#as an aside I would like to say I have never watched bridgerton

[alexiethymia]

One thought: Lockwood & Co./Locklyle Bridgerton!AU

Heck any plain Regency!AU would do. You can still have ghosts! A la Pride and Prejudice and Zombies, just set the Problem as having happened way earlier in history. Society’s a flutter with the latest scandal, local upperclass aristocratic twat falls in love with working northern. Shocking.

[andivmg]

My experience with Luke (Punz)

CW: toxic relationship, racism, dubious consent

I know in the past i said that i would no longer speak about him publicly, and when talking about my experiences with abuse and emotional mistreatment i begged to keep it anonymous but after reflecting on this for a week and seeing so many incredibly smart and strong women tell their stories. they have given me the strength to say his name.

this is really scary to talk about because of the copious levels of harassment i have received from his fans in the past so if this spreads or gets out of hand i will simply log off.

If you read my last post, i nicknamed him 1.

So aside from everything i said there, there were a lot of things i didn’t include because they would’ve made it obvious that it was him and it could potentially backfire on me so, i’m very afraid to post this. but i’m going to do it scared anyway, because it’s not fair that he gets to just go and live his life worry-free as if he didn’t practically ruin mine.

Because I already made a very lengthy post about him, i won’t include everything i said last time to avoid being redundant but if i repeat myself, please bear with me.

In our year long relationship i had to endure emotional neglect, gaslighting, verbal abuse, one instance where there was dubious consent, and much more.

Starting off at the beginning of our relationship, that’s when i was getting copious amounts of hate and harassment from his fan base (warranted or not), he decided that our relationship must be kept private. he said it was to “protect” me from his fanbase when in reality it was to protect himself. it was so he wouldn’t get all the backlash i was getting. this is funny because one of the things i got called out for was saying the B slur (derogatory term used against mexicans/latinos). I won’t get into the nuances of if i could say it or not as a puertorican because that’s discourse that does not pertain to this specific situation. But you know who definitely can’t say it? A white boy from Massachusetts. When i was getting cancelled for this and getting thousands of tweets calling me names, he decided that was the perfect time to say “I mean you are a b***** aren’t you? my little b*****.” Now, he said this completely unprompted. I was in the process of writing my apology and he just said that. I tell you this because i immediately shut him down and told him that there was no universe in which it was okay for him to say that word and especially not one where he could just call me that. While i was reprimanding him, he was smiling and laughing. he apparently found it amusing to call me a slur. regardless, he gave me a half-assed apology and said he wouldn’t do it again. and he didn’t. but this wasn’t the only time he was weirdly racist to me. this was my first time being in an interracial relationship so i was led to believe that this was normal by all the white people around me at the time. But, sometimes my spanish accent would come out and he would make fun of me and the way i pronounced some words. He also refused to visit me in Puerto Rico when i lived there or come meet my family when i really wanted him to because he “didn’t like the heat” or “it’s dangerous there isn’t it?”. Once, while we were watching season 2 of Bridgerton, he implied that the Sharma sisters were “too dark” for him to be attracted to them. This hurt me because they are brown skinned girls. I am a brown skinned girl. Then this, combined with the fact that he told me once he wasn’t attracted to me made me feel like my skin color was unattractive. These are only a few examples i can think of at the moment, but i’m sure there were more. Our relationship ended in 2022 so some of my memory is a bit hazy. But, I do remember feeling inferior to him throughout the relationship because he was white and I was not. I chalk that up to all the micro aggressions i had to deal with because i had never felt that way around white people before.

Another thing i had to endure was him constantly making me feel like he was embarrassed to be with me. Because i was cancelled, he didn’t want to associate with me too much. He did defend me on multiple occasions, I’ll give him that. But, he only did it because his name was getting dragged in the mud along with mine. Excusing my actions made him look better for being around me. In reality he didn’t really care. Because he was such a big content creator and someone i looked up to professionally, I took his advice as law. He told me to tone down my personality, to keep a low profile, to change things about myself to be more palatable to his audience. The same audience that spoke about me like “The pussy can’t be that good punz please stop defending her”. So i changed a lot of things about myself and my content to better suit what his audience liked. He made me feel like if his audience liked me, he would be public about our relationship and stop hiding it. He told me the reason why he wanted to keep our relationship a secret was because he didn’t want to get hate for it. But this wasn’t true. On my 20th birthday he went to Las Vegas for a twitch rivals event. That night i asked to facetime him to say goodnight and he refused because he was at a hotel room with his friends and he didn’t want them to know that we were together. It was as if my mere presence or the utterance of my name was a source of embarrassment for him. And he didn’t let me forget it. It wasn’t just a public thing at that point. He didn’t want people to know we were together, period. This was devastating to me because I would talk to all my friends about him. I was so proud to be with him and I was just one more problem to him. He made me feel so small and insignificant just because his fans didn’t like me.

He would berate me a lot. Not just due to getting heat online, although he did do that a lot. But in general whenever we would get into an argument or a disagreement he would always call me names like annoying or weird or stupid. He would raise his voice at me if i did something he didn’t like and call me an idiot. And that really hurt, i felt like i couldn’t bring up anything or do anything without getting insulted. If I hadn’t seen him in a few days because he was too busy streaming and i asked to hang out he would call me needy, clingy, and annoying. Granted, he might not have been wrong, but that is not something you say to someone you claim to love. He also insulted me when i was in depressive episodes. I have BPD and at the time i was not being treated properly for it. So, I was all over the place emotionally and he was what i clung to for validation, reassurance, and love. I talked to him when we first started dating about my disorder and told him that if it seemed like something he couldn’t handle that he could opt out of the relationship. I guess he didn’t think it was that bad or something idk because whenever i had really bad depressive episodes, he would tell me I was too sad to hang out with. He said that my sadness was a burden to him. Which would be fair. But, once my mother had a conversation with him about me. She told him that i am someone who needs a lot of love and caring. She said that if he wasn’t willing to put in that kind of effort into a relationship to just leave me alone. He reassured her that he would be there for me no matter what. He told my mother that he would protect me and my heart. He did not. He took all the warnings I gave him and ignored them and then made me feel like I was the problem. And even worse, he would say that i was pretending to be sad to get his attention when he would neglect for days at a time.

There were also some smaller things like the fact that he made me feel really guilty whenever he would spend money on me. Also, he would be really mean about my eating habits. For context, i used to suffer from an eating disorder. I was anorexic and had a really unhealthy relationship with food during high school and my first year of uni. This relationship began when i was recovering from my ED. For me, eating was really hard. So i had certain comfort foods that, while sometimes unhealthy, at least it was something to eat when i didn’t feel like eating anything. He knew this. Yet, whenever i would crave some of these foods he would call me fat. Constantly told me I’d gain weight from eating all that junk food. Saying that to someone with an eating disorder is crazy. Other smaller things were that whenever I would post tiktoks where i was lip syncing or just looking good he would yell at me and say i was looking for attention. Same with Instagram or Twitter whenever i would post photos where I looked hot. He never planned out a single date for us. I would beg him to get me flowers and he did maybe once but i’ll get into that in a bit. He would make fun of me in front of his friends to make himself look better. He let his friends say really degrading things about me in his presence. For example, once when i was showering, i overheard him on a discord call with George and Sapnap and i heard George say “if you don’t go in the shower and have sex with Andi, i will”. Once, when i was really struggling with my legs (for those of you who don’t know, i have arthritis and it’s very painful. at the time i wasn’t diagnosed but i was in a lot of pain) I literally could not walk. I had to beg him to take me to the ER because i didn’t know what was wrong with me. He didn’t want to take me but eventually i convinced him, and while we were there all he did was complain about how long it was taking and that he would have rather been at home streaming. Whenever I would talk about my interests that i was excited about like shows or books he would be incredibly uninterested and say that those things were stupid and he didn’t want to hear about them. I know all of these seem very silly or superficial but cumulatively it was awful.

Now for arguably the most serious thing i’m going to talk about. I want to preface this by saying i am just telling my side of what happened. You can come to your own conclusions about this.

On April 25, 2022 it was our one year anniversary, and i had made a dinner reservation for us. I expected him to plan something throughout the day for us to do. He told me he was going to spend the whole day playing Valorant so I got upset and cancelled the reservation. After a very heated argument, we calmed down and i asked him to come over. He came over about an hour later with flowers and drinks (I was 20 at the time so I couldn’t buy the drinks myself). He brought Smirnoffs and Trulys. For context, I am a lightweight. I always have been. I literally get tipsy on half a cocktail. And that day, I hadn’t eaten anything because i was in distress over our argument. So we get to talking and drinking. I blacked out after my second Smirnoff. Apparently I drank 3 but I genuinely cannot remember anything after finishing the second one. The next morning i woke up naked in my bed. I woke him up and asked him “Luke, why am I naked?” and he said “Because you didn’t want to put your clothes back on.” When I clarified to him that that was not what I meant, he got defensive and said that he didn’t realize how drunk I was. He proceeded to tell me that I initiated sex with him and that i was very enthusiastic about it. He said he didn’t know i could black out on three smirnoffs. He made fun of me for being a lightweight and continued to make light of the situation. Then he mentioned that i fell off the bed at some point in the night and that it was funny how drunk I was. I then questioned him. Because if he thought that me tripping and falling off the bed because i was so drunk was funny, how did he not know that i was too drunk? He responded by saying that i fell off the bed only after we were done. That day I broke up with him. I’m still really confused about what happened that night. I don’t remember anything and all I have to go on is what he said to me. We were in a relationship at the time and he says he didn’t know how drunk I was so I’m not sure what to call what happened. A while after that day, his friend that hmu while we were broken up and I started talking again and i confided in him about that night. He told me to be careful saying things like that because they could get me into trouble. I spoke to some of our other friends about it and they told me it was no big deal and that it wasn’t his fault that he didn’t know how drunk I really was. Because I don’t remember, I have been led to believe that this is not a serious matter. You can think what you want, come to whatever conclusions you want. That is just my side of the story.

I want to add that I’m not proud of how I acted after the relationship ended. I felt really angry at all the shit he put me through and I guess a part of me wanted him to hurt even a quarter of how I did. So I started talking to his friend and got involved with him. This backfired on me because his friend ended up really hurting me too so ig i got my karma. But the thing that hurt the most is that because of what I did, some of our friends took his side in the break up. I was told that I did something terrible by getting involved with his friend that he was already insecure about and that he didn’t deserve that. These are the same friends who were witness to the dumpster fire of a relationship we had and all the things he did to me. They turned their backs on me because of this one thing I did. But stood by and watched as he treated me like garbage for over a year.

I will conclude this by saying that while this relationship has been “over and done with” for almost two years now, I carry a lot of trauma from it still. I still talk about him in therapy and have had to put in a lot of work to heal from what he did and i still cannot say that i am okay. I am very blessed to now have a patient and understanding partner who has helped me heal from that trauma and i just want to quickly thank him for that. Nobody deserves to go through what I did. While yes, it was a toxic relationship, and I had a part in that, it does not excuse all the awful things he said and did to me. This is my truth, thank you for taking the time to read it.

[fayes-fics]

Naughty or Nice

Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x fem!reader

Summary: Anthony is handing out festive punishment to naughty people.

Warnings: 18+ smut, minors DNI, spanking, dirty talk, fingering.

Word Count: 2.7k

Author's Note: Happy Valentine's Day 🧡 - here, have a Christmas fic haha. This was originally for @silverhallow 12 Day of Smutmas, but it's over TWO months late and now totally out of season (sorry). However, the fine people on my follow list asked I post anyway, so here it is. Unbetaed. Enjoy <3

He is dressed as Santa and looks exactly like the kind of festive trouble you are craving. 

“My friend Daphne’s oldest brother,” your sister nods as she tracks your line of sight, “Handsome, yes, but also, playboy. I wouldn't if I were you,” is her rather harsh warning.

You watch as he jokingly plays the part, sitting on an ornate, almost throne-like chair, as various tipsy people wander up and sit on his knee, and he asks what they want for Christmas.

“Listen, if I’m going to mess around with anyone after my breakup, it’s going to be with someone that fucking handsome,” you argue back, glad he has forgone the traditional big white beard and belly.

“Fine,” she concedes with a sigh, “but I've heard rumours, kinky stuff, so don't say I didn't warn you,” is her parting shot. 

You raise an eyebrow at her; if there was one thing on your list now you've moved to London, it's new experiences. You have only been with one man, your first boyfriend, and sweet as he was, everything was very nice. Just nice. You want something different. You check your dress and saunter over to him. 

“Hello, little girl,” he drawls as you approach, his eyes raking over you salaciously, signalling for you to sit on his knee, “have you been naughty or nice this year?”

You perch on his lap sideways as he smirks at you. “Santa, I've been a very nice girl,” you begin, twirling a strand of hair, then you lean in and whisper in his ear, “but I want to be very, very naughty.”

He coughs and shifts in his seat; you feel the play of thigh muscles under your bottom and a warm hand low on your back. 

“Just how naughty?” he murmurs, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

You loop an arm around his neck, knowing he can see down the neckline of your dress.

“So naughty I don't think you would bring me any presents on Christmas Eve,” you pout, leaving no room for doubt as to your intentions.

He leans in closer, and you can smell expensive liquor on his breath. “Every girl deserves a treat from Santa, even the naughty ones,” his voice low and sultry.

“What sort of treats does Santa give to naughty girls?” you inquire softly, knowing you have never flirted this outrageously in your life.

“Ones they will remember,” he says cryptically; the hand on your back curls around your waist and pulls you closer, your hip bumping his crotch. “Would you like your treat early this year, naughty girl?”

“Yes, please, Santa,” you demure, biting your lip again.

He pushes your hair aside with a gentle hand and trails his nose up your neck, inhaling deeply, making all your skin tingle. “Mmmm, meet me in two minutes down that hallway, third door on the left.”

You slip off his lap with a little triumphant smile and wander over to the drinks table. A fortifying shot is just what you want right now. The cheap liquor burns as you take the shot, but it's the liquid courage you need. After a couple of minutes, You wander down the hallway opening the door he requested. 

It's a bedroom, sleek and dimly lit, the skyline of London silhouetted outside the picture windows.

“Hello there, naughty girl,” a voice like velvet emerges from a corner, and you glance aside to see him sitting casually in a wingback chair, one foot on his other knee, expensive glass in hand, which he puts aside and stands up.

“Hello,” you reply, a fire in your belly as he walks over and crowds into your back, burying his nose into your hair, a hand landing softly on your bum cheek.

“Are you ready for your treat from Santa?” he asks softly, breathing deeply.

“That depends,” you reply, “what is it?”

He chuckles richly. “Naughty girls get a jolly good spanking,” his breath hot on your scalp, the hand on your bum flexing slightly. “So they learn how to be good girls.”

You can’t contain your sharp inhale, and your body tenses involuntarily. You have never been spanked before but are suddenly desperate to be. 

“Oh, I see,” he intuits everything from your reaction. “We have a first-time naughty girl here, I see. Well, you are in for a treat. You should know if you don't like your treat, you say Red, just like Rudolph’s nose, and then Santa will stop. Do you understand me?” he explains clearly as he runs a finger down your spine, causing a quiver in his wake.

“Yes,” you chirp. “I want it, Santa,” you confirm.

“Good. Grab the railing,” he commands gently, nodding to the wrought iron footboard of the bed in front of you. You wrap your hand around the thin cool metal and take a calming breath.

The warm hand over your bottom slides down onto the back of your thigh. As it makes its way back, he hitches your dress up, exposing your underwear. 

“Santa approves,” he breathes, fingers spidering over the French cut knickers you wear. You smile, unseen by him, his focus wholly on your backside, so pleased you splashed out on a new set for this party. 

“Now, were you a naughty girl this year?” he asks, the hand rubbing a gentle circle over the globe of your bum.

“Yes, Santa,” you play along, nodding. This is entertaining and alluring; you don’t know how to feel except giggly and aroused.

“On a scale of 1 to 10,” he teases, splaying his fingers around your cheek, “how naughty were you?”

“Eleven,” you reply, coquettish, and he chuckles.

“That is so very, very naughty,” his nose running into the hair at the nape of your neck. “You will be spanked eleven times then,” he states casually.

Oh.

His face still nuzzles the back of your head as there is a short little smack on your right cheek. It's just the lightest of taps, but still, you feel something liquify inside your tummy. It's not enough but so much all at one.

“Harder, please, Santa,” you breathe, wanting to goad him.

“We are just getting started, my naughty girl,” he sniggers. “Now that's one. Do you think you can count for me?” he asks, his face twisting to your neck, sliding his lips over the sensitive pulse point there.

“One,” you whisper.

He hums approvingly, and his solid body rolls against you, the fake fur from his Santa jacket tickling the bare skin above the back of your strapless dress. Wordlessly his hand pulls away and descends again, this time with a fraction more force.

“Two,” you count dutifully, which is followed by a slight moan as his heated lips suck on your skin.

“What do you want for Christmas, naughty girl?” he buzzes.

“This,” you reply softly, honestly. This is better than any present you could imagine.

“Mmmm, good answer,” he compliments, his tongue lathing over the cord of your neck, bending you over slightly so you lean further forward, your hands gripping the bed railing.

His other hand moves, sliding from your waist down over the flare of your hip, mapping your contours with his palm that feel almost heavy. You know what's coming before he even pulls his hand away, and you hold your breath in anticipation as the hand withdraws and then spanks down on your left cheek.  

“Three,” you exhale that held breath and push back slightly, swaying in your strappy platform heel, wanting to feel his pelvis against yours, check if he is as turned on as you are. 

His teeth worry your earlobe, and his breath is so loud in your ear as that same hand withdraws again and then rains down another slap, this one with a curved open hand.

“Four.”

“You are doing well, naughty girl,” he assures. “Do you think you are learning your lesson?”

“Yes, I will try to be a good girl from now on, Santa,” you breathe.

“Only try? That’s not good enough,” he clucks. “We need you reformed. I think I’m going to have to go harder,” he sighs, and you feel a thrill run down your spine at his decadent words.

The next tap is back on your other cheek and makes an audible sound. You swallow heavily and feel the room heating up rapidly as there is the slightest tingle over your skin.

“Five.”

“Lean forward,” he lectures softly into your ear, “We need to ensure you have really learned your lesson.” His other hand grabs the dip of your waist, pulling your pelvis back flush into the concave curve of his body and pushing your head down slightly. The electric tension of the moment engulfs your senses as you hang onto the footboard, knuckles turning white. 

It's his left hand again this time. Same intensity as the last; you have to exhale a puff of air.

“Six.”

“More than halfway now,” he assures, and you can hear the smirk in his voice.

Your left butt cheek stings from the next blow, an open-handed smack that makes you jump slightly, and his responding chuckle is a deep rumble that hums over your skin. 

“Seven.”

You know you are holding your breath, waiting for the final four spanks. They have been building in intensity, making you burn hotter all over, but mainly at the apex of your thighs. You try to discreetly rub your thighs together to relieve the ache you feel there, allow your clit to catch on your underwear just so, but his grip on your hip quells your movement.

“Stop that,” he warns heatedly, causing a shiver down your spine. “Take your punishment like a good girl; stop enjoying it so much,” he tuts, but his tone indicates you should very much continue.

Boldly, you lean further forward over the bed railing, popping your bottom out so you rub his crotch. The growl he makes is like beautiful music.

The next spank rings out around the room, and you actually groan at the sensation, his hand lingering, fingertips digging in and grabbing your flesh.

“Eight,” your voice is a little rasping now.

Before you recover, he deals the mirror blow to your other cheek, and you exhale in a loud elongated moan.

“Nine.”

“Just two more now, naughty one,” he reminds. “Is your lovely bottom smarting just a bit now?” he inquiries duskily.

“Yes, Santa…” you confess, feeling so alive, a quake running through your entire being.

“Good,” he gloats, “you'll never learn to be a good girl if you don't feel it.”

He pulls both hands away quite a distance, and you inhale sharply, eagerly awaiting your final two.

One hand slaps hard with a slight twist of his wrist, and before you can count, the other hand does the same on your other side. They are the most vigorous blows, a radiating sting that turns into the most sublime warm burn. You are certain he has left a handprint on each side, and you feel a strange perverse compulsion to leave the room with your dress hitched up, wearing his red marks with pride on your skin, letting everyone see just what he has done to you.

“Ten, Eleven.” You count dutifully as your mind runs away with such debauched thoughts.

His hand rubs your cheeks delicately, warm fingertips soothing the ache but also stoking the fire in your belly. You want more from him. So much more. Whatever he is willing to offer. A huge part of you hopes he will just rip down your underwear and fuck you right here, right now. Your body is beyond ready for it.

“Now that you’ve had your punishment, how about your reward?” he offers, and your blood sings.

“There’s a reward Santa?” you gasp, hopeful, playing along, praying it will be something that soothes the wet throbbing between your legs.

“Oh yes, lean back against me,” he instructs, and you do so. Loving the snug feel of your body pressed up to his, something insistent on the cleft of your reddened cheeks. 

You reach back and loop your wrist around his neck, gyrating your hips, unmistakable in your message and unashamed in your need. Your stomach clenches in victory as one of his hands slips down over the front of your dress and curls under your hem. You gasp as warm fingers land on your slit through the lacy material.

“So molten hot,” he hisses into your temple, “now show Santa how pretty you look when you come hard like a very good girl,” his praising voice vibrating into your body.

Fingertips find your swollen clit and start to circulate, the drag of the fabric under them heightening the sensation somehow. You breathe out a noise of surprise, taken aback by how quickly his expert touch pushes you towards the edge, which elicits a rich chuckle from his lips.

“Please touch me,” you beg, panting lightly, his fingertips moving faster now. “Inside my knickers,” you amend quickly, pleadingly.

The material digs into the flesh over your hips and chafes against your aching cheeks as he slides that hand inside from the top. Then his bare fingers are on your sodden flesh, and you gasp, rocketing even fast as he snags your clit and restarts his motions.

“I love how wet you are,” he murmurs, hot on your ear.

You just moan and bare down on his questing fingers, drunk on how good it feels as your bottom still tingles from his hand. His touch is perfect, the right amount of pressure and speed to turn your knees to jelly; one hand clinging desperately to the bed rail, the other around his neck, leaning into his touch, wanting to collapse against him, let him take all your weight. Your eyes roll back as your hips gyrate with his ministrations, a sensual little dance he leads.

“That's it,” he gusts hot in your ear again, his lips slipping to brand that sensitive spot below your earlobe that always catches your breath.

“Santa…” you exhale, expecting it to feel weird on your tongue, but your desire is coiled too tight to care.

“Call my Anthony,” he orders, sounding desperate himself, his clothed cock rubbing deliciously against the cleft of your bottom as he starts to move with you.

“Santhony…” you slur in response, mixing the two words in your shakingly aroused, sex-drunken state.

If he doesn't like it, he doesn't react as such. In fact, his fingers curl tighter against you, the other hand branding your hip.

“Come for me, good girl,” he groans, surging his hips, so his cock rubs deliciously over your tailbone.

Breathing gusts out of your nose and biting your lip, you are trying to quell the urge to yell obscenely loud. The tide inside you breaks when Anthony bites your earlobe, sagging against him as every muscle convulses, strong waves fanning out from the white-hot spot under his fingers. Your smacked bottom pulsates in time with your clit, each muscle in your body going tense and then releasing. You know he is saying something, but it's a blur of noise and sensation. You haven't come this hard in years, possibly ever. 

When you finally feel able, you release your grip on the bedrail and see a red line across your palm where you have grasped so forcefully it has left a mark. He sees it and brings your hand to his lips, kissing it sweetly.

“How was that, my good girl?” he queries, his lips gentle on your palm.

You have to clear your throat, and still, your voice feels small and scratchy.

“Wonderful,” you admit.

“You did so well,” he flatters. “I think we may have to do this again,” the hopeful tone makes something in your stomach flip.

“But it's not Christmas after next week,” you point out with a sad pout.

“Oh, I can be any seasonal character you like, my girl,” he assures, running his nose up your neck and inhaling deeply. “Or just me.”

Inside you do a little victory dance. “Well, that would be wonderful… because next time I would really like to do something about this,” your pitch is teasing as you seize his hard searing cock through the novelty bright red trousers.

His groan is lewd and makes every synapse fire. “What are you doing later?” he pants.

“You. Hopefully.”

“Right bloody answer.”

It's a very Merry Christmas indeed.

Anthony taglist: @makaylan @foreverlonginguniverse @iboopedyournose @colettebronte @aintnuthinbutahounddog @margofiore @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @crowleysqueenofhell @bridgertontess @queenofmean14 @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @eleanor-bradstreet

[gloster]

FAVORITE FANFICS OF 2023

We did it. We made it. We made it through the end of 2023, and BOY AM I HAPPY AS HELL TO SAY GOOD-FUCKING-BYE TO IT. I don't know about you guys, but this year- particularly the last quarter- have been a lot to say the least. A lot of headaches, a lot of mental breakdowns, a lot of emotional gymnastics, and more.

But thanks to good friends, good shows, good music, and of course good fanfics I managed to see it through the end.

One of my favorite New Year's Eve's traditions where I do my annually fanfic recs/favorite fanfics of the year. This marks a whooping 5th year doing it, YAY 🎉💃🏿 If interested, check out 2018, 2019, 2020, 2021, and 2022 lists.

Please know there's no real ranking, despite the number ordering. Loved all these stories listed. Loved all the fanfics writers featured. And of course highly highly highly recommend

Without further ado, here are my favorite fanfics of 2023:

1). Something Good by @no-net-ensnares-me (kathony/kanthony)

Summary: Eager to earn a wage that would provide a more suitable life for her family and prepare for Edwina’s debut in a couple years, Kate accepts a position as governess for the Bridgerton family and moves to London, where she finds herself thrown into the chaos of living with the severe yet handsome Viscount Anthony Bridgerton and his seven siblings.

or

The Sound of Music AU

The Hills are aliiiiiiiiiiiiive with the sound of music/and the feels are FEEEEEEEEEELT with each new chapter. LOL, but all jokes aside, yes it's been a year since we saw our dear Viscount and Viscountess yet I still ride hard for them like it's their season premire all over again. Thanks of course to the awesome fic writers who keep us well-feed as we wait for season 3, such as this gem right here

Seriously, I cannot stress how insanely good this was. A good retelling where you see elements of Sound of Music while also being its' own thing. The longing, the longing between Kate and Anthony is so good. READ IT.

2). A Devil's Love by FormerlyIR (Irony_Rocks), Irony_Rocks (kathony/kanthony)

Summary: When Kate's sister goes missing, she gets herself a waitress job at the Pebble Lounge to track her down, working under London’s seedy underbelly to find the only person she has left in this world to love. And Anthony Bridgerton? No matter how alluring and distracting he may be, he’s just a means to an end, his life defined by his family business built on corruption.

Kate won’t dance to that tune. She’s just trying to find her sister.

Two in a row. A win for kathony/kanthony. Where the first one for the most part is cozy and light, this one is dark. Not surprising since this story, according to the author, was inspired by the 2022's The Batman, focusing on the electric dynamic between our favorite Bruce and Selina Kyle. Or rather in this AU, the dynamics between a dangerous mob boss and a woman going undercover as a waitress to figure out what happened to her sister.

It's got everything. Protective/possessive Anthony. Stubborn, witty Kate. Great sexual tension. Fair warning, there is an unplanned pregnancy so keep that in mind. Sit back, relax, and enjoy the ride

3). Intent to Cherish by iffervescent (kinn x porsche)

Summary: A mouthy beta runs off with Kinn's watch. He goes to get it back.

4 chapters this story is. 4 chapters of hilarious back and forth. 4 chapters of Porsche keeping that stubborn streak in tact with Kinn trying to chip his way through. 4 chapters we get to watch Porsche go from intriguing thief, to Kinn's employee, and finally intended.

This story checks off so many boxes. ABO AU, which is always a favorite. Sugar Baby and Sugar Daddy dynamic- never get tired of that. And of course Porsche being spoiled rotten. What more could you want?

4). burnt cotton series by taetaehland (taekook)

Summary: here's a series featuring your favorite bratty taehyung and his whipped husband, jeongguk (plus their adorable pups)

Once again, we got ABO and we so far have 11 stories of it featuring our favorite BTS as they grow more of their little family, grow more in love, and of course Tae growing more crafty and poor Kookie growing more insane. I love it.

Not to mention seeing all the ways Jungkook becomes more and more whipped for his husband is just the icing on the cake.

5). 'Tis a Far Better Thing by @the-sinking-ship (drarry)

Summary: 'Tis a far, far better thing doing stuff for other people — or however the Muggle saying goes — because Potter is in need of professional help, and Draco is just the man to give it to him.

A Drarry Clueