

“No.”

“Wha...why...ho...WHAT?”

“You asked, ‘is that what I want? Would that make me happy?’ The answer is no, Wei Ying. That is not what I want. That would not make me happy.”

“Oh. Well. Fucking good for you.” Wei Wuxian doesn’t even know what the fuck he’s saying. He doesn’t know what the fuck Lan Wangji is saying. All he knows is that being there hurts, and he’s so damn tired of hurting, and Lan Wangji already destroyed him once...

...and I’d give anything for five minutes with him, even if I know he’ll likely destroy me again...

“What do you want?” asks Lan Wangji, like he actually cares about the answer, and Wei Wuxian can only goggle at him, because he was so so incredibly clear about what he wanted ten years ago - he even fucking asked Lan Wangji to marry him, said, “I’ll do anything, conquer any challenge - we can make this life together, Lan Zhan,” and Lan Wangji had just said, “Good bye,” and now, now, Lan Wangji wants to know what Wei Wuxian wants? What gives him the right? What gives him the entitlement? What gives him the audacity?

What makes him think anything Wei Wuxian wants has changed?

But Wei Wuxian can’t say that, can he...?

The silence stretches out between them.

Neither moves.

Neither speaks.

Fireflies flit around them.

Lan Wangji dreads Wei Wuxian answering, dreads him walking away, dreads losing this last precious moment they share, even though the tension of this moment is so awful that Lan Wangji fears it will break him.

“What would you say if...if I said that all I want...is all I’ve ever wanted?” whispers Wei Wuxian, like he’s terrified.

Lan Wangji has no idea why he’s terrified.

Lan Wangji has no idea what he means.

He asks with a raised brow, and Wei Wuxian laughs awkwardly. “Naw, I can’t do the ‘silent Lan act’ right now. Use your words, I’m fucking right out of here, okay?”

“I’m sorry. I’ll try.” It’s ludicrously hard, but...for Wei Wuxain, Lan Wangji will always try, always regret that he didn’t try harder when he should have. “I...don’t understand. You say...what you always wanted. A degree. A found family. Your siblings at your side. A pet rabbit. An apartment with a bidet. A signed copy of ‘The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy.’ There were many things you said you wanted. I’m afraid I’m unclear which you mean.”

“You...you remember all that dumb shit I said back then?” Wei Wuxian sounds astonished. How can Wei Wuxian sound astonished? How can Wei Wuxian believe Lan Wangji would have forgotten a minute of those wonderful days - the best of his life?

“Mn.”

“Well, none of that shit’s what I mean. Got most of it anyway. Bidets are awesome. But Lan Wangj...Lan Zhan...”

His name, said in that sweet voice, causes a tingle to go down Lan Wangji’s spine.

“...all I’ve ever wanted was you.”

Lan Wangji’s jaw drops.

“And you told me to fuck right out of your life when I asked for that, so...fuck, what am I even still doing here?”

“Kissing me.”

“Wha--”

Lan Wangji interrupts Wei Wuxian’s confused exclamation with action - grapping Wei Wuxian’s shoulders and pulling him into a kiss. It’s rude, and inappropriate, and consent - what consent? - and Wei Wuxian doesn’t reciprocate but...oh well. Lan Wangji has already ruined his love life. At least he can have one kiss to remember fondly, to cherish, to--

--and then Wei Wuxian has an arm around Lan Wangji’s shoulder, their bodies pressed together, their lips moving as one, and oh, it’s good - glorious - Lan Wangji could weep he’s so happy. They kiss, and kiss, and kiss, shifting in the moonlight, lost in their embrace. Lan Wangji is breathless and growing dizzy, but he’s terrified to put space between them - what if this is goodbye? What if it’s just Wei Wuxian flirting, like he flirts with everyone? What if...what if...what if...

But finally, they do part, and scantly, bodies still close, embrace still maintained, faces inches apart.

“What’s going on, Lan Zhan?” asks Wei Wuxian weakly.

“I kissed you.”

“Yeah...got that part...but why...?”

“I know I’ve no right to ask this...but would you try again? With me? With us? Would you--?”

Wei Wuxian is kissing him again before Lan Wangji can finish the question.

Wei Wuxian can’t believe that’s a real question Lan Wangji has to ask - as if Wei Wuxian wouldn’t have taken Lan Wangji back anytime, at the drop of a hat, over the past decade.

(Okay, that’s unfair...Wei Wuxian’s actually been a huge dick about it...he knows Lan Wangji had no independent living, and relied on his family, and Wei Wuxian was just some aimless jackass, and, and, and...but it still stung that Lan Wangji wouldn’t throw all cares to the wind to be with Wei Wuxian, as Wei Wuxian would have done - had done - to be with Lan Wangji.)

But it feels dumb to dwell on that when Lan Wangji is in his arms, kissing him so eagerly, asking if he’ll try again.

Because of fucking course Wei Wuxian will try again.

“I don’t know what that means, Wei Ying,” says Lan Wangji with obvious frustration.

Kiss.

“It means yes,” Wei Wuxian replies.

Kiss.

“Yes?”

Kiss.

“Yes.”

Kiss.

“Always?”

Kiss.

“If you’ll have me back...”

Kiss.

“As if I’d ever turn you down!”

Kiss.

“Already did once...”

Kiss.

“And regretted it endlessly.”

Kiss.

“Good. You deserved at least that much suffering.”

Kiss.

“Deserved it, and more.”

Kiss.

“I suppose I’ll forgive you, if...”

Kiss.

“Anything. Just tell me.”

Kiss.

Oh, Wei Wuxian has so many ideas, and he delights in teasing Lan Wangji with each and every one, whispered between husky breaths in to the cooling air, interrupting himself constantly to kiss, and kiss, and kiss.

They’re still making out by the koi pond when Wen Qing and Luo Qingyang come looking for the promised designated driver.

They don’t even consult - or consider interrupting - when they do find the two idiots locked in an embrace. As one, the ladies turn, exchange a silent, smug high-five, and pull out their phones to order Ubers.

They can pay for rides for the Bride and Groom and family members and other drunken party goers.

Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian have a lot of catching up to do.

(and done)

(oops, this got long)

(and yes, this is absolutely a mash up of a modern AU with the lyrics to “Go Back to You” with a healthy dose of the plot of Jane Austen’s “Persuasion.”)

[feanorianethicsdepartment]

so! couple of months back, me and family went on holiday to a self-catering cottage in the backcountry, and when we weren’t having a grand old time getting lost in the wilderness i spent my free time, not writing for this blog, but watching random youtube videos. somehow this led me to watching a lot of six the musical animatics. i dunno, i’ve always liked horrible-histories-esque modern retellings of history, and i was reading a historical fiction series about the six wives of henry viii anyway

trouble is, this stupid blog has been keeping the silm muses much more active than they otherwise would be, and that was even more true when i was trying to churn out a new headcanon every day. i got interested enough in six to start looking up fanfiction, and i guess the settings were similar enough the muses started talking to each other? and then i remembered that ‘seven brides for seven brothers but it’s the fëanorians’ post, and then i thought that even those hellspawn would probably still make better husbands than henry, and then my brain worms started matching them up

so yeah, that’s how this list of which son(s) of fëanor i’d pair off with each wife of henry viii as portrayed by six the musical came into existence (and specifically as portrayed by six the musical, even if they’ve been dead for half a millenium trying to pair up actual humans who actually existed with my goofball interpretations of someone else’s ocs feels skeevy, and also like it would require way more work than this list deserves.) there’s actually an au growing in my head to support a context in which these couples could happen, auuugggghhhh. anyway, i’m sorry

catalina: caranthir. admittedly this was the last one i came up with, there’s a bit of pair-the-spares going on here, but i do feel like they’d have a very functional dynamic. given how temperamental they both are they argue less than one might expect; they’re good at setting and negotiating boundaries, and while they snark at each other constantly whenever they have business to take care of they go in as a Team. catalina also feels like she’d absolutely refuse to tolerate hellbeast bullshit, so naturally i’ve stuck her with the most down-to-earth of the bunch. they’re not the loudest, but they’ll build a solid place to return to when shit starts exploding

anne: curufin. she is a tiny bundle of playfulness and cheek and pure blazing ambition, and i think curvo would vibe with that. they would scheme together, they’d go into every social engagement with a plan and try to manipulate everyone around them, with mixed results. they’d definitely get up to, if not the most shenanigans, the shenanigans with the most collateral damage, and i feel like their skillsets would complement each other in a way that would nicely maximise that damage potential. whatever their big project as a couple turns out as, it’ll rapidly escalate into Anne and Curufin Burn Down Valinor. or early modern england. or both!

jane: maglor. okay this isn’t just me putting the woman who wants a big family with the habitual child thief (though i will admit, there is some nice synergy there.) it’s more that they’re both survivors, in a way, they both have this resolve deep down that could weather anything the world threw at them. i feel like they’d be one of the quieter couples in this set? sneaking out of court parties to wander the gardens and laugh at each other’s terrible jokes. they’d skirt around the edge of things together, softly enough so as not to be noticed, watching the world go by. and if it came to that, i think she’d wait for him

anna: celegorm. look the essence of anna of kleve is living in a gigantic palace doing whatever the hell she wants and not giving the slightest fuck what anyone thinks of her, and i feel like celegorm would be amenable to that. they don’t actually spend that much time together, he’s off in the woods and she’s chilling in her big fancy house, but when they do meet there’s always winks and finger guns. speaking of guns, their most common Couple Activity™ is going hunting, but you’ll also find them trading stories about the nonsense their social circles get up to over booze. they don’t usually show up for ~events at the same time, but when they do, they cut a swathe across the hall so efficiently you’d think they’d planned it in advance

kitty: ambarussa. this isn’t even a romantic thing, i just want them to be friends. i want her to go on adventures and have fun and be happy and not have to worry about guys at all, you know? they’d be the ‘two dumbasses and an enabler’ kind of terrible trio, i think, the twins getting up to the stupidest shit and her cackling in the background. absolute terrors, cause so much trouble, and they always try to dodge the consequences to varying degrees of success. and then they all head off home, promising to see each other the next morning and make even more mischief tomorrow

cathy: maedhros. i picture them having these long elaborate discussions about philosophy and ethics and religion and the differences between their worlds and all kinds of other things, these fascinating debates that go on until one of them notices it’s 3am. their interests don’t overlap 100%, but they have this shared fondness for big Projects that they always end up supporting each other in. you don’t see them talking much in their formal public appearances, but in private or when they’re just hanging out they’ll banter back and forth with the kind of carefree ease that comes from how comfortable they are with each other. she’s significantly more low-key than he is, but when push comes to shove she is just as intensely opinionated and willing to defend her ideas. should the time come, she would stand up to him like nobody else could

[redgillan]

Under Pastel Skies - 3

Sugar daddy!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Modern!AU Bucky doesn’t need anyone, especially not a sugar baby. He isn’t that desperate… but she smiles so sweetly and she’s endearingly awkward, and he’s so lonely. She’s an artist, a painter, the type of person who always puts others before herself. Throwing caution to the wind Bucky offers her a place to live, a place where she can finally paint whatever her heart desires. He doesn’t need much in return; a friend, a muse.

Word Count: 2,587

Warnings: none

A/N: I wanted to give Reader a family and this is the easiest way to do it. Btw Peggy’s husband isn’t Steve, I have other plans for him ;) Enjoy!

Wannabe sugar daddies don’t interact, idc if you have money, eat it and leave me be.

The rest of the week went by, and you kept hoping Bucky would come back. You hadn’t seen him since he’d left 300 dollars under his napkin after visiting you at work. You had tucked the bills into your bra, knowing they would be safe there, and walked home at the end of your shift.

Now it was Thursday afternoon and you were craving a day off.

Natasha’s apartment was spacious and the oversized glass window bathed the living room in natural sunlight. The apartment was a gift from Sam. Obviously.

You dropped your purse on the sofa –your bed- and laid out the bills on the coffee table. It was made of marble and brass, another gift from Sam.

You didn’t know what to do with the money, so you took it wherever you went, to keep it safe. You wanted to return it to Bucky. It was too much and you weren’t used to random acts of kindness.

You sunk into the cushion and blew out a sigh as you stared at the money. The persistent vibration of your phone against your thigh pulled you out of your thoughts. Half expecting it to be Natasha, you answered without looking at the caller ID.

The operator told you that Scott Lang was calling from Saint Quentin State Prison, and asked if you would accept the charges. You agreed. You always agreed.

“Splotchy, I need your help.”

Closing your eyes, you let your head fall back against the cushion. “I told you to stop calling me that, Scott.”

It was a silly nickname.

As a child, your mother dubbed you splotchy because of the colourful doodles you painted on the living room walls, and your siblings, who were roughly a few years older than you, had loved using that nickname. Especially since they knew you disliked it.

Their support and endless enthusiasm played a big part in your artistic journey, nurturing that spark into a flame. What started out as a childlike fascination with colours and shapes became your whole life. No one was surprised when you decided to pursue a degree in fine arts.

After the death of her husband, Peggy Carter adopted five children; a little boy from San Francisco, a little girl from Wakanda, twins from Sokovia and a little girl whose birth parents were still in high school. You were the last one, the only one she adopted as a baby.

“Is it offensive to call an artist splotchy?”

“It’s irrelevant. I haven’t painted in months,” you replied. “And we’re not kids anymore, you can use my name.”

“I’ve been calling you Splotchy for so long, I forgot your actual name.”

“You’re so funny,” you deadpanned. “What do you need, Scott?”

Scott’s tone changed suddenly, his voice grew agitated. “I need you to call Maggie. She isn’t picking up when I call her.”

“Scott,” you sighed.

“I haven’t talked to Cassie since her birthday,” he cut you off, pleading. “Please, I just want to talk to my little girl.”

Maggie was Scott’s ex-wife. Six months after his incarceration, she had filed for divorce. Natasha thought it was a real dick move but you didn’t blame Maggie. She was alone, her husband was in jail –for basically being a dumbass although the official charge was embezzlement and destruction of property- and she had a kid to raise.

Maggie wasn’t a saint but she was a good mother, and Cassie was a smart and healthy kid. Now you knew what to do with Bucky’s money.

“I’ll call her,” you said. “Listen, I’m going to put 50 bucks on your book. Buy yourself a bar of soap, I can smell you from here.” Scott interrupted you with a monotone ‘har har’. You chuckled. “I’ll buy Cassie a Christmas gift on your behalf, all right? I think she wanted a bike.”

“Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you,” he chanted over the phone, his voice muffled as if he was holding the receiver too close to his mouth. “Are you sure you can afford it? I know it isn’t easy for you. Between living in New York and paying for mom’s nursing home, you don’t have to-”

“It’s fine,” you said, cutting off the conversation. “I’m not alone, Okoye helps.”

“And Wanda?”

“She sends postcards from time to time.”

The line went quiet for a moment. “I want to get out of here so bad,” Scott groaned. “Everything’s gone to shit since I went to jail.”

“Everything’s gone to shit since Pietro died, Scott.” You both remained silent, remembering your late brother. Just thinking about him made your eyes start to prickle with tears, so you cleared your throat and ended the call. “I’ll talk to Maggie. You’ll be out soon, just... stay out of trouble. Love you.”

You left your phone on the table and kicked off your shoes before you lay down on the sofa for a well-deserved nap. In your dreams your brothers weren’t either dead or in prison, your mother hadn’t been diagnosed with Alzheimer, and you weren’t a burden to your friend.

If you were lucky enough, you wouldn’t even dream at all.

The next day, Bucky arrived at the hotel at six thirty and you playfully glared at him from across the lounge. He wasn’t stupid, he knew why you were glaring at him. At least he had the decency to look a little sheepish.

“Just so you know, you bought yourself about 30 breakfasts,” you told him, referring to the far-too-generous tip he had left the other day.

“A man’s gotta eat,” he replied with a boyish cockiness that made him look stupidly attractive. You were too flustered to find a good comeback.

You brought him his cup of coffee and let him enjoy his breakfast while you attended to your other clients. It was an unusually busy day, the room was packed with families who were getting ready to explore Manhattan. You didn’t have time to chat with Bucky and he didn’t stay long. You saw him flinch a couple of times; the muscles in his shoulders pulled tight and his eyes darting left and right.

He left another ridiculously generous tip, along with a handwritten note. Breakfast is the most important meal of the day x.

Bucky came back the following week, and even though it was a quiet morning, you made sure to find him a table in a secluded spot. He didn’t notice when you slipped the 300 dollars into the pocket of his coat. You could be pretty sneaky, too.

“Mmmh,” he said, wiping his mouth with a napkin, “I looked at your Instagram.”

“Oh,” you glanced at your shoes, embarrassed. “Wait, you’re on Instagram? I have a hard time imagining you scrolling through your feed.”

He laughed a little. “I’ll admit I’m not as tech savvy as you youngsters, but I’m not a fossil. I use it to look at the pictures my sister post of my niblings.”

“Cute,” you grinned.

“Anyway,” he said, pushing a hand through his hair. “I love your work. It’s very unique; a cross between Impressionism and Post-impressionism. It’s realistic, and yet there’s something different...” his face scrunched up as he tried to look for the right word. “There’s something in your paintings, something that isn’t here in real life but perhaps should be. It’s hard to explain. It’s a feeling, a color, a pattern; it’s indiscernible but it’s there.” He looked up at you, his cheeks red with embarrassment. “I’m not making much sense, am I?”

You blinked, suddenly stunned that someone had such strong opinions about your work. There was nothing but sincerity in his ocean-blue eyes, and for a moment, you were at a loss for words.

“I, um-” you cleared your throat, “Thank you, I didn’t know that. I look up to Monet, obviously. His work is phenomenal, and I also have a soft spot for Van Gogh.” You ran a hand across your face. “Sorry, I’m a little emotional. The people who compliment my art are usually my siblings, and Nat.”

“And now me,” he said with a warm smile. “And soon a lot more people.”

Flustered, you bit your bottom lip. “That would be nice.”

Bucky nodded. He gathered his silverware and set them on his plate, trying to buy time. You watched him hesitate before he turned to you. “I noticed that your last post was from almost a year ago.”

“Yeah,” you said with a casual shrug. “I don’t really paint anymore. I’m too tired when I get home and supplies are expensive.”

“Of course,” he pursed his lips in thought. “Are you free this afternoon? I was wondering if we could meet for coffee.”

You tried not to show your surprise but his words made the sleeping butterflies in your stomach crack an eye open, their interest piqued.

Was he asking you out? He’d come to your workplace every week since your brief ‘date’. He always gave you more-than-generous tips, and he listened to you with a combination of close attention and warmth that made you weak at the knees.

He’d made it clear he wasn’t looking for anyone but maybe he had changed his mind. Agh, down girl! He just wanted a friend.

You looked into his beautiful eyes, seeing a myriad of expressions cross his face before he smiled at you.

“I ain’t gonna hurt you, angel.”

It was an honest lie, just hearing him call you angel felt like a punch to the stomach. The butterflies were dancing around, reborn, and chanting the word ‘date’.

“If you don’t like coffee, we can have tea, or ice cream,” he said, “anything as long as you can sit down with me.”

You snorted. “Okay.”

“Okay,” he repeated, smiling. “This is my number. Pick a place and I’ll meet you there.”

After breakfast, you closed the restaurant and started cleaning the Lounge. You brought everything back to the kitchen, stacked the dishes in the dishwasher and turned it on. Then you put away the unopened miniature jams, butter and whatnot, and gathered the remaining patisseries and fresh fruits in a basket that you would later bring to the reception.

You worked mechanically. It wasn’t exactly the most exciting job you’d ever had.

You couldn’t stop thinking about Bucky. It was easy to let your mind wander into the cosy and dangerous territory of this being a real date.

You decided to go to the Australian coffee shop near Natasha’s apartment. It was popular but not as crowded as Starbucks, which suited you fine.

After your shift, you removed your uniform and changed into the spare set of clothes you kept in your locker for emergencies. Emergencies being an impromptu date or a night out with Nat. You dug around in your purse for your lipstick; the nice one, the Carter Red as your mother called it.

You dabbed the lipstick on your lips, staining them. You only wore it on special occasions, and you weren’t sure Bucky deserved your full red pout.

You walked to the café with a little pep in your step and a confident smile on your face. The freezing temperature didn’t matter, you were too giddy to care. It was a date, it had to be, why else would he ask you to meet for coffee?  

You smiled when you saw him through the coffee shop window. He was chatting with the waiter as the latter set two mugs on the table.

“Hi again!” You shrugged out of your jacket and took a seat.

“I hope you like hot chocolate. Carl, here, says it’s their best seller,” Bucky said, smiling kindly at the waiter.

“Enjoy, and if you need anything else don’t hesitate to call me.”

You carefully wrapped your cold hands around your mug while you watched Carl walk away. A moment of silence rose between you. Bucky watched you with an unreadable expression, making you fidget in your seat.

“I’m glad you came,” he finally said.

“Me too. I’m a little surprised you asked.”

He looked down at his mug and smiled; it didn’t reach his eyes. “I have something to ask you.” He paused. “The night we met, you said you agreed to see me because being in a... financial relationship felt like the only solution to your problems.”

 Your smile faltered but he didn’t seem to notice. Oh. The butterflies in your stomach fell so suddenly that it felt like carrying a ball of lead. They went back into hibernation.  

“If I had been a decent person and, I don’t know, bought you a drink, talked to you,” he paused, meeting your eyes. “Would you have been interested in this type of relationship? With me, I mean.”

You swallowed hard. “You want to be my sugar daddy.”

It wasn’t a question but a statement. You were slowly realizing that you had been wrong about his intentions. This wasn’t a date, it was a business afternoon tea.

He winced. “Do we really have to call it that? I was thinking mentorship. I can provide financial help, and in exchange you could be my friend.”

