#anthonys voice shaking gets me every time

[urgunnamissmebymytaco]

I forgot just how devastating ep 61 (death of a salesman) is. Sobbing while washing my face ✨️just girl things✨️

[captainsophiestark]

Bad Timing

Benedict Bridgerton x Reader

Masterlist - Join My Taglist!

Written for Fictober 2023!

Fandom: Bridgerton

Day 25 Prompt: "Do I look like I knew that?"

Summary: When Eloise needs help with a problem, she knows she can count on her brother and his new wife for help.

Word Count: 1,047

Category: Fluff, Humor

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

"You know, lazy days like this are by far my favorite," I mused, curling into my husband's side as we laid in bed together. "No galas, no gossip from the Ton. Just the two of us."

"I certainly have to agree," said Benedict, my husband, as he traced patterns on the bare skin of my back. "Although, I do enjoy watching Colin wade through the swarm of Mamas every time we go out, now that he is the only unwed Bridgerton son. At least until Gregory gets a bit older."

"I'd say you were being mean, but he did ditch you and Anthony for quite a while in his travels."

"Yes, he did. So he deserves this."

I laughed, shaking my head a bit at my husband's antics. A moment later, he pulled me tighter to his side, rolling us so I laid completely on top of his chest. I rose up on my elbows to meet his eyes and found him looking at me with a mischevious smile.

"You know, it's just occurred to me," he started. "There are quite a few ways I can think of that our time would be better spent than talking about my brother."

"Oh really?" I asked, grinning and leaning down closer to Benedict. "And what might those ideas be?"

"Well for starters..."

With that, he brought his hand up to the back of my neck and pulled me into a searing kiss. I rested all my weight on him, kissing right back, until a knock at the door jarred us both out of the moment.

Reluctantly, I pulled away, and Benedict let me. We shared a look.

"Maybe whoever it is will go away if we ignore them," he whispered in suggestion. As if he'd willed it into happening, a voice from the other side of the door called out.

"Y/N! If you're in there, please, I need to talk to you."

Eloise. Benedict's little sister, who I'd become close with throughout the course of Benedict courting me. I gave Benedict an apologetic look.

"No," he whined as I rolled off of him, quickly wrapping a robe around myself and heading for the door.

"I have to," I replied. "I can't ignore her. Make yourself decent."

With that, I turned from my husband and went to open the door just wide enough to see Eloise on the other side, and for her to see me.

"Oh, thank goodness!" she cried, moving to push past me and into the room. I let her, just hoping that Benedict had done as I'd said. Eloise and I had done this a few times as we'd gotten closer, and whenever it happened, I knew she really, truly needed me.

I turned around to follow Eloise back into the room after shutting the door behind me, only to find her frozen just a few steps from where she'd come in. Benedict stood next to the bed, looking tired but resigned to our new morning activity as he laced up his shirt.

"Good morning, Eloise," he said, a little edge of teasing in his tone. "You know, I was trying to enjoy the morning with my wife-"

"Do I look like I knew that?" she cried. I fought back a laugh as I walked forward to wrap my arm around her shoulder.

"It's alright, Eloise," I said. "Benedict and I were about to get up for the morning, anyway."

Benedict shot me a look with his eyebrows almost into his hairline, and I glared right back, imploring him to go along with me. He cleared his throat.

"Right. That we were. What did you need help with, sister?"

She hesitated, so I walked around to face her, putting both of my hands on her shoulders and blocking her eyeline to Benedict. I gave her a small smile, so she'd know everything was alright, then spoke in a low voice that I knew Benedict wouldn't be able to hear.

"If this is a ladies' problem, or one you don't want your brother to know about, El, I'll throw him out of here right now and we can talk, alright? But if you're embarrassed about knocking when you did, then you truly don't need to be. We love you, and we'd both drop far more important things to help you whenever you need it."

Eloise sighed, nodding a little as she did. The bright red blush that had risen to her cheeks started to fade, and she at last met my eyes again.

"Thank you. I... suppose it wouldn't hurt to have Benedict's input as well," she said. I nodded, giving her a bright smile before turning around to face my husband.

"Put your problem-solving hat on, Benedict," I said. I started drifting for the couches by Benedict's turret window, one of my favorite features of his room. "We've got a family matter to deal with."

They both beamed at me as they started following me over to the couch. I'd considered a few of Benedict's siblings as good as family for a long time now, but it felt amazing to be able to say that and have it be completely true.

Benedict and Eloise settled into the couch on either side of me, Benedict resting his arm across my shoulders. Those kinds of casual touches would've been scandalous before we were married, but now we could do them whenever we wanted to, which also made my heart sing.

Eloise gave us both one last look with a raised eyebrow, then launched into her explanation of the problem that had brought her to our doorstep, which had something to do with a boy of virtually no social status who'd caught her attention. Benedict and I spent the rest of the morning, helping her as best we could, in the way only we could.

Although I hated that Eloise had to deal with the problems she dealt with, a small part of me sang the entire morning as Benedict and I worked together, the perfect team, to help his little sister. This was going to be the rest of our lives, with Eloise and maybe someday with children of our own, and I couldn't be happier thinking about that future with Benedict. We made the perfect team.

****************

Everything Taglist: @rosecentury

[daenysx]

I would love love love a Sirius blurb of him just being a total simp over a Hufflepuff! Reader or a Sunshine! Reader. Maybe they’re married and he’s a reformed ladies’ man and he’s totally so whipped for his wife that the guys tease him about it (lovingly). Think like Anthony and Kate Bridgerton kind of smitten, like aggressive adorable.

I love your writing and have been on tumblr for just a little bit but your page is one of my favorite places to be.

This is for your sad girl sleepover, but it’s totally up to you whether you feel like writing it or not; my love and hugs regardless!

"wake up, babe." you kiss sirius's cheek soundly. "wake up, wake up."

sirius grunts, buries his face to pillow as if he can escape getting up. he mumbles something you don't hear.

"we're gonna be late." you say, excitement drips from your voice. "well, we won't but if you wake up now, we can take our time with the breakfast."

he shakes his head again, such a grumpy in the mornings. you play with his gorgeous locks, fingers rubbing his scalp lightly. he's pulled by your touch, nuzzling closer to your side. "please."

leaning into his pretty face, you kiss his cheek again. then his neck, and his bare shoulder. "i'm gonna make you pancakes and coffee if you wake up now." you try to bribe him. you'll do them anyway but he doesn't have to know that now.

"i can't." he says. "my eyes are closing on their own."

you love his morning voice so much, it's so scratchy and deep, you get into his arms, practically forcing your way to snuggle to his chest. "i love you." you say, pressing kisses on his neck. "open your eyes."

sirius holds you close to his chest. if anyone, including james and remus, would try so hard to wake him up so early in the morning, he'd be the grumpiest person in the whole world and turn their lives into hell to his pleasure. he once had a big fight with remus because of it when they were still at school. james still gets so surprised every time sirius replies his texts early in the morning, ever since the beginning of your relationship.

when it's just you and him, though- how can he resist your shiny smile and bubbly voice? you're being so sweet on him, kissing him everywhere, trying to give him hopeful eyes for having a long breakfast and going to a picnic with him. he keeps you on his chest, spending his last minute in bed wrapped around your warmth.

and then- he feels like his heart will explode. he's giddy all of a sudden, he takes a precious minute to kiss you. he always has the urge to keep you to himself, right there on his chest, just to have your sweetness all to him and no one else. he kisses you a bit roughly than he means to. you kiss him back, your hand stuck in his hair to accept his affections.

"hmm?" he says, finally blinking his eyes open.

"here you are, handsome." you say, cupping his cheek. "i was afraid you'll never wake up."

"morning, gorgeous." sirius says. "i'm awake, promise. can we have some coffee?"

"yes!" you say, leaving the bed. "meet me in the kitchen."

sirius rubs his eyes. he forces himself to go to bathroom. you're singing in the kitchen, it takes a lot of strength of him to go wash his face instead of going to kitchen and hold you in his arms.

sad girl sleepover ♡

[d-targaryenshoe]

Muddy Games - Anthony Bridgerton

Word Count: 1728

Summary: Anthony Bridgerton and a game of Pall Mall, without winning it's never good enough it is.

As the sunlight met your skin, you felt the heat radiate from the So huge window shining into your bedroom, or perhaps it may been the warmth that radiated from your husband's body who still sounded pretty much asleep next to you. 

Staring at the ceiling, a smile appeared on your face. It may have been happiness even though adoration was also still a valuable option.

You pulled the covers from your body as you carefully took hold of Anthony's hand, trying to pull yourself from under his grip meanwhile, but the Lord was smarter than you knew.

"Dearest, it's almost half of the day, we must go downstairs to the family." You chuckled, feeling Anthony's arm tighten around your waist before he pulled you closer once more. "Anthony, we've arrived last night, we didn't even see them."

"We still have enough time to conversate with them, they'd understand me if I desired to lock myself in here with my newly wedded wife." He answered, placing his lips on your neck.

"They would, hm?" Running a hand through his brown hair, you smiled while raising an eyebrow at the man. "We really should sr-tart of this da-"

"Anthony? Y/n?" A young female's voice was sounded on the other side of your door after a knock was heard. "YOU MUST MAKE HASTE." 

Anthony sighed to himself, rubbing his forehead before getting up out of bed and opening the door for a small crack. hiding his uncovered body behind the door, meeting Eloise's eyes. "Sister? Nice to see you on this delightful morning, is it not?"

"No, it is not." She answered.

"The sun is shining to its greatest?"

"Sun? Ah, very hot, too hot." She fanned herself with her hand.

Eloise grinned sarcastically at her brother, giving him a toothy smile, trying to peek into the room but no one could do as Anthony positioned his hand on the doorframe. "Do you need assistance with anything, El?

"No, just hastening the two of you up with whatever you're accomplishing, everyone's downstairs, we're almost beginning a Pall Mall game." Eloise shrugged, before loudly speaking up. "DAPHNE WOULD LOVE TO SEE Y/N AGAIN AFTER SUCH A LONG TRAVEL." 

Anthony squinted at the younger girl, shaking his head before she waved him off and walked away, knowing how much of a strong connection you had with the other Bridgerton sister.

Anthony closed the door, walked back into the room, and started to relay Eloise's message, but you interrupted him with a chuckle. "I heard everything, dearest. Let's not keep your family waiting." 

You leaned in and gave him a quick kiss before getting out of bed to get dressed. Anthony smiled at you, grateful for your understanding nature, and started to get ready as well. 

"Thank you for the concern, but I'm ready to face them. We'll handle it together." You replied with a smile as you walked down the staircase, holding hands. 

As you stepped outside, the first thing you saw was the family waiting on the grass field. They were all smiling and waving, and you could feel the love and warmth radiating from them. 

Despite the overwhelming feeling of being surrounded by so many people, you knew that you were very much ready to be a part of this family.

Eloise was standing next to Violet, who immediately embraced you and welcomed you to the family. 

"Oh, brother, I must say, you and the clothes on your body are a much more pleasant sight." Eloise smiled, but the smile quickly faded as she saw the look Colin gave her.

"Eloise, that's enough. Let's not embarrass the newlyweds," Violet said, giving her daughter a stern look. 

"I'll think of a number and the person to guess it, picks first?" Colin suggested.

"What? I do not accept. The oldest should pick first, Colin." Benedict snapped.

"The oldest? The youngest, much rather!" Eloise

"I just got married, I should be choosing." Anthony urged.

"Why am I afraid that this is how every Pall Mall game goes?" You asked Daphne as she chuckled. "Because it is, is it not?"

Daphne catches your eye and nods her head. "Very much so, excuse me for a moment."

"All of you, almost starting a contest on who shall pick first, when the only person who has not said one thing, is your wife, Anthony, maybe she is the one to pick first?" Daphne gave her brother a stern look, hearing Eloise laughing quietly.

As Anthony clears his throat, he agrees with Daphne's suggestion that you should be the one to pick first. "Yes, that's a great idea. Dearest, why don't you pick first?" he says, giving you a warm smile. 

You nod, picking the black mallet, and noticing Anthony's expression of shock. You can't help but laugh as Benedict teases his brother about the mallet of death. 

"So it is yours?" You ask, holding out the mallet towards him to take, but he shakes his head, kissing your temple.

"No, not at all, it's yours now." Anthony smiles.

"Is it? Because the last time I tried to do so, you almost beate-" Colin his words were stopped by the look his brother gave him. "What?"

"You exaggerate, dear brother." Anthony placed his chin on your shoulder, standing behind you and wrapping one arm around your waist. 

"I've had enough, shall I watch those two all day, or may I start this game?" Eloise sighed, swinging the mallet in her hand towards you and Anthony. "I much would like to do the second thought."

" I think we should indeed begin with the Pall Mall game, y/n, love, why don't you start? violet kindly smiled, placing her hand on yours before returning to her seat.

With a determined look on your face, you swung your mallet and successfully struck the round bowl through the high arch of iron.

"Well, well, well! It seems your mighty mallet has finally proven its worth." You teased your husband, making him place his lips on your neck, making you lean into him. 

" It was just a stroke of luck." He muttered against your neck, before releasing you and walking towards the spot to give it his best try. "Dear family, watch closely, Benedict, you indeed. I'm about to show you how it's done."

Anthony steps up to take his shot, his eyes focused on the target. He swings his mallet with confidence, but to his dismay, he misses the ball completely. His expression turns from determination to frustration.

"Well, well, Anthony. I must say, that was quite the swing!" Benedict laughed, throwing his arm around his brother's shoulder.

Anthony's face turns red with embarrassment as his siblings join in on the laughter.

"Oh Anthony, perhaps you need a bit more practice before challenging Benedict." Daphne tried to hide her smile behind her gloved hand. 

"I think I'll keep score. One point deducted for every missed shot, Anthony." Eloise adjusted the bow in her hair, smiling at the Bridgerton brother.

Anthony tries to maintain his composure, but the teasing continues to rattle him. "Enough! I'll show you all in the next round."

"Alright, here goes nothing!" Daphne sighs, taking Anthony's spot of position. Daphne takes a deep breath and focuses on the ball. With a swift motion, she strikes it with precision.

The ball hits the target dead center, causing a loud "clang" sound. 

"I did it! I did it!" She cheered, embracing you and Eloise with joy. 

"Okay, Daphne, we've heard, now it's my turn." Colin tries his best to concentrate. "Alright, here goes nothing!"

"Colin, that position? You really must work on your aim." Anthony spoke, having Eloise chuckle. "Don't chuckle, you too."

"Just you wait, Anthony. I'll get better with practice." Colin answered, striking the ball and scoring another point. 

"Everybody move, I get to try now." Benedict swings his mallet and hits the ball with a strong force, but unfortunately, it veers off course. "Damn it!"

"What happened, Benedict?" Anthony raised an eyebrow, leaning his hands on his mallet.

"It's your fault, Anthony! You distracted me!" Benedict pointed a finger at his brother. 

 "Me? How on earth did I distract you?" Anthony rolled his eyes. "It's not my fault you missed your shot."

"Okay, okay, my turn, go away," Eloise said, She hit the ball, but it flew through the air and landed in the mud. "Oh no! The ball went flying, there goes my shot!

Anthony let his eyes run over the field and remembers which direction it went. "Y/n, dearest, the ball went in that direction, care to join?"

"Of course, we must retrieve it." You smile, taking hold of your husband's hand and following him in the direction, trying not to ruin your gown.

" Look for anything round and shiny. It could be partially buried." Anthony said, doing his best not to slip away in the mud. 

Letting your eyes scan the ground they stopped at a particular point. "I see something over there! It's partially hidden under the mud."

The both of you carefully unearth the ball, covered in mud, but otherwise intact. "Thank goodness! Our family's legacy is safe."

the both of you find yourselves alone in the middle of the muddy mess. Your clothes are drenched and covered in dirt. The rain pours down, adding to the chaos.

"Well, my love, it seems we've found ourselves in quite a predicament, the desire that burns within me is too strong." Anthony softly spoke, removing the sleeve from your shoulder

"Oh, stop it, Anthony. You're just as disheveled as I am." You chuckled, as Anthony pulled your body closer to his. 

"But that's what makes this moment so perfect. No expectations, no inhibitions, just us, here in the mud." Anthony smiled at you, tightening his grip around you. 

 "Are you suggesting we make the most of this muddy situation?" You asked, removing the strand of hair that fell on his forehead.

"Absolutely, dearest, let's embrace the messiness and create a memory that will last a lifetime." You share a passionate kiss, your bodies intertwining as they revel in the spontaneity of the moment. 

The rain continues to pour, washing away your worries and leaving only their love behind. The mud still clings to your clothes, but you pay no mind.

 In this moment, nothing else matters except their love for each other.

[regencyrosalie]

Could you write some Anthony bridgerton x wife reader angst with a happy ending

i love a happy ending. thank u for the req! here’s husband!anthony and his four braincells fighting for his life

To say Anthony has been stressed would be an understatement. The sheer amount of paperwork he’s had to do within the past week would put any regular man into an early grave. Not to mention that Hyacinth has attracted enough suitors since her debut to keep him busy and on edge every time there’s calling hours.

His wife has been trying her best to help, even organizing his papers when he’s busy, to which he would thank her profusely. She’s also been busy with the social season, arranging dinners and parties and visits to the modiste.

They never fight. (At least not since they got engaged). Which was why Anthony was so out of his element when he accidentally snapped at her one evening.

“Dear, would you like me to bring you a cup-“ she opened the door to the study, clad in her night-things.

“Could you spare me your rambling for once in your life?” he chastised, trying to add costs on paper with his exhausted mind.

She just stared at him for a moment, and he tensed, before backpedaling.

“Darling, I did not-“

But she had already left, and shut the door behind her, teary eyed and angry. He had never spoken to her in such a way, especially when all she was trying to do was assist him and bring him tea.

Anthony followed her out instantly, “My love,” he called desperately, but the hallway was empty, and she was nowhere to be seen. He raced down the corridor to their bedchamber, but it was empty. It did not even register until then that she may be in her own bedchamber.

And that she was, she was sat on her bed, weeping silently. She secretly prayed that he would find her, and muster up a tolerable apology because she could not bear to sleep without him. The sheets she was perched on had very likely not been changed since before she arrived at Bridgerton house, as she never spent more than five minutes in her own room each week. Much to her dismay, and the dismay of her pride, she was spiraling at his words. For how long had he believed her to be rambling? Was her presence so bothersome?

There was a knock on the door, like an answer from the divine.

“My love, are you there?” Anthony’s voice cut through the mahogany door.

“No,” she called back, trying to stop her voice from shaking. She wanted him to know she was there, but also to prove a point. Mostly to watch him suffer.

There was a sigh of relief as he found her, and he tried the door handle, to no avail.

“Please, darling. I am dreadfully sorry. I did not mean it. I was foolish. Please do not shut me out,” he pleaded from the other side of the door.

She did not make any reply, but she stood from the bed, crossing her arms over her chest, as if she knew she would be opening the door soon.

“My love,” he called, trying the door again “please. I love you. I cannot go through the night without you, you know I cannot. I will beg, if that is what you wish. I cannot be parted from you.”

She debated for a moment, and stayed silent, pacing around the room.

“What are you doing?” he practically whined through the door.

“Sparing you.”

He groaned. “No, love, please. That is the last thing I want. I did not mean it. You must know I did not. I have just been so busy, it has taken a toll on me. I did not mean to say such things to you, dearest. You know I do not feel so.”

That soothed her slightly, and she stopped in front of the door.

He heard her get closer, and he continued his begging. “Please, my love. I do not wish for you to spare me from anything except your contempt. I relish in your conversation, I crave it. Do not do this to me. I cannot bear it. I need you desperately. You know I do. I adore you. I adore everything you do, everything you are. I love you so dearly I feel as if it may kill me at times. And it very well might if you do not open this door.”

A smile tugged at her lips as he pleaded with her, and she wiped her eyes before unlocking the door and pulling it open.

Anthony looked a mess, his cravat was half-tied, his hair was disheveled, as he had probably been running his hands through it incessantly, and his eyes were glassy and pleading.

She almost giggled.

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” he said incredulously, with a hint of a smile.

“Perhaps a bit,” she replied, letting him pull her into his arms.

“You evil woman,” he chuckled softly, before pulling back to look at her face, frowning at her puffy eyes, “I am so sorry. Words cannot express my regret. I did not mean to cause you pain. I was foolish.”

“Yes, you were. But I forgive you,” she replied.

“Thank you, my love. I do not deserve your kindness.”

She kissed his cheek. “You do not need to earn my kindness. I know it has been tiring, with all of the work. But it is not my fault.”

“I know it is not. Of course, it is not. You give me nothing but strength. I adore you. I love you.” he murmured into her hair.

“I love you,” she replied softly, with a hint of amusement.

“Let me show you,” he mumbled, lifting her off the ground, “let me show you how much.”

She giggled.

“Anthony Bridgerton you are insatiable.”

[anglbby444]

Anthony Bridgerton x fem!reader smut.

Warnings; none, vanilla sex <3

After bidding your maid farewell for the night with a kiss on the cheek, you nestle yourself into the soft comforters of the bed, which is surrounded by a room that is beautifully decorated thanks to your family’s maids, you feel a familiar crater form next to you. With a grin, you turn over and look into the eyes of your husband, Anthony Bridgerton. “Hello dearest.” He says after placing a gentle kiss on your bare shoulder, you humming contently in response. “Did you have dinner yet, my love?” He questions between more kisses to your shoulder as he leans over your figure. You murmured out an “mhm” as you take in and attempt to memorize the feel of his lips on your skin. “Mm, good good, so did I…although I must admit, you look rather delectable tonight, for a lack of a better choice of words.” He mumbles against your skin, drawing a playful scoff from you. “Anthony! How scandalous..” A smile finds its way onto your face as you sit up and turn around to face your husband, connecting your lips with his.

His hands begin to wander, fingers tracing every inch of skin he can find. Starting from your shoulder, his nimble fingers leave a trail of goosebumps down your arms, chest, breasts, and tummy as his teeth gently latch on to your earlobe. Although most of the skin he’s touching is covered by a soft pink silk nightdress, that doesn’t stop the goosebumps his touch creates on the soft flesh. A moan threatens to escape from your throat as his fingers begin to move lower and lower, eventually hovering above your mound as you feel him chuckle against your skin. You can feel his smirk grow as his fingers find their way into your panties. “A-Anthony!” You cry out.

It is no secret that Anthony Bridgerton likes to make you beg for him to fuck you. No matter if he knows exactly how you want him to fuck you, take you how he pleases. However, as you'll soon find out, that dosen't stop him from wanting to hear it from your pretty litle mouth. "Is your pretty little pussy wet for me? Hm?" Anthonys voice is a devilish one at that, his hot breath tickling the outer shell of your ear. He continues to kiss down towards your neck, lips suctioning a soft portion of skin as he chuckles when he feels you try to buck your hips up. In true mean Anthony fashion, he firmly grips your hips and pushes them down with a growl. "I take that as a yes.."

You let out a sharp breath as his fingers curl into your skin, ever so slightly gliding against your cunt. As Anthony felt the pool of dampness on your heat, he groaned and let out a laugh. "I guess I was right, wasn't I?" He drawls, softly twirling his middle finger around your sensitive bud. You attempted to come up with some sort of sassy remark, but find yourself failing to collect your words. Instead, you let out an almost pathetic sounding whimper. "Anthonyyy...." You call out his name, running your fingers through his hair as you try to buck your hips up once more. This time, he dosen't dissapoint. His forehead presses against you as he shakes his head in playful disbelief. "Say my name like that again and I might just break.." And you took that as a challenge.

"Oh Anthonyyy..." You mewl out his name again, giggling softly as you see him tilt his head and give you a deviant smile. To your surprise, he rips the blanket off of you, exposing your body to him. Although you still have your nightdress on, you can't help but get a bit flustered whenever he sees you so vulnerable. "Well...I think its time to get this pesky dress off of you..." You nod in response and begin to climb out of bed and slowly lift up the dress covering your legs. You know he wanted you to put on a little show. And that you did. Your hair falls down over your shoulders as you let the sleeves of the silk dress slip down your arms. The cold chill that washed over you was a familiar feeling to your already hard nipples. Anthony licked his lips as you fully step out of the nightgown and sashay over to him with a cheeky grin on your face. You crawl onto the bed and look at him with pleading eyes, waiting for him to make the next move. "How do you want me, darling?" His voice became soft, the voice he knows make you feel the safest. Even when hes going to fuck your brains out, as he usually does at least five times a week. "I want you inside me, Anthony.."

Fuck, he CANNOT say no to that. "Guess its a good thing you aren't wearing any panties tonight...Seems like you already knew you wanted my cock tonight." You nod at him with a crooked smile. To your pleasant surprise, he firmly gripped your legs and pulled you closer to him. He let out a chuckle as he placed one of your legs onto his shoulders, spitting on his hand and stroking his already hard cock. Your chest heaves, biting your lip as you look up at him with an already cockdrunk gaze. He leans down and places a passionate kiss to your lips. The two of you exchanged a knowing look, giving him the ok to slip his hard cock into you.

He grabbed onto one of your legs as he gave you a few gentle thrusts, letting you get used to the preassure his cock created inside her. God, you felt like you were in heaven every time he fucked you. He rolled his hips, his tip hitting you in just the right spot. The sensation made your eyes roll back. That sight and your high pitched moans told him all he needed to know. The sound of his skin slapping against yours echoded through the room as he started to speed up his movements, his hands finding their way up to your breasts. His large, gruff hands squeezed the pink and plump flesh.

{You’re pretty sure you came four times that night,,,}

[bosbas]

Chapter 13: it's never too late to come back to my side

series masterlist previous part || next part

pairing: benedict bridgerton x best friend!fem!reader WC: 3.2k words

Warnings: period-typical gender roles, idiots in love being idiots in love, mutual pining, some swearing

Summary: You and Benedict have been best friends since childhood, but things change dramatically once you come out in society. You’re struggling to find someone you’re as compatible with and who knows you as well as Benedict, all while trying to quell your ever-growing feelings for him. Shenanigans ensue.

A/N: ahhhh we're getting close to the end i'm so emotional i love them so dearly

August 15, 1814 - It has come to this author's attention that Mr Benedict Bridgerton will be in attendance at Aubrey Hall this year in time for his family's country house party. This comes after almost two months away in the countryside. Will Mr Bridgerton be shocked to find out that his best friend and his older brother have been courting while he was away? Or has he been kept up to date on the ton's happenings, perhaps by this very column? The lucky guests at Aubrey Hall will find out for themselves in a few days, and the remaining members of the ton in London will surely find out through Lady Whistledown's society papers in the coming week.

"Benedict it's been three days. You have to come downstairs at some point," groaned Hyacinth. She was tired of watching her older brother mope around aimlessly, refusing to participate in any Bridgerton-Beaumont activities.

Knowing bits and pieces of what had happened between you and Benedict, Hyacinth was inclined to leave him to rot in his room forever, completely unsympathetic to his low mood. However, she couldn't help but notice your eyes searching every room you entered, looking for your best friend, only to visibly slump your shoulders when you realized that Benedict had once again failed to show up. So, after three days of watching your disappointment grow exponentially, Hyacinth had taken matters into her own hands. Except for the fact that Benedict was not particularly enthusiastic about Hyacinth's efforts, lying on his bed with a half-open book on his abdomen as he rolled his eyes at his sister.

"Go away. I'm not going to play Pall Mall, just leave me alone," he responded, laying an arm over his eyes.

Hyacinth scoffed in response. "I'm not here to ask if you want to play Pall Mall, brother. If I were, you wouldn't have a choice. Not that you have much choice now, anyway."

Then, grabbing his shoulder and shaking him as hard as her eleven-year-old strength allowed, she tried to make him see sense. "Y/N is even more miserable than you are because you won't even come down for dinner. I don't care that you're the one who upset her in the first place, she wants to see you!"

Seeing Benedict move his arm away from his eyes and give her a questioning look, Hyacinth sighed, exasperated. "Yes, I know about that. Which is how I know you're making it worse by staying cooped up in your room while she's downstairs with no one to talk to."

"She can just talk to Anthony," shot back Benedict, knowing it was a weak argument even before the words came out of his mouth.

Hyacinth did all she could to hold back from screaming at her brother, who was being exceedingly petulant. "You are such an idiot that it's hard to imagine how you lead a semi-normal life," she settled for saying, knowing she would get a lecture if she used any stronger language.

Benedict rolled his eyes, but his gaze shot over to his bedroom door when he heard hushed voices just outside whispering fiercely.

"Yes?" he snapped, loud enough that the voices ceased talking. The door creaked open and a very sheepish-looking Theo and Bastian popped their heads in, stumbling into the room unceremoniously.

After slapping Bastian on the shoulder, only a tad aggressively, Theo cleared his throat. "Ah, excuse our entrance."

"We're here to talk to you about Y/N, obviously, but it seems Hyacinth has beat us to it," finished Bastian, scratching the back of his head.

Benedict grumbled some expletives that were most definitely not appropriate for Hyacinth's ears at the prospect of two of your brothers, and the most athletic ones at that, giving him grief for the way things had played out between the two of you. He was already nursing a piercing heartache and the insurmountable guilt of having ruined his chances at being with you by an ill-timed attempt at a kiss, and he most certainly did not need half of your siblings making him feel worse about it. Having Hyacinth in your corner, and therefore against him, was difficult enough.

"Well, go on then," Ben relented, wanting to get this over with as quickly as possible so he could go back to wallowing in his sorrows. Perhaps his intense heartbreak would lead to some magnificent inspiration for his next piece, and he could find comfort in the fact that his art would be massively successful, even if he couldn't have you. A poor consolation prize, but a consolation prize nonetheless.

Bastian looked at Hyacinth pensively, assessing how crude he was going to be with such a young girl present to hear what he was saying. He knew she had probably heard it all before, given that she grew up with four older brothers nearby, but Bastian was hesitant to be the direct cause of any colorful language the youngest Bridgerton might employ. Deciding the benefits of being as direct as possible outweighed the possible lecture he would receive, Bastian spoke quickly, "We just think you're being a fucking idiot."

"Sebastian!" exclaimed Theo, hitting him on the shoulder again and ignoring that Hyacinth was currently dissolving into a fit of giggles. "What he means to say is that we think you're being rather foolish. Though the strength of Bastian's words do communicate how we feel about this, foul as they were."

"Why, thank you. I was sick with worry wondering what your opinion on my relationship with my best friend was," retorted Benedict, not able to help his sarcastic tone even though he knew your brothers were not the best people to provoke right at this minute.

"Don't forget your best friend is our younger sister, so I do imagine we're allowed an opinion," replied Bastian, wanting to keep Benedict in place.

Theo, the more level-headed of the twins, looked at Ben with what could have been construed as a look of sympathy if it weren't also laced with unimaginable anger. "We're quite serious, Benedict. We know what happened a few days ago in your studio. Why can't you just talk to her?"

Benedict sat up and put his head in his hands, rather sick of having everyone know his business. "How on earth does everyone know what happened?"

Theo and Bastian exchanged a glance, unsure whether they should reveal their source. But Hyacinth saved them from an explanation. Quite matter-of-factly, she explained, "Eloise overheard your argument pretty much in its entirety. And, of course, she told everyone. Though I'm sure the twins have heard some bits and pieces from Y/N herself, and perhaps Anthony, too."

Seeing Benedict look from Hyacinth to Bastian to Theo in disbelief, loathing that it was nearly impossible to keep a secret from his family, Bastian commented, "Perhaps if Francesca had been the one to overhear we wouldn't have known so much. But all the better for us that Eloise, quite inexplicably, knows absolutely everything about everyone."

Shaking his head, Benedict accepted the current predicament he was in. "Right, then. I'll have to remember to thank Eloise for allowing me to have this wonderful conversation the next time I see her. Regardless, this makes it easier to tell you that I can't 'just talk to her,' Theo. I can't act like nothing happened."

Bastian immediately rolled his eyes upon hearing Benedict's excuse. "It's truly a wonder your friendship with her has lasted so long. Of course she wants to hear from you! She always wants to hear from you. Even when she's upset with you."

"It's all she ever talks about, usually. How long until she can see you and talk to you about whatever trivial matter she wishes to spend hours talking about," added Theo, hoping to remind Benedict that you needed him. Twenty years of being best friends meant that you needed Ben even when the two of you were fighting. Especially when you were fighting, actually, since Benedict was the only person who knew how to properly console you when you were upset.

"They're not trivial matters," said Benedict defensively. He loved hearing you talk on and on about whatever plot hole was plaguing you, and he found it rather interesting, too, but now was not the time to get into that particular point. "Anyway, that doesn't resolve the issue. It doesn't matter if I talk to her or not, she still doesn't love me back. And I have been doing a splendid job so far of trying to get over her before she marries my brother, so if you could very kindly allow me to continue to do so, I would greatly appreciate it," he finished curtly.

Hyacinth scoffed, in disbelief at her brother's blindness. "She doesn't 'not love you back,' you big baby! I'm eleven years old, I shouldn't be the one telling you to grow up!"

"Hyacinth, stop it. That's unusually cruel, even for you," protested Benedict, feeling an almost physical pain at the impossible possibility that you might love him back after what happened in his studio. He had considered the possibility incessantly in his mind the past few days, of course. But to hear someone else say it, to hear the words spoken so clearly by someone else rather than hearing it in his internal monologue or seeing it written down in his sloppy handwriting in letters he had never sent, was enough to make him feel nauseous.

Up until fairly recently, his love for you had been quite manageable. Even unnoticeable, at least to him, for the first few years. However, now he was quite pointedly aware that every time his heartbeat faltered it was undoubtedly due to you, whether you had laughed in a particularly adorable way or worn a gown that made your figure look quite irresistible. And he had lost any chance he had with you because he was too overcome by his desire to be by your side in a more-than-friendly way and had had awful timing in attempting to kiss you. So, yes, Hyacinth was being quite cruel in his eyes. Even if the cruelty was warranted, seeing how you looked as distraught as he felt.

"I do believe Hyacinth is right," Theo spoke, causing the youngest Bridgerton to beam, radiant, beside him, contrasting Ben's positively ghastly expression. "Y/N has loved you for years. It's been painfully obvious to the rest of us, but apparently, you're too thick to notice."

Bastian piped in to agree with his brother. "Precisely. So we're spelling it out for you. She does love you back, you just decided to confess your love for her at an inopportune moment. If Eloise's memory serves her correctly," which earned him a snicker from Hyacinth, "Y/N never said she didn't love you back."

Theo nodded, "She just said nothing had been resolved. Which it hadn't. So resolve it."

As if trying to romance the woman Ben had been helplessly and irrevocably in love with for the better part of a decade was as easy as taking a stroll, Bastian shrugged and added, "It's simple, really."

Benedict swallowed thickly, hearing a loud ringing in his ears. He found he couldn't focus his eyesight on anything, vision growing blurry as his eyes aimlessly scanned the room. He had taken your abrupt exit from his studio as a complete rejection, a sign that he had ruined any chance of moving beyond the boundaries of the friendship you two had built so lovingly. But apparently, the rejection had not been because you did not love him back, but rather because Benedict had behaved quite like an ass.

The absolute bliss he should have felt was overshadowed by a tightness in his chest that he could easily attribute to fear. There was so much more to lose now. He was scared out of his wits that he'd mess up again and lose you in any way that mattered, friendship and all.

"But what if it's too far gone? What if I don't fix it?" asked Ben, voicing his fears shakily.

Bastian laughed dryly and Benedict felt it more than he would a physical blow. "That's not really an option, is it? That's our sister you're talking about."

Theo growled lowly, not opposed to resorting to violence when the matter concerned the possible heartbreak of his younger sister. "Fix it or we fix you."

And the two walked out, Hyacinth skipping happily in front of them, without acknowledging the garbled groan that came from Ben's throat. He would have to make it count, then. One last chance to make you his. To make a reality the only way he could truly be happy. But it wasn't an impossible task. He knew you better than you knew yourself, after all.

---

You were making your way upstairs to your bedroom after another torturous dinner without Ben when Anthony touched your arm and asked if he could walk you back. It took less than five seconds for you to burst into tears and nod sorrowfully as he led you out of the sitting room where the rest of your families had migrated and were now settling into cozy conversation. Thankfully, no one else noticed, or at least didn't think to call you out on your sudden burst of emotion.

"It's going to be alright, one way or another," Anthony whispered as he led you down the hallway. And though he felt it was appropriate given the circumstance, he refrained from calling you darling or really any other pet name, knowing Benedict was usually the only one to refer to you as such, and thus it might cause you more undue stress.

"I know," you responded tearfully. "I just miss him."

You hiccuped and leaned your head onto Anthony's shoulder. As much as you enjoyed Anthony's company, you secretly wished that it was Benedict's strong shoulder you were feeling. But it didn't do to dwell on such matters now.

"Well, he did tell you he loved you," offered Anthony as the two of you climbed the stairs. "I think you're crazy to not immediately go after him." Perhaps he had been too worried about the fact that Benedict was an idiot to realize that you, too, were an idiot when it came to matters pertaining to your best friend and your very obvious love for him.

You shook your head decidedly. "He did tell me that, yes, but look at what's happened now," you said, flailing your arms in frustration. "He's ignored me for three days. You can't just say you're in love with someone and then not speak with them for three days!"

Anthony laughed softly when you sniffed sulkily, but you kept speaking. "It's too easy for Ben to swoop in after I've done so much work to get over him and found someone I want to marry," you gave the man beside you a pointed stare. "I don't just want to be with him when it's convenient for him. I need Benedict to actually want me and to prove that he wants me. Which he is doing a very poor job of at the minute because I haven't seen him since he confessed he was in love with me," you finished with a huff.

But Anthony was saved from having to respond, as Alex was waiting for you by your bedroom door, hands behind his back.

"Ah, Y/N. Just the person I wanted to see. Do you fancy a chat?"

Seeing that you didn't have much of a choice, you nodded and thanked Anthony, sending him on his way as you turned to face your older brother. "Very well," you relented.

The two of you went inside your bedroom and Alex, ever the unwavering presence in your life, closed the door firmly and crossed his arms as he stared at you. You were a tad nervous, not quite sure of what he was going to say. Ever since you had started courting Anthony, he had steered clear of the two of you, not exactly disapproving of the courtship, but not particularly supportive of it either. Needless to say, you were fairly surprised that he was being so direct with you now, asking to talk to you and staring you down in your room.

"Y/N," he started. "I mean this will all the love that I have in my heart for you, which is quite a lot, but you are being so, so stupid. It's almost painful to watch."

You were completely taken aback. "Excuse me?" you sputtered, not quite believing that your brother would speak to you like this. Although it was nice to hear him speak to you in any way at all, since you knew he had probably been holding back from saying this every time you spoke with him for the duration of your courtship with Anthony.

With a determined look on his face, a slightly furrowed brow, and downturned lips, Alexander pressed on. "You are so obviously in love with Benedict," and before you could protest, he continued speaking. "And he is so obviously in love with you, that I just don't understand the problem. He told you he was in love with you, from what Eloise has said, so I don't particularly see an issue now."

A flicker of confusion passed over your face. "He– What? What are you getting at?" you asked, knowing there was something else that Alex wanted to say.

It was imperative to him that you grasped what he was saying instead of focusing on how he said it. So he sighed a tad impatiently but spoke steadily enough that you wouldn't be put off by his tone of voice. "At the beginning of the season, I wasn't absolutely bricking it over my little sister debuting in society because I didn't think I would have to worry about you actually courting anyone. I just assumed that you and Ben would end up married, much like the rest of our families. In fact, I assumed you would be married already. It's mid-August now, and I thought you would have at the very latest married in June. Again, I mean this with a lot of love, but you're being a massive idiot. Every single person in our family can see that you're in love. So go be with the man you love!"

You were stunned. Alex had never made any indication that he thought that you and Ben would marry. But then again, perhaps you and Benedict loving each other came so naturally that he didn't need to.

Nevertheless, you shook your head adamantly. "I don't care what you thought, or what the rest of the family thought, or even what I thought! Benedict left me when I needed him, and Anthony was there for me–"

"So, you're marrying Anthony, then? You've decided you still want to be with him after all this?" asked Alex, on the brink of losing his seemingly endless temper.

"I don't know! Maybe? I haven't entirely decided, yet," you argued. "But it's either that or no marriage since Benedict hasn't exactly provided an alternative solution, and I would rather die than marry a man of the ton."

"But do you love Anthony?" asked your brother, voice clear as it cut through your rambling.

"Does it matter?"

"To you, it does," he responded firmly, but not unkindly.

And he was right. To you, it did matter. Perhaps not to Anthony, and perhaps not to Alexander, either. But to you, it did. Or it had, at least. And shouldn't it still matter? Even if you hadn't had the most linear season, and you hadn't found exactly what you were looking for. Shouldn't you still hope for love? And shouldn't you still fight for it, despite your best friend's terrible timing?

—

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[slutforsilverfoxes]

Agents DiNozzo

[A/N #1 TLDR version: Got busy with an externship, got hospitalized for a cat bite, I missed u all v v much

A/N #2 for realsies: Would Tony and his wife be allowed to work together on a team? Probs not. Would Gibbs be crazy enough to voluntarily work with both of them? Even more probs not. But it makes my lil heart happy so here you go :)]

Pairing: Tony DiNozzo x wife!agent!reader

__________

There are two things in your career that satisfy you to no end: 1) Getting justice for the victims whose case files come across your desk and 2) Working with your husband every day. The latter presents complications, of course- the occasional conflict of interest, quibbles over theories following you home from the office, an added level of anxiety during contentious takedowns- but it also allows you the distinct privilege of spoiling and, arguably more importantly, embarrassing the hell out of one Anthony DiNozzo, Junior, on a daily basis.

Your head lifts on its own volition, guided by your nose tuning in to the sweet smell of hazelnut creamer and woodsy cologne permeating the air of the NCIS bullpen. Your partner, both in and out of the field, has evidently returned from a midday coffee run looking as delicious as the pastries you’ve spotted by the to-go cups on his desk. Checking to make sure your boss is still nestled securely in the Director’s office, you cross over into Tony’s space just as he lays his suit jacket across the back of his chair. Slipping your hands into the back pockets of his tight-fitting slacks, you can’t help but serenade him with the ten-second clip of brain rot that plagued your social media for a ridiculous number of weeks. “Can I get to the yams?” you whisper-sing through a giggle, pinching his favorite cheeks of yours, maintaining your grip even as you attempt to dodge the hand nearing the back of your head. “Sweet ya-am- ow!” Darting out of his reach, you drop into Tony’s seat with a pout, arms crossed petulantly. “You have hereby been demoted from Very Special Agent to just Special Agent for that.”

“You-” Tony sneaks a glance at McGee and Ziva who are trying- and failing- to hide their smiles before crouching to meet you at eye level and lowering his voice to carry on, “You are the reason we had to sit through that inappropriate conduct seminar for three hours last week.” He maintains an even tone, but you can see his lips twitching with amusement.

“I’m sorry everyone in this office is jealous I can touch your butt and they can’t,” you huff with an eye roll.

“Literally no one is jealous of you for that,” McGee calls from his desk across the aisle.

“Well, you guys are missing out,” you respond with an exaggerated sigh.

Shaking his head, Tony fixes you with as stern a look as he can muster. “Save it for later, Bee,” you intone in an imitation of your husband’s voice, “I know.”

“You would think,” he begins, offering you a hand to help you up and walking you back over to your desk by Ziva’s, “that you’d have moved past the infatuation stage at this point in our relationship.”

“And you would think you’d have stopped calling me ‘Probie’ by now, Anthony.”

“I have! ‘Bee’ is different than ‘Probie’. It’s a nickname and it’s cute.”

“Says who?” you challenge, eyes narrowed.

“Says the-”

“If you say ‘Senior Field Agent,’ I swear to God, Tony, you’re sleeping on the-”

“DiNozzos!” Gibbs’ gruff voice puts an immediate stop to your squabble as he descends the steps two at a time. “Ziva, McGee, all of you, front and center. Whaddya got? Besides too much time on your hands.”

“Coffee and a suspect,” you supply with a smile, turning on the plasma display as Tony presents Gibbs with a cardboard cup. “For once, Agent DiNozzo’s go-to theory seems to hold water.” Raising an eyebrow at your husband, you playfully mock, “It was the wife.”

Tim picks up the next leg of your shared insight. “Credit card history has the Lieutenant Commander’s wife meeting with our hit man at a hotel in Anacostia two weeks before the murder, Boss.”

“We also traced these calls from the burner found on our victim’s body,” Ziva indicates for Tim to highlight the outgoing calls on the phone logs before continuing, “…to his sister in law, Anna.”

The redhead’s photo pops up on the TV, and your husband lets out a low whistle that has your hand instantly connecting with the back of his head. “You are my light, my sunshine, and the very air I breathe, my dear,” he speaks through a grimace, trying to gauge your reaction through his peripheral vision.

“Go pick our hitman up,” Gibbs instructs, cutting off your bickering before it can begin by dangling the sedan’s keys on his index finger in front of you.

You snatch them up, sharing a catlike grin with Ziva. “My pleasure, Boss. I might be needing his services soon, anyway.”

“Uh uh,” your boss calls as the two of you start collecting your things. “Take Tony.”

Your husband flashes you a sheepish smile while you grumble at him over the lip of your coffee cup. “Let’s go, Dick-Nozzo.”

“It’s your last name, too,” he points out astutely, holding out his hand for the keys.

“Shut up. I’m driving.”

As the elevator begins its descent, Tony slips two fingers under your chin and turns your face towards him, concern muting the typical sparkle in his olive green eyes. “Are you really upset with me, babe?”

You count the seconds ticking away in your head, relishing in the way he squirms under your stern gaze, before relenting at second fourteen. “No, you big dummy,” you say with a nudge to his side. “She’s hot.”

Tony lifts your hand to his mouth and presses his lips against your wedding band before asserting, “You’re hotter.”

Curling your free hand around his tie, you tug him closer and land a sound kiss on his lips. The elevator dings to indicate you’ve reached the parking garage, and you reluctantly release your husband from your grip with a satisfied smile and a murmured, “I’ve taught you so well.”

__________

ADJ Tags 🖤 @bakugouswh0r3

[websterss]

TILL DEATH DO US PART — ANTHONY LOCKWOOD

REQUEST: okay so i’ve thought about sending requests your way and my mind came up blank except for a reversed-roles kinda thing for lockwood & co, in which that scene from the last episode where lucy goes to george to save him from the crazy lady (forgot her name) with the bone mirror, instead it’s reader but she doesn’t handle it as well as lucy and pass out or something (your choice, i just want angst) and although lockwood has been shot in the shoulder, he doesn’t care. all he cares about is if reader is gonna be okay 👀 (i just want some good ol’ angst written by you so i can die a little bit inside but also thrive in reading your writing 🥺🫶🏼)

WARNING(S): angst, some fluff at the end

WORD COUNT: 4,214

PAIRING: Anthony Lockwood x fem!Reader    

A/N: Hope you enjoy it! Feedback is always welcomed!

MASTERLIST

You didn’t quite know how you three had managed to end up locked in an underground cellar with Pamela. You couldn’t so much as put the fault onto George. He had put his sole faith and trust into their supposed friendship. He was too swayed by what he thought were good intentions, only to realize they were nothing but sick twisted purposes. Purposes that were going to put so many others at risk. 

“Please!” George begged. “Lucy, don't he’ll kill you.”

“Don’t you dare look, and whatever happens this wasn’t your fault. This was my choice.”

“Lucy, don't you dare.” You groan after having been jostled and shoved to the ground as George had. 

Lucy just turned to you, her features softening as she whispered with pure sincerity and concern in her voice. Her soft-as-the-sky eyes glowed in the darkness like twin lanterns and with a little sigh she replied, “…I have to.”

"No. You don't. We all get to make choices, and I'm making mine now." You walk up to her and hit her with the hilt of your rapier.  You hold your breath as she falls unconscious. You're quick to drag her over to George where he remains on the ground. "S-Shield her eyes, and whatever happens...don't look." You nod firmly at George.

George didn’t hesitate, shielding Lucy from the horror unfolding before them, but couldn’t help looking back to you. He seemed both concerned and terrified at the same time. “Lockwood won't like this!"

"He'll get over it!" You take your place in front of the mirror. Eyes flickering back and forth between Pamela and the covered mirror.

The air around you feels thick and oppressive. You feel sick and dizzy as the sense of impending doom and horror fills your body with a paralyzing chill. You look at the mirror, at Pamela, and the thought of what is to come sears across your mind.

You take a deep breath. With shaking hands, you await her response. “Tell me everything you see, what you feel, and what you hear.” She yanks a pin out from her hair. Then points the recorder towards you. “Every detail.” She says as a final word, then yanks back the cloth. You turn around immediately, feeling a rush of air and suction claw on the back of your hair and shoulders. “Look, look, look. Damn you, look!” Pamela exclaims.

You gasp as you reach forward, grabbing the silver-glass jar, the skull, and hold it out behind you to look at the mirror in your place.

"If you can talk to it, tell me what it says.”

You groan, closing your eyes tightly, trying to fight off the urge to look into the horrid mirror. You growl as you yell back to the damned skull. "Talk...Take it all in and tell your master what you see." Lockwood and George, even Lucy had been astonished when you all discovered that you could also communicate and hear the type three ghost. Your heart plummets as you hear the skull begin to wail.

“No, no, no, this isn’t right! Something’s changed!” Your breath shudders upon the information he has given you. “They’re trapped!”

“What? What? What is he saying? Speak, girl Speak!” Pamela grips her recorder tighter.

“It says something is wrong!”

“More!”

“It’s a trap. We have to destroy it!” You begin to whimper as it all grows to be too much for you to handle. You hold your breath as glimpses of your past flash in your mind. Stills of your parents before your tenth birthday. Finding them ghost-locked after coming home from Fittes. Horrid wretched flashes and faces of previous visitors you and the boys were called on to take a job about. Being pinned by a type two. Your breath grows cold upon being nearly ghost-locked yourself. But the one vision that struck you the most, that made you lose your grip on making it through this was seeing yourself hold Anthony in your arms as his eyes were milky, his brown irises glazed over white and still. You could see yourself crying and begging him to come back to you. Your eyes shot upon with a startle. You could feel yourself loosen your hold on the jar before you took it down with you to the ground. All you could hear was a faint yell of your name before you slipped into the dark void that clouded your mind.

“Y/n!” George hadn’t even hesitated to get onto his feet to tackle down the stand holding the mirror. 

“No!” Pamela cries out. George ran back over to where you lay unconscious. His hands were still tied behind his back but he still attempted to check for your pulse. He visibly relaxed as he came to feel your pulse thump against his skin. 

“You’re alright, you’re alright now...Lockwood will come soon and it’ll all be over soon.” He flinched, looking over his shoulder as he heard shuffling to his right. Lucy groaned, clutching at her head as she pushed herself off the ground. 

“Blood hell...” She complained, but one look at your unmoving body had her scooting closer to the two of you. She reached forward, brushing a few strands out from your face. Her palm resting against your cheek. “Is she...” She raised a brow at George. Thinking the worst of the worst. Your death at the hands of Pamela.

“No. She’s alright. Assumed the mirror struck her energy a bit. It was too much for her to handle.” 

“Lockwood is gonna-”

“Kill us.”

“I was going to say put her on house arrest but sure let’s assume the worst reactions possible. 

“Before we arrived. He practically begged her to run off and call DEPRAC. She was top priority...” Lucy muttered to herself thinking back on what Lockwood debriefed before they came to face Pamela. 

“Top priority?” George questioned. “Y/n?”

“Before we left, he mentioned how the mirror came close to being our second priority. I asked him out of curiosity what the first priority was. He didn’t answer me.” Lucy looks down at you with a new sense of understanding. The bond you and Lockwood shared was one like no other. Two souls brought together by unfathomable circumstances. Orphaned from the same cause, the same path that lead your loved ones to be unalive. To halves that made a whole. Who understood what was put at risk every day you stepped out into London’s busy and haunted streets. You both knew the sacrifices that were the hardest to make, but you both took them on over Lucy and George having to. The little family you both found yourselves, you put your whole lives and trust into. You were everything to one another, and that was a risk in itself. “Lockwood is going to have our heads...” She breathed out in realization.

“I think he knows that already.”

“What?” George gestured behind her with a grimace. Lockwood was standing a few feet away, clutching his shoulder. His eyes rotated from Lucy and George and onto your unmoving form. 

“Shit...” Lucy swallowed nervously as he let his rapier clatter to the floor. 

“Is she?” Lockwood swallowed his words down, not having the stomach to contemplate whether you remained with them or if you had finally joined alongside your parents and his. Lockwood took a few more agonizing steps towards your motionless form, his expression looking both exhausted and afraid. His fingers reach out but fall back down to his sides. He was only thankful you couldn’t see him tremble, as he held back on the urge to break down crying.  

“She’s okay...swear it.” Lucy nodded, a timid smile on her face as her eyes watered. 

Lockwood's eyes began to water from the sight. For an agent, death would be nothing more than a common occurrence. However, this was a different scenario, as a few tears streamed down his face. Before he could take another step forward, George finally free from his zip ties, carefully lifted you in a gentle motion, trying to prop you upwards. Lockwood hurried forward then, hands trembling as he grabbed your shoulders and pulled you into a seating position. Your head lulling sideways at an uncomfortable angle. Lockwood's eyes darted all across your form, desperately hoping to find some kind of response from you.

"She took on the mirror...It was too much for her to handle. She fainted from it." George filled him in on what occurred.

Lockwood's breaths grew out of rhythm as he kept your body in place, trying to keep his hands from shaking. His fingers trembled at a furious pace as he placed his hand against your neck, needing to feel for himself for a pulse. To reassure him that you weren’t taken from him. It was a moment that felt like hours had passed. He spoke. “Did she look at it?” They could hear the panic in his voice.

"N-No. She used the skull." Anthony glanced over to where the type three ghost swirled around, displaying its very much livelihood. He wished the same for your state.

Lockwood's sigh of relief was palpable in the atmosphere. He withdrew his head from your shoulder and pressed his head gently against yours, his eyes closing shut. The only thing keeping him from losing it was the slight thump against his fingertips on your neck, it had his entire demeanor relaxing. Though it didn't calm his nerves. "She'll be alright," he promised George, who seemed to be on the verge of panic himself. "She'll be quite alright." He muttered softly as though the tiniest change in his tone would cause him to fall apart. 

Lucy was at a crossroads, her instincts screaming at her how badly she wanted to rush into Lockwood's arms to comfort him at this moment, but she had her priorities straight. You had taken her place. This wasn’t out of the ordinary for you and it angered Lockwood because you never stopped putting yourself before others.

"She knocked me out and took my place. I wouldn't have let her if I knew-" Anthony retracted from you and looked over to Lucy, having her own breakdown.

Knowing of your bond, she knew what losing you would do to him. The last thing she wanted was to add any more stress to his plate and his already heavy heart. “I know. It’s alright Luce...” Lockwood gave her a firm nod. He then turned back to you. Lockwood was staring at what you referred to as your imperfections, a freckle here, a scar against your temple there, and the crease in your brows, to him they were what made you simply perfect in his eyes. He couldn’t help the frown on his lips, the frown on your own lips not sitting well with him. Had you fainted in pain? Were you still in pain? It didn’t shake him as badly as your closed eyes did. He wanted nothing more than to peer into them again. Find a home in them once more. He willed and hoped them to finally open so that he could see that you were alright. 

He lied, your pulse hadn’t been enough, he needed to see you awaken for him to even function correctly. He needed his mind to think about anything else, something else so he asked.

“What marvelous object did she acquire this time...” He scoffed. “My first encounter with her was with the end of an umbrella.”

"The butt of her rapier," Lucy said. "Shit hurt..." She rubbed against the side of her temple.

“A rapier?” He breathed a small laugh. “I see you weren’t quite original this time...” A small smile appeared in Lockwood's eyes as he leaned forward again. His hand lowered to wrap around your fingers, all the while as he carefully placed your head upon his shoulder. His other hand brushed against your cheek, making note of your temperature. “Her hands are getting cold.”

"Is that bad?"

“Y/n. Can you hear me?” He lifted your head from his shoulder. “Her circulation is slowing. Our time frame for waking her up is shrinking.” It's always an internal struggle for him to remain composed, but he had to be strong for the lot of them.

"Where did Pamela go?" George began panicking. He grew weary seeing her hunched over the broken mirror.      

“Leave her, George!" Lockwood let out his frustration at the situation. “She’s not our priority right now.”

“You stupid boy. You broke it!” Pamela whined.

Lockwood turned to look back at Pamela, who was whining about the broken mirror as Lucy’s attempts to bring you back to consciousness were becoming more futile. Lockwood’s patience was wearing thin, and Pamela’s words were doing nothing but adding fuel to the flames.

“We need to go! Now!” Lockwood urged the two of them. As he was already attempting to pick you up, especially with his bad shoulder still bleeding out. The exhaustion hadn’t yet reached him, his adrenaline running rampant. 

Lockwood's words were cut short as he stumbled, dropping you to the ground. His bad shoulder had given way to the exhaustion that now began to consume him. He was losing his grip on everything. “Lucy...” he was pleading now. 

“We’ve got her, let’s go!” Lucy assured his panic, and swung your arm over her shoulder, George taking your other arm.

“Don’t drop her…” Lockwood barked out, as he struggled to maintain a standing position. The exhaustion finally started to take hold of him as his knees buckled beneath him. With his body starting to tremble and lose its grasp, he let out a deep groan, his breath shallowing from the physical exertion.

"Go!" Lucy ordered out of frustration. She admired his concern and care about you but not when their lives were currently on the line and a crazy bitch was staring into the mirror she tried forcing them to look into.

He didn’t want to allow any room for arguing.

-

Anthony had fallen unconscious as the lift back up. His body lay next to yours as George, Lucy, and Kipps adjusted the both of you. The last thing Anthony recalls was lightly pressing his hand on top of yours before he succumbed to the exhaustion that ransacked his body. He felt as though a train drove right into him, though at least now he could say he’s faced down the barrel of a gun and lived to tell the tale. You’d find it humorous. You always thought highly of his jokes and gave him a laugh when most never bothered. He’d give anything to hear you bubble out of joy. See you double over from the loss of air in your chest. He’d give anything...everything.

After the paramedics patched him up and reduced him to an arm sling, he hung back as you lay on the gurney behind him. He twisted in his seat, keeping a watchful eye on you, waiting, willing the universe to spare him and have your fingers twitch, or have you shift around. He needed some peace of mind.

Though the universe was not kind, your body remained lifeless in a state of deep slumber. Lockwood’s heartbeat grew heavier the longer he waited on the back of the ambulance, his mind flooded with the worst-case scenarios. That this would be the last time, that that smile of yours that could charm anyone with ease would be lost. If he was to lose you, then he had nothing left. Nothing and no one. His hand continued to shake as he felt himself become more and more of a wreck. He couldn’t breathe...he wouldn't be able to breathe...and he knew he’d whole himself in his room if you didn’t-

“Will the Mrs live to see another day?”

Anthony looked over at Inspector Barnes. He gestured to your stilified state. He had hoped his joke would upturn the tension but if presumed he hadn’t after Lockwood scoffed and rolled his eyes, adverting his gaze away and back where they longed to remain, solely on you.

“What’d the paramedics say?” He asked again.

“She’s alright...Nothing we couldn’t figure out ourselves. The pressure from the mirror exhausted her to the point of fainting. She’s stable...she’s surpassed every checkup they ministered with flying colors...”

“Yet...” Barnes trailed off.

“They don’t have the slightest clue as to why she won’t wake up. They already tried to but...” Lockwood didn’t want to say it out loud, but speaking it into existence confirmed his worst fears, that even though your vitals were good, and your body reacted well to the fluids they gave you, something was seriously wrong, if not physically, then mentally and that scared him more than anything else. “I have this inclining...”

"Lockwood-" Barnes began.

“I know what you’re going to say. Have hope. Remain optimistic as we’ll continue to observe her, monitor her vitals, hell test her blood. But what good will that do when we’ve done it already…” He paused, the exhaustion growing with every passing moment. “What if she never wakes up?” Lockwood’s breath shudders.

“You both know of the risks–“ Barnes tries to reason.

“We’ve been in the business of risk exposure for years. We don’t expect ourselves to survive from the first encounter. But this–this feeling...” Lockwood’s voice was breaking. He couldn’t keep himself contained any longer. “I’m aware!” Lockwood snaps, his voice breaking, his eyes reddening. “All too aware, but if I’d known this would happen I’d…” His thoughts trail off, unsure of what to say anymore. His eyes kept darting back and forth between you and Barnes. He’d succumb to begging. He would. Just to see you move a little. Any kind of movement. Just one would be enough to quell his panic. 

“Taken her place?” A small knowing smile reached Barnes's brows.

Lockwood couldn’t bring himself to deny it. He took a deep breath, as he spoke in a hushed and gentle tone “I would hand myself over to death without question. Any given day.” He didn’t hesitate. “I’d rather she lose me, than I her. So yes, I’d have taken her place.” Barnes's eyes slowly flickered past his shoulder with an easing smile. He looked down to the rubble. 

“Over my dead body-” Anthony had never turned his head faster. He instantly froze. The relief that had started to wash over him at seeing you had given way to embarrassment. His own injury was forgotten. You sat up and your eyes landed on him. “Hand yourself over to death, or you mad- What the hell happened to your shoulder?” 

“That would be my leave...” Barnes pointed to his left and swiftly left the two of you.

“My shoulder? Oh, it…I was shot.” He answered as simple as that, it contained no other details, nothing to ease your concern, which led you right into interrogating him.

“Shot?” You were taken aback by his nonchalant reply. “What do you mean, shot?” You exclaim. 

“Nothing worth troubling yourself about. How do you feel?” There was an air of tension between the two of you, where everything had become so fragile. After everything that had happened, a simple statement or action would break the illusion. You were awake and animated, and giving him a piece of your mind. It didn’t feel real in the slightest.

“I…” A wave of exhaustion was still coursing through your body, a result of the exhausting ordeal that you had just undergone. The ordeal had exhausted your body so much that your brain shut down. But your physical exhaustion also masked the emotional exhaustion you were feeling. You felt out of your element; overwhelmed by everything that was now around you. Everything felt unfamiliar to you, as though you had been transported into an unknown dimension, one where your mind felt trapped. Anthony’s ghost locked body in your arms. “I don’t know...I couldn’t wake up.”

"I know- The paramedics tried everything and-"

It was impossible to say what you did and didn't remember. But from what you recall, the events of the evening were a blur. "The mirror..." You attempted to scoot closer to him. Your hands grazed against Anthony's hair. Your eyes caught sight of his shoulder, wrapped in bandages and the sling that secured it together. Was it bleeding? But it wasn’t your primary focus. You just needed to feel him. “There were so many faces, so many faces.” You breathe out a gasp. Your eyes watering. “I saw you...”

“Me?”

"You were ghost-locked. I had lost you..." Your breath hitched.

"It wasn't real. I'm not going anywhere anytime soon. It wasn't real." Anthony reassured, pressing kisses against your temple.

"But what if it was...What if what the mirror showed me becomes true?"

He paused, taking a moment to contemplate your concerns. Anthony had already spent the evening playing out the worst-case scenarios, but to hear you state them verbally had somehow made them more palpable. However, a small part of him was curious whether you saw your future by the mirrors doing, or if it was just an illusion to break you mentally.

"Then I'll make sure that doesn't happen." He whispered. His voice was tinged with emotion. His hands reached for yours and intertwined his fingers with yours. A sign of his promise to you.

“You can’t promise that-”

Anthony looked down at your hands, his eyes flickering between them as he attempted to focus on anything other than the overwhelming amount of emotions swirling within him, the emotions threatening to consume him whole. So he focused instead on your hands being intertwined with his, and the sight warmed him in a pleasant way he hadn't felt in many months, as the thought of possibly losing you had him filled with dread.

He leaned over and kissed your knuckles. “Did you not hear my declaration of my love for you?”

“Oh, the one where you give yourself to death- Like hell!” You yank your hand out of his with a scoff.

“Hand myself over–” He corrected you. “I’d hand myself over to death.” He continued.

“I’m about to hand you a right hook.” You throw a playful punch to his bad shoulder, forgetting his injury and rippling with regret instantly. “Oh!”

“Ow.” He groaned. “What’s the big issue?” He laughed softly. “What’s wrong with giving up my life for yours?” He teased. “You know I’d die for you.”

"You don't have my permission." You mutter softly. Bringing a hand up to brush back his hair.

As your hand brushed back his hair, Anthony couldn’t help but smile at the small gesture. He grabbed the hand you used to brush back his hair and lightly kissed the back of your hand again. “If I wanted to I would give myself over to death this very instant. I’d do just about anything for you, you know.” He replied. His gaze was now fully on you. His eyes were a deep amber, shining like two gemstones.

"And that's what scares me the most." You hum.

“It shouldn’t.” He scoffed with a smile. “Besides, I thought you valued my loyalty.” He raised a brow playfully.

"Yes. When I'm not there to defend my word. That’s when I put my whole faith in your loyalty to me...but when death comes knocking. I don't want it." Your eyes soften.

He looked away briefly, then back at you with a teasing smile. “I wouldn’t give my life to save just anyone, you know.”

"Oh, I'm aware." You fight back an amused smile. He noticed it though, he caught the smile that you attempted to mask. You were never able to conceal much around him, and that was all right. He liked seeing your emotions on full display. You were your truest self when you let your guard down around him. It made you all the more adorable that way. “And you?” He asked. “Would you give yourself to death for me?” He teased, but you knew he was serious.

Your smile widened for a moment before you caught yourself, and answered without taking a beat. You would allow him to know your fears, for the fear of seeing him suffer on your behalf was the worst feeling one could endure. That was something you hated the thought of. You didn’t quite see yourself as the more vulnerable one out of the two of you. Deep down Anthony conquered his inner demons through you, shared his past, his troubles, and confessed his deepest fears to you. You’d help him without any hesitation. You would do anything for the bloke, even if that meant going as far as sacrificing your own life for the sake of him getting to keep his, you would do it, and you’d do it in a heartbeat no less.

“Any given day.” One glance into your eyes and Anthony knew. He knew you would keep that promise till death tethered on whose hand to take. When? Well, you’d never truly know for sure.

Content with your answer, he leans in and kisses your cheek softly. You relax into his touch, your lashes brushing down on top of your under-eyes. He pulls away with a stupid grin. His eyes filled with want and mischief, your favorite combination.

[avengersassemble-fics]

Linger

chapter 02 "don't let it burn" masterlist previous chapter 5.2k words (yikes!) ♡ smut

The sun bathed the Bridgerton estate in a golden glow, casting a warm enchantment over the manicured gardens. The air buzzed with the lively chatter of the Ton, their vibrant silks a kaleidoscope of colors against the backdrop of blooming flowers.

The Bridgerton estate was someplace you frequented at least once every summer. But this occasion was different, this was an alfresco party thrown by the Viscount himself. This season you had heard whispers that Anthony was looking for a wife, and a part of you was curious if he’d find one.

But today was more than just a party, it was the first time you and Benedict would be together in public since you accepted his proposal to court you. Though he had called on you numerous times since you spoke in the cover of darkness in Lady Danbury’s garden, this was different.

The murmur of conversations filled the air, and you had slipped from your parents side in search of what you desired most. But while you had found yourself in search of Benedict, he too was searching for his muse, who he had deemed the unexpected beat of his heart. In your search for Benedict, you found yourself colliding with another body-

“My apologies,” the voice, all too familiar, quipped. Meeting the gaze of Anthony Bridgerton, his brows furrowed. “Ah. It’s only you.”

“Indeed,” you said as Anthony straightened himself out, and stole a glance of you. “You seem on edge, my Lord.”

“I’m perfectly well,” Anthony argued in a low tone. You glanced around at the many pairs of eyes, from mostly women, as they watched the interaction between you and the Viscount.

“So it’s true?” You asked him and he raised a brow. “You are in search of a wife?”

Anthony sighed, shaking his head slightly. “My mother’s outburst truly has graced everyone’s ear.”

“Her words and Lady Whistledown’s writings,” you laughed softly and Anthony looked you over. “I was in search of your brother.. perhaps you have seen him?”

A subtle pause followed, and Anthony’s eyes shifted, he seemed.. truly off. He cleared his throat. “Benedict is around, I’m sure. But.. would you indulge me with your company for a moment? There’s something I’d like to discuss.”

You nodded, a little unsure what matters he had to discuss now of all times. But Anthony placed his hand on your arm, leading you away from the prying eyes and ears of the ton towards the small lake on the property. 

“Anthony? What’s this about?” You asked him, dropping the formalities. Anthony paused beside you, and gazed out to the lake with his hands on his hips. This was serious Anthony Bridgerton, which you had only caught glimpses of on a few rare occasions. He turned back to face you. 

“It’s.. about Benedict,” Anthony stated and cleared his throat. “I am happy he finally had the courage to ask you for a courtship, truly.. But there are aspect of his nature that one should be cautious of.”

“Meaning?” You asked him and Anthony sighed. 

“I love my brother,” Anthony said, though you weren’t sure if that was meant to ease your nerves or his own. He knew he had to choose his words carefully, after all - he didn’t want to ruin what could be. “Benedict tends to get lost in the world of his passions, and sometimes… that may lead him down paths others might find unconventional. I am aware that you've known him for years, (Y/N), but there's an unpredictability to him that one should be mindful of."

You nodded, absorbing his words. Anthony could see your eyes shifting over his face, a soft furrow of concern in your brows, and ultimately you nodded. “I appreciate your candor, Anthony.”

“But,” you hesitated. “While I may not know all the deepest things about him that you might, I know one thing to be true. He is a good man. I do not believe he would do something to.. Harm me, if that is your concern.”

“I would never believe him to put you in harm's way,” Anthony whispered. “Please believe that. I only meant.. When he is passionate, he may be more focused on the moment and not the big picture.”

“His passion is what draws me to him,” you said softly. Anthony’s gaze shifted, maybe with shock. It was a brazen comment, but you shook your head. “Thank you for looking out for me, my Lord.”

Before Anthony could try to call for you, you turned from him and made your way back to the party. His words burned in your mind, lingering some kind of caution in you. Not back in the crowd for long, another hand grazed your back, turning you to face them.

Benedict.

“Here I was beginning to think you had grown tired of me already,” Benedict joked and you couldn’t help but smile.

“Only caught up with conversations,” you quipped and he hummed in response. “The festivities are.. Quite the spectacle.”

“Indeed they are,” Benedict said and you felt him grasp your arm softly. “Care for a stroll away from the crowd?”

Your gaze lingered on his features. His smile, the crinkle near his eyes, his intense gaze.. Anthony’s words did linger in your mind, but the overwhelming feeling of ease with Benedict outweighed whatever concern Anthony tried to demonstrate. So, you nodded.

“A stroll sounds lovely,” you spoke softly and Anthony was eager to lace your arm through his, and escort you away. Some eyes did linger on the second eldest Bridgerton and you leaving the crowd, but no one said anything - at least not to your face.

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

Benedict hushed you as you laughed softly, him glancing around the corner to the kitchens.

“You’re going to get us caught,” Benedict warned you in a whisper, though when he met your gaze he couldn’t help but chuckle along with you.

The two of you had gotten into some antics after slipping away from the party outside. Benedict had shared some brandy with you (and Eloise who happened to stumble upon you two hidden away inside the family's estate) which had led to the three of you in search of sweets, but not brave enough to go back outside to the festivities.

“I’ll go, I can make haste,” Eloise offered, which made you stifle your laughs. “I only need a moment, I know where the maid hides her stash.”

“Oh so you two have done this before?” You asked to which she nodded, and you met Benedict’s gaze with a smile. “My, my, Ben. Such a bad influence.”

“It was her idea,” he tried to protest. Eloise slipped into the kitchen, which left you and Benedict alone in the hallway. Again, Anthony’s words of caution flashed through your mind. Really, if you had been caught alone with him.. The whispers that would be said could be grave to your character.

“Have I told you how beautiful you look today?” Benedict’s low voice snapped you back to his attention. When did he get this close to you? He towered over you, his chest nearly to yours, and his hands had taken yours in his. You swallowed the lump that had formed in your throat.

A soft, teasing smile played on your lips as you replied, "Do I not look beautiful every day?"

Benedict’s chuckle was no longer the light and friendly laughter from just a moment ago when his sister was near.

“Every day, (Y/N), you are a vision,” he confessed, his voice a velvet whisper. “But today.. Your beauty is truly intoxicating. It’s as if the universe is conspiring to tempt me beyond reason.”

“The only way to get rid of a temptation is to yield to it,” you said softly, but Benedict didn’t miss it. The invitation.

In that charged moment, Benedict’s restraint seemed to waiver. His eyes flickered down to your lips, and without a word, he closed the remaining distance. The first brush of his lips against yours was tentative, a testing of boundaries, but the hunger quickly escalated.

Succumbing to a temptation too potent to resist, Benedict’s hands released their grip on yours, only to find their way to your hips, greedily grabbing hold of them as he pressed you to the wall. A soft sound escaped you, and Benedict’s grip tightened. Whatever he heard, he liked it. You could feel his tongue swipe over your lower lip, and with some hesitation you welcomed him in.

His mouth tasted like the brandy that was being shared between you two, but his tongue was wanting to taste every bit of you he could, while he had the chance. His tongue darted over yours, lingering for a moment as he tilted his head in search of more. One of his hands trailed up your side from your hip to the swell of your breast, his thumb tracing over where he could only guess was where your nipple was.

He was right, because you tensed up slightly under his grasp, and a smirk fell over his lips. Eventually, the need for air compelled you both to reluctantly part. Benedict's eyes, now darker with a mixture of longing and realization, locked onto yours.

“Well?” You asked softly and Benedict could only muster up a soft hm. “Did I live up to your imaginings of my taste?”

A soft, breathless chuckle escaped him and he lifted his hand to your cheek, cupping your chin as he traced his thumb along your lower lip. “You surpassed every imagination. I’m not sure how I can possibly stop myself from wanting more.”

The sound of Eloise’s footsteps was enough to force you two apart. It forced you two to pace yourselves for the rest of the evening, especially with Eloise still around. The group snacked on sweets in one of the drawing rooms, but every time you caught a glimpse of Benedict, his gaze was on you. That hunger was still there in his eyes, and you had to squash down the feeling brewing in your lower stomach.

But when Eloise took her leave, noticing the party dwindling down outside, it once again left you alone with the driving force of your desires. Benedict stayed seated for a moment, unknown to you he was weighing his options. The feeling of your lips earlier, the taste of you on his tongue, was like an intoxication unlike anything alcohol could give to him. He cleared his throat and stood before you, and offered his hand.

“Do you trust me?” He asked. You met Benedict’s gaze and the only words you knew to respond to was-

“Of course,” you responded, taking his hand with yours. Benedict helped you up, lacing his fingers with yours while he led you from the room. Sure, you had traversed the estate with Daphne sometimes over the summers, but never where Benedict was taking you. No, this corridor was always private to the boys, housing Anthony’s study and Benedict’s room.. So seeing it for the first time made you feel warmth spread through your chest.

It was a place filled with the tangible essence of his creativity, and you couldn’t help but be swept away by the intimacy of the space. The air carried the scent of drying paints and the faint traces of inspiration, like this place was a secret world apart from the rest of the Bridgertons. The soft glow of the candlelights left burning casted a warm ambiance.

Your eyes roamed over the canvases, each one was a testament to Benedict’s artistic soul laid bare. He let you peruse his space, let you drink in what he was sharing, and he felt himself losing himself further to a sensation he hadn’t been able to name yet.

Love.

Your eyes lingered on one painting, still fresh from brushstrokes and paint, and Benedict smiled a bit. He came up behind you, lowering himself to your shoulder, and he caught a whiff of your hair and the perfume that lingered behind your ear. “Can you tell what my inspiration for this one was?”

The painting in question was a swirl of colors, but a dark contrast. Two figures were embraced with one another, though he left out the finer details. His breath hit your neck, and followed by his tender lips against your shoulder. “You have seeped into every part of my being.. I’d love a piece of you.”

You smiled as his lips grazed your skin, your inner voice of self control growing smaller and smaller. “You wish to draw me, Mr. Bridgerton?”

A small huff hit your skin and you laughed softly. Stepping away from his embrace, there was a couch in the room that you settled yourself on. “How would you like me?”

“I think it wise you don’t ever ask me that again,” Benedict warned as he grabbed a pad and a piece of writing charcoal. “I just.. want you as yourself.”

And you did just that. You flattened your dress down yourself, easing your back to the couch and  rested your hands in your lap. Benedict settled into a chair opposite, leg crossed over the other, as he started to work away in short strokes of the charcoal. He would keep glancing up at you, adjusting his method to capture more details of you. Because he never wanted to forget even the smallest of details.

A comfortable silence filled the room, the only sound was the soft pops of candles and his fingers grazing the paper. You shifted slightly, and Benedict’s eyes flashed up to meet yours, and offered a slight smile.

“Can you undo your hair for me?” Benedict asked as his eyes darted back down to the paper. At that request, you did hesitate, knowing full well that if you did, you’d never be able to redo it. But.. What was thrill without any potential hearsay?

You undid the various pins that had been entriquently placed in your hair to hold it up and proper. Each one slowly loosened your updo, until finally your palm was full of little pins. You readjusted your hair, laying it just right when Benedict glanced up again at you, and took a moment to stare.

Though he didn’t comment on how you looked, his mind raced as he went back to the outline of you on his paper. He wanted to get you perfect, just as you were. He wanted to have you soldered into his memory, because time was of the essence. He didn’t have too long to indulge in your company, knowing you would have to leave eventually.

But he wanted to yield to his temptation.

Benedict stood and crossed the space towards you, kneeling before you as he adjusted a strand of your hair, making sure it fell perfectly beside your face. But his hand lingered on your chin, his thumb grazing over your lower lips, his fingers gliding to cup behind your ear on your neck..

There was a flush to your skin and he just.. Couldn’t help himself. He leaned in closer, catching your lips with his as he held your face in place. Your breaths mingled, heavy against one another’s skin, and you found yourself reaching for him. You grabbed a hold of his coat jacket, the edges firm in your grip as you pulled him in.

Benedict braced himself against you, the hand not already lost in your hair grabbed ahold of your thigh as he made himself at home between your legs. He was fully aware of what he was doing, but he couldn’t help himself, you were in the palm of his hands.

He squeezed your thigh, bunching up the fabric in his fist before trailing it downwards past your knees, your calves, and to your ankles. Skimming the hem of the layers of fabric, Benedict pulled away from your lips, his gaze meeting yours as you both fought to collect your breathing.

”Tell me to stop and I will,” he muttered to you, searching your eyes for any sign of hesitation. Part of you knew this was wrong, knew that it would be best to stop this right here and now, knew you should collect yourself and retire for the evening..

But you responded by pulling him back in, a groan escaping him as your lips met again, tongues eager to reconnect. But Benedict was on a pursuit of more now.

His fingers ghosted over your ankles, grazing the skin under your gown and petticoat. You could feel his hand ghosting against the back of your calf, around to the top of your knee before moving inwards to your thigh. Instinctively, your thighs closed around his hand.

”It’s okay,” he coaxed you along in a whisper, moving his lips from yours as he pressed a tender kiss under your ear. “I’ve got you.”

”Ben,” you whispered as he peppered more kisses along the hot skin of your neck. “I.. I am chaste, I.. don’t know-“

”I know,” he breathed, finally peeling himself from your body to meet your gaze. The fingers that had been tangled in your hair tightened slightly, making you suck in a sharp breath. “I know, love. If you can trust me, if you can let go and relax for me I promise you this- I will do everything in my power to make you feel not just exquisite pleasure, but cherished.”

You had no doubt he could, and against the judgment in your mind you nodded. At the end of the day.. Benedict and you were courting. It surely was only a matter of time before you two got married.

As you relaxed slightly, Benedict kissed your cheek, down your jaw, to your neck again. His hand that still was under your gown began to roam again, pressing your thighs open once more as he edged closer and closer to the heat he was looking for.

”Have you ever touched yourself?” Benedict asked you, lightly nipping at the sensitive flesh of your neck. Slowly you nodded your head in response, feeling your breath catch in your throat. “Just for the feeling?”

”I-“ you hesitated to catch your breath, his fingers edging closer to the throbbing of your cunt. “I always thought of you, like this.”

Benedict’s face lifted so he could meet your gaze. His hand left your hair and held onto your chin, his grip slightly rough, but still tender. “I want to see you when I touch you.”

His fingers finally found you, an abrasive digit slipping through your folds and you bit your lower lip. Benedict’s eyes stayed locked on you, studying your face and reaction as his finger slid up and down your aching entrance. A small whimper fell from your lips, and you found yourself pushing your legs open a little more.

”So eager,” Benedict mumbled, increasing the pressure of his finger against your clit, swirling against you. Your hips involuntarily bucked against his hand, as if begging for more stimulation. There was a smirk on Benedict’s lips, which he used to kiss along your collarbone down towards your breasts. Just as he skimmed over the fabric of your gown, nipping at your nipple underneath, he shifted his fingers back down your cunt, finally slipping a single digit into you.

“Ben-” you managed breathlessly, and all he could do was nod his head, which was flush in between your breasts.  His free hand that wasn’t lost between your thighs went to your dress, desperately getting the material up your body in a bunch at your hips, exposing your lower half with his finger in you to the warm air.

“Keep making noises for me,” Benedict said, changing the angle of his finger that slipped in and out of you and curling inwards, which elicited a sweet sound from your throat. “God, yes, just like that.”

With each move of his curled finger thrusting in and out of you at a slow and deliberately teasing pace, your hips rolled into his palm, and the sounds from your mouth were sinful. But Benedict, oh did he enjoy every sound he could manage from you. The breathless way his name fell from your parted lips, the wet sounds from your cunt, the way you’d curse when he swirled his thumb up and over your clit, you were unraveling before his very eyes and it was driving him mad.

Your chest heaved against the fabric of your dress, wanting only one thing and that was to be set free. But, unknown to you, it was just the threatened orgasm wanting to rip through you. But Benedict, now with an extra finger diving in and out of your soaked cunt, knew what was coming from you, and he wanted nothing more than to meet you in that high.

“I need to know if I can continue,” Benedict said as he re-met your gaze. It was a big ask, one he knew would change the dynamic between you two.. But in his heart, it was only accelerating the inevitable. He knew he would ask for your hand by the end of the season, so what was so bad about indulging in sex a few months early?

You, on the other hand, didn’t seem to need much convincing.. You nodded your head, “I trust you.”

It was a simple sentence, but the weight it carried meant so much more to him than you might have intended. Benedict’s fingers had still been moving but he retreated himself from you, much to your dismay. But while he took his fingers from your wet folds they immediately went into his mouth, and you watched with your mouth slightly open as he sucked what juices he had of yours on them, clean. 

Then, you had to watch him undo his breeches, tugging the loosened fabric down as his cock sprung free. Your eyes widened slightly at the sight, sure you had seen diagrams in texts but this.. oh he was so different from anything like that. 

Benedict took hold of your hand and laced his fingers with yours, while the other shifted you to lay down on the couch. He was careful to place a tender kiss to your neck, before he met your gaze. “I must warn you.. it may hurt for a moment.”

“It’s okay,” you whispered, giving his hand a squeeze. “I trust you.. more than anything.”

Though he smiled, you could tell he genuinely didn’t want to cause you harm. With your free hand, he held your wrist and guided your fingers down his chest, and past his hips, letting you grab hold of his throbbing cock. Though you weren’t totally sure what all to do, you instinctively ran your hand over him, feeling a slight wetness near his tip. 

By the way he thrusted into your palm, you could tell he did enjoy the sensation of you running your thumb over the tip of his cock to spread that secretion.  He guided your hand down to the base of him, and let you wrap your fingers firmly around him. Benedict had his hand wrapped around your, and when he moved himself closer, he dragged the head of his cock along your entrance, an erotic feeling of what was to come.

Up and down, Benedict got the feeling of your wetness on him and he shuddered in anticipation. You were perfect, you were his. He would never let you go.

“Remember, love,” he whispered, his free hand not holding his cock just at the precipice of your cunt came to your cheek, which you nestled yourself into. “If it hurts, if it feels overwhelming.. focus on us.”

You nodded, and then you felt him. His cock pressed into you and you winced slightly. He was thick and hot, and you surrounded him tightly so. Benedict grunted, but when he caught a glimpse of your furrowed brow, he was quick to pepper kisses along your forehead.

”This is.. umph-” he grunted when he was deep enough that his hand and yours were no longer necessary on his cock. But he took hold of your hand and laced his fingers with yours. “-Where it may sting, love.”

Benedict pushed his cock in further, and just like he warned there was a slight resistance, but when he bottomed himself out on you, it disappeared. Now fully erect in you, the discomfort slowly turned into a pulsation that.. started to ease any tension left in your body. Benedict was a watchful hawk, and when your face dropped any sign of discomfort he smiled, and began to pump his cock in and out of you.

Benedict couldn’t get over how perfect you felt wrapped around him. You were wet, warm, perfect. His. Each time his hips met yours, you loosened up with sweet whimpers, and that made him want to devour you. But you also deserved a beautiful experience.

“Christ you’re perfect,” he muttered to you. His hands left yours as he used his thumbs to spread your pussy lips wider. “Beautiful from every angle.”

Before you could respond you watched as Benedict gathered the spit in his mouth, before letting a trail of himself fall from his lips and you could feel the warm saliva hit your clit with perfect precision. He quickly pressed his thumb against your aching nub, matching his thrust with the roll of his digit.

“Ben-“ you barely managed out, your hips bucking upwards to meet him with each thrust. He was fucking you deeper and deeper into the couch, and he let out a low grunt. His balls were slapping against your thighs, and he was getting lost in the sensation of you clenching around him.

All he wanted was to feel you come around him, it was a desperate need that was pulsating through him. He didn’t know if he could leave this room tonight without knowing how you felt coming on his cock. Benedict increased his thrusts slightly, making sure he bottomed himself in you with each hit. 

“Tell me what you need, love,” he groaned. “Tell me what feels good.”

“Your.. touch,” you whispered, a whimper following next and Benedict nearly growled at the sound. “Your lips-“

Benedict came crashing down on you, his lips catching yours in a hot kiss that momentarily distracted you from all the sensations between your legs. His tongue was wet and greedy, but his fingers were more so. The way he was rubbing your clit was making every tension in your body evaporate, like he was just as desperate for your release like you were. 

On the precipice, you gripped ahold of him at his shoulder and arm, trying to close your legs but he was adamant to not allow that. He kept your legs forced open, and they shook under his control, and finally you reached your heights after another thrust of his cock. 

It was a quick moment of tension followed immediately by a pulsating, throbbing release. Your back pressed against the couch, arching into him to savor the feeling. Benedict, on the other hand, felt the way your pussy contracted around him and by God was it the most excruciatingly sweet feeling ever. Ripples of your soaked cunt was just what he needed. 

With a slight grunt and a few more thrusts into your aching depths, Benedict finally felt his release. His release was quicker, his cock twitching as  he continued to fuck his cum slowly into you, he glanced down to see just how wet you were between your thighs. Each of his thrusts made more of his thick sticky cum leak from you and he mumbled beneath his breath. 

“Fuck, this is such a sight,” he had muttered before finally slowing his paces. Benedict leaned down and kissed your neck tenderly, feeling your quickened pulse under his lips and he felt content just like this. Having you under him, your dress bunched at your hips, and his cock still in you while his cum drips along your thighs. 

You, still reeling from the intense session, hand trailed your hand from his shoulder and into his hair. The ramifications of this encounter hadn’t settled into your mind, you just were high on the feeling of Benedict’s lips in your skin. 

“That.. was wonderful, Ben,” you had finally managed to say and Benedict nearly purred near your ear. 

“That is only the beginning of what pleasures I can provide for you, love,” he muttered against your skin. When he lifted his head from your neck, he quickly kissed you for a moment, and let his lips linger with yours.

“Should we return before the party ends?” You asked him softly and he groaned. 

“You seem to be the more sensible one between us,” he teased and you smiled a bit. He pressed another quick kiss to you and begrudgingly slipped his cock from between your legs. “We should make haste and hope no one notices.”

Having to compose yourselves, Benedict was all too willing to help you fasten your hair back with pins just the way you had it. He took advantage of being behind you by kissing your neck and shoulders as he worked, and pressing himself against your back. You could feel your heart flutter.. He was truly all you ever wanted. 

Returning back to the party, you both managed to slip outside with no one the wiser. Benedict could barely keep his hands to himself, but knew better than to compromise you.. At least in public. 

He made it a point to escort you to your carriage, trailing behind your parents so you could linger with one another. Benedict had taken your hand in his and lifted it to his lips, pressing a kiss to your knuckles. 

“I promise to call on you soon,” he whispered, and gave your hand a slight squeeze. You, in turn, smiled at him softly. 

“I look forward to seeing you again, Mr. Bridgerton,” you said. There was a knowing look, shared just between the two of you. Benedict held your hand as he helped you up the step into your carriage, only letting go when he absolutely must. 

And as the carriage pulled away, and you watched the Bridgerton estate slowly disappear from view.. you thought back to your encounter with Benedict, how amazing and warm and tempting it all had been. It was a feeling you could never forget..

Unknown to you, Benedict stood in his place as he watched your carriage disappear down the path. He couldn’t seem to make himself move from his place until he knew you were well out of sight, but not out of his mind. He turned back to the estate, ready to return to his chambers and be back in the room he had just taken you in, when he paused. 

And the top of the stairs was Anthony, who looked Benedict over with an almost implacable look that made the younger Bridgerton hesitate. And then.. Anthony shook his head. 

He knew.

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

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[col-islander43]

Questions

Anthony Beauvillier x Reader

Warnings: None that I can think of, but let me know if there are any

Word count: {696}

You and Anthony were cuddled up on the couch under a blanket you had given him when you first started dating. The movie had become background noise as you soaked up every second possible, trying to ignore the thought of your flight being less than twenty-four hours away.

Your legs were tangled together, his hand was caressing your face, and as his arm tightened around your waist, a giggle escaped your lips "I don't think I can get any closer, babe."

The smile he gave you hurt you more than you'd ever admit because the sadness he didn't want to show was clear in your eyes. It wasn't his fault, he wasn't intentionally trying to hurt you, life just got in the way.

When he told you about the trade, you knew long distance was going to be hard, but you convinced yourself it would be like an extended roadie. A very extended roadie. You were lucky with the somewhat matching schedules, visiting each other was easy, but they didn't make living without the love of your life easier.

He never asked you to make the move, he wanted to, but he couldn't ask that from you, to leave everything you built, over the years, behind. Little did he know you'd drop everything in a heartbeat because he was worth it. You weren't upset when he didn't ask you because you knew he had his motives, he always did so long distance it was. At first, you managed, but it was slowly breaking you and you tried hiding it, but he knew. Of course, he knew.

"I wanted to talk to you about something." he whispered. It made your heart skip a beat and as he felt your body stiffen under his arms, he was quick to reassure you "It's not what you think, promise."

He felt you relax a bit and pressed a kiss to your lips to seal the promise like he always did. "The past days with you have got me thinking. I love you, you know that, but this isn't working, mon ange. It's breaking you apart." you opened your mouth to reply, but he shook his head, cutting you off "Don't try and deny it, I see those sad smiles you think you are hiding."

A bashful smile overtook your face as you hid in the crook of his neck "I don't know what you're talking about. And I hate to break it to you, but it sounds exactly like I was thinking."

"Can you look at me, please?" You shook your head, not wanting to face what was coming next and the kiss he placed on the top of your head did little to reassure you. "Look at me, chéri." he pleaded.

You lifted your head and looked into his eyes for what you hoped wasn't the last time "If you're going to break up with me, at least don't do it while we're cuddled up on your couch." Your voice had a sad tone to it and he hated it, but he couldn't stop the loving smile from spreading across his face, and unknowingly to him, it made your blood simmer a bit.

"Could you be happy here? with me?" he asked in between a chuckle, ripping the bandaid off, and he was glad he got good at hiding his nerves because otherwise, he'd be shaking, but your reaction was worth it. Your jaw was slacked as your eyes were trying to figure out if he was either joking or lying. When you were satisfied with what you saw, you started stammering in a breathy voice, trying to put a sentence together and failing.

Anthony placed both his hands on your cheeks, trying to hold back laughter "Chéri, breathe, gather your thoughts, and then tell me what's on your mind."

Doing as you were told, you slapped his chest lightly "Why didn't you just ask that from the beginning?!" your voice slightly raised towards the end of the sentence and Tito couldn't hold back his laughter anymore.

"I had to work up the nerve. It's not every day where I ask a pretty girl to move in with me."

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

Thanks for all the love on my other pieces, it means a lot🤗

I don't like the title so suggestions are very welcome!

It's been awhile, but I'll always miss Beau on the Islanders.

Excuse any mistakes, I wrote this while I was watching the Isles game.

Feedback is appreciated, hope you enjoy!

[newtonsheffield]

Molly! Violet with a sleeve of tattoos on her arm was not on my bingo card! Edmund must have had a time doing those tatts! Can we get a glimpse of Anthony giving Kate a tattoo for the first time??

That’s how they first met, Edmund and Violet. It was her 18th Birthday and she went in to get her first tattoo. Edmund had just finished his apprenticeship, just set up his shop and by the time to appointment was done he was headed out to the pub to meet this girl again that night. They’d been together ever since. Violet has one tattoo that wasn’t done by Edmund. He inked every one of their baby’s handprint on her. Every one. Except for Hyacinth. Anthony did that for her. With tears running down both their faces the entire time. Anthony finished his father’s work.

It’s very special for him, the first tattoo he does for Kate. It’s not her first tattoo but it’s still special because it’s for both of them. A chain of daisies around her right wrist and his left so that when they hold hands it looks as though they’re linked together. Her lips brush the top of his head while he works and the fingers of her left hand smooth his hair down.

“I love you, you know.”

Anthony has to take a moment before he nods, “Well, I hope so. We’re linked together now.”

Kate smiled playing with the ends of his hair. “I’m glad you picked me.”

“You picked me.”

She shook her head, “I never would have spoken to you if you hadn’t barged your way in. And I might have missed you. You’re just… I don’t think you know how special you are. How much I wanted to find you.”

Anthony blinked back tears, his voice shaking. “You can’t make me cry when I’m working. I’ll fuck it up.”

Kate laughed, kissing the top of his head again. “I love you. You’re my favourite person and I want you to know I’m happy. You make me happy.”

“I’m so happy.” Anthony breathed, “I love you too.”

“I’m glad. We’re linked together now.”

[spenceragnewfics]

THE INTERN | Chapter One

Spencer Agnew x Younger!Intern!Reader

TW: None

Word Count: 1.9k

Description: Y/N has been a fan of Smosh since they could remember. Now about to enter their senior year of college, they get an opportunity to be an intern at the Smosh Office and their first day has arrived.

Every new job comes with stress. You never know what is going to happen. You could have awful co-workers, creepy or mean bosses, and horrible workloads pushed onto you by lazy co-workers, the list is infinite. 

The stress comes even more when it’s something that could become your first job in the real world. Internships are a major stepping stone in any college kid’s career, it’s the start of being over with college and being a person in society.

That’s all that is racing through Y/N’s head as they look at the studio in front of them. Many people would consider them lucky with their internship. You see, Y/N is a long-time fan of Smosh, a very popular YouTube channel, and was somehow able to get an internship with the company for the summer.

They didn’t know exactly where and who they would be working with, except for knowing that their main job would be helping with social media. Looking at their phone, it shows that they still have ten minutes until they should be there but the anxiety was killing them too much to be any later.

Taking a deep breath, they grip onto the bag on their shoulder and walk to the front door. Pushing the button, they wait until a voice comes over the speaker, “Hi, how can I help you?” They lean down to be face-level with the camera. “Umm, I-I-I’m Y/N L/N. I’m the new intern.” Their voice comes out nervous, hoping they didn’t get the days confused or anything. They read the email what felt like a million times to make sure they were right.

“Yes! Alright, come on in! I’ll meet you at the door.” They hear the door unlock and push it open. Walking into the cool space, the heat from the outside slowly starts to melt from them. Looking around, the office looks much cooler in person. A lot of it is familiar but some things are new or haven’t been shown in videos.

“Hi, it’s nice to meet you!” A gentle voice says, pulling them from their daydream to look at the woman in front of them. The short Filipino woman standing in front of her is smiling kindly, “I’m Selina. Welcome to Smosh.” The woman sticks her hand out for Y/N to shake.

“I’m Y/N, which you already knew, and I know who you are. I’ve been a fan of the channel for a long time. That sounds creepy though, I’m so sorry.” They say while shaking her hand, thankfully the woman has a good sense of humor and is laughing. “It’s not creepy at all. I knew it would come with being in some videos. It’s always cool to meet fans. This must be like a dream for you.”

“Yeah, honestly, the whole process felt like a major dream. I can’t believe I’m here. I had my friends dump cold water on me when I got the email about me getting the internship. It was dumb but helped make sure it was real.” They confess as they play with their hands. Nerves still being the main thing Y/N is feeling.

“I can tell you're nervous. Don’t be. I promise, this place is very chill and the people are amazing. As long as you are willing to work, you’ll fit in well here.” Selina says, comforting the nervous mess that is in front of her. “Thank you, so where do I go?” They ask after taking a deep breath.

“Well, I will give you a tour, and then when we get done with that we will go to the conference room and you will meet some of the people you’ll be working with and some of the higher-ups. That does include Ian and Anthony.” Y/N perks up a little, their mood becoming more optimistic by the second because if everyone is like Selina, then this will be the best time ever.

They follow Selina as she takes them around the office. It’s very empty because it’s a shooting week so most of the office is helping with filming stuff. She got to see all the different pods and meet some of the office-focused staff like Emily, Josh, Peter, and Marcus. 

Once the tour is over, the two head back to the front so Y/N can go to the conference room. “And that over there is the conference room. That’s where we do most of our big meetings and important stuff. That concludes the tour, if you have any questions please don’t be afraid to ask.”

“Thank you so much, Selina. I will keep that in mind.” Y/N says, slightly laughing as the two walk to the conference room. “Now this is where I must leave you. I am very excited to be working with you.” She says, giving Y/N a comforting squeeze on the arm before walking away.

Turning to the door, they can see a few people in the conference room. All people They recognize. Tommy, Alé, and Zoe are the only ones in there so far. Taking a breath, they open the door with a kind smile, “Hello, I’m Y/N L/N. It’s nice to meet you.” They say as they walk in, catching the attention of the room.

“Oh, you scared me! I didn’t expect you already, it’s so nice to meet you. I’m Zoe.” Says the blonde woman, walking over to shake her hand. “Nice to meet you, as well.” They say as they walk to the table. “I’m Alé, welcome to Smosh. You impressed us with your interviews and work.” The CEO says and it makes their heart soar.

“That means a lot. Thank you.” Alé gives them a kind smile before they turn to Tommy. “Hello, it’s nice to meet you fellow social media person,” he says, a little hint of amusement in his voice. “It’s nice to meet you as well. I’m so excited to be here, honestly. This is a dream.”

“Okay, you don’t have to butt kiss anymore. You’re already in.” He jokes, making Y/N laugh. “It shouldn’t be too much longer until the rest are here. I think they’re finishing a shoot.” Alé says and Y/N sits down. They look around, not knowing where to sit. “I won’t bite, I swear,” Tommy says, patting the seat next to him.

They sit next to him and put their bag on the table. Pulling out their laptop and tablet, Y/N opens up the important stuff that holds their digital work, video ideas that her advisor said could come in handy, and some examples of videos she’s worked on for her classes.

A few minutes pass with the groups sharing small talk until the door opens. Looking over, Y/N feels nervous all over again as Ian and Anthony walk into the room with Erin D. walking in behind them. “So sorry, we’re late. The rest are coming in soon.” Anthony says before turning to Y/N.

Their eyes widen when he looks at them, not believing this is real again. “Well hello there, you must be Y/N. I’m Anthony.” He says, walking over with his hand stretched out. “I know, I’ve been a fan for a while. Thank you again for this, it’s a dream come true.” They say as they shake his hand. Ian chuckles while walking over, “We’re glad to have someone so talented on our team. Your work is amazing.” He says, shaking their hand as well.

“That means a lot. Y’all’s videos got me through years and years of homework and projects.” They say, laughing a bit. “Well, we’re glad to have helped,” Anthony says as the door opens again.

This time Shayne and Courtney walk in and behind them is someone who makes her heart race for a different reason. Her breath halts when Spencer walks into the room, dressed in a jean jacket, button-down, rolled jeans, and boots. His curly hair was held back by a cap on his head. 

The three sit down together, across from Y/N and Tommy. “Okay, everyone is here. Thank you all for coming. Today we are welcoming a new addition to our office for the summer. Y/N L/N is coming to us from across the country and is currently in their senior year of college. Welcome, Y/N.” Alé says and the room claps.

Tommy motions for them to stand up, “Uh, hi. I didn’t expect to say anything but I’m Y/N, if that’s not obvious. I’m a social media management and multi-media production major. I’m a little nervous being so far from home but excited to be here for the summer.” They say, a shy smile on their face as they look around the room.

Their eyes stop on Spencer who is looking at them with a soft expression. The kind he has when he’s listening to people, the same one they’ve seen in many videos. “It’s very exciting to meet you, Y/N. Welcome to the team.” Courtney says, a kind smile on their face.

“Yeah, I’m excited to see what you can bring to the games channel,” Spencer says, keeping his eyes on them as they sit down. “Yes, thank you for bringing that up Spencer. Y/N, we have looked at the stuff you’ve done and from what you’ve told us plus input from your recommendations. You’ll be mainly helping with the gaming channel.” Alé says.

“Really? That’s so cool.” Y/N says, a smile bright on their face. “Yeah, so you will work with Tommy and me mostly to get things done,” Spencer says and they nod. “Okay, I think that’s all we have. This was just a meeting for you to get to know a few people, mostly the ones you will be working under.” Zoe says.

“Okay, sounds great.” Y/N says, an optimistic smile bright on their face. Everyone stands up, those who already met Y/N leave while Shayne, Courtney, and Spencer stay behind.

“So, Y/N, what have you done at college besides your degree stuff?” Courtney asks, wanting to get to know the newbie more. “Well, I am a part of my school’s esports team. We’re still kind of new but have done pretty well. I also was on the university paper but I stopped so I could do my internship.” They explain.

“That sounds super cool, you must be a good gamer to get on an esports team.” Shayne acknowledges. “I try, it’s not something I do all the time. Mostly for fun and I kinda joined because of my ex but that’s a long story.” 

“Ah, the things we do for love.” Courtney reminisces, “I think you will fit in great here. I know Trevor will be happy to have someone close to his age.” Spencer jokes. “I’m super excited, this is honestly a dream. I’m not even sure I’m awake right now.” Y/N confesses.

“I think I know how we can break that. Since it’s your first day, you can sit back and watch how things go then we’ll throw you into the deep end tomorrow.” Spencer says, his eyes never leaving Y/N. “Ooo, that sounds scary. Fun, but scary. I like it.” They say, perking up and putting their bag on their shoulder.

Courtney laughs as they wrap their arm around them, “You are gonna be perfect here.” They say as they all walk out of the conference room.

[parisiterileymoon]

Yoo i just read your angel dust x reader in the 40s and it was great! If you ever need to write something in italian i'll gladly translate it for you (i am italian)

Btw are your requests open? If so then can i ask for a sort-of follow up to your aforementioned post? Reader goes to hell after getting shot by angel's dad, some years pass and angel dies too but they don't know they both went to hell and assume the other one is in heaven and one day they meet again out of luck and recognize eachother after having a conversation in a bar or something like that (btw if you could refrain from calling him anthony too much it would be greatly appreciated, nothing against that it's just that my dad is named antonio and it feels kinda weird to read a fic with my dad's name lol, but if you want to call him anthony anyway i don't mind at all), thanks for reading!

If my request violated any rules please tell me so that i won't make the mistake again

You are incredible! I adore how detailed this request is. I will use as little “Anthony” as possible lol.

Angel dust x reader (1940s follow up…or part two?)

C/W: cannon typical violence, grief, loss, mildly suggestive, survivors guilt, regret, crying LOTS of emotions.

~~

70 years. 70 years is how long it’s been. 70 years since you have seen him. It was startling at first. You never thought you would see him again. For a while you just held eachother. You sat there, your face nuzzled in his fluff. “Oh my god I have so much to tell you.” He smiled down at you. He began to talk about the family. You didn’t listen. You just stared at him. At how beautiful he is. You held his bottom set of hands and rested your head on his chest. You’ve never seen him so happy. This beautiful man you have been waiting for him for what it feels like an eternity and he’s finally here. You are in his arms at last. “Hey are you listening?” “No. I’m not. I’m sorry but…you look so happy. I can’t help but think…I mean it’s like- my whole brain is occupied by the thought ‘holy shit…this is it. This is what I have been waiting for. What I have been wanting.’ I’ve waited seventy years, my angel.” Tears well up in both your eyes. “Oh…oh my god.” He grabs your face and pulls it up to his. He kisses you. Not a kiss full of heat, but not with any less passion. A kiss filled with love and adoration. A kiss from a man missing the love of his life for 70 years. 70 years filled with pain and agony. For a moment, he forgot his pain, suffering, trauma, and tears. You are his everything. You are the reason he wanted to hang on. The shred of hope that you might reunite. “I thought you went to heaven” he said after he pulled away. You shake your head. “Why?” You laugh pitifully “I’ve done terrible things…” he sighs. “Because you regretted it. Every time. Every time you shot or stabbed you felt horrible. You brought flowers to their graves. You cried, tha-that can’t mean nothing!” He looks confused and angry. How dare they deny the love of his life entry to paradise? You are the kind of person to cry when Bambi’s mom died every time. Without fail. You put a chocolate smile on his pancakes once! “You’re too good for this shithole, (____)…too good.” His voice shakes as he said your name. You kiss him. Comforting, passionate, painful, sweet, and loving. “If I went to heaven I would’ve never seen you again.” You looked into his eyes. There were so many emotions swirling between the two of you that night.

I think the moral of this story is that…I don’t know hold on to the people that love you.

~~

I cried well writing this. Any feedback is encouraged. Thank you for reading🫂

[feyhunter78]

Trust Fund Baby Series + Meg's Kinktober #21 Almost Caught AKA Late Night, a Few Drinks

Description: Carmy invites you to try the new drinks for The Bear's opening. (This fic is actually sfw sorry to disappoint)

Trust Fund Baby (nsfw)

“Saint Anthony, huh? Didn’t know you were Catholic.” You say, hooking one finger under the gold chain around his neck, leaning forward with a drunken giggle as you inspect it.

“I’m not, just Italian.” Carmy says, his lips mere inches from yours, when you look up and realize how close you two are. He’s so pretty like this, and his eyes are so, so, blue you swear you could drown in them.

You’re practically in his lap, one hand balancing yourself on his knee, the other holding his chain, his gaze holding yours, looking as if he wants to devour you.

“Ah, yes, makes perfect sense.” You nod, smiling, smiling, smiling, smiling, it’s all you can do around Carmy, especially when you’re drinking.

“Yeah?” Camry asks, leaning back on his hands, half lidded eyes, slightly glazed from alcohol, watching as you toy with the small pendant.

“Yeah.” You echo, eyes flickering down to his lips.

“Real nice of you to come help out with the tastings.” Carmy says, pink tongue darting out, wetting his lips.

You swallow hard, the rational part of your brain telling you to pull back. “Can’t say no to free drinks with my favorite chef now, can I?”

His eyebrows lift and he cocks his head slightly to the side. “I’m your favorite chef, sweetheart?”

“Of course.” You say it so simply, like it’s a fact, because to you, it is. “Well, you and Syd, she makes a killer breakfast.”

He laughs, his head rolling back, the sound infectious.

You lean back, letting Carmy’s chain drop and settle gently on his chest.

“That all it takes to win you over? A good breakfast?” Carmy asks, smiling that half smile that makes your stomach do flips.

“I guess so.” Your face is warm, from the alcohol, embarrassment, desire? You’re not sure.

“I’m pretty good at making breakfast too.” He says, the low lighting in The Bear makes his eyes impossibly dark, like the ocean during a storm, and you’re one drink away from diving in.

You gather your courage, hoping you still look as good as you did when you left your apartment. “Oh yeah? Maybe I’ll have to come over and try it some time then.”

Carmy’s eyes widen, just a fraction, but it’s enough to knock down every bit of confidence you built up.

“Shit, sorry, that was such a weird thing to say.” You look at your glass, though you know it’s empty. “I think the drinks are getting to me.”

He shakes his head. “Nah, nah, wasn’t weird at all, love to make you breakfast sometime.”

You bite your lip to hide your smile. “Yeah?”

He tucks a lock of hair behind your ear, fingers lingering for a moment too long, his eyes darting to your bottom lip, still trapped between your teeth. “Yeah, anytime, love cooking for you, it’s cute when you get all excited, and you got that pretty smile on your face.”

And there go the butterflies. “Oh, so you think I’m pretty?” You tease, dragging out the “y” sound, and laughing when he rolls his eyes.

“Fuckin’ know I think that. Everybody thinks that, prettiest damn girl in the whole world.” He says, voice low, but earnest.

“No way, prettiest girl in the world is Jessica Chastain.” You laugh, cheeks burning as you try to wave off his compliment, your heart doing double time jumping jacks in your chest.

He lets out a low whistle. “Almost forgot about her.”

Ouch.

You try not to let that hurt you considering you brought it up, but it still stings, and you look away, feeling the sting settle in your skin.

Carmy sits up, his hand cradling your cheek, bringing your eyes to his. “Hey, hey, what’s up with you, what happened?”

You smile at him, but you know he can see it’s a bit forced. “Nothing, nothing, just got lost in thought.”

“Don’t get all sad on me, I don’t like when my pretty girl’s sad.” He says, thumb caressing your cheek slowly.

My pretty girl. Has he ever called you that before? Ever staked a claim, expressed any real desire to have you as his? You don’t think so, and now the moment has weight. Weight you’re not ready to think about.

“Just got a bit insecure, don’t know why. I literally love her, and don’t have any ideas that I’d actually look as pretty as a celebrity, that would be crazy.”

Carmy lets out a huff and his thumb brushes against your lips, the touch sending shockwaves through you, and Carmy as well. “Don’t be fuckin’ dumb, of course you’re as pretty as a celebrity, fuckin’ prettier than all the celebrities.”

“Hey…” You warn, scrunching up your nose. “Don’t call me dumb.”

His face falls. “No, no, sweetheart, I’d never, I just meant—”

You stop him with a hand on his chest, right over the gold pendant. “I’m kidding, I know what you meant, and I appreciate it.”

Carmy visibly relaxes. “Got me scared for a second.”

“I’m sorry.” You giggle, going to move your hand.

He catches it and brings it to his lips. “I’m serious, you’re so fuckin’ pretty y/n, like it makes no fuckin’ sense.”  His lips warm, a bit chapped, but still soft, and your skin tingles, butterflies erupting in your stomach all over again.

“Oh.” You breathe, heart fluttering, your eyes locked on your joined hands. “Well, um, genetics I guess?”

“Genetics.” He echoes, relinquishing your hand and leaning back on his own, his eyes drifting to the window, leaving you to try and fight the lovesick smile threatening to appear.

“Yeah, my mom is gorgeous.” You say, wishing his gaze would drift back to you.

It does, and you beam at him.

“I bet.” Carmy says, his eyes darting down to your lips, to the way you’re still half leaning on him, the way your shirt clings to you, like a second skin, his free hand settling on your hip.

“I really do appreciate you asking me to come try the drinks with you.” You tell him, voice quiet, unwilling to break the sudden tension that’s appeared.

“Of course, I always have fun with you, wouldn’t want anyone else here with me.” His hand burns on your hip, and you want to pull it either lower or higher, just want something to happen.

“You’re so sweet to me.” You smile, eyes dropping to his lips, then flickering up to his eyes.

He’s so close, and you can practically taste the alcohol on his lips, the bitters, the orange, the burned sugar.

“Easy to be sweet to you.” Carmy says, it’s more of an exhale against your lips, his hand coming up to cup your cheek once more, your noses brushing against each other, the sound of your blood rushing in your ear and—

“Yo cousin, where you at?” Richie’s voice booms through The Bear, and you jolt backwards, pushing away from Carmy as if he burned you.

He looks dazed, lips still parted, eyes soft and focused on you. Then he blinks, and it’s all gone, he’s back to normal. “In the front, by the bar.”

Kinktober masterlist

[xx-thedarklord-xx]

i saw your tony/loki shipping post and it's got me considering it. do you have any recs?

I sure fucking do! (referring to this post)

Sorry this took me so long to get to, I had to go back through some of my bookmarks and refamiliarize myself with the ship. If anyone would like more recs just let me know!

Stark Fashion Statement by STARSdidathing | 10k, T Tony knows it takes a lot for Loki to play nice with Asgard. Mostly, it takes him wanting to secure an apple for Tony. Despite this, Tony is willing to hate everyone on sight, especially when he's forced to attend an event with Loki. But just because they're playing nice, it doesn't mean Tony is going to stand for an insult. Who says time on Asgard can't come with a little mischief?

(Do check out STARSdidathing Ao3 they have SIX HUNDRED completed FrostIron stories.)

Devoted to you by Draysmeria | 14k, E *part of a series* Tony Stark's beliefs were one of the best guarded secrets of all times. The thing was, if you asked Tony about it, he would say that in his opinion it had absolutely nothing to do with belief. Because he knew for a fact that his God and others like him existed. So, he did not have to believe in the elusive existence of a higher power but could worship and be devoted to a very real deity that had visited Earth regularly in centuries past. He had absolute Faith in his God and was devoted to him, addressing prayers and offerings to him regularly; his chosen God was Loki, god of Fire, Chaos, Lies and Mischief.

(I am fascinated and in love with the idea of Tony praying to Loki as a god. Loved loved loved the entire series.)

Exploiting Technicalities by pineapplesquad | T, 9k His blood ran cold the moment his seidr touched the other man. With unsteady hands he switched his earpiece to their private channel, fighting the panic rapidly crawling up his throat. “JARVIS,” he snapped, voice already shaking, “why are you piloting Anthony’s armor?” Loki didn’t care for the long pause before the AI finally answered. “Sir has activated a protocol that, when enabled, allows me to remotely pilot the Iron Man armor to continue the fight if he is to fall unconscious. My priority is now the safety of the team.”

(The emotional angst and pain of this fic hurt but it was a good kind of hurt.)

Never Let Go by STARSdidathing | T, 3k Anthony likes to hold Loki’s hand. And it’s not that Loki doesn’t enjoy it, quite the opposite actually– he just doesn’t understand it.

(It's just so soft and cute and after the angst of the last one, it's a soothing balm to the soul!)

The Einherjar’s No Good Very Stressful and Incredibly Difficult Job of Protecting Tony Stark by NamelesslyNightlock | T, 14k When the Einherjar notice that Tony Stark makes Prince Loki happier than anyone – or anything – else, they decide that protecting the mortal is a matter of complete importance, and put all of their resources toward the task. But… their job would be a whole lot easier if Stark would just stop putting his life in danger at every possible opportunity.

(Outside POV but it's just so good. I love seeing how others view their relationship and the idea of someone trying to guard Tony of all people makes me laugh because he does dangerous stuff all day every day.)

When You're Gone by NamelesslyNightlock | T, 5k DUM-E misses Loki almost as much as Tony does. This causes a problem when, after a longer than usual absence, DUM-E decides to go looking for him.

(It's just so cute! I adore when fics explore all of Tony's robots and the fact that DUM-E misses Loki is just adorable and I want more of it okay.)

A Little Unsteady by kipli | E, 68k *part of a series* After observing the battle at the airport between Captain America and Iron Man, Loki stumbles upon Tony Stark hidden away in the depths of a panic attack. Loki finds himself drawn to Stark in ways he’d not expected.

(Loved, loved, loved this one! I loved the sequel as well.)

So We're ... Friends by Loni4ever | E, 15k *part of a series* When Loki shows up on Earth two years after getting exiled from Asgard, what Tony expects is fights, casualties and attempts at world domination. What he gets instead is reasons to smile, answers about magic, and an unlikely friend in a certain prankster mage. ___ Or, 5 Times Tony and Loki Didn't Fight Each Other, and 1 Time They Decided To Fight Side By Side

(this was perfect. The way they showed the transition from acquaintances to friends to really good friends to best friends to omg I might actually love this idiot to dating to falling in love to HUSBANDS. I just really really loved this whole series and melted so many times)