“I can be your friend for free,” you said, your throat tightening.

He shrugged, a small smile on his lips. “This way we’ll both get something out of it.”

You looked down at your hands, still wrapped around the mug, and pursed your lips in thought. You felt a sharp tingling sensation in your nose, a sign that you were about to cry. You closed your eyes and clenched your jaw, fighting against the flood that was coming.

You pushed all the emotion down and forced a smile to your face. “Do you mind if I use the restroom? I just took the subway, I’d like to wash my hands.”

Bucky watched you, momentarily stunned by your request. “Of course, take your time,” he quickly recovered.

“Thanks,” you croaked, pushing your chair back.

You picked up your bag and walked to the restroom, your legs feeling like cotton wool. You didn’t need to use the restroom, you had walked to the café, but you needed a moment alone to collect yourself.

A woman came out of the restroom, holding the door open for you. You picked up the pace and thanked her before closing the door behind you. You looked pretty sickly under the artificial light of the restroom. Your eyes were glassy with tears and your red lips were taunting you.

“Got your hopes up, uh?” You watched your lips move. A little humourless chuckle escaped you and you shook your head at your own idiocy.

You aggressively wiped the lipstick off your mouth with the back of your hand and sighed deeply as you looked at your reflection in the mirror. Now you felt like an idiot.

It wasn’t Bucky’s fault. He had been nothing but nice and kind, and perhaps you had mistaken his kindness for flirting. A naïve mistake. You had always been a little clueless when it came to men.

You ran your index fingers under your eyes to get rid of the makeup that had gathered there. It wasn’t the end of the world, you barely knew him anyway. It didn’t hurt any less, though.

Maybe it was time for you to do something out of character, to experience life no matter how crazy it seemed. You were dreading this conversation with Bucky, but you couldn’t hide in the restroom forever. With another sigh, you pushed yourself away from the sink and walked out of the restroom.

Part 4

[mrsbenedictbridgerton]

The truth about loving you

Polin Modern au

Part one

4.5k

*Here it is - finally -part one! I hope you enjoy! *

Loving Colin Bridgerton had been the joy and the heartache of her life. It was time for Penelope to move on. He was never going to notice her. He was never going to love her the way she loved him. Always travelling, always seeking something... Colin was back in the small town of Grosvenor. But something was different and he had a feeling, it was him.

Also on AO3

Prologue

Penelope Featherington was well aware that, generally, the idea of love at first sight was laughed at. In addition, the thought that a young woman who had just reached the age of sixteen should find the love of her life in such circumstances was preposterous to most people. Well, almost everyone, really.

But she had. Fallen in love that is. Deep, head over heels, irrevocably in love. With Colin Bridgerton, brother of her dearest friend Eloise. Tall, handsome, charming… kind. Yes, she knew within a few minutes of meeting him and of becoming mesmerised by his smiling eyes that he was kind. She knew that he loved his family to distraction, that he was decent, that he was caring and that he did not have one bad bone in his body. That whoever should be lucky enough to win his heart would be treasured and loved…

So, really, one could not blame her for the instant, fatal bolt of something that had left her painfully in love with a man who saw her, she shuddered to think, as almost another sister. And he already have plenty of those. Penelope, being somewhat shy (and certainly lacking in the kind of confidence that would have let her believe she had any chance of being seen in anything more than sororal terms) had hidden her infatuation behind smiles and blushing cheeks. She had told no one - not a single soul - and miraculously none had guessed. She daren’t divulge the deepest secret of her heart to anyone. It was her private treasure; every moment in his presence was a potent mixture of exquisite joy and painful torment. He was the sunshine of her life. 

And he was completely, utterly oblivious. He had been both the greatest pleasure and tragedy of her life. For twelve. Whole. Years.

Until one day, as she approached the age of 29 and began to have those philosophical internal conversations that one often has when reaching a significant age, she had a revelation. No more, she told herself, no more…

Something had to change. 

Part One

Twelve years, three months and two days of being in love with Colin Bridgerton

With a final few clicks, followed by a deep sigh, Penelope flicked the lid of her laptop closed and glanced at her watch. Six pm. That gave her exactly sixty minutes to prepare herself for the town Spring Gala - otherwise known as Lady Agatha Danbury’s annual party; held every April by the social leader of the small Oxfordshire town of Grosvenor, in which not a soul dared to miss either through fear of Lady Danbury’s interrogation at a later date or simply because it was the first post-Christmas social event, where the chill was finally fading from the air and the dark nights of December had been replaced by the tempting promise of the bright summer evenings to follow.

Penelope didn’t know if she had the energy to face the entire town, but go she would. Really, she should try and make the most of the evening. She would actually miss the predictability of life here. In Grosvenor, nothing of real substance ever changed. It was comforting, but it was a crutch. It was a life she had clung to to avoid making the hard decisions.

As she stood to leave her desk, her eyes fell upon a polaroid. It was a picture of Pen, her best friend Eloise and Eloise’s brother, Colin, taken at Christmas a few years ago, they all were wearing ridiculous jumpers and Colin was trying to stuff a whole mince pie in his mouth. A frown crossed her face. She grabbed the picture and tossed it into the first drawer of her desk, slamming it with a satisfying thud.

It’s time to grow up, Penelope, she told herself. 

It was time for a change.

/ 

After locking her door, Pen stashed her keys in her pocket and… nearly jumped out of her skin. Perched on the small brick wall surrounding her cottage was Eloise Bridgerton, her oldest friend, lit cigarette dangling from one hand and black leather jacket slung over her shoulder.

“Jesus, El, you scare me!” Her friend smirked and took a long drag of her cigarette. “And you know if your mother catches you smoking she will kill you.”

Eloise scoffed. “I’m 28 years old Pen. I think I’m pretty far past the age when my mother rules my life.” Pen gave her a pointed look as she put out the cigarette on the stone wall before slipping it back in the packet. “Okay, so she could make my life a misery. As you well know I smoke precisely three times a year: the Danbury party, the Smythe-Smith musical evening and Simon and Daphne’s Christmas Fete.”

Pen knew her thoughts on forced social occasions, they were very similar to her own. Forced socialisation was akin to mental torture to the middle Bridgerton sibling because, like Pen, she had little time for the more vapid members of town society, and sadly, they made up a high percentage of those one would meet on such occasions. Which was why, as ever, she was once again thankful for friendship with Eloise. They were as much alike as they were different but there was something intangible between them that transcended the ordinary. On a higher level, they just fit. Many a time they’d postulate over large glasses of wine about becoming eccentric spinsters one day, with a dozen cats each and a cozy little house that overlooked the sea. It was a comforting thought for someone like Pen, who usually avoided thoughts of the future.

Slipping her arm through her friend’s, Penelope pulled Eloise to stand and began to walk in the direction of the Danbury’s large, sprawling house.“And then why do you attend tonight?” Penelope teased, knowing fair well what the answer was.

“Danbury would have my head on a platter - and then my mother would serve it for dinner. You know how those two are!”

Indeed, Penelope was well aware of the friendship between two of the town’s grande dames, both forceful in their own way and both determined matchmakers. “I wonder who they are trying to set up this year?”

“Don’t look at me,” El spat with an incredulous look, “Mother let that go a long time ago.” “Hyacinth maybe?” 

“She’s far too busy with her graduate degree. She’s determined to get firsts across the board. She’s now onto her fourth language you know?” Pen did know El’s youngest sister had an uncanny knack with languages, it was unnerving really when noone else in her family spoke more than a smattering of bad French. She’d already also mastered Spanish and Mandarin - helped of course through the year she had spent travelling in China. Oh how Pen wanted to go to China… okay, perhaps not China, maybe she wasn’t that adventurous. But just anywhere other than here. “Pen?”

“Hmm?”

Eloise jabbed Pen softly with her elbow. “You like you are on another planet.”

“Just thinking,” she replied, not really being dishonest.

“Well I’m glad to see I am such scintillating company. I was actually trying to tell you I have news.”

Oh. News. Eloise had news? This was the moment Pen had been waiting for. She wanted El to know first, she hadn’t even told her mother yet...

Pausing, Penelope turned to face her friend and forced a smile. “Actually, I, too, have some news-”

Just then, a large pair of arms wrapped around Pen from behind, hugging tightly around her waist before lifting her and spinning her around. 

Oh God. She’d know those arms anywhere. She’d know that cologne. She’d just know it was… 

“Colin! Put me down!,” she screamed, wriggling from his grip, “I’m far too heavy!”

Feet landing back on the pavement, Penelope stumbled a second before spinning on her heel to face him.

“Nonsense, you are light as a feather Pen,” Colin replied, grinning as reached forward and pressed a loud kiss on her cheek - leaving the patch of skin his lips had touched tingling and a deep blush threatened to engulf her face. Thank god it was getting dark already.

“That was my news,” Eloise announced smugly, crossing her arms. “Brother three is back on British soil.”

Stunned was not quite the word to describe Penelope’s state of mind as she stared at Colin Bridgerton. Colin with his warm, wide smile and deep, dark eyes… eyes she had drowned in more times that she cared to count. His thick, brown hair had grown and now licked at the collar of his shirt. But otherwise, Colin had changed very little in the six months since she had last seen him - and indeed in the twelve years since they had met.

“Colin,” she began, still a little tongue tied from the brief kiss and, moreso, his entirely unexpected return, “But you were in Australia?” 

“I decided to come home.”

“Clearly,” she mumbled, her head whirl. He always had that effect on her. His mere presence sent her stomach into knots and her head into a whirl and thinking clearly was almost impossible. “How wonderful,” she added.

She was dizzy. She felt a headache coming on. Actually, she felt just a little sick. Why was he back? Why? He was supposed to be gone for another five months. She should really have guessed that this might happen, Colin’s plans were always flexible and his adventures were subject to whatever whim or passion he was currently in the midst of. Still, it was unlike him to return from a trip early. It would have made more sense for him to spend those extra months exploring some other little corner of the world( and giving her the time she needed). Time for Penelope to make all the changes to her life that her carefully made plans had necessitated. Time for her to finally get over him. Severing her childish adoration for this man was the only way of moving forward with her life and just as she was about to make the great leap into the unknown… there he was. Same old Colin. 

Damn, she was tired of loving him. Because the truth about loving Colin Bridgerton was that it was equal parts heaven and hell.

“Pen!” El shouted, breaking her reverie. “You phased out on me again.” Penelope gave a wan smile. “So what were you going to tell me before my idiot brother here interrupted us?”

“Oh,” she shrugged, “Nothing. Nothing at all.”                                                      

/

Lady Danbury, of course, had planned her event to perfection. A string quartet greeted visitors in the large, marble lined vestibule of Danbury Hall and uniformed wait staff meandered around the milling guests carrying shining silver platters of champagne and fancy-looking canapes. As the trio arrived, friends of Colin’s surrounded the siblings and welcomed their friend home. Colin had always been extremely popular. Between his good nature, sense of humour and ability to make whomsoever he conversed with feel important and noticed, he has managed to forge friendships with almost every inhabitant of Grosvenor. 

Seeing an exit, Penelope grabbed a flute of champagne from the first passing server and managed to sink down half of it in one swift gulp as she headed towards the large ornamental garden that was accessed from the house’s terrace. She needed a moment. She needed air. She needed to think.

He wasn’t supposed to be here. He was supposed to be thousands of miles away. 

She really had convinced herself that she was growing out of her feelings from him. It was quite ridiculous. It had been over TWELVE years. She’d mooned over him all through her teens and twenties, both cursing and thanking her friendship with Eloise for placing them in such close conspiracy. Being close to him and watching him over the years had only deepened her feelings whilst simultaneously feeding a torturous sense of insecurity. It was a curse. Any man she met was instantly compared with Colin. Was he as kind as Colin? Was he as generous as Colin? Did he make her laugh like Colin did? Did she dream of sinking her hands into his hair the way she did with Colin? Would he kiss like Colin... The list was endless. 

Admittedly, the few fleeting relationships she had found herself in over the years had little longevity in them on their own merit. If a man showed an interest in her she was flattered - and flattery led her to trying to like them too. But no matter how much she tried, it was impossible to force attraction, or even friendship, and spending an evening with any of them was a close second to a glass of wine and a good book. So almost permanently single, she’d hidden her feelings under the guise of a bright demeanor and focused herself on building a career and becoming more than a woman driven by her emotions. Well, she had tried. 

Tried and failed miserably as proven by her visceral reaction to his presence that evening. Who was she kidding? The only way to finally free herself from this madness was to take herself out of the equation. Physically.

With a sigh, she downed the rest of her glass and left it on a little decorative iron table that edged the patio. There was little use in ruining the evening by letting herself sink into a mood. Tonight he was here and there was little she could do about it. 

/

Colin was home. Jetlagged, overtired and not-quite sure exactly what the time was, but he was back in Grosvenor with his luggage already deposited in his childhood room at Aubrey Hall. As expected, nothing of any note had changed in Grosvenor in the half a year he had spent travelling across Australia. It never did actually. Not during his tour of Europe, his kayak trip down the Amazon nor those six months spent trekking in India. There was something comforting about that. Home was always home. With very little change to have to acquaint oneself with when returning after a prolonged absence.

Except… Well… She looked different. Penelope did. No, that wasn’t right. Penelope was the same as always. Pen was always there when he came back: she was dependable, as much a part of home as his mother’s Sunday lunches or the broken clock at the town hall - and inevitably joined at the hip with his sister Eloise. But something was different this time.

When he’d seen her across the street, he’d stalked up to her as he often liked to, picking her up and spinning her around - it was an old trick that had started so long ago he’d forgotten exactly how or why. Yet this time he didn’t just feel the sense of enjoyment in making his friend laugh, as he picked her up he had immediately noticed the curve of her hips and the brush of her breasts against his arm. Startled, he had let go, only for her to turn to him with flushed cheeks and sparkling eyes and- well -it was different. He’d always known Penelope was a woman, but tonight for some reason, he knew.

While he had been awake for over 30 hours (thanks to a delightful assortment of caffeinated beverages), he could not blame the tightening in his gut and the moment of breathlessness he felt in that brief moment on sheer exhaustion. In fact, he’d felt a rush of adrenaline and a kick of excitement, as if he had just discovered something new. Something that no one else knew. It was… unsettling. But not exactly in a negative way.

Puzzled and curious, Colin made light work of greeting those old friends who didn’t yet know he had returned and then left Eloise to be grilled by their sister Daphne and her husband Simon about just when she planned on moving out of Aubrey Hall. He slipped away quietly. The simple solution to his confusion was to go and talk with Penelope as he normally would. Surely that would settle whatever had affected him so much. He needed to have a nice, normal conversation with her. It was understandable, he supposed, for friendships to be a little strange after such a time. It hadn’t happened before between them, but still...

It was in the garden that he found her. The evening was still light, the sun turning a hazy orange behind the springtime clouds. He’d left Australia as the summer was turning to autumn and here he was about to experience summer yet again. The idea made him smile. Summer was always his favourite time of year. It seemed filled with so much promise - the days were long, the weather fine and even the gloomiest of souls could not retain their negativity when faced with an English summer’s day.

“Pen,” he said as he approached where she stood at the edge of the ornamental gardens. In one hand, she had a full flute of champagne and in the other an impossibly sized canape. She seemed to be studying the canape and deciding how best to approach it’s consumption - not easy when it took the form of an oversized base of puffed pastry topped with a heavy dollop of cream cheese and an artful sprinkling of caviar (Colin had always appreciated good food). Her eyes met his and she smiled, perhaps a little self consciously.

“Colin, I thought you were enjoying a hero’s welcome.”

He smirked a little, “I should hardly think my travels are an accomplishment. Indeed, mother sees them as somewhat the opposite.” His mother was actually very supportive of her son’s desire to see more of the world, but she had mentioned many times how perhaps spending every penny he earned on the endeavour was not the best forward planning. A large part of him knew she was right. The transient lifestyle he had lived for so long was starting to wear on him if truth were told. Not that the urge to discover new places would ever leave him, but perhaps the way it manifested in his life needed to change. More to think on later, he supposed.  “Anyway, I’m reliably informed that my mother is planning a welcome home and belated birthday party very soon. My loyal fans can fawn over me then,” he teased

“Oh,” Penelope gasped, “Your birthday was last month - I didn’t exactly forget I just - well, with all the travelling I didn’t even know where to send you a card. Here,” she said pushing the canape in his direction, “A present. I’m sure you are starving.”

“Oh no no no,” he chuckled, pushing her hand back. “I could not possibly deny you the pleasure of… that.”

Penelope frowned as she glanced at the oversized canape. Really, Colin was being a little cruel. Even he, who had never been accused of being small of mouth, would struggle to eat that with some semblance of dignity. But Penelope’s pouting pink lips were perfectly proportioned for her petite heart shaped face, forming a flawless pout as she considered the clearly impossible challenge. Colin, for his part, was seriously contemplating the lush fullness of her bottom lip until Penelope let out a deep sigh, opening her mouth wide and pushing the entirety of it inside. Colin sucked in a quick breath. As she chewed a drizzle of cream spread across her lip and he watched, hypnotised, as her tongue slipped out and cleared it away. There was something startlingly erotic in the moment and he found himself transfixed. Their eyes met as her jaw worked, the silence between them somehow startlingly loud, even as the sound of the party increased behind them in the house. Not breaking the eye contact, Penelope took a long sip of her champagne. “Done,’ she murmured softly.

The edges of his lips curled as he reached forward and brushed a crumb of pastry from her petal soft cheek. “Was it enjoyable?” he asked quietly.

Wordlessly, she nodded. 

And, hell, he had enjoyed it too.

‘Well then, I’d say I’m rather jealous.” He was overcome with a sudden urge to kiss her. He wanted to step closer to her, wrap his hands around the devastating curve of her hips, press his body to hers so those lush breastswere flush against his chest and then he would taste those maddeningly erotic lips. The idea pulsed through him. She was staring. Her blue eyes widening. He reached for the glass in her hands, intending to set it down-

Buzzz. Buzzz. Buzzz.

The moment was broken by the vibrations of a mobile phone. It took Pen a few seconds to acknowledge it was hers, a confused look crossing her face until she fished the device from her jeans pocket.

“Pen? PEN? Where are you?” Eloise’s voice bellowed down the line.

“Eloise,” she mouthed to him, though he had no trouble hearing his sister, who was never known for her subtilty. “You need to get here. Daphne is PREGNANT!”

“Oh,” Pen smiled, looking back at him. “I think we should head back to the others.”

Wordlessly he nodded. His sister - for whom motherhood had always been so important - announcing her first pregnancy, was certainly something he wanted to be there for. “C’mon,” he whispered, holding out his arm, “Time to play proud big brother.”

Further exploration of his newfound fascination with Penelope Featherington’s lips would have to wait.

/

Hours later...

The world was silent when they reached her cottage. An intrepid white cat darted across the street as a gust of wind rustled the branches of the small oak tree that dominated the garden of Penelope’s cottage. Despite the light chill to the air, she was wearing a warm coat of alcohol, her cheeks glowing as they always did when she had drunk champagne. Pleasantly tipsy, she leaned into Colin, his warmth comforting against her side as she fumbled in her pocket for her key.

“Thank you,” she said quietly as she opened the half gate that breached the stone wall around her home “But you really didn’t have to walk me all the way home. I’m a big girl, you know.” There was a double meaning to her words; yes she wasn’t exactly young, but she also wasn’t exactly small in size - the phrase ‘curves in abundance’ could have been written just for her, she had thought on more than one occasion.

“It was my pleasure,” Colin replied, “It was a fine excuse to leave before the revels became too tiring- you know these things can go on until morning and I already feel like I could sleep for a year.” With that, he yawned and ran a hand through his hair. Pen watched those lightly tanned fingers come through the dark chestnut locks and swallowed down a sigh.

“Well,” she nodded, “I’d say that it’s time to say goodnight.” For a second, she fidgeted, her keys jangling on her finger. Impulsively, she reached out her hand and immediately felt ridiculously awkward. She and Colin did not shake hands. She didn’t shake hands with anyone. Ever. She cleared her throat and felt her cheeks deepen in colour. Oh god. After their strange moment in the garden, things had felt almost normal between them as they congratulated Daphne and Simon and then passed the rest of the evening hearing stories from Colin’s travels and bringing him up to date with the (somewhat limited) local gossip he had missed. And so when he had insisted on walking her home, she hadn’t been overly wary. Yet now… now they were alone on her quiet street and he was staring at her so oddly that she was actually finding it difficult to breathe-

“Good night,” he said softly, reaching down to bring her into a hug. It was a beautiful, warm embrace, her face almost nestling against his neck so that she could enjoy his musky, soft cologne. This was nice. This was safe. Friends hugged.

She made to pull away, but he only loosened his grip a small amount. Looking up he was so very close. His dark, velvet eyes fixed upon hers. “Pen…” he whispered, a look of concentration upon his face. She tried to wriggle gently free of his arms, his close inspection feeling uncomfortable and somehow searing.

And then he kissed her. Just like that.

His lips were against hers, his hands slipped up her back, his mouth suddenly urgent and wonderful and if Penelope could have imagined his kiss a thousand times she could not have imagined this. He pressed her back against the door, his tongue sweeping into her mouth with a satisfied groan. Her hands, which had been limp around his neck, surged into his thick locks, the satin strands feeling obscenely good between her fingers. He pushed his hips forward, anchoring her in place, his mouth tracing her jaw and then her neck, one hand racing down to cup her buttocks and squeeze just hard enough to make her gasp in surprise.

Colin Bridgerton was kissing her.

Colin was kissing her.

Colin.

Suddenly, she froze, pushing against his shoulders. “Are you drunk?” she panted.

“No,” he frowned, “Are you?”

“No,” she admitted, shaking her head. And, oh she was thankful that she would remember every moment of this...

Without her noticing, Colin had taken the key and opened the door behind her. Quickly,  they fell inside. Their arms instantly back around each other and the kiss resumed and it was intoxicating. It was magnetic. It was drugging… Penelope had never been kissed like this before. 

Colin was nibbling at her neck and pulling her shirt out from her jeans. She dug her fingers into the firm muscles of his shoulders and felt herself being swept away.

“Wait-”

He paused and looked up. 

Penelope took a step backwards. This had to stop. It was madness.  “I-I can’t do this right now. I-”

His face creased in confusion. “Pen?”

She began pushing her shirt back into her jeans. “I need to think. I need to sleep. I-” She sighed and pursed her lips. She couldn’t believe what was happening. She couldn’t believe what she was doing.

He responded with a small nod and a whispered, “Okay.” He reached back and placed his hand on the doorknob, before adding, “Later?’

And Penelope tried to smile.

Colin left, the door closing softly, followed by the clip of footsteps and the creak of her gate. Quickly, she locked the door and then stared at it.

And then Penelope Featherington started to cry.

Oh god, what the hell just happened?

To Be Continued...

[timebird84]

🎄 PotO Advent Calendar 2020 🎄

By @notaghost3​

Summary: Christmas is fast approaching and Christine still has no idea what to get Erik for their first Christmas. However, when inspiration strikes, she didn’t exactly ask for help…especially not from the cat.

Modern AU. E/C. Set in my “The Belonging You Seek” Universe but can be read just fine on its own!

Tangled Up in You

Not A Ghost3

The fairy lights in the store window twinkled white as they walked by, Christine’s eyes lingering on the decorations just through the glass.

“…I mean it’s our first Christmas as married couple- what do I even get him? It can’t be tacky; I don’t do tacky. I was thinking a nice watch, but he already has one and…”

Christine sighed and resisted rolling her eyes as she wrapped her arm tighter around Megs elbow. The crosswalk sign blinked red in front of them as it waited for the cars to finish passing. 

She thought she might scream if she had to hear Meg contemplate what to get her dearest husband for Christmas again.

But here she was, and she wasn’t screaming.

She shook her head; her own willpower to keep their friendship alive really surprised her sometimes.

Instead of screaming she just nudged Meg playfully to the side- effectively (albeit temporarily) shutting her up.

“Meg,” she said, firm in her tone but a smile on her lips. “Raoul will love whatever you get him. Because it’s from you.”

She emphasized the last word with a playful wink, careful to hide the bitterness that built like bile in the back of her throat. It didn’t do any good to let the past control her present or her friends. 

At least that’s what she’d been telling herself. And it was working…to some degree.

“Yeah, I just want it to be perfect you know? It’s a special one, you only get a first Christmas together once…I want it to be memorable,” Meg replied, practically dragging her across the street as the crosswalk light signaled it was safe to cross.

Christine laughed at that, stumbling to catch her footing on the other side of the street. “However it turns out, I’m positive it’ll be memorable…this is you we’re talking about.”

Meg rolled her eyes and readjusted the purse on her shoulder. 

“I know, I know…” then Meg got that look in her eyes.

That mischievous, I-know-more-than-I-should, smirky look of hers.

“Well, let’s not forget that I’m not the only one celebrating a first Christmas together, hm?” Meg chided, wagging her finger playfully in front of Christine’s face as they walked to the next store.

Christine couldn’t help the blush that she knew crept on to her cheeks or the way that she glanced down to avoid Meg’s peering gaze.

It was true. It was a Christmas of firsts all around.

“Yeah, yeah…” she smiled, shaking her head in disbelief. It seemed like only yesterday had been February and today was a week and half before Christmas—

She supposed time really did fly when you were happy. 

“Sooooo…what do you and Erik have planned? Oh wait! Don’t tell me…uh…ice skating? No, no he wouldn’t do that…um—”

Christine laughed, cutting her off. “Erik wouldn’t be caught dead ice skating, not in public at least. You know him. He has social anxiety; he doesn’t like people.”

Meg cocked a grin then. “Well he certainly likes one at least.”

Christine shook her head, her smile growing larger. “Hey, he likes you too, and your mom!”

“Oh I know, I know…but you know what I mean…” she trailed off as she unwound her arm from Christines and opened the door to the jewelry store she had next on her list. “I will say, it was a little strange with you two at first…I mean he held me as a baby—”

“Erik is not that old—”

“Well I was practically a baby, Chris! I might as well have called him Uncle—”

Christine raised an eyebrow at that, never having heard that one before. “Are you telling me you’re going to start calling me aunt or something?” She barely got the sentence out through her giggles as she eyed a pair of sparkling earrings in their glass case.

Meg’s eyes were wide as she turned back to her, mouth open. “Are you trying to tell me…” instead of finishing the sentence she wiggled her left hand’s fingers, pointing to her own sizable wedding ring.

Christine picked up on what she was implying before she could say another word. “Oh no. No. No, I was just saying that. We haven’t…we’ve barely talked about it really ah…no. No ring,” she flustered, eyes quickly finding anywhere— anything— else to look at to distract her from Meg’s prying eyes and smug smile. 

She wasn’t lying. There was no ring, no promise of marriage, and they really hadn’t truly talked about it. The word had been thrown into the air a few times sure but…they hadn’t even dated for a whole year yet, really. She didn’t want to move too fast and jump into things; she’d done that before and paid for it. As Meg was a daily reminder of. But that was different, Erik was different.

She felt like wherever he was she was home, and that was a feeling she’d learned not to take for granted.

Maybe she did want to marry him, maybe she did want the ring and the house and the kids and the perfect little movie life.

But maybe Erik didn’t.

She didn’t know.

“It’s only been like eight months since we started dating, Meg…” she shrugged at Meg’s now somewhat disappointed look. 

“No, I shouldn’t have assumed, but you can’t blame me for hoping— I just want you happy, Chris!”

She gave Meg a small smile at that before turning back to the same dangling earrings from before.

“Any idea what you’re getting him for Christmas?” Meg asked, coming to stand close beside her.

Christine shook her head, moving on to look at the next pair. “No idea. What do you get someone who can already buy whatever they want?”

Meg nodded. “I know the feeling…”

Christine blew out a puff of air, making a loose hair curl fly up and then back down in front of her face.

“Well doesn’t he like those nerdy things? What about some…I don’t know…Legos? Is that even right?”

She laughed at Meg’s willingness to help and shook her head. “He already has too many of those in his basement. He is an architect after all. Besides…I want something better than that, something personal, y’know?” 

It was Meg’s turn to shrug then, picking up a bracelet off a display holder. “Well, I suppose there’s always a watch, right?”

Christine laughed, but on the inside sighed.

A week and a half until Christmas.

What was she going to get him?

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Christine closed the fridge door as she felt a pair of hands come up behind her, snaking around her waist.

“Well good morning to you too,” she chuckled, turning around in his arms and pressing a soft kiss to his lips.

He was still in his flannel pajama pants and sweatshirt...it must be nice to work from home she supposed. She had dressed while he slept and she usually bid him goodbye while he was still in bed, his cat faithfully curled up asleep beside him.

He hummed against her.

“Did I tell you I found it?” He said, unlacing his arms and walking towards the laundry basket that sat in one of their kitchen chairs. 

She shook her head, popping the lid onto her coffee cup that she’d pulled out of the fridge. “No, what’d you find?”

He made a show of holding up his hand for her to wait as he dug through the laundry before raising a tattered clump of red yarn up in the air.

“Ta da!” He sang as he shook the yarn out, a long scarf tumbling out of the clumped form as he did.

“Oh Erik!” She exclaimed as she hurried over to the kitchen table, taking her scarf from his hands and wrapping it around her throat and tucking the ends into the coat she had already put on. (She was honestly running a bit behind and if she didn’t leave soon she would have to find a better excuse than “I lost my favorite lost scarf” because she’d already used that one and she didn’t like repeating excuses unless they were necessary.

“Yeah, I’m afraid Ayesha had hidden it by the washer with the rest of her treasures,” he chuckled, giving the cat that sat licking her paws on the floor the side eye.

Christine bent down and rubbed Ayesha’s ears (earning a side eye from the cat herself) “This isn’t a kitty toy, silly—” 

“Can’t really blame her, it’s just about in tatters, she probably mistook it for a ball of string.” He shrugged, straightening the clothes he had disrupted in the laundry basket.

She frowned at that, standing back up. “It’s not in tatters,” she was quick to defend the simple scarf around her neck, “it’s just…well-loved that’s all.”

She watched as he rolled his eyes and picked up the laundry basket of their clothes to go put away.

“Well loved or not, it’s looking rough. Why don’t you just let me buy you a new one?”

“No!” She said a bit too quickly, making him stop in his path on the way back to the bedroom of their apartment. 

“No, it’s special. My mom made it for me and…” she glanced at the floor, picking at the loose threads of her coat. “It’s really all I have left of her besides her locket. I barely remember her as it is and…”

She kept rambling until she heard the gentle clatter of the laundry basket being sent down and then there was a pair of arms around her again, holding her close. She didn’t cry, she usually reserved tears for when the pain of her father not being there anymore hit, but it still hurt.

A lot.

“Shh…don’t feel like you have to convince me. My own mother never made me anything, I didn’t even think about it. Don’t listen to me…” he trailed off as he pressed a kiss to the top of her head and then pulled back, holding her by her shoulders.

“Now you’re gonna be late if you don’t leave,” he reminded her, scooping the laundry basket back into his arms, and calling Ayesha to follow him. 

“I’ll miss you,” she smiled as she picked her keys up off the counter and watched him walk towards the bedroom. 

“I’ll miss you more,” he called over his shoulder before the door shut behind him.

But the words lingered in her mind as she opened the hallway door to her apartment and stepped out:

My own mother never made me anything…

She nodded to herself.

She had a very good idea what to get him for Christmas now. 

XXX

Christine had never knit anything before in her life. 

Never. 

But here she was, red yarn and steel needles in her hand, “how-to-knit-for-beginners” tutorial video pulled up on her laptop in front of her on her bed and bedroom door locked in case of curious well-meaning eyes.

She could do this.

She’d already watched the video and it didn’t look that hard. It was just loops. And more loops and more loops and then a knot — she could do this!

Her first attempt was…less than useful. Her stitches kept dropping and she couldn’t understand why in the world the yarn was so tight around the needles. It looked so easy when other people did it!

She’d just have to start over.

And she did. Three, four…eight more times until she got a steady start and a few neat rows of stitches done. She held her work up to admire it, the Sunday afternoon light streaming in through the window. She took a moment to glance out the window, watching the snow as it softly fell. Maybe they’d actually have a white Christmas this year. It seemed like the snow was just narrowly skipping around Christmas the past few years and it would be so nice to wake up to snow—

She felt her pile of excess yarn uncoil from her lap and then a tug against her knitting needles. She raised an eyebrow and looked down:

Her yarn was gone.

“What the…” she looked around herself but then followed the taught string to the edge of the bed and then looked to the floor beneath it.

Ah ha.

Blissfully tangled up in the dark red yarn was Ayesha, chewing on one end of the string and batting a bundle of it with her back paws.

“Ayesha!” She whispered harshly, careful to not be too loud in case Erik realized she’d locked herself in their bedroom on purpose. She hadn’t known the cat was in here when she came in, she must’ve been sleeping under the bed…again. 

Ayesha merely stared up at her from where she played on her back, still attempting to eat a bit of the string.

“Bad cat,” she scolded as she reached down to wrestle the thread from the cat’s grasp (not an easy feat mind you, Ayesha had claws like a bear) and pile it back up on the bed with her. She wiped the wet string on her shirt; Erik wouldn’t mind, it was his cat after all.

“There now,” she said to herself, situating herself back into an easy pattern of slowly knitting and eyeing the yarn.

She heard a familiar “meow” and then the rustle of the comforter as Ayesha leaped up on to the bed, determined to play with her newfound toy.

“Ayesha, no,” she said firmly, pulling most of the string close to her side. “This is for your daddy, not for you.”

Ayesha slowly blinked back at her.

She swore that sometimes that cat and Erik made the same faces. 

She settled on gently batting the actual ball of yarn around the bed after realizing that Christine wasn’t going to let her have the loose string that she knitted with. Everything was going okay then; Ayesha was being quiet, her yarn stitches didn’t look a total hot mess, and Erik’s new handmade scarf was slowly coming together.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

It was a few days before Christmas and she’d made good headway on the scarf, only having a few more rows to make and to be honest, she was quite proud of herself.

Maybe she should pick up more yarn and make him a whole set of things: a hat…gloves…a sweater…

She stopped herself there. Knitting a scarf only involved knitting in a straight line and maybe that was enough for her right now.

She pulled her coat tighter as she walked up the stairs to her apartment, digging around for her keys in her pocket as she neared her door. Erik was constantly thanking her for letting him move in, but she thought she might explode if she had to tell him one more time that she wanted him there. After all, she certainly wasn’t about to move in with Erik. 

He’d been living in his friend Nadir’s basement. 

Basement. 

Nadir had a wife and a baby nearly due and she was honestly the one who convinced him to move in with her. 

Though she knew good and well he still had a lot of belongings in that man’s basement. 

Nadir was a saint for putting up with him. 

She shook her head as she reached her door, putting the key in the lock—

She stopped.

She could hear a muffled voice on the other side — Erik’s — and some rushed footsteps.

Her door never unlocked slower it seemed.

Was something wrong? Had there been an emergency? She had just been thinking about Nadir and Mandy— had their baby come early?

“Erik?” She called out as she opened the door.

She didn’t see him.

“Erik?” She tried again, shutting the door behind her and poking her head into the kitchen. Not here either.

Her eyes roamed the living area until she saw it. 

A long red string. 

Christine’s eyes widened. 

She followed the trail of string all the way to the the bedroom door that was cracked open.

“No, no, no…” she whispered to herself as she pushed the door open, already dreading the sight of what she was sure would be waiting for her—

Instead it was Erik, back to her but facing the bed, Ayesha looking a bit too proud of herself perched on the edge of the bed.

“Erik?” She said again but was interrupted.

“Did you…” a swallow, “did you make this?” Erik asked softly as he turned around, half-unraveled scarf held gently in his hands. 

She felt the heat rising to her cheeks.

Of course the damn cat would blow her secret.

She nodded, coming to stand next to the bed with him. 

“Yeah, I…well it’s silly,” she tripped over her words as she sat down on the bed beside Ayesha, giving her a pat on the head to distract herself. “I was so sad that your mom had never made you anything and I treasure my old red scarf so much for that exact reason and well…” she looked up at him.

His eyes very nearly had tears in them, just waiting for the right moment to fall.

“I thought I’d make you a matching one,” she finished with a shrug before looking back at Ayesha. “It’s not that good, and this one keeps unraveling it and—”

“Hey,” his voice was low as she felt him take her hands in his. 

She let her eyes drift back to him and watch him kneel beside the bed, so he was eye level with her where she sat. 

“It’s perfect.”

And he looked so genuinely happy when he said it that Christine laughed in spite of herself and squeezed his hands. “Really? I can remake it—”

He shook his head as he put the scarf over his head then threw the other end around his neck, a purple knitting needle still hanging off on one end.

“How could I not love it?” Erik said, bringing his hands back down to hold hers. “You made it for me.”

Gosh she loved it when he smiled.

She bent forward and kissed him, still holding his hands tight in hers. “I just wanted our first Christmas to be special,” she breathed against his lips as they parted, feeling her own eyes start to well up with tears of her own (out of happiness or pent-up frustration that Ayesha had ruined her Christmas surprise she wasn’t sure).

“Christine any day with you is special,” he said in that tone of his that made her heart drop and knees weak.

She smiled and shook her head.

“Well, now I need to find you a new Christmas present,” she forced out a laugh despite the tears that now rolled down her cheeks.

Erik swiped at them with his thumb, holding her face in his hands before pressing a quick kiss to her forehead.

“Oh nonsense, this is Christmas gift enough…”

But then he winked and stood up.

“Besides, if you really feel like getting me something else, I’m sure Wal-Mart still has that Yoda Lego set I was eyeing up last week…”

[jungcity]

𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞, 𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐚𝐥.

genre: romance, fantasy, erotica

au: fallen angel, reincarnation

pairing: jung jaehyun x female reader

note: This is a work of fiction. The portrayal of the celebrities included in this story does not reflect their true nature in real life. I am just using them as a way to bring life into the story and to give entertainment to readers. Concerning the plot which is about Lucifer, I do not— in any means— sympathize with the devil and I do not intend to offend any religion. Furthermore, I discourage you to continue reading if you feel uncomfortable with this type of stories. I’d appreciate it if you'll leave some feedbacks! Thank you so much!

“he was the worse of his kind—

dared the Almighty with

pride in his mind.

banished from heaven,

the infamous fallen.

the one you cannot tame;

lucifer, that is his name.”

Unable to process the words printed out in the sheet of paper that was in your hands, you stare dat your termination contract with dread slowly creeping up into your face. Maybe you want to scream or to cry– heck, you have no idea what to feel as yet another hindrance towards a stable life lay heavy in your palms. An exhausted exhale of breath escaped your lips as the realization hit you– you were indeed terminated by the management of the fast-food chain you were working on for the reason that they could not meet their quota anymore and they had to terminate some employees. Unfortunately, you are one of those workers.

You have witnessed as the same dread fell upon your co-workers while they skimmed the paper in their hands. The fast-food chain stood as your only means to support yourself and your sister, so you never once took it for granted and did your work diligently despite the low wages and the awful workplace it had offered. Now, you have to find another job or else you will surely die of hunger.

You do have a talent in arts, and you graduated with a fine arts degree. But life after college was beyond what you had expected when you were still studying. You had anticipated to have a stable job suited for your skills, but life did not go as you planned. Your mother fell sick and died a year after you graduated, leaving you and your sister all alone. From that day onwards, you became the modern Atlas who carried the world in your shoulders. Yet you couldn’t complain. And despite all of the hardships, you only felt the need to take care of your little sister even more.

You continued walking the side streets like a ragged doll being pulled sluggishly by whatever force there was, thinking of other ways to get by tomorrow. Being jobless wouldn’t be so hard if you didn’t have another mouth to feed. Your sister will be a freshman in college next year, and that’s the sole reason why you needed to work your butt off harder than before. And life isn’t really helping right now. So you grabbed your phone and rang your best friend’s number. She picked up after fifteen seconds.

“Hey, gorge—”

“I am jobless,” you greeted Soojin. There was a surprised ‘oh’ in the other line and you could imagine your best friend looking at you pitifully. It made you bite your lower lip to fight the urge to cry in front of the judging eyes of the city.

“Tell me, is there something I can do to help?”

“I don’t know what to do anymore. I am deep in fucking debt and Yuqi’s going to college soon. I couldn’t possibly pay for our rent with my current situation— oh. I am a mess!” You heaved a deep sigh, your chest constricting from all the emotions you were keeping locked up inside you. Different set of eyes were on you as you tried not to crumple in the side streets. There were adults giving you sympathetic looks and children almost laughing at you.

“Hey! Hey, Y/N! Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale!” You did as you were told. Gulping a large amount of air, you didn’t even bother how polluted it was now that you were in the heart of the town. You have to get a new job before you lose your mind.

“Okay, is everything calmer now?” Soojin asked.

“Yes. Yes,” you replied, still taking deep breaths.

“I could recommend a job, Y/N.”

Your ears perked up. “I’m listening.”

“But it wouldn’t be an easy one,” she sighed on the other line before continuing, “The job is right here in Jung’s Fiscals. Luckily for you, the former secretary of Mr. Jung decided to resign today; rumor has it that it’s because of the cold and ruthless demeanor of our CEO. I know you’re fit for the job because you’re one hell of a hard working bitch. However, I want you to give it a thought. Mr. Jung is not someone to mess with. Heck, he does not even—”

You replied before she even had the chance to finish her sentence, “I’ll take it. I’m really not in the position to say no to a job right now, am I? I badly need one so whatever the character of this Mr. Jung, I’d cooperate with him.”

You heard your best friend sigh in defeat. She knows you too well to try to stop you. So she simply directed you to prepare your resumé and other documents for the interview tomorrow.

“God! Thank you!” You kissed the mic of your phone as thanks to your best friend-slash-life savior.

You were too desperate to even think about her advice and the possibility of the CEO mistreating you. As long as there is money in your card to support your sister and food on your table, you are always ready to serve anyone— even if that person was forged straight from the womb of the devil.

All energetic and ready to take the challenge of the world again, you blew your friend one last kiss before ending the call and trudging towards the bus stop.

It was a night of simple ready-to-eat-ramen pack. Your sister had already known about your termination and currently feels bad that there is nothing she could do to help.

“It’s okay. Worry about school and nothing else, Yuqi,” you told her. The younger girl pouted her lips, reluctance clear on her face. “And I could not possibly let you work. We know enough not to overwork you.”

She has a weak stamina. Asthmatic since she was a kid, you never allowed her to do any part-time jobs for the fear that it would take a toll on her health. You couldn’t afford to lose the only relative you have, so every attempt of hers to help you boils down to nothing.

“I mean, who am I in this household? I don’t want to be a leech, sucking all your money and energy like that.” She scrunched up her nose.

“Yuqi, it’s my responsibility to take care of you. This is nothing, really.”

Even though you had almost lost your mind earlier thinking about the fact that you were indeed jobless, you tried to show your strong façade and smiled encouragingly to your sister. The least that you want right now is to worry her.

“Not to mention that you have to work in that wretched company– where the CEO is Jung Jaehyun. I’ve heard a lot of rumors about him, you know. They say he fucks—”

“Language, please,” you warned with a glare.

Yuqi rolled her eyes before continuing, “They say, he brings famous models into his penthouse every single night. And some say he does it even in his own office.” She talked while pointing her chopstick at you, munching her food deliciously like it was the best ramen she has ever tasted.

“Well, let’s be glad I am not a model then.” You shrugged. The both of you laughed.

She rambled about Jung Jaehyun the whole dinner with you, half-listening to her. Yuqi almost sounded like she was a fan and you seriously couldn’t grasp the need to be cautious towards Jung Jaehyun. You were hell-bent to impress him tomorrow that you refused to indulge yourself around the bad rumors circulating his name and well-being. All that matters to you is you are going to get that job, and you will do your best to stay in that office long enough to support your sister’s education.

This is the day where your fate is divided into two. You have a chance to make everything better for you and your sister, or you can prove that your life has been cursed and there is no more hope to rescue it from the depths of poverty.

The fate is in your hands and right now, your palms are sweating and your hands are trembling. Shaking your head and clearing your mind— with a determined heart— you trudge inside the thirty-story building of Jung’s Fiscals.

You were greeted by your best friend, Soojin. She was wearing a slightly loose pencil skirt paired with simple white polo sleeves. Her hair was styled into a neat bun, just like any other girl at the front desk. You have presumed that that would also be your hairstyle once you got the job.

“You got this,” Soojin mumbled as she led you towards the elevator. Unfortunately for you, she couldn’t accompany you all the way to Mr. Jung’s office for the reason that the building is buzzing with work and she couldn’t leave her position at the front desk for too long. You wave her a nervous goodbye before pushing the button on to the 28th floor.

There was really something about CEOs preferring to locate their offices on the top floor of their building. It was not like you mind, but you truly couldn’t believe that it really happens in real life. You once thought that they only appear in televisions.

Surrounded by the shiny metal covers of the elevator’s interior, you decided to check on your clothes and overall appearance. You have picked your best set of formal clothes for this day because you obviously wanted to impress the CEO and look presentable on your possible first day of work.

After a few minutes of standing alone inside the shiny elevator, it finally dinged and opened. You step outside, eyes roaming around the surroundings before taking a step forward. A nice and wide room greeted you as you walked through. The secretary’s table was made of polished wood, with the company’s logo engraved in gold. There were sets of black marble columns at the back and two comfortable armchairs in front of the secretary’s table to serve as a waiting area.

A woman, with the same bun as Soojin, stood up from her seat to greet you. Unlike your best friend, she was wearing a brown blazer that slightly hugged her waist and a fitted black dress underneath it. In your own opinion, she was too young to resign in this prestigious company. Which made your mind fall back into thinking that maybe the rumors were true– that the CEO, indeed, mistreats his employees.

“Good morning, Miss. Mr. Jung is ready to meet you.” She greeted with a slight bow. Her whole aura screamed professionalism. Something that you were not acquainted with— being a former waitress at a fast-food chain. All you had to do was take orders and smile and obey inquiries but you had never, ever, worked in a place where those aforementioned skills were almost nothing compared to the huge building that you were— hopefully— going to work in. Although, you suppose you have a bit of advantage when it comes to noting something and smiling. The only difference is that, rather than French fries and diet coke, you would have to take notes about meetings and business trips.

You breathed slowly, calming your nerves. The woman must have heard your heart thumping against your chest since she hesitated to open the door.

“Just be yourself, Miss. Do not worry too much. You’ll get through this.” She offered you a kind smile. You couldn’t help but think that she was accompanying you towards your own doom. You returned the smile even as you felt your lips wobble. A few inhales and exhales later, you told her you were ready. She slowly opened the door to Mr. Jung’s office and Jesus Christ— you thought you would collapse by the expansive space that greeted you in.

Typical CEO, he was obviously sitting on his swivel chair, the back of it facing you and the secretary. You have guessed he was looking at the spectacular view outside. The interior of his office wasn’t quite different from the secretary’s. Floor-to-ceiling glass windows that overlooked the skyscrapers and buzzing life outside. Light brown wood with grey walls surrounded you, partnered with black leather furniture. Hints of gold in the CEO’s table were also visible and there were minimalistic abstract paintings with the same hue as everything in the room.

Jung Jaehyun. CEO. — was printed on the glass plaque on top of his table.

“Leave us.” He said without turning his chair. The voice was deep and raspy— clean and masculine— the kind of voice from someone who knows he was in authority and that he owns the whole place.

Shivering, you almost begged the woman not to leave you with the predator sitting not two meters away from you. The secretary gave you an encouraging nod before turning on her heels and walking away. At the sound of the door clicking close, the swivel chair whirled.

You expected to see a grey-haired, middle-aged man to greet you. As a large company like this one, the CEO wouldn’t be as young as the man in front of you now. You tried to focus your breathing because fuck— the man is beyond gorgeous. It has been a while since you had encountered a creature as beautiful as him.

Hair, raven black against the white swivel chair that stood out in the whole room like a throne only for his to take, his lips were too red as a freshly plucked cherry against his pale skin— so white you could almost see the blues and the violets of his veins. And those eyes— the perfect dark brown; screams calmness after the storm and the rage of the hurricane fused together.

“Are you quite done staring?”

His voice shot you back to reality. You prayed to the saints that you hadn’t been drooling as you took in his whole features. If that was the case?You were absolutely doomed. Your chances of ever being hired beginning to thin.

“I… my apologies, Sir.” You bowed your head, suddenly confused as to why your body reacted that way. This is not a medieval fantasy where you were inclined to bow before the king, but the man in front of you exudes the energy of the likeliness of a monarch and it felt right to bow in front of him.

He didn’t answer. You could only assume that he was looking through your documents by the sound of the papers shuffling.

“Fine arts degree? To a waitress?” His words ended with a ‘hm?’. He almost sounded disgusted by your resume. It made the veins on your temple ticked but you really couldn’t blame him. The job that you landed on after graduating wasn’t really what you expected after those too many sleepless nights struggling to finish all your plates.

“And with this basic resume…” Your head automatically recovered from the bow and your eyes stared at him. He didn’t call your resume basic, right? But he did. It was crystal clear in your ears, ringing in your mind. And all your hopes of getting the job were gone in an instant. “… why should I hire you?” he finished.

His eyes were emotionless but his voice was taunting. Despite the insult of calling your resume basic, you smiled at him. It was your time to prove yourself and there was no stopping you now.

You cleared your throat, “Because I am a hard-working woman ready to give you her utmost effort—”

“You’re hired.” He simply declared with a wave of his hand.

You blinked, doubtful of the words that you have heard. “Sir?”

“You’re hired. Go and talk to Maggie about everything that you need to know,” he coldly stated, not looking at you but into his computer.

You could really jump from happiness, right in front of him. And you didn’t even care that he interrupted the speech which you practiced all night with the hopes to impress him. What truly matters is you got a new job not twenty-four-hours after you were terminated from that wretched fast-food chain. However, you wouldn’t provoke him to fire you on your first day so you remained calm.

“Thank you, Sir!”

Clasping your hands together was the only vessel you have to let go of a fraction of the happiness that you have felt. You turned on your heels with a smile that could reach your ears. But before you could open the door, he spoke again.

“Try harder when it comes to your clothes, next time. They don’t match mine.”

It was the best pair of formal clothes in your wardrobe. You inhaled sharply and faced him with the same smile, already not so fond of your newly-acclaimed boss.

“Alright, Sir. I understand.”

Then you dashed outside, instantly regretting being his secretary even before your job to serve him had begun.

The secretary, Maggie, introduced you your new workplace. She must’ve seen how happy you were when you departed Mr. Jung’s office that she automatically guided you towards the secretary’s table with a smile.

Her corner was neat, the folders clearly stacked on one end and notebooks at the side. The computer was placed on the right corner alongside the telephone. It was easy to move around since everything is in its place.

Then she guided you towards the pantry. It was decorated with the same brown, grey, black hues with a hint of gold accents. Adjacent to it is the meeting area, composed of the same black leather furniture and a glass table partnered with a minimalistic chandelier. Everything around you looks so expensive that you felt out of place all of a sudden.

“Mr. Jung wants his coffee a little bit warm in the morning. There’s a coffee maker ready, you just have to watch a few coffee making videos and you’re gonna be alright.” You shared a chuckle. It would seem as if Jung Jaehyun is meticulous when it comes to his coffee. So you mentally reminded yourself to watch some coffee making videos tonight.

“Sometimes he likes it cold. Plus, he usually drinks iced-americano. Easy to make,” she said with a wink.

Is working for Jung Jaehyun also requires you to be a barista? Cool.

“For his breakfast, you have to ask him every morning if he’d like to eat. More of the times he does not. And I think one of his personal pet peeves is when someone wastes food. So be careful about that.”

You listed everything she has told you, emphasizing the words ‘ask him’ to remind yourself not to impulsively make him food for there was no guarantee that he was going to eat.

“On the days that he wants to have breakfast, he usually likes to eat scrambled eggs with slices of bacon and don’t forget about the apples. He loves apples,” she exaggerated, “You just have to cut them in equal pieces or else he won’t eat them.”

Bringing a ruler with you won’t do any harm, right? So you listed it together with the reminders that Maggie informed you of. She continued walking you through the works that she does: from the emails that you need to go through to make sure no insignificant message would irate Mr. Jung, to her techniques in taking notes and arranging schedules for the boss.

“And there’s a proper uniform made for you,” she said while eyeing you from head to toe. But not in an insulting manner like what Jung Jaehyun did. Her scrutinizing was more on the calculating side. It would appear as though she was mentally analyzing your body size.

“On Mondays, Wednesdays, Fridays– you will have to wear this same outfit as I am wearing.” By that, she means the dress and the brown blazer.

“Tuesdays, and Thursdays, you have to wear slacks the same color as this blazer. It’s paired with white silky polo sleeves. Nothing uncomfortable, don’t worry,” she chuckles. But your tongue wanted to ask whether you were going to buy your own set of clothes. The uniform looked so neat and expensive that by the lookds of it, surely you do not have the luxury to buy one. As if reading through your knitted brows, Maggie told you that all uniforms are provided by the company. Thank God.

“On Saturdays, you can wear anything you like. Just be mindful of it. Mr. Jung does not like it when his secretary—”

“Wears cheap clothing? And does not match with his?” You finished the sentence for her. It was the sentiment of the CEO before you exited his office.

Maggie’s lips was formed in a thin line, telling you to go along with it. “It’s not exactly like that. But you have to at least try to catch up to his fashion sense.”

Well— Jesus Christ— the man exhales the air of Balmain and Versace and you do not have the richest to afford a Chanel outfit to pair with him even if you sell your soul to the devil.

“Is that… really necessary?” You asked her, clearly agitated. If that was what the CEO wants, you would gladly go back and work in that cursed fast-food chain and wear the same uniform six days a week than thinking about robbing a famous clothing brands’ store every fucking day to match his highness’ clothes.

“Yes. But don’t worry. The clothes I wear every Saturdays were all thrifted. You just have to really dig every clothes to find a decent one.” She winked at you. You smiled at her nervously. You wouldn’t trust yourself thrifting clothes, simply because you do not have the patience for it. But your little sister, Yuqi, does. So you would have to trust her taste and maybe she wouldn’t feel so helpless anymore once you give her the task.

“That’s pretty much all you have to know,” Maggie declares while clasping her hands together. You suddenly felt the need to ask her the reason why she was resigning. But it seemed too personal to inquire. You shrugged and let the question die in your mind.

“How long have you been working here?” You asked instead. She smiled at you, looking around the place like she was reliving some kind of memories.

“I interned in this place when I was still in college. Mr. Jung applauded my performance so I decided to work here when I graduated. It’s been three years, to be exact.”

Jung Jaehyun must’ve been owning this empire at such a young age, based on Maggie’s story. He was the CEO when she was still in college until now. You wonder how old he was when he took this company.

“Mr. Jung’s must’ve been really young when he took over this company,” you voiced. Maggie nodded and told you she was impressed by how young yet clever Jung Jaehyun is to be managing a top company such as Jung’s Fiscals.

After a few minutes of small talk and reminders, Maggie bid you goodbye. Her things were all gathered and she was ready to go even before she walked you through the rules and reminders of the company. However, before she left, you asked the one question that you have been itching to know the answer to the very moment you walked out of Mr. Jung’s office.

“Is he… is he really terrible? Like in the rumors?” You know it was not pleasant to ask such things regarding your boss. But you need at least some warnings before you dive in headfirst to the trouble.

Maggie chuckled and you didn’t know if that was a good sign or not. “He doesn’t mistreat his employees. It’s more like, he doesn’t really care enough. I don’t know. He’s excellent in his field but he’s aloof towards everyone. Never really socializing and talking outside of business.” Maggie smiled and you hate to be the one to noticed it, but it seems like she adores Mr. Jung. With the possibility of romantic feelings bubbling beneath her weak facade.

Before you knew it, your tongue is rolling and asking the question you whispered only to yourself. “Do you like him?”

At your question, all the professionalism deteriorated from Maggie’s presence. She looked like a giddy thirteen-year-old lovesick teenager when she answered, “Who wouldn’t like him? The man is like, rich-rich. And that aura? That body? I’d let him spit on me.”

You were slightly disgusted by the latter but you were not going to argue that Jung Jaehyun is indeed the kind of man who could easily wreck you. Physically, mentally, and emotionally. He has that power in him and you know it the second you laid your eyes on that beautifully cruel face. Those eyes— oh boy— eyes that could make you feel alive but drown and capture you within the depths of them— yet his looks; looks that could almost kill. Men like him know their place, and that is above everyone else— including you.

Your first week went smoothly. There were new emails sent to Jung Jaehyun’s inbox that you need to check. There was also a telephone call, once, from a girl named Chaelin who wishes to visit Jaehyun once his schedule wasn’t too jampacked to bother. You silently asked your boss whether he would allow it, checking his schedules first before asking. He told you to insert Chaelin’s visit on one of his them. That made you wonder if she was one of those rumored models caught leaving Jaehyun’s penthouse and office. But you shook your mind off the thought. Clearly, you have no business wondering about those kinds of things. He is your boss and you are his secretary. You would never meddle in his personal life.

Maggie was right, Jung Jaehyun was indeed aloof. He eats alone and employees never really stay in his office longer than ten minutes. Maximum. And they would always come out with their hand on their chest, heaving a deep sigh. He didn’t welcome small talk and he was all about business. Slowly, you have grounded and reminded yourself exactly where your place was inside the office; and that is inside his territory, but out of his life.

It was easy to master the perfect taste of his coffee. And yes, you would admit, you almost collapsed on your knees when he first tasted your office-made americano. You even stayed for two minutes after he took a sip, hoping for some good comments but he just raised a brow at you. That was your cue to exit. Just like what Maggie reminded you, Jung Jaehyun does not eat breakfast often as a normal person would. But today, he finally ordered one.

Chaelin, who called you, finally arrived fifteen-minutes ago. If Jaehyun looked like a king, Chaelin was his queen — or so you assume. She carried the dominant female aura in her; ash grey hair, red lips, and red bottoms, with a 90’s silk dress hugging her body paired with a Chanel purse. Everything about her screams perfection. You were glad that she smiled softly towards you after you guided her towards Mr. Jung’s office; making you more comfortable in her presence instantly. Maybe that was why you were preparing breakfast for the duo.

The whole office is lonesome. The surrounding eerily silent with literally only the three of you on the whole floor. All you could hear was the crisp sound of the slices of bacon as you fry them, and the thud of the knife against the chopping board as you prepare his apples— fresh and pristine on the plate.

Everything was ready in twenty-five minutes. You placed the food on a clean tray before walking towards Mr. Jung’s office. Balancing all of it with your hip, you pushed the door slightly. The main office stood empty before you, but you heard their murmurs silently echoing from the meeting area that was adjacent to Mr. Jung’s office.

Reluctant to barge in without asking for their permission, your steps slowed. But Mr. Jung ordered for a breakfast today, he must have been hungry. You did not want to make him wait, or his visitor— so you inhaled and exhaled, continuing your walk towards the meeting area.

“So basically, this visit is to tell me to clean up your own mess?”

You heard Mr. Jung asked, contempt clear in his voice. It definitely felt like the conversation is not for anyone to hear. You hesitated in your position.

“This is not my mess. It’s theirs. How many times—” Chaelin was obviously frustrated by the tone of her voice. You heard a playful chuckle from your boss, interrupting the lady’s discourse.

“And how many times do I have to tell you that I. Do. Not. Give. A. Flying. Fuck.”

“Come on! You’re the only creature here on Earth who could do what needs to be done.” Chaelin sounded tired, worn out from the male’s large ego.

You were about to turn on your heel and walk away, the conversation clearly was between both of them alone, and you didn’t mean to eavesdrop. You were just torn between serving their food or walking away. You started doing the latter until Mr. Jung’s voice boomed in the whole office that you literally felt the plates in the tray shook.

“Who’s there?!”

You froze on your spot— and your breathing too. It wasn’t just a question. It was a scream of command to reveal yourself. You didn’t even know how he had known someone staying outside the meeting area. Before you could run away from the scene, you heard footsteps coming your way. You turned around to face your boss, you regretted doing so. He was looking at you with his emotionless eyes. And you felt a trickle ran down your spine as he continued walking towards you— grabbing your arms like he wanted to crush your bones. You were too shocked to even feel the pain but it was there, slowly slicing through your skin, certain it was going to leave a bruise.

“What did you hear?” He asked, rage evident in his voice. Chaelin was looking at the both of you, not enjoying the scene but also anticipating for your answer.

You squeezed your eyes shut because you couldn’t stand looking at his eyes as they seemed to burn you to ashes. “N-nothing, Sir.” You trembled.

He pinned you down with that same, deadly stare. His body only a tray away from yours, you could smell his spicy perfume mixing with the smell of portions of bacon and eggs. And his face, too close, so close he almost seemed familiar. He stared at you, not saying anything with his mouth but shooting you death threats with his eyes. You couldn’t stand it. Your knees began to wobble but before you could lose your balance, Chaelin decided to intrude.

“Jaehyun, let go of the girl. She’s telling the truth.”

His hand automatically slid away from your arms. He drew a frustrated sigh, running his hand through his raven-black hair. You let out a sigh of relief. But it was short-lived as he spoke with his toneless voice again.

“Get the fuck out of this room. Now.” His back facing you while he gripped the edge of the table.

You gathered all your strength, placing the tray on the small table two steps away from you. You were dumbfounded and beyond scared, you didn’t even bother to arrange their plates, you dashed towards the door like a contender in a marathon.

The moment the oak door closed behind you only did you allow yourself to breathe. It came out shaky. But surprisingly, there were no tears rolling down your cheeks. You simply clutched your chest; the pain in your arm numb because of your fear.

It was only your first week. Yet all you wanted to do was resign and get the hell out of the building.

With a glass of liquor in one hand, Jaehyun stared at the vast expanse of the city lights below from his penthouse; thinking that every twinkling light is his to conquer. He was always been fond of high grounds; it reminded him of his place before he was cast out of heaven and became the most infamous fallen in the history of mankind.

The fall. History had withered and repeated itself for millions of years. Yet he still could not forget how it felt like to fall into nothingness, with the gates of heaven closing in before his very eyes.

Did it hurt? The poets tried to ask the unknown; they bled ink trying to fathom the feelings of Lucifer when the Almighty and every angel declared him a traitor. Yet no poem had the exact metaphors to decipher his doom.

Did it hurt? Jaehyun sometimes asks himself the same question. Did it hurt when his wings started to smolder with fire as he plunged into the abyss of nothingness and into the Earth? Did it hurt when every bone in his body twisted and shattered as he landed into hard ground of a place too grave to be called heaven? Did it hurt when he was all bruises and blood and ill-fated to burn into the pits of hell? Just like the poets, Jaehyun has not found the metaphor to describe the feeling; but unlike them, he knew too well how it felt like.

He had lost count of the millennia that had past. He had lost count of his own age if he ever had one. The world made its inevitable change. And it continues to change, leaving him behind. Because he was still him; all wings and sins. Forever damned, forever unforgiven.

He was there when religion had been born, and he watched as the pious made different names to describe him; Prince of hell, the devil, Satan, the Fallen Angel. He watched them cursed him and condemned those who believed in him. And back then he realized that people were quick to describe and hate something they do not understand.

Kings and queens died. Kingdoms rose and fell, and he watched them all with obloquy in his face. Because he couldn’t believe that despite the spitefulness of humans against each other, the Almighty still loved them above all else.

They say he was destined to burn in hell, but his true punishment lay more grievous than being scorched alive. He pulled a locket out of his pocket with his too pale hands. Opening the little old golden thing, it didn’t fail to make his breath run wild every time he looked at the picture inside. The girl is smiling, the one thing she does not practice usually.

How many years has it been? He forgot the faces of his friends and of his enemies. Yet the one thing he could not forget is her ocean eyes and how her lips tasted salvation in his.

One hundred years, my love, he whispered.

One hundred years of her gone, and one hundred years of him keeping her closest to his aching heart despite the death that separates them both. And he would do everything to live; to keep her as his secret, to keep her alive in him.

That was when his thoughts weaved its way to you. A girl who has the ability to ruin everything he holds dear in his damned eternity. You might’ve heard things earlier; he wasn’t sure. The way your eyes looked at him frantically and how your body almost convulsed in his touch, he couldn’t explain why but he never wants to see that same reaction painted on your face again.

Drinking the last contents of his glass and with a touch of warning in his voice, he whispered your name against the miles that are separating you both. With the hopes that it would caress and remind you of the storm coming.

A mere mortal like you is nothing compared to his ancient greatness. Yet the thought of a human knowing his secret nagged in his system even if he didn’t want to. He couldn’t let you out his sight. Not tomorrow, not ever.

masterlist.

[missorgana]

lucky accidents

pairing: geralt/jaskier

fandom: the witcher (tv)

rating: teen and up

word count: 2408

warning: swearing, alcohol

summary: Jaskier's dog runs away. He might have to sneak into a random house to get her. Needless to say, it's going to be an interesting night. (modern au, teacher jaskier, single dad geralt)

(a ridiculous meet-cute(slash ugly??) and geraskier being chaotic as a very late birthday present for the queen Sabrina / @poirot my love!!! really really hope you like this fic babeee 💖 and thank you my ride or die Cat / @inafaithforgotten for beta reading for me, saved my ass once more MWAH 💕✨ enjoy!!)

read on ao3

Out of all the ridiculously stupid and awfully humiliating things Jaskier’s done in his life, this has got to take the cake.

Granted it isn’t completely his fault. Promise.

It’s rather Buttercup’s fault, his darling beloved cocker spaniel, who’s decided to pay a visit to a random house’s garden, and house, right in the middle of their perfectly fine 2am walk, thank you very much.

Curse her loveable face. He supposes she gets her curiosity and recklessness from himself, really.

And in the end, what can Jaskier do other than try to find a way in?

It’s taken him three months to get her rid of that habit of eating just about everything dropped on the floor (his local vet probably hates him), so he’d be damned if he’s gonna lose his baby to a stranger.

Maybe he’s way past sleep deprived right now. Maybe he’s had a couple of rums in his coffee. Maybe he has no fucking idea what he’s doing.

But, oh, what a perfect time for an adventure!

Okay, if he was in his right state of mind at this point, he’d probably stopped in his tracks and realised there’s a perfectly sensible way of solving this problem, involving a fucking door bell.

Alas, as mentioned earlier,  embarrassing.

Whether it’s the daunting scenario of disturbing someone’s beauty sleep or the judgement a stranger might lay upon him from having a dog who doesn’t listen to him that scares him the most, Jaskier isn’t really sure.

So, here he is.

It took a little less than an hour for him to decide his plan of action, after about ten minutes of frantic searching, ten minutes of dawning realisation, and the rest a frantic panic staring at the god forsaken house.

Ultimately, Jaskier climbs over what he assumes is the gate to the backyard. Remember, definitely not sober right now.

It’s moments like these that leave him wondering how he ever landed his teaching job, but he  prays  to whatever gods might be up there that this doesn’t end up with him losing it. He’s too fucking passionate about that school and those kids to let it go.

But fuck! He wants his dog back!

Jaskier lands in the backyard, right to his assumption, and well, now that he’s officially trespassing on private property, he can’t really chicken out. 

Luckily, a window is propped open for his convenience. It’s an extremely hot summer night, as the last two weeks proved, so he’s in no way surprised.

And a plastic chair and table-set to jump from, wonderful!

Don’t think about the illegality of all this too much. Jaskier’s trying his best.

At least, he proves that to himself climbing in, surprising himself in how quiet he can be. Even dodging a potted plant on the window sill, he sets his foot on wooden floor, huh, those years of ballet did pay off after all.

And, yes, he took his shoes off beforehand, duh, he’s not an idiot.

But soon enough, well… uh, let’s say that’s as far as Jaskier’s plan went. Now he’s officially  breaking into a home , and he’s standing as if glued in place, staring at the living room that looks stuck in a forgotten century.

Focus!

He ponders on calling her name, or rather, whispering, but Buttercup’s familiar, frantic running footsteps get ahead of him.

“Buttercup!” he whispers, willing his voice as stern as possible for the troublemaker, “Come on, girl!”

Shakes are heard, more padding of feet, and his baby comes running along from what looks like the kitchen. He’s, like, 50% sure, it’s dark and the rum is making the world a little crooked.

Thank heavens she hasn’t broken anything.

And thank heavens he’s in time to shush her before the inevitable bark comes. She looks so clueless, but so happy with her big twinkling eyes, it’s a bit annoying.

She’s in deep,  deep  trouble for this. Can’t get out of this that easy. Nope.

Jaskier’s gonna scold her anyway, but right now, relief washes over him more than anything else. Entry succeeded, goal obtained, now it’s time for his exit.

To be honest, not really something he planned, either. But surely the way in works the other way around too, right?

See, that’s the funny thing, because it’s not his happy pup smashing anything in her spontaneous adventure, no, it’s when he heads back for the window the crash happens. Or, well, he thinks it’s the way for the window, the general direction at least, but Jaskier’s hip meets with a table, and he’s pretty sure a lamp’s involved in the fall.

That really hurt, thanks for asking.

But instead of fleeing the scene even faster, like any sensible person would do, he’s frozen half-standing, half-leaning against the windowsill, as light switches on in a room down the hall, and a voice calls, “Dad?”

Shit . Why is Jaskier drunk doing this? Why is he doing this at all?

Buttercup tilts her head at him and he’s none the wiser. He really does try to move, but then she’s running off  again  and he can’t even get to chase after her before a high pitched scream meets his eardrums.

He’s caught. 

Yep, he’s so caught, because he’s an idiot who didn’t jump out the window when he should, and soon enough he’s being hit over the head with a slipper. Best night ever.

Jaskier becomes a bit of a flailing mess of limbs, attempting to dodge without much success while Buttercup starts barking excitedly somewhere in the other room. He even throws out a couple of “Ow!”s, because, seriously, that slipper hurts, what the fuck?

He can’t exactly blame his attacker, of course. In fact, very much the reaction he’d have himself. Still, he’s rather glad the hits come to a halt when the room is suddenly illuminated, the lamp he pushed over staring at him in offense.

The gruff voice from the hallway surprises him, when it says, “Princess?”

However, he’s a little more than shocked right now, because once Jaskier blinks himself to clear vision, he sees a young girl in front of him he in no way expected to meet today. Tonight. Whatever.

Ciri, one of his students, is clutching a blue slipper, used as a weapon only seconds ago, to her chest while staring at him with teacup wide eyes.

Well, this just got a hell of a lot more embarrassing.

And when Jaskier averts his eyes from the blonde girl, a giant blonde man who he can only assume is Ciri’s father, with arms that he’s pretty sure could snap him in half like a twig, is staring with a similar shocked expression, face twisted to a frown.

Why, oh, why in the name of all that is sacred and good, is the first thought jumping into Jaskier’s mind how he’d let those arms do  all sorts of things  to him.

You absolute goddamn clown. His brain’s too busy scolding him to say anything, but turns out he doesn’t need to since his pup jumps his student happily, because she doesn’t understand the situation at all and just found new friends in her post-midnight scavenger hunt.

He thinks he might’ve hit a new low at this point.

However, Ciri frees him of her father’s scrutinizing eyes for a minute, as she giggles in excitement, and now looks up at Jaskier with such a huge grin her cheeks are bound to hurt, “Mr. Jaskier!”

Okay. Okay, out of all the homes he could’ve possibly intruded in, this definitely isn’t a worse case scenario. Luck, maybe?

Not that he feels particularly lucky looking back at the man watching the scene, looking rather, uh, furious, which is understandable.

“You know this man?” he questions his daughter before Jaskier even gets time to consider his options, and the young girl looks back with an eager nod.

He himself is pretty much frozen in place.

Kind of fearing the brick wall of a man will murder him on the spot if he even moves an inch. Practically already killing him with his eyes only. Embarrassingly enough, he finds that even more attractive. Think with your  head , idiot.

Meanwhile, Ciri’s face is painted with brief confusion, “My music teacher, dad! Didn’t you listen when I told you? Mr. Jaskier’s classes are my favorite.”

The girl seats herself on the floor and scratches Buttercup behind the ears, who seems to finally have used up all her energy for the day.

Ciri maintains her excitement, though, while looking painfully disappointed at her father. The man instantly reacts, it seems, because the glare vanishes into thin air, his stance less volatile, his expression almost… soft? 

That word doesn’t exactly fit the blonde man, but it makes Jaskier feel a lot of ways. Man, is he drunk or just horny at this point?

“Of course I did.” his student’s father tells her, still eyeing him warily while apologising, “That doesn’t explain what your teacher is doing in our house, princess. At night.”

Jaskier wants to fucking die.

He tries to stammer something out, it takes, uh, a while, only landing on, “My dog.”

The blonde man frowns again.

Ciri still has zero judgement in her eyes, God bless her, and he laughs nervously in the attempt to elaborate, “Buttercup here, she, uh, ran away from me. In here. Didn’t wanna wake ya. Sorry.”

And Jaskier shakes his head at himself like it’s second nature. Well, sort of is. If you knew all the stupid shit he accidently gets himself into, you wouldn’t be surprised.

Luckily, his (favorite) student just giggles when Buttercup licks her hand, and her father seems degrees less inclined to call the cops, so that’s good. Ciri even asks him if she can give the pup a treat, and Jaskier can’t exactly say no to that, can he?

Buttercup’s clearly in love with her now, it’s adorable.

Which is why it makes him feel like a bit of an asshole when he clears his throat and tells the duo it’s probably time for him to make his exit. Ciri’s heart might as well have just shattered in pieces in front of him.

But he’s just still pretty terrified of her father’s rather menacing figure. Note to self to not be present at that parent-teacher conference.

The eye candy, though.

Focus  on not getting arrested, Jaskier!

Ultimately, she looks to her dad and stands up hesitantly, her and the pup looking at each other like they’re being torn apart for eternity, and then directs her pleading eyes back to him, “Could I walk her sometime, Mr. Jaskier?  Please ?”

His student drags out the word almost to the point where she loses her breath, and Jaskier can’t help his chuckle. Thankfully, her dad gives him a look of approval.

“Sure thing, kid.”

In return, he gets his second scare of the day when Ciri screeches again, only for a few seconds when she probably remembers it’s the dead of the night, and jumps for a hug. Bless her heart, but he can’t help still feeling utterly embarrassed. 

Jaskier pats her back before she lets go and her father ushers her to her room, and the yell “Goodnight!” is way too endearing, although it was most likely more directed to his pup than himself, fair enough.

Well, then. He finds himself standing around awkwardly, nervously still not moving until said giant of a man crosses his arms and gets Jaskier out of his own head.

“Ah, well, that’ll be my leave then.” he says, looking everywhere else than the person in front of him, scratching his neck.

It’s almost obvious he’s getting a cold shoulder until the deep voice speaks again, “Make sure to use the door this time.”

Yup, he deserves that.

To be honest, Jaskier can’t quite believe he’s… uh, survived this. Better not jinx it, though.

“I, sir, uh,” he starts, holding out a hand for Buttercup to follow along, “I cannot stress how sorry I am for this. Seriously. If you tell my superiors about this, I’ll understand, uhm, I guess I just want to let you know I thoroughly enjoyed teaching your daughter.”

And the blonde is frighteningly silent once more, though he lifts one eyebrow, whatever the hell that means.

At last, a sigh.

“Well, I hope you’ll continue.” are the words coming next, shocking enough, Jaskier almost thinks he’s sound-hallucinating, or something, “Apology accepted. Nobody’s hurt, and Cirilla seems to like you quite a lot.”

He honestly can’t help but smile, in relief more than anything else. Buttercup barks once, and the man glances down. “And your dog, too.”

Is- is that a smile? Jaskier can’t really tell, because it looks oddly out of place with, well, everything else about him. Not that he doesn’t like what he’s seeing.

The not-so-scary-anymore man even opens the door for him, gosh, he does like his men with good manners!

Maybe, possibly, he really needs to sober up. Or eat something, now that he thinks about it.

“Then, adieu!” he offers with a little flourish of his hand, but while the pup’s already running eagerly out into the rose bushes, the blonde man stops him in his tracks with, “I suppose you’d like my number.”

There’s that familiar awkwardness again! Jaskier realises this when all he can do is gape like a moron, but honestly, those might be the most surprising out of this whole evening. That says a lot.

He finds himself stammering, “Uhm, uh, pardon?”

The giant’s already writing it down on a fucking post-it note. “So you don’t have to use the window when Ciri’s going to walk her new friend over there.”

Jaskier blinks, “Ah!” Of course, what else? He’s bordering on a thin line to delusion, truly, “Obviously.”

“Obviously.” he repeats back, and Jaskier pockets the note hilariously quickly himself.

Good, good, don’t humiliate yourself even more now. He guesses he can be thankful he’s just sober enough to not try one of those… horrendous pick-up lines of his. 

Guess the eye candy will be enough.

He gives the blonde a nod at last, taking his final leave after a way too strange night, but not before the man forms that almost-smile,  pretty sure it’s a smile, again (good God, did he just check out his ass, or has Jaskier officially lost it?) and says, “Name’s Geralt, by the way.”

Jaskier nearly chokes on his own breath.

[victoriareyloficlists]

Engagements, Weddings, and Arranged Marriages

Updated 15 November 2021

Rest of the Masterlist.

(take me to) the lakes by akosmia (AO3 2021  Rated E Complete, One-Shot, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: It’s a quiet Saturday morning and they've been dating only for two months, when Ben slips and calls her wife.) A Dog is a Man's Best Friend (and also a force for fate) by Impossiblefangirl0632 (AO3 2020  Rated G Complete, One-Shot, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Ben is dog-sitting for Poe and everything is going fine until BB sees a rabbit and runs off. Rey finds a muddy, but happy dog and takes him home with her. She's going to turn him into the shelter, she really is but before she can she runs into a very stressed, very annoyed Ben who accuses her of dognapping.) A Doggy Intervention by corpse_wife (AO3 2020  Rated T Complete, One-Shot, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Interventions come in many different forms. Whether it's time, a place or occasionally, people, it's up to the universe to decide when two soulmates meet. In Ben Solo's case, the universe had a cruel sense of humor. For his intervention comes in the form of a German Shepard and his graceless brunette owner. Two things happened in the short span of a minute: 1.) Ben got tackled to the ground 2.) The dog had just swallowed his wedding rings) A Marriage of Rebellion by Zoa (AO3 2020  Rated T Complete, One-Shot, Historical AU, Quick Synopsis: Historical Arranged Marriage- Rey is a princess and must choose a prince to marry. Solely (at first) to spite her grandfather, she chooses the grandson of his old rival, Prince Ben Solo.) A merry Reylo Christmas by MeadowHayle (AO3 2018  Rated M Complete, 24 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Rey and Ben are roommates and celebrate the most wonderful time of the year together. For Rey it's the first real Christmas with friends and family and she wants to make up for all the things she missed as a child. Ben tries to help as best as possible, giving her a Christmas experience she deserves.) A Night at the Opera by orphan_account (AO3 2020  Rated T Complete, One-Shot, Historical AU, Quick Synopsis: Prince Benjamin is resistant to his arranged marriage to the Palpatine heir. ) A Scandalous Match by Musickat18 (AO3 2019  Rated T Complete, 18 Chapters, Regency AU, Quick Synopsis: Despite a very poor first impression, Rey has found herself forced to wed the mysterious and intimidating Ben Solo, Duke of Ren. The marriage is deemed highly scandalous by society as Rey is no more than an orphan living on the good graces of Mr. Unkar Plutt. Rey, now Duchess of Ren, finds herself forced into a role for which she has no training, with a husband who does not even seem to like her.) Adoration of One Rey of Light by stellarnightmage (AO3 2020  Rated E Complete, 2 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Since she was born, Rey Palpatine has been betrothed to Ben Solo, someone she's never met, and who's 10 years older than her. She hates the very idea. That is until they meet when she's 19 and Rey finds that it's hard to hate someone when they seem to adore you. It was her birthday, and the contract dictated she had to meet her husband-to-be on this god-forsaken day. She’d rather not ever see him ever. Or marry him. Or whatever.) All I Need for Christmas is You by Atchamb7 (AO3 2019  Rated G Complete, One-Shot, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Ben wants to make this Christmas special. He finds a rare toy that Rey has wanted since she was a child (baby doll) and attached to the doll is a ring.) an unexpected alliance by antematter (AO3 2019  Rated E Complete, 6 Chapters, Regency AU, Quick Synopsis: A Regency ABO story in which Captain Kylo Ren dallies with Miss Rey Niima, and she accidentally mates him.) And Closer Still Is Never Enough by lovefrompluto (AO3 2020  Rated E Complete, One-Shot, Historical AU, Quick Synopsis: Ben has an arranged marriage to Rey but what happens when he starts to court the wife who is a stranger to him?) And Your Kingdom Too by vuas (AO3 2020  Rated E Complete, One-Shot, Fantasy AU, Quick Synopsis: Her kingdom sells her hand the moment his thunderous black horse arrives at the border. Nobody fights for her honor like in the stories she’s read. There is no duty-bound, brave knight in possession of sparkling eyes coming to save her. There’s only the Red King and his bloody sword.) as luck would have it by prncesselene (AO3 2020  Rated E Complete, 16 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: When a case of violent food poisoning ruins Rose and Hux’s honeymoon plans, who better to take their place at a pre-paid Hawaiian beach resort than the Maid of Honor and Best Man? Sure, it’ll take some maneuvering, but a free vacation is a free vacation. They just have to pretend to be devoted newlyweds for a bit to enjoy it. There’s only one glaring issue, really: they can’t stand each other.) baby fever by cursebreakker (AO3 2021  Rated E Complete, 3 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Rey’s boss kylo basically has a heart of stone, he literally has a reputation in the offices as 'Satan’s right hand'. That is until Rey’s two year old daughter toddles up to him outside of work one day and he just completely melts.) Baby, It's Just Biology by Polkadotdotdot (AO3 2018  Rated E Complete, 32 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: For Rey Jackson, trying to finish your degree in Biomedical Science at Harvard is difficult enough when you're one of the few Omegas on campus. It's made even more difficult when your Professor is the one to trigger your heat. You can't help it, it's just your biology. An Alpha Omega love story.) before we go. by AquaWolfGirl (AO3 2021  Rated E Complete, 2 Chapters, Medieval AU, Quick Synopsis: On the eve before the battle against their enemies, General Rey Jakksun seeks out General Kylo Ren. There are others she could have gone to in their camp, sure, but of all the men there, she decides to ask him to teach her pleasure -- something she's never known and wants to experience once before she dies in the morning.) Bespoke by fettuccine_alfreylo (AO3 2019  Rated E Complete, 12 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: When new stylist Rey Jackson receives a request to dress the hottest (and most unfashionable) new actor in Hollywood, she gets a lot more than she bargained for. Mentally AND physically. Because Ben Solo is freaking massive.) But I Do by SpaceWaffleHouseTM (AO3 2019  Rated E Complete, 8 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Rey and Ben get married at the same venue at the same time. When both are left at the altar, they decide to flip life off and marry each other.) Butter Crisp Sandwich by DarkMage13 (AO3 2021  Rated M Complete, One-Shot, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: “Mr, I insist you join me for a tea party today, at precisely noon. My teddy will be there.” Ben glanced at the boring clock on the wall. Ten minutes until noon. He swallowed in fear. There was no escape.  Or: Ben Solo cannot say no to an adorable hazel-eyed little girl's request for tea.) Compass by SpaceWaffleHouseTM (AO3 2020  Rated E Complete, One-Shot, Historical AU, Quick Synopsis: Kira is not in the business of harboring fugitives aboard her ship, but for a doe-eyed prince disguised as a peasant, she makes an exception.) count the rings by lachesisgrimm (olga_theodora) (AO3 2020  Rated E Complete, 20 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Urban legend says the demon tree needs a bride in order for it to escape its confines. What happens when Rey jokingly marries herself to the tree during a camping trip?) Crystal Crowns by altargaryen (AO3 2021  Rated T Complete, 10 Chapters, Royalty AU, Quick Synopsis: Princess Rey Palpatine was a sprightly twelve year old the day her very best friend in the whole world left her. She is a women fully grown the day he returns, six years later, on the verge of taking up her own crown half a world away. A best friends to lovers, royalty romance.) Day Follows Night; Dark Follows Light Sequel by LyricalRiot (AO3 2018  Rated T Complete, 20 Chapters, Canon CD, Quick Synopsis: After the thorough defeat of the First Order, the Resistance is busy forming a new government, and two powerful Force users, Ben Solo and Rey, are in search of their destiny now that the war is over. Their new feelings for each other are strong, and they know they want to stick together, but learning what exactly that means is undiscovered country. Vague plans and a bit of planet hopping are all they have in their future for now, but it won't take them long to find the Force has other plans in store. Visits to old homes, nights of glamor and artifice, and exploring the secret deep places of the galaxy ahead. Steamy, but not graphic.) Deceit, Delusion, and Desire by AttackoftheDarkCurses, thebuildingsnotonfire (AO3 2018  Rated E Complete, 16 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: When Rey realizes her student visa is about to expire, she struggles to find a way to stay in the country legally. Her roommate has a terrible idea, and it's just risky enough to work.) Dreaming of a December Wedding by greywilde (AO3 2020  Rated E Complete, 11 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: A Reylo modern AU based on the Hallmark Christmas Movie, "A December Bride" Rey Jackson was supposed to marry Poe Dameron and have her dream December wedding - until he fell in love with her foster sister Kaydel. And it's all Ben Solo's fault. Now it's payback and he's her fake date to the wedding, but when Ben makes an impulsive announcement, it sets the stage for an elaborate holiday arrangement.) Eating for Two by Hellyjellybean (AO3 2021  Rated E Complete, 3 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Rey is pregnant and smells her neighbour Ben's cooking. She goes round to ask if he would be willing to share. But maybe Ben would like to share more than his cooking with Rey.) Fated and Inevitable by Kyriadamorte (AO3 2018  Rated E Complete, 2 Chapters, Canon AU, Quick Synopsis: Padawan Ben's life gets a whole lot more complicated when a group of Force users on Jakku demands he marry one of their own before offering aid to a floundering New Jedi Order. He refuses, of course. At first.) Five Times That Ben Saved Rey's Valentine's Day & How She Forever Saved His by AnneAnna (AO3 2021  Rated T Complete, One-Shot, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Ben makes a confession in his wedding speech: He knew he was going to marry Rey when he and Rey were 4 years old and she gave him a Valentine she made and colored herself. And 21 years later, he still has that Valentine.) for love or money by KiKi37 (AO3 2020  Rated M Complete, 30 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: The loss of a scholarship has left Rey Niima in a financial bind, with only a few months until graduation. Her friend Rose might know of something that could help.) Force du Couer by Stargazer1116 (AO3 2018  Rated T Complete, 24 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Kylo Ren is the CEO of a successful corporation in NYC. In a power play, his board, led by his uncle, demand that he marry to makeover his dismal public image. Rey is an art therapist working with foster kids in Harlem. When she contacts Kylo for possible support, he proposes a business deal that can benefit them both. He has no idea how much this woman with a fierce heart will turn his world upside down.) forever valentine by bellestar (AO3 2021  Rated G Complete, One-Shot, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Ben makes a confession in his wedding speech. He knew he was going to marry Rey when he and Rey were 4 years old and she gave him a Valentine she made and colored herself. And 21 years later, he still has that Valentine.) Gifted Forevers by ABeautifulBreakdown (AO3 2020  Rated M Complete, One-Shot, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: When Rey said yes to Marrying Ben Solo she never expected things to get so out of hand. Now, on the day of her wedding, she's given a choice because all roads lead to him.) Go And Catch A Falling Star Chapter 18 by Ayearandaday (AO3 2020  Rated G Complete, One-Shot, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Rey asked for something to keep her warm for her birthday. Poe decides the best present he could get is Ben.) Go And Catch A Falling Star Chapter 45 by Ayearandaday (AO3 2020  Rated G Complete, One-Shot, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: From childhood to adulthood, Ben is practiced at catching a clumsy Rey.) Go And Catch A Falling Star Chapter 50 by Ayearandaday (AO3 2020  Rated T Complete, One-Shot, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Ben needs to get married in order to get full ownership of his company. Rey learns about her boss' predicament and offers a helping hand.) Go And Catch A Falling Star Chapter 56 by Ayearandaday (AO3 2021  Rated G Complete, One-Shot, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Hungry overworked Ben accidentally ends up in McDonalds. Guess what happens next?) Go And Catch A Falling Star Chapter 59 by Ayearandaday (AO3 2021  Rated G Complete, One-Shot, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: This chapter was born during a video about how pockets on women's clothing shrunk through history. Modern Rey would be outraged to know that womankind used to have pockets big enough to stash a loaf of bread. Imagine all the snacks they could fit! But she would have to make do with her boyfriend's pockets. Yep, that's basically the plot. Warnings: if Reylo babies bother you, you might want to skip this one.) Good Opinion by Hormonal_Trashbag (AO3 2016  Rated T Complete, 4 Chapters, Regency AU, Quick Synopsis: “Will you allow me my freedom if I consent to marry you?” He blinked, startled by her question. “You cannot be serious. Regardless of what my mother may want, we have no need to marry.” The flickering candlelight cast wild shadows on her lovely face. There was something absolutely untamable about her, something he could never touch should he want to; Ben found that he decidedly did not. She was fierce and unforgiving as the sea, and he could not fully comprehend the twist of desire coiled in his gut at her unmoving gaze. Her response was simple. “Is that really true?”) Good Opinion by Hormonal_Trashbag (AO3 2016  Rated T Complete, 4 Chapters, Regency AU, Quick Synopsis: “Will you allow me my freedom if I consent to marry you?” He blinked, startled by her question. “You cannot be serious. Regardless of what my mother may want, we have no need to marry.”) heaven in hiding by blessedreylo (AO3 2021  Rated E Complete, One-Shot, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: They say it's impossible for a guy and girl to be "just friends", but Rey and Ben had managed to discredit that throughout their decade long friendship. What they both have is special, that people would often arrive at the conclusion the two were made for each other. He's her safe haven, her rock. She gives him a sense of clarity and direction. Ben and Rey know each other more than anyone ever possibly could. Therefore on Valentine's Day, their friends decided to secretly set them up together on a blind dinner date.) Heavy in Your Heart by crossingwinter (AO3 2018  Rated E Complete, 2 Chapters, Medieval AU, Quick Synopsis: Kylo, a prince who decided to have one last good night before their arranged betrothal, fell in love with a stranger at the bar. They don’t remember much except a voice. The next day, the stranger at the bar is at the altar marrying her bethrothed when she recognizes him as the man she had fallen in love with last night.) Homestead Fire by ladyofreylo (AO3 2020  Rated E Complete, One-Shot, Prairie AU, Quick Synopsis: In this story, Ben Solo is a homesteader trying to court O. Kenobi's adopted daughter whilst on the prairie. He believes he will make Miss Rey a good husband. He shows her how when he stops by to chop wood and build up her fire.) Hope Is Like The Sun by LoufromJakku (AO3 2021  Rated M Complete, 15 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Leia tries to set-up her painfully single son with her assistant Rey. What Leia doesn't know is that Rey's already pregnant with Ben's child after a (drunken) one-night-stand and she hasn't told him yet.) How Not to Break Up by LadyBrettAshley (AO3 2020  Rated E Complete, One-Shot, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Nothing means more to Leia than her Annual Pumpkin Carving extravaganza. That’s why Ben asks Rey to keep their recent breakup a secret until after the party. After a carving-related accident, Ben comes to her aid and it turns out... they may not have to tell anyone they broke up at all.) I Thee Wed by Hellyjellybean (AO3 2020  Rated T Complete, One-Shot, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Rey is a wedding planner and on the wedding day she finds out that the young flower girl and the ring bearer are very stressed about their role in the wedding. Rey offers to walk them through it by pretending to be the bride so they could practice at the altar. They search for a fake groom amongst the wedding guests and find Ben. He agrees to help. ) I'll Pick You by greywilde (AO3 2020  Rated E Complete, 7 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Rey broke off her no-strings arrangement with Ben to move to the big city and broke his heart (and her own) in the process. Three years later, a trip to an apple orchard has her falling - literally - into the arms of the man she left behind. His feelings haven’t changed, but have hers?) I'm Your Dream Girl by Hellyjellybean (AO3 2020  Rated T Complete, One-Shot, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Reylo AU where Ben & Rey are roommates but Ben is constantly blowing up at Rey for being messy, eating his food, but Rey always just smiles and takes it. That’s because she knows Ben’s secret. He talks in his sleep. Mainly about how much he loves her and wants her to be his wife.) ignorance of etiquette by blessedreylo (AO3 2020  Rated E Complete, 2 Chapters, Regency AU, Quick Synopsis: Lady Rey Kenobi lives a life of pristine comfort and luxury on her family's estate in Chesire with her parents Lord Obi-Wan Kenobi and Lady Satine Kenobi. When they receive word that an old family friend, Lord Benjamin Solo, is coming to visit, Lady Rey is reminded of how he tormented her as a child. She decides that she will prove herself not the same girl she once was in more ways than one.) ignorance of etiquette by blessedreylo (AO3 2020  Rated E Complete, 2 Chapters, Regency AU, Quick Synopsis: Lady Rey Kenobi lives a life of pristine comfort and luxury on her family's estate in Chesire with her parents Lord Obi-Wan Kenobi and Lady Satine Kenobi. When they receive word that an old family friend, Lord Benjamin Solo, is coming to visit, Lady Rey is reminded of how he tormented her as a child. She decides that she will prove herself not the same girl she once was in more ways than one.) In Sickness And In Health by Theyna_Shipper (AO3 2020  Rated T Complete, 8 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Rey knows it's not an ideal situation, but it's a situation thousands of people are in. It's not like there's much she can do about it right now, anyways. She can go a little while without health insurance. Until she gets breast cancer. The treatment will be simple if she can get it. But she's worried she can't, until her old co-worker Ben offers a solution: "We could get married.") Inspired by Wasting Time on the Interwebs Chapter 8 by Theyna_Shipper (AO3 2020  Rated G Complete, One-Shot, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Rey and Ben are paired up for an economics assignment, but they have a major difference of opinion on some key points.) key to the kingdom by blessedreylo (AO3 2020  Rated E Complete, 12 Chapters, Princess Diaries AU, Quick Synopsis: Most girls get a drunk weekend in Vegas for their 21st birthday, but Princess Rey Kenobi gets the chance to rule the country of Alderaan. But the only way she can become Queen is if she marries a man in 30 days, or the throne goes to the selfish (and annoyingly attractive) usurper Lord Benjamin Solo. Will Rey be able to ascend to the throne or will it all just become a royal pain in the ass?) lay all your love on me by akosmia (AO3 2018  Rated T Complete, One-Shot, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Ben doesn't really think much of himself, and Rey is determined to change his mind.) Leave a Message by spicytofuuuu (AO3 2020  Rated G Complete, One-Shot, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Ben and Rey's relationship as told by the voicemails Ben leaves for Rey.) Let me Dream, Let me Stay by Melusine11 (AO3 2018  Rated E Complete, 12 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Rey has kept up a charade of a non-existant boyfriend for two years and now that Rose and Finn are getting married, she needs someone to pretend to be said boyfriend, enter her coworker Ben.) lie with me and just forget the world by hi_raeth (AO3 2021  Rated T Complete, One-Shot, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: For Rey Solo, the year is 2016. She’s just woken up in the hospital, she’s recovering from a car crash, and she’s wondering where the hell her husband is. For Ben Solo, the year is 2021. It’s been two years since the divorce, since the worst mistake in all of history, since the day he walked away from the love of his life. Sometimes, the universe has a weird (and potentially fatal) way of bringing people back together.) lucem ac viventis by neonheartbeat (AO3 2018  Rated E Complete, 17 Chapters, Beauty and the Beast AU, Quick Synopsis: In the midway of this his mortal life,/Poe found him in a gloomy wood, astray/gone from the path direct: and e'en to tell:/ it were no easy task, how savage wild/ that forest, how robust and rough its growth,/ which to remember only, his dismay/ renews, in bitterness not far from death/--Yet to discourse of what there good befell, /all else will he relate... discover'd there. A Star Wars take on Beauty and the Beast. Tale as old as time, in a galaxy far, far away.) Make Me Over by Hellyjellybean, Twisted_Mirror (AO3 2020  Rated E Complete, 2 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Ben Solo is a man with a past. The famous actor has used everything from drink to sex to try and fight his demons but maybe all he really needs is the love of a good woman? Rey Johnson is excited to have been appointed MUA to the lead actor on her first film set. From the moment she meets Ben Solo, she's a goner but does he feel the same?) make my heart a better place by defiersofthestars (AO3 2020  Rated M Complete, One-Shot, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Ben is babysitting his niece and she begs him to FaceTime Rey so she can read her a bedtime story. He’s never met her but as soon as the call connects, he’s completely transfixed. He doesn’t tell her when the kid falls asleep because he doesn’t want her to stop reading.) My Dad Will Not Date Miss Palpatine (But Maybe He Can Marry Her) by AnneAnna (AO3 2021  Rated T Complete, One-Shot, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Annie Solo is perfectly happy with her Dad and brother and the last thing she needs is her dad's high school sweetheart coming to town and ruining everything. But maybe just maybe Miss Palpatine will be far better than she expected.) My Sandwich by Blueyedgurl (AO3 2020  Rated G Complete, One-Shot, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Someone took Ben's turkey sandwich at work, he is infuriated and eager for revenge, until he finds out it was Rey then those feelings no longer exist.) My Whole Life by AttackoftheDarkCurses, thebuildingsnotonfire (AO3 2018  Rated E Complete, 13 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: The "Without a Hitch" high school sweethearts, fake-dating rom-com AU.) Nevertheless, She Persisted by dawninthemtn (AO3 2019  Rated T Complete, 24 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Junior campaign staffer Rey works for US presidential candidate Leia Organa and ends up with the job of babysitting her aloof and entitled adult son Ben.) Newspaper Hearts by Celia_and (AO3 2021  Rated G Complete, One-Shot, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: “She made her Valentine’s cards. She tore hearts out of newspaper and glued them onto used envelopes and painstakingly wrote each child’s name. She probably spent days making them. And you know what she wrote on mine?” He doesn’t need to read it to know what it says, so he looks down at her instead, and the hand on her heart and the tears in her eyes. “Ben: You are OK. Rey.”) Nonsense & Nuptials by thehobbem (AO3 2021  Rated T Complete, 2 Chapters, Regency AU, Quick Synopsis: Rey is the ward of Leia and Admiral Han Solo. She lives alongside Ben Solo who is the victim of her repeated attempts at matchmaking. But her scheming reveals more about her own feelings and fears that she's missed out on something very important.) Of Colds by Armayra (AO3 2020  Rated G Complete, One-Shot, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis:  Rey gets a cold and ends up feeling lonely. Ben plans to fix that.) Peacock by AttackoftheDarkCurses (AO3 2019  Rated E Complete, 22 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Thanks to a series of misunderstandings, failed attempts at flirting, and loud Katy Perry music, Ben grows to hate his new neighbor. Proposing to her wasn't the best solution to his problems.) Port in the storm by Blueyedgurl (AO3 2020  Rated E Complete, 2 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Rey pretends to be afraid of thunderstorms so she has an excuse to sleep next to Ben. Ben figures it out when he races home early after seeing thunder, fearing Rey will be crying alone curled up in a ball, only to find her totally chill and eating ice cream.) Rey, Voulez-Vous Prendre Ben Comme Époux? by Theyna_Shipper (AO3 2020  Rated T Complete, One-Shot, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Rey is her boss's best friend and is present at his French wedding. However, due to a language barrier, Ben and Rey are the ones who end up married.) Sleepyhead by Blueyedgurl (AO3 2020  Rated T Complete, One-Shot, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Ben, a mere himbo, tucks a stray hair behind Rey's ear in class. He knows he deserves the hot coffee in her hand to be thrown in his face and yet he gets a date. ) Something Beautiful by ceciliasheplin (AO3 2019  Rated E Complete, One-Shot, Medieval AU, Quick Synopsis: Lord Ren forces orphan Rey to marry him. On their wedding night he refuses to take her because he wants her to be willing. Rey is both enraged and frustrated. She may hate him but she isn’t exactly opposed to being ravished by her husband.) Sunshine and Gunpowder by rightforlife (AO3 2020  Rated E Complete, 8 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: She’s a teacher who would do anything to protect her student. He’s a glorified hitman with a heart of black gold.) Teenage Dream by ReyloRobyn2011 (AO3 2020  Rated M Complete, One-Shot, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: They met on the playground in first grade. Ben saw the scrawny girl with three messy buns lining the back of her head from across the schoolyard. She sat by herself on the bench, watching the other kids play. He’d never seen her before; she was the new girl in class. Ben didn’t have any friends and he was too shy to talk to anyone— but there was something about this girl. He felt drawn to her.) The Background by Blueyedgurl (AO3 2020  Rated T Complete, One-Shot, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: He draws her every week. He draws her looking at him smiling, thoughtful, or truly magical, He pours his heart and soul into these drawings. Every Sunday he comes to the hospital room, hoping to meet her eyes. But she's not waking up. His hope is fading. Today...) The Five Times Ben Stole Rey's Halloween Candy and the One Time He Bought Her Some by AnneAnna (AO3 2021  Rated T Complete, One-Shot, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: They meet when Ben Solo tries to steal Rey Kenobi's Halloween bucket and Rey hits him over the head the with her plastic lightsaber. They eventually become best friends and then more. This is just all the Halloween Fall Fluff in the world.) The Soiled Doves by fernybranca (AO3 2018  Rated M Complete, 28 Chapters, Regency AU, Quick Synopsis: Luck raised Miss Rey Jakku from the streets into the household of Baron Luke Skywalker, and he willed her a fortune beyond the dreams of wealth—earning her the eternal hatred of Benjamin Kylo Skywalker Organa Solo, His Grace of Alderaan, who had counted on his uncle's money to rebuild his ruined ducal seat. But hatred bleeds into obsession, obsession into love, and the rules of the haut ton are strict.) The Trail Bride by SecretReyloTrash (BadOldWest) (AO3 2019  Rated E Complete, 47 Chapters, Historical AU, Quick Synopsis: Rey Niima finds herself in a perilous situation when her husband dies at the start of their journey West. From the few bachelors on the trail in her party; she attaches herself to the best of her options. That option is the mysterious Banker Ben Solo.) The Trial of Naboo: Fall of a Duke by Twin_Kitten (AO3 2020  Rated E Complete, 2 Chapters, Historical AU, Quick Synopsis: Ben and Rey are engaged to be married, but after several attempts on her life, he takes personal responsibility for her safety, including keeping her in his bed at night. Problem? Ben is extremely attracted to his bride but the MUST wait until marriage. ) The Ward by dreamingspires (AO3 2021  Rated E Complete, 18 Chapters, Regency AU, Quick Synopsis: An angsty, Bridgerton-ish/Alpha/Omega/Smutty mash-up, Ben rescues Rey and ends up her guardian.) the way I see you by ocjones (AO3 2021  Rated T Complete, One-Shot, Historical AU, Quick Synopsis: Ben glides a finger over the painting’s shining face. It’s long since dried, having traveled the slow journey of hills between Naboo and Mortis, yet the varnish is so glossy it almost feels wet to the touch.And there she is: a soft-looking woman, her breasts pillowing over the top of her corset, her hair held lightly back with a band and flowing out behind her. Her delicate fingers grip a book, clasp it in her velvet-clad lap. The smile on her face is as gentle as her portrayal. His wife.) The Wedding Necklace by daughter_of_the_fifth_house (AO3 2020  Rated M Complete, 21 Chapters, Canon CD, Quick Synopsis: Nambi Ghima sensed Rey’s longing for a family and gave her a wedding necklace for her future husband - the necklace Kylo Ren ripped off Rey's neck. Which means getting married. First Order Officer Tishra Kandia is confused why she had to analyze said necklace. She and a lot of people – and droids – on both sides of this war wonder about the marriage of Supreme Leader Kylo Ren and the Jedi Rey. The only thing is… Rey and Kylo don't even know they’re married.) Through the Years by castles_and_crowns (AO3 2018  Rated T Complete, 10 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Ben Solo and Rey Jakkson meet on the playground as children under unusual circumstances and quickly become best friends. This fic follows them through the years, showing glimpses of their friendship as it slowly progresses into something more.) to climb steep hills by galvanator (AO3 2020  Rated T Complete, One-Shot, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: No one really talks to the new girl who sits in the back of the class. She’s been here a month but kids are afraid of her and teachers are too overworked to be able to solve a problem like Rey. No one really talks to the new girl - except for Ben. A childhood to adulthood love story.) To Have and to Hold by bunilicious (AO3 2018  Rated E Complete, 5 Chapters, Medieval AU, Quick Synopsis: “Your husband is gravely injured, my lady.” The envoy’s words should have pleased Lady Rey. After all, her husband was one of the dreaded Norman barons who invaded her beloved country and claimed the lands in the name of the bastard who now called himself king. Ben Solo had stormed her uncle’s keep, killed all the men who opposed their new conquerors, and claimed the stronghold for his own. He took the keep, he took the surrounding lands and, at the new king’s orders, took Rey to wife. Rey should have hated him. But, in the six months following their hasty and undesirable marriage, Rey found that hatred for her new husband was the furthest emotion from her heart and mind.) Trick or Treat, Baby by Everren (AO3 2021  Rated E Complete, 7 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Ben Solo is not in the mood to deal with trick or treaters this Halloween. In fact, he’s taken measures to ensure he doesn’t have to. Can Rey, his next door neighbor and lover of all things Halloween, change his mind?) Unexpected by incognitajones (AO3 2020  Rated E Complete, 6 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Rey doesn’t want anything from her one-night stand Ben Solo, not even now that she’s broke, jobless, and pregnant. But he’s desperate to avoid a scandal that could derail his election campaign, so they agree to a cold-blooded business deal: she’ll marry him and be the perfect political wife—for a price, and a limited term.) weddings and wingwomen by bigfootsflannel (AO3 2020  Rated T Complete, One-Shot, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: After hiring Ben Solo as her wedding photographer, Rose discovers her true calling as part-time matchmaker.) Wild Child by tmwillson3 (AO3 2020  Rated E Complete, 4 Chapters, Regency AU, Quick Synopsis: Rey spends her first Season in Bath with her best friend, Rose Tico. When Rose begins a hate-at-first-sight relationship with Sir Armitage Hux, Rey thinks that nothing more exciting could happen. That's when Sir Hux's friend, the Earl of Alderaan, and his dogs come crashing into Rey. Rey has never liked peers, but when she bonds with him on a rainy day, everything changes.) Wild Child by tmwillson3 (AO3 2020  Rated E Complete, 4 Chapters, Regency AU, Quick Synopsis: Rey spends her first Season in Bath with her best friend, Rose Tico. When Rose begins a hate-at-first-sight relationship with Sir Armitage Hux, Rey thinks that nothing more exciting could happen.That's when Sir Hux's friend, the Earl of Alderaan, and his dogs come crashing into Rey. Rey has never liked peers, but when she bonds with him on a rainy day, everything changes.) Worth the Wait by LadyBrettAshley (AO3 2021  Rated E Complete, 7 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: After being cheated on by her fiancé, Rey decides not to wait til marriage & decides to lose her virginity to known scoundrel Ben. "Scoundrel" Ben begs her for a dinner with him, worships her in bed and trails after her like a lovesick puppy. Rey is confused.)

[theawkwardterrier]

my whole trajectory's toward you, and it's not losing momentum (call it anything we want)

Summary: Anthony had expected a certain amount of trouble when he took over managing the Danbury campaign. He didn’t imagine this amount. He didn’t imagine that it might at some point become something other than trouble.

There was mention of rival political campaign managers Kate and Anthony and even though I couldn’t quite get there - or make a scene happen which directly featured Newton 😔 - I did manage rivals and political campaigning. So here’s something to serve as incentive, congratulation, or brief respite depending on how far @thesokovianaccords​ has gotten in her grad school application process. Sorry if it’s a bit OOC, Livia - maybe it’s just the right degree to make sense in a modern AU? ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Read on AO3

A week into running Dr. Danbury’s campaign, Anthony realizes that he has made a grave error in allowing himself to give in when his mother requested “a bit of a favor.”

At the time she’d asked, he had just gotten the news that his previous candidate was dropping out of his own race for health reasons, and of course, Dr. Danbury has been a fixture for his entire life so he might well have stepped up merely because she needed help (despite knowing that the reason she needed the help was that she’d fired her entire previous campaign team). Besides that, he has rarely been able to deny his mother anything, and that’s even before she brings up the number of hours she spent in labor with him (twenty-two, as he well knows by now) but still...he damn well should have ignored all that this time.

For his money, the most annoying part of not being listened to by the candidate is that her instincts have mostly served her well. Three days after he started, she ignored the common wisdom of maintaining decorum and not insulting the opposition which he had reminded her of before she went on camera, and had only benefited from it; apparently the majority of the constituency agreed that the particular candidate she had been asked about was indeed a “first class wanker who should pray nightly for the brains God gave a goose.” At least she had heeded Anthony’s advice to refer to the man as “my opponent” rather than using his name and giving him free advertising in the soundbite as it was played on nearly every news broadcast for the next several days.

“Well, we seem to have come out of this one all right,” she says, sipping her coffee and looking just the slightest bit smug - he doesn’t lie to candidates, so he had been obliged to report that the latest polling numbers actually went up after the incident. “Anything else, Bridgerton?”

Swallowing the speech he wants to give about how easily things could shift during a campaign, not to mention the difference between what people told a pollster and how they actually cast their votes, he says, “Perhaps we might look to hire a policy director, ma’am? To help...guide the campaign a bit more?”

“If we did, I should wonder what I had hired you for.” She looks at him over the tops of her glasses as if she can tell he is dreaming of responding that ah, well, it seems he is unnecessary, and perhaps he will just excuse himself from the position now. He makes sure his expression remains neutral and finally she waves a hand. “Well, let me see some names and CVs after the weekend, and I shall decide then.”

“Very good.” He extremely purposefully does not sigh until he is out of her office and striding along the corridor of their campaign headquarters. There are plenty of people who will take a call from him on short notice and who will back him with the candidate. Yes, if he can’t quit altogether (and he can’t if he wants his regular seat at Christmas dinner) then having someone in his corner is just the ticket.

He arrives for work on Monday even earlier than his traditional first thing in the morning, wondering to himself whether it will be better to simply present his top applicants or if he should throw in a decoy or two to make his choices shine even brighter - although perhaps that’s just the sort of ploy that the candidate would sniff out in a heartbeat after a career of wrangling university students. Still debating, he turns the corner toward his office, only to find Dr. Danbury in the hall outside, speaking with someone. Anthony doesn’t recognize the person from the back, can only see a fall of shiny, dark hair, so he guesses it is one of the volunteers, perhaps someone new who has arrived early for orientation. He hopes that Dr. Danbury isn’t being too intimidating.

“Ah, Bridgerton,” the lady in question calls down the hallway, and something about her tone makes Anthony’s spine go straight. “Good morning.”

Still, he clings to his good mood as he greets her. “Let me put my things down, and then we can go over your schedule for the day. And I have those CVs you had requested as well.”

“Nevermind those,” she says, and the little smile on her lips makes every one of his nerves stand on end. “Did you know that your mother and I went out for a drink on Friday evening? Oh, yes, we had a wonderful time, and your brother Colin came around to escort us home. Such a lovely boy, had some delightful stories about his trip to Greece - and so interested in the campaign. In fact, he had a brilliant thought when I mentioned your idea for bringing on someone new to help shape things alongside the two of us.”

Whatever virtues his brother Colin might possess, interest in the campaign is absolutely not among them. Skin humming all over, Anthony manages a casual, “Oh?”

“Indeed, and luckily I was able to organize it all over the weekend so you wouldn’t have to do a thing.” She gestures toward her companion, and with a sick swoop in his stomach, Anthony knows who he is going to see before she shifts around.

“I believe you two have met before?” Dr. Danbury says, voice fading just a bit beneath the static in Anthony’s ears as Kate Sheffield turns to face him.

They have not actually met before, but that doesn’t mean that they don’t know of each other.

The first time Anthony heard her name, it was her sister saying it - about twenty times in a row, if he’s being honest. He met Edie Sheffield two years back at one of his mother’s galas. Edie ran a different prestigious kids charity than the one Mum was fundraising for, so he’d wondered if inviting her was somehow inviting the enemy or maybe bragging. But Edie was sweet, and passionate about her job, and looked absolutely gorgeous in sapphire satin, and he settled into a night of getting her drinks and chatting her up, despite the fact that she didn’t seem as interested in speaking with him as she did in mentioning that he really must talk with her sister.

He’d stayed the night in the hotel where the gala had been held (alone, in one of the rooms which had been set aside for guests from the event; he’d put Edie in a car at about 11) and was planning on taking his mother to breakfast after she came down from her own room. When he went to check out, however, the desk attendant handed him a message which had been taken down for him on hotel stationary.

Dickheads like you shouldn’t try to get with my sister. Don’t do it again.

KS

“Is there anything else that I can assist you with?” asked the attendant, holding onto her poker face remarkably. Perhaps they taught that in hospitality programs.

He’d crushed the note in his hand before smoothing his own face placidly and handing over his credit card. His mother was all smiles and chatter during breakfast, but his mind was still on the note, which seemed to have burned itself behind his eyelids.

Dickheads like you - oh, so only other types of dickheads need apply? And get with? Were they twelve years old and couldn’t use grownup words? Not to mention the signature, such as it was. Trying to play mafia boss, expecting that he’d know who had sent it. He did, but it took a lot of bloody gall to assume that he would.

Not as much gall as Don’t do it again. He couldn’t even think of that part, the demeaning certainty of it, without a certain vein beginning to throb in his forehead.

In the two years since, he found himself falling back into analysis of the note - it was barely more than a dozen words, so how could there still be so much to parse? - whenever her name came up, which became more and more frequent as she moved from nothing campaigns in the most forgotten corners of the country to deputy deputy whatever on somewhat more consequential ones. She was gaining a reputation among his peers. They said she was smart and canny, that she had a knack for looking at the bigger picture and acting on her instincts.

(Someone who’d once worked with her had also mentioned that it helped that she didn’t have a high opinion of her looks, didn’t flaunt herself the way some women did around the office - she certainly didn’t have a reason to do so, but sometimes that didn’t stop them.

“Oh, be fair,” said the other man. “She does have quite a nice—”

They’d shut up when he’d walked into the room - everyone knew better than to talk that way around him, and it wasn’t just because of “all those sisters” the way some people said. Eloise had been interning with the campaign that summer, and for the rest of the day while he’d talked with human resources, he’d let her make mistakes on all of their lunch and coffee orders and give them the wrong data for their reports when they’d made her look it up instead of doing it themselves. When he’d fired them, he spread the word on why, but left the particulars out of it.)

The note returns to his mind whenever someone new has their one experience of suggesting Kate Sheffield as a potential hire, or when he thinks he’s seen her in the background of some press conference or event for another candidate, or if he runs into Edie at another charity function, where he absolutely does not flirt with her just that extra bit harder while part of his mind thinks Your move directly toward her sister who he has never actually met in person.

Until now.

“We’re acquainted,” he tells Dr. Danbury, managing to remain polite by avoiding Kate’s gaze. He leaves it at that.

They’re the first two in the conference room for the all-staff the next morning, and somehow he’s not surprised.

“Good morning,” he says as he comes in to find her over by the coffee. She’s doctoring it significantly, clearly already familiar with the quality to be found in a campaign office. He always buys his own; he can’t stand the amount of milk and sugar and oddly flavored creamers required to make the other stuff palatable (and don’t even get him started on the alleged tea).

Tone cool, she replies, “Mr. Bridgerton,” and takes a sip from her mug.

It isn’t as if the staff goes around calling him “Tony” or “boss,” and only the most knock-kneed newcomers call him “sir.” He’s Anthony to most. He has no inclination to correct her.

He works to keep his tone casual and courteous as usual when he introduces her to everyone (“And this is Kate Sheffield, who will be doing some consulting for us”) but something about it must catch Dr. Danbury’s attention, because she raises an eyebrow at him from her end of the table and rests both hands atop her stick.

The fact that the candidate is aware that something is going on between the two of them makes it all the more exasperating when two days later she signs off on Kate’s media and advertising plan over his own. He shows up for dinner with Daphne and Simon that evening as planned, knowing that Daphne would be completely willing to pull the pregnancy card if he tried to get out of it, but she sends him home before the waiter has brought the dessert menus because he keeps muttering about how more people travel by tube and railways and for longer distances but are more likely to take more individual rides on buses and what that means for posting print ads.

(The numbers are seared into his mind, considering she’d included a full breakdown with three kinds of graphs and bloody footnotes in her presentation.)

Getting released from the restaurant early gives him extra time to go back to the office for a bit and put together a preliminary get out the vote strategy. He calls in several favors as a part of it, including one from an old friend of his father’s who asks incredulously, “Really? For this?” clearly wondering whether Anthony’s reputation is deserved if he’s pulling out all the stops for something so routine.

It’s well worth it, however, when Dr. Danbury raises an eyebrow as she looks over the document he’d put together, and tells him, “Well done, Bridgerton, very well done indeed. I think this shall do nicely.”

He does not even glance toward Kate; there really isn’t any need to gloat.

Well, one tiny peek won’t hurt.

Her jaw is set and her eyes are flinty, but she gives him just the slightest nod, as if to say that he might have won this round, but she’d like to see him try the next one.

Just before three in the morning, he wakes himself, panting, from a dream that makes him think he might have to report himself for workplace sexual harassment.

“I would have hoped you’d have better self-preservation instincts,” he says aloud to his body. “Or at least better taste.”

Collapsing back against the pillows, he pushes his mind toward images of ex-girlfriends and celebrities, but no, there is Kate, strong and challenging and gorgeous above him, a vivid afterimage that refuses to go away, and he sighs and gives into it, trying to set himself to rights so he can get past this and find at least a bit more sleep.

Anthony has never been the sort of boss who shouts at people in the office - he has always tended toward cold anger and “you know what you’ve done, now fix it” stares, and doesn’t intend to act differently now. But as he stalks over to Kate’s desk, he finds a fiercer anger taking over, just a bit.

“You changed my media statement,” he says, voice silken with it as he leans his palms down on her desktop and rests his weight on them. He is speaking low, the words just for her, although his eyes roam over the others moving busily around the main space of the office.

She turns her chair slightly, so that he feels the brush of her hair on his forearms where his sleeves are rolled up; it shifts his attention fully in her direction. Her hair tie had snapped earlier, and the thick topknot she tried twisting for herself has collapsed, leaving it free around her shoulders. He snaps himself back from examining the shining curls as she says, “Yes, I did.”

Part of him admires her straightforwardness, that she takes responsibility without even trying to deny it. The other part...well, the anger hasn’t exactly disappeared.

In a level tone which would have his siblings looking over in alarm, he says. “I had worked that statement out with the entire communications department.”

“The entire communications department does what you tell them to do. It’s what you pay them for.”

“And what, exactly, do I pay you for?”

They are facing each other now, their bodies a bit too close for it. She is looking directly at him, voice sharp and clear as glass. “I was hired by the candidate, to help run the campaign that she wants. Your statement was just a polite walkback of her words.”

He has the sudden thought that the brown of her eyes could be warm, that her gaze probably is warm when she’s looking at her sister or the dog whose photo she has framed on her desk (a plump, panting little corgi wearing a bright blue bow tie, absurd), but he’s never seen her that way. He’s only ever gotten this, annoyance and disdain and perhaps disappointment.

Still, he responds, “Her words need to be walked back if she wants to someday be more than the candidate. In this constituency, colonial reparations aren’t a popular enough issue to increase turnout for those who weren’t already interested, and it’s exactly the sort of thing which will put off those who were on the fence. We’re trying to flip a seat by reminding people of what their current MP is doing wrong; we have to stay on message, not muddy things with topics too few understand. Sending out a statement moderating the comment is the right move.”

“But that statement isn’t what the candidate believes, and her future constituents should know what her actual position is - they likely aren’t as stupid as you seem to think. And besides that, she has the right stance in the first place.”

In the weeks since she arrived, he’s found that the things people said of her were true: she is smart, perhaps too smart for the good of either of them, and decisive, easily seeing what’s been done and what needs to be and acting on it, the exact sort of person you would want at your side as you plot a course forward. But he hadn’t realized that she was a believer.

There are fewer idealists in politics than one might think, or at least who have risen to her level. He always finds them a bit off-putting, and it startles him even more with her - he had thought he recognized in her a sharpness and pragmatism which reminded him of his own.

“Don’t do anything like this again,” he says, trying to temper his own abruptness even as he is somewhat unsettled by the conviction in her. “Or I’ll fire you, and I don’t care what the candidate says about it.”

“I think she would have quite a lot to say in that circumstance,” Kate tells him, but she turns back to her keyboard and doesn’t argue anymore.

At least until the next day, when they end up nearly nose to nose in his office as Anthony maintains that they can’t get anyone’s hopes up with a promise of immediate action on climate change, especially considering the priorities in the party platform and the likely makeup of the next parliament, and Kate practically shouts that they’re showing people where their convictions lie and that Dr. Danbury will fight for them if she gets the chance.

When Anthony dreams of her again that night, they are not talking about policy at all. But when he wakes up, edgy and aching as he is, he finds himself hoping one day to see her smile at him the way he did in his sleep; he wants to know if her eyes really are as warm as he imagined.

On Saturday, there’s such persistent nagging in the older sibling groupchat that Anthony finally gives in and agrees to leave the office for a night out. Forcing him into some allegedly relaxing activity is a time-honored tradition when they’re coming into the final stretch of a campaign; he’s certain the others have been discussing tactics in one of the numerous other chats that are always going on. (The last he’d glimpsed, the sibling group which didn’t include Gregory, Hyacinth, or himself - but did, irritatingly, include Simon - was named “Anthony’s Scary Forehead Vein.”)

“Please tell me that we aren’t going to paint ceramics again,” Anthony says as he walks, hands in his pockets, beside Benedict. Their group is too large to all move together on the sidewalk, which is a bit of a relief. “I don’t think I could put up with another night of Eloise reminding me that there are stencils if I need them.”

Benedict very narrowly and very obviously avoids laughing at him. Now that Anthony thinks about it, actually, his brother had spent that particular outing using a dozen colors to intricately decorate a mug, spending so long on it that they had nearly closed the place around him. Their mother drinks her tea from it frequently, however. “Thankfully there won’t be any pottery or painting tonight.”

“And it’s not—”

“Not a club,” Benedict assures him, then grins. “Can you imagine Simon trying to make certain no one came within a foot radius of Daph on the dance floor?”

Anthony shakes his head, looking ahead of them to where his sister and brother-in-law are walking together, not holding hands, but so close that they might as well be. He still feels a bit strange about the two of them together, especially after all the drama on the way, but he can see that they’re in love each other, even if he can’t really imagine why anyone would want to be, and they’re extremely obviously happy, so he’s trying to grow accustomed to it. He can also absolutely see Simon working himself into knots playing mosh pit bodyguard.

“So where are we going, then?” he asks, but before Benedict can answer, Eloise, broken away from her friend Penelope, tosses her arms over their shoulders and wriggles her face between them.

“You’ll just have to see,” she says, and Anthony doesn’t have to look at her to know that she is twitching her eyebrows at them. He probably could get it out of her if he tried, but he actually is finding himself feeling a little lighter being out with everyone, so he just waits and ten minutes later, they’re entering an already fairly crowded pub. Colin and Eloise go over to register them as a trivia team - or more likely to bicker over what name their team should have. As if realizing the same, Daphne squeezes Simon’s hand once and pushes over to join them.

(Her stomach is still flat, even for someone looking, but Anthony notices that she places a protective hand over it as she walks through the crush anyway.)

The rest of them go to claim a table and start putting together an order for drinks and appetizers. Anthony is leaning across, shouting a promise that if Penelope doesn’t finish her chili loaded potato wedges, they’ll certainly be taken care of, when someone behind him asks, “Excuse me, can we borrow this chair?”

“Sorry, there are more of us coming,” he says politely, turning to face the woman. She’s thirtyish and tall, but that’s all he takes in before he spots, over her shoulder, the rest of her group. They’re all chatting with each other, wearing matching T-shirts in a variety of bold colors which declare them the Quizzie Bennets, and in the center, her hair up in a ponytail and definite warmth in her eyes, is Kate. Edie stands beside her, picture perfect nose crinkled in a teasing way, but all Anthony can notice is that he’s never seen Kate in jeans like this, that the odd, bright purple of her shirt looks electric instead of ugly against the dark of her hair, and all he can think is that he never imagined her as relaxed as she is, weapons laid down.

She seems to detect his gaze then, and as she meets it he expects the weapons to be picked right back up. There’s certainly surprise, a guardedness to her eyes as they meet his, but then she narrows them in his direction, as if saying game on.

So that’s how she wants to play it, he thinks, then turns to the others and says, “No alcohol.”

Benedict blinks. “What do you mean by that?”

“In solidarity with Daphne,” Anthony offers.

“Daph does know that it’s pub trivia,” Simon says. “And she’s not—”

“Fine,” Anthony interrupts before the compliment train can get rolling. He sets his jaw. “I mean that we need to keep clear heads if we’re going to absolutely trounce everyone here.”

Penelope looks a bit alarmed by the vehemence in his tone and Simon quirks a brow, but the others are game enough - Bridgertons have always had a competitive streak, and apparently the rest of them actually chose this particular trivia night because it’s done aloud, infinite bounce style, instead of on paper.

“We play with live ammo around here,” Eloise declares gleefully once she’s returned and been updated on what she missed.

“Damn right we do,” Anthony mutters to himself, glad that he is seated with his back to Kate so he can resist the temptation to see how irritated she looks just now, or how face might be a little flushed and her ponytail loosened from the heat of everyone packed together inside…

“Who exactly do you keep looking for?” asks Colin, who’d plopped himself into the chair Kate’s teammate had asked about. He cranes obviously around, and Anthony turns firmly back to the table before his brother can follow his line of vision.

For all that they didn’t pick their team in order to be serious contenders, they do cover the bases fairly well. Anthony has politics and current events, obviously, along with history. Penelope plays backup there as well, and covers literature alongside Colin, who handily takes on geography too. (Anthony has always inwardly wondered how reasonable it was to build a career around wanderlust and Instagram and freelancing for travel magazines, but if it brings them victory tonight, he will never question again.) Benedict apparently took in more about nature than any of the rest of them who grew up in the Kentish countryside, and knows quite a bit more about art and art history than Anthony had expected. Daphne, unpredictably, knows a lot about sports - she claims that it’s what happens when you spend your life being rambled at as “another one of the boys” - and, more predictably, music.

Anthony hadn’t expected Simon’s skill with numbers to be particularly helpful, but now he’ll have to buy him a drink at some point, both for doubting and for pulling them out of a sticky situation involving Bernstein's constant. He wishes that Francesca wasn’t too young to have come out with them - there are several instances where they could have used her chiming in with quiet calm about anything related to economics or science, but they instead have to all give questionable contributions in that regard. They all chip in for pop culture, too, although Eloise is clearly the master - she actually yawns as she announces that of course the country where Monica’s boyfriend Pete Becker took her on their first date was Italy, and Anthony has never been more grateful that he lets everyone sponge off his Netflix login (although would it really kill them to not be using all the screens on the rare occasions he actually has the time and inclination to watch something?).

The trouble is that there are plenty of other teams who are clearly regulars, and they were put together in order to be serious contenders. The questions and answers are flying through the air, the quizmaster, a skinny older man with big hair shouting “Correct! For ten points,” more often than not, and most importantly, the Quizzie Bennets are availing themselves nicely. (He should have guessed as soon as he saw the matching T-shirts.)

Questions his team can’t answer correctly bounce to them next, and he can’t help but toss Kate an incredulous look after she not only answers that Angela Merkel was voted chancellor of November rather than October 2005, but also rattles off the margin for and against. Her eyes meet his as if she was expecting his glance, but she just shrugs before wrapping her lips around her straw and taking a dainty sip of her drink. He has to look away then.

Still, Team Quizerton (apparently the name that both Colin and Eloise had hated enough for Daphne to negotiate them to agreement) has done well enough that Anthony feels confident as they move into the final round.

“And what will the twist be tonight?” the excitable quizmaster asks, although he then just presses a button on his phone rather than spinning some kind of enormous wheel. His face lights up as he announces grandly, “Ah, the ladder!”

He quickly outlines the rules: each team will have five questions selected for them in ascending order of difficulty, with point values from ten to fifty. For each correct answer, they will receive the corresponding points and the option of requesting a related bonus question for half the initial question’s value. Wrong answers mean a point deduction, double for bonus questions, and the end of play for that team. You can also pass, choosing another team to answer and forfeiting further questions for yours but freezing your points where they stand.

It’s more like a game show than any trivia night that Anthony is familiar with, but he actually appreciates the strategy element; he can understand why this would be Kate’s preferred contest.

He considers giving a pep talk to the table, but all of them - except for Simon, who’s looking somewhere between vaguely amused and bored - are dialed in, ready to claim victory, so he settles back and readies himself for it too.

It happens in the final round. Anthony is just allowing himself to feel the slightest bit smug at having earned them another 75 points by not only correctly responding that Sri Lanka was the first country to have a female prime minister, but answering the bonus of her name (Sirimavo Bandaranaike) and year of election (1960) as well. The quizmaster nods, turns, and reads off the next question: “This famous playwright’s last words were reportedly ‘I knew it! I knew it! Born in a hotel room and, goddamn it, dying in a hotel room.’”

There’s a strange, deep silence, then a buzz of whispering among the Quizzie Bennets, and Anthony is struck by the realization that they don’t know the answer. He certainly doesn’t either, and a glance around at his group tells him that they would have been screwed had they gotten the question, but it doesn’t matter. Excitement licks up his throat, victory so close he can taste it…

And then Kate’s head comes up from the huddle, and her eyes meet his, and he knows exactly what she is going to do before she does it.

“Ten seconds!” says the quizmaster.

“Trust me,” Kate mouths to her teammates, and then says aloud, “We’d like to pass, and give the Know It Ales a chance to answer.”

Anthony’s mouth goes dry. Stupid team name aside, they’ve been confidently answering questions all night, and this time is no different. Their leader is nearly bored as he immediately says, “Eugene O’Neill.” And Anthony can barely hear the room around him over the blood rushing in his ears as they answer the follow-up too.

When the quizmaster declares the Know It Ales the champions for the evening, Kate slings her arms around her teammates and cheers as if he’s announced her name instead. The other Quizzie Bennets look puzzled, but when she stares defiantly at Anthony, chin raised, beaming, glowing not like she’s in the spotlight but like she’s the light itself, he somewhat suspects that she’s the winner indeed.

“Isn’t that—” Colin starts somewhere close to Anthony’s ear.

“No, it is not,” Anthony tells him firmly, and wrestles him off to pay their tab.

Later that night, after he’s somewhat successfully distracted himself with work and somewhat less successfully distracted himself with looking for something to watch (why isn’t everyone asleep, and even if they are up, could they really not leave him one available screen?) he finds himself sitting on the edge of his bed with his work phone in one hand and his personal one in the other. And even though he knows exactly how bad an idea it is, he very carefully references the campaign contact group and keys one number into a new text message in his personal phone.

Sorry that this didn’t seem to be your night. Best of luck to your team next time.

He shoves out a breath and stands as soon as he’s sent it, forces himself to start getting ready for bed; she’s probably asleep now, or she might read it as rude or sarcastic and choose not to respond, and the text is just going to sit there, awkward and interminable…

There are plenty of ways to be lucky, thanks very much, and I think we found one - although I look forward to reclaiming my rightful title someday soon. See you on Monday, Bridgerton.

Regardless of what he tells himself, he can’t quite get the stupid grin off his face as he shuts off the light. He’s under no illusions about who his dreams will feature tonight.

Monday night before the election, Anthony leaves the office past eleven. He rubs his eyes as he walks past dark cubicles and conference rooms - unsurprisingly, he’s the last one around - and decides that what he needs more than sleep is something to eat, and not whatever cup noodles or single egg he might come up with at home. No, he needs comfort food, something generous and hot and greasy as Benedict’s face the year he was thirteen (not that his at fifteen was much better).

His favorite hole in the wall is open until midnight, so he stumbles over there and buys the biggest order of chips he can, the enormous burger nearly an afterthought. The place is tiny and not the sort of spot that has ever even heard of ambiance, but he’s tired and the idea of waiting to get back to his flat and eating in its emptiness isn’t particularly appealing. He turns with his food in hand and finds Kate looking up at him, startled, from one of the three tables.

He could take one of the others, leave them to eat in awkward peace, or he could pretend he had always intended to have his food to go. Instead he comes over and asks, “Can I join you?”

Her capable hands moving just a note too slowly, as though giving him time to reconsider, she collects the documents from the opposite side of the table, tapping them into order as he waits patiently. She folds her fingers atop the neat stack in front of her once she’s finished, watching as he dives into his meal; he should probably be embarrassed about it, but he doesn’t really have the energy.

They talk about inconsequential things - how the weather forecast might cause trouble with voter turnout, the unfortunate office incident with Johnson and the speakerphone last week, mutual political acquaintances - and Anthony realizes that it’s the first time they’ve ever done this, just made small talk without disagreeing. Kate doesn’t lose her sharp tongue simply because they are in casual conversation, but it’s different when her remarks aren’t directed at him; hearing her pert analyses of other candidates and campaign staffers actually makes him laugh.

She’s left half a piece of cold fish and polished off more than a few of his chips (completely unthinkingly, he’s sure) when they’re informed that closing time’s come and they have to clear the table. It would be completely natural for them to part ways and see each other in the morning for another round of sparring, but he finds himself saying, “I think I might go get a drink,” and finds her answering, “I think I might join you.”

He regrets it just a bit when he’s balanced on the bar stool (he really is exhausted; this is the earliest he’s been out of the office in days) but then Kate raises her wineglass and says, “To the homestretch,” and smiles just a bit as he touches his glass to hers. The light falls cozy and dim around them and he can still see exactly how long and competent her fingers are, wrapped around the stem, the places where strands of hair have escaped their pins, trailing down to rest against her exposed throat.

Right, he thinks inanely to himself. Right, excellent, this was a good choice, and belts back his scotch before signaling for another.

“Those were your siblings?” she asks, taking a sip of her own drink. “At trivia the other night?”

“Some of them were...are…” He shakes his head, trying to straighten out his own meaning. “It was some of my siblings, the oldest four, and my brother-in-law, and my sister’s best friend.” Then, before he can stop himself, he adds, “I saw your sister was there as well.”

“Hmm,” she says, taking another sip of her cabernet, and he can see her spine stiffening, armor reasserting itself.

For the first time, he realizes that she could easily hate Edie, her younger sister - her younger half-sister, even - who is sweet and accomplished and more apparently pretty, the one people’s eyes turn to when the Sheffield girls are around, but what Kate displays is no begrudging love.

It would probably be better for him to change the topic, get them back on safer ground, but though he might be smart, he’s not necessarily wise, so he tosses back his second scotch and asks, “Why did you warn me off her the first time? You didn’t even know me.”

“Yes, but I knew of you,” she says. As always, she faces the comment head on, doesn’t even pretend not to remember exactly what he’s talking about. “I was starting in the industry, I needed to have an ear to the ground and at least a general sense of the players, and I didn’t like the sense I got about you. It didn't make me think you were the kind of person to trust with my sister.”

“I’ve never—I would never—I don’t think I’ve—” he says, stumbling, slightly stricken. He knows that there are whisper networks about the people - the men - in their field, knows exactly who some of the whispers are about and has done his best to be the type of person who helps make those whispers into shouts. It would kill him a bit to find out that he’s done something that would make someone feel the need to speak about him that way.

“Not necessarily on a personal level,” she says, suddenly gentle, then circles her finger around the rim of her glass and amends, “Well, not that way. People actually said you were very smart and a good employer, but when I learned more about your history, the jobs you’d worked on in the past, it didn’t feel like there was any principle to your choices. As if you were just willing to sell yourself to whoever asked, or at least whoever looked good on a resume. Edwina deserves more than that.”

She is looking at him extremely frankly, as if she hasn’t just shrugged away the idea of the career he’s built, but with the way she says her sister’s name, the softness of it, how she somehow makes the full, old-fashioned version more personal than the nickname - he understands that sort of devotion. Hearing it from her steals the irritation beginning to build even as she continues. “I could never even entirely figure out why you went into politics rather than something else. You’re reasonably intelligent, you could have done any number of things if you weren’t particularly invested in the issues.”

Somehow, instead of the protest he was expecting, that he was intending, what comes out is simply, “It’s the family business.”

“I’m sorry?”

“The Bridgerton Group. My father started it.” By her expression, she doesn’t think that two generations exactly makes a family legacy, but for once she holds her tongue, and his, loose with drink and exhaustion, can’t hold back.

“I grew up playing under the table at a dozen campaign offices across London and having poster mock-ups as my placemats. When I was a bit older, I was allowed to volunteer, and I loved seeing him there, in his element, listening to proposals and then telling everyone, ‘Well, here’s what we’re going to do.’” He swallows. “He—My father died, just after my first year at university, and I wasn’t old or experienced enough to take his place. The staff went off to work for other people, and all I could think about was how disappointed he would have been, to see this thing he’d built, this thing he loved, fall apart so easily. The entire time until I graduated, while I was getting experience with other consulting firms and working on other campaigns, I was just waiting until I could do justice to what he left behind for me.

“He nearly called it ABC Consulting, but my mother told him that it sounded too juvenile. My parents had me and my brothers fairly young - he was still a student when Benedict and I were born - and he wanted to name it after us.”

He realizes as soon as he’s said it that he’s only ever admitted that once before, to Simon on a similarly drunken night during their final year at school, forgetting the way that Simon and his father were, or weren’t, with each other; his friend’s face had closed up as soon as the words had left Anthony’s mouth, and they’d never talked about it again. But Kate’s face is open, listening, more than he thinks he’s ever seen from her, in such a way that he thinks he could reveal anything to her.

He could tell her about the trouble he and his brothers got up to as children, or how he likes watching baking shows to relax even though he’s not worth a damn in the kitchen, or that he can’t stop himself from adding another mile to his morning run each time he finds a gray hair. He could start talking about how complicated his feelings have grown regarding the man who was once his best friend, or about the way his entire chest had burned as his mother placed a squalling Hyacinth into his nineteen-year-old hands before closing her eyes and about how he never wants either of them to know that he’d tried to force himself not to tremble and had trembled anyway. But this isn’t the time for any of that, so he continues.

“I wanted to put it back together for him. There were candidates I took on in the early days who were stepping stones, necessary to building a reputation but who I wouldn’t work with again now that I have the reputation and the choices that come with it. And I have my own opinions on the issues - some of which might match yours more closely than you’d expect - but I’m there to make sure that the candidates who hire me succeed in getting where they want to be. I’m good at that, and I’m committed to it, and I’ve never run a campaign I wasn’t proud of. Sometimes, though, being around you, I wonder if you're going to eventually talk me into a different philosophy.”

His glass is full again though he isn’t sure when that happened, and a group of middle-aged men with ties undone and suitcases beneath their eyes fumbles past the bar behind them toward a booth, but the only thing he is paying attention to is Kate’s considering gaze on him as she absently swirls the wine remaining in her glass.

“I have the feeling,” she finally says, “that when you say a different philosophy, you consider it a more naïve one. And I’m not certain that our opinions on the issues would really match up considering that you grew up with family money.” Her voice is not arch or insulting, though, and he would certainly know.

“We were...comfortable,” he admits. She raises a waspish eyebrow in response.

“No one who’s actually middle class would ever put it like that,” she informs him. “You most definitely have a trust fund.” But she actually smiles at him, and for once he knows what it’s like to have Kate Sheffield look at him with warmth in her eyes.

He’d quite like to have that again.

“Do you think—?”

“That we should dignify the remarks with a response? No, I absolutely do not.”

Anthony glares down at the article he has pulled up on his phone, then looks over at Kate, striding down the hall beside him, eating slices of peach out of a reusable container. For a moment he’s distracted from the rumormongering on behalf of one of their opposing campaigns; he thinks of Kate’s hands carefully working the knife around the fruit, of the way her tongue flicks over to catch the juice when she takes a bite…

“I could reach out,” he says, too loudly, before he walks into a wall. “I know the head of the campaign over there, I can remind him about the spirit of fair play and all that, especially this close to the finish line.”

She looks over at him incredulously, snapping the top onto her empty Tupperware. “I don’t care if you were the best man at his wedding, he’ll laugh you off the phone. I’ve had at least three listicles of our candidate’s best insults toward her opponents forwarded to me just this morning.”

“I had the feeling that wouldn’t work.” He pinches the bridge of his nose. Just three days left, for better or worse. “Fine, so we say nothing and hope that it passes out of the media cycle quickly and doesn’t do too much damage to the absentee votes.”

“As I said from the beginning.”

“You are far too determined never to let me have the last word,” he says, just the slightest bit amused, as they circle around the desks of the main office, edging their way over to hers.

She snags the toe of her ballet flat on a computer charger trailing across the floor, stumbles, but he catches her hand just in time and sets her upright again. She continues walking as if it hadn’t even happened, raising her voice enough to be heard over the chatter and buzz of phone calls as she teases, “What would be the fun in that?”

Aghast, he says, “We aren’t here to have fun, Sheffield.”

“Oh, did you actually want to win?” She tosses the empty container onto her desk as she drops into her chair, then looks up at him, swiveling slightly from side to side and shaking her head. “You really are a cliché.”

“Yeah, well, here’s another one: get to work.”

“I’m not sure that’s technically a cliché, but I suppose I could do that,” she says, with a shrug and a grin, turning toward her computer. He watches her for another few seconds, and then takes himself off to his office before he becomes too much of a cliché himself.

Despite the phone call he had earlier with his mother promising her that he wouldn’t, he falls asleep on his desk the night before the election, startling himself awake hours later.

“Too bloody old for this,” he mutters to himself, grimacing as seemingly every joint and muscle in his body quite firmly announces itself when he stands. Scrubbing a hand through his hair, he gathers his things and makes his way through the darkened office.

Except it isn’t as dark as he’d expected. He scans the desks to try to figure out who left their lamp on, and finds Kate with her head resting on her arms, essentially imitating him from ten minutes prior.

Briefly, he stands there, not entirely sure what to do, but then he walks over, hand hovering by her shoulder before he gives her a light shake.

“Kate,” he says softly, crouching so he’s closer to her level. Her loose ponytail drapes over the burgundy of her blouse, quite close to his hand. He had not realized that he would recognize the scent of her, clean and straightforward with a subtly delicate edge; he should have known - he’s been smelling it in his dreams for weeks. He swallows and shakes her once more. “Kate, you should go home.”

“That was meant to be my line,” she says, far more lucidly than he would have expected. He shifts back as she stirs and sits up, massaging her fingers over her eyes. “I had the feeling that you weren’t going to leave at a sensible time, so I was planning on reminding you before I went home, only apparently I can’t leave at a sensible time either.”

“No, I suspect that sensible times to leave the office don’t involve the letters A or M,” he agrees. “Not that I would know anything about that.”

As she readies herself to leave, he tries to remember that the way she stretches out her back or takes down her hair, how she swings her bag over her shoulder, the quick, assessing way her eyes cover the room to make certain everything is in its place: all of that should be unremarkable. But there’s a moment, just the tiniest sliver of time, when she’s flicked off her desk lamp and they begin to walk out together in the glow of the emergency exit signs and the dim light of windows from other office buildings - she glances over at him, his hair rumpled, tie and briefcase dangling from one hand, and he thinks that he sees her swallow in a way that he recognizes all too well.

And then the moment is gone, and they’re out on the sidewalk, about to go their separate ways, the car he’d called for her already waiting.

“Big day tomorrow,” he says over the top of the door, holding it open as she climbs in. “Are you ready for it?”

“I’m always ready.”

He laughs, soft as the night around them. “Yes, I suppose you are. Good night, then.”

She looks at him one last time in the yellow beam of the streetlight, still a bit sleepy-eyed but no less aware for it. “Good night, Bridgerton,” she tells him, and drives away, and he can’t help but wonder about what if she hadn’t, what if he’d said something or she had made a choice, what if she didn’t drive away from him again.

The day of the election is always the worst for him - all the work behind him, nothing really to be done but let the people vote. He’s in the office earlier than usual anyway, early enough that he isn't certain it was worthwhile going home, but this, at least, he can control. He manages to keep himself busy throughout the day, but it’s all just a countdown to that night.

Somehow, despite - or perhaps because of - the sleeplessness and planning and stress, it isn’t one those contests that drag on. Dr. Danbury is brought on stage at about a quarter to one alongside the other candidates; the results, when the returning officer announces them, are decisive.

She’d brushed away his offers to help or choose a staffer or hire someone to work on her speech with her; instead she’s written it herself, and although brief, it’s as firm and irreverent as she is. He suspects that no one will ever pack as much sarcasm into referring to certain colleagues as “the right honorable.”

He makes some calls and receives congratulations from his mother and siblings, who have long since ceased to find these sorts of things interesting enough to attend but who make certain to keep up from home. As Dr. Danbury frees from handshaking and small talking, he makes his way over to her.

“Congratulations, ma’am.” He holds out his hand, which she eyes with a lifted brow.

“Anthony Bridgerton, I’ve known you since you were charming people from your mother’s arms, and considering that - not to mention all we’ve been through together over these last months - I think you can stand to give me more than just a handshake.”

He hugs her, which feels odd and tells him more than anything that the campaign is over. When he pulls away from her, she pats his cheek. “Now, go celebrate. You’ve earned it. I’m certainly going to.” And she winks.

The campaign staff is making plans for drinks and dancing and even just going home to raise a glass with loved ones. He wades into the group, patting backs and shaking hands, speaking briefly to some of them, smiling all the while.

And then he sees Kate, toward the edge of the crowd, chatting with one of the young guys from finance. Edwina is beside them, likely not as inured to the excitement of the night as the Bridgertons.

Kate, the taller of the two, spots him, leaning over to say something to her sister before weaving her way over. He tips his head toward a quieter little hallway, and they go over together, leaning against parallel walls.

“Congratulations,” they say to each other at the same time, and then immediately after, “I only wanted to say—”

He nods at her to go first. It’s only polite. But there’s an unusual sort of trepidation about her face, a pause that he doesn’t expect, that makes him wonder if she wishes that he’d taken the initiative. Still, she’s Kate, so she takes a breath and comes out with, “Edwina is here tonight, and if you still wanted—Clearly I misjudged you, and so if you were still interested in her, I wouldn’t say anything.”

“Oh,” he says, and that is all he can manage for the moment, standing frozen and watching Kate force her shoulders back and her gaze to his.

He does not know precisely how to communicate the depths to which he has realized that he does not want to date Edie Sheffield, that he never wanted to date her, that his interest lies entirely elsewhere. What he says instead is, “I had wanted to ask you to stay on with the Group. Permanently. You’re very, very good at what you do, and I think that...You know, your perspective and your clarity during the campaign was extremely helpful, extremely valuable, to me.”

He can picture it plainly, has been picturing it already: Kate taking him to task about every little issue, forcing him to remember the things outside of the campaign itself, the bigger things. Kate, with her hair swept up and her eyes bright and furious, challenging him to be the best version of himself, or at least to want to try.

But then she looks up at him and says, “I’ve actually had another job offer recently. The candidate—I’m sorry, the MP-elect wants me to be her new chief of staff, and I was already inclined to accept.”

“You’re going to be incredible at that,” he says immediately, blank shock quickly giving way to sincerity then laughter. “I can’t believe I didn’t think of it sooner. Maybe I just didn’t think that Parliament was ready for it.”

“That’s probably for the best, though. Element of surprise and all.”

Her voice doesn’t trail away but as his laughter does, so does her smile, her animation; the air seems to fall thin and still. He doesn’t know that there’s ever been a beat of awkwardness between them like this, not even when they have been at their most prickly with each other, but it’s there now, in her eyes as she looks across at him, in his gut as he wonders what to say next.

“I’m glad you got another job offer,” is what comes out, and there is her unamused, interrogative eyebrow, hovering upward.

“So you weren’t serious with yours?”

“No, of course I was, it’s only that...Well, I’ve been your boss up until now, regardless of how much you might believe it should be the other way around.” That even gets him a slight returning smile, enough for him to ignore the dryness in his mouth and the franticness of his chest to say, “And if you had taken the job with me, I would have continued to be your boss. Which would have made it rather unacceptable for me to ask you out.”

In the space of that breath, with the silence heavy between them even as they stand right beside a crowded room, even as Dr. Danbury’s voice crows easily above the others, still practiced from projecting through the university lecture hall, he wonders if she is going to leave him like this, cards on the table, only the fall below him.

“Well,” she finally says, slow as anything. She is looking up at him, considering and careful, but he knows that her mind must be working at triple its already remarkable speed. “If I’m going to be around the city, and there’s no conflict of interest…”

He doesn’t entirely like the way it is turning into something neat and logical in front of him when he’s never felt anything close to that around her. He doesn’t like the way she looks tentative, pushing back against the edge of something more than caution - fear, perhaps, as if this might be a trick, as if the idea of allowing herself to crack open is unbearably terrifying, and it looks wrong on her face, so bold and familiar, he never wants to see that expression there again. He reaches out across the space, and when she reaches back, he takes her hand.

“Kate,” he says. “You are the most infuriating person I’ve ever known and possibly the smartest, you are wildly, overly principled and somehow make me want to be the same, you never let me have a moment’s peace, I can’t stop thinking about you, and I’d like to go on a date with you.”

“Well, that does sum things up nicely, Anthony,” she tells him, and despite herself, he can see a little snatch of a smile just there, the warmth growing in her eyes as they look right into him, the fear working its way from her. Still, she tries for nonchalance as she says, “My contract with the campaign doesn’t end until Friday. We can do Saturday night, if you’re up for it.”

He’s up for it. He takes her out Saturday night for dinner, hides a smile as she pokes fun at his shoes, gets into an argument with her about education funding, and goes to bed more distracted by a half hour of pressing her against her front door (and then onto her sofa for another twenty minutes) than he has any right to be considering he isn’t fourteen. He spends Sunday night with her too, and on Monday they go to see a movie they both hate but can’t stop talking about, and he is fairly certain he is going to spend essentially every night with her for the rest of his life.

It isn’t peaceful - and only likely to get busier once they both really get back to work - and her dog is a nuisance and Colin tries to take credit for the whole thing, and they’re so happy that neither of them cares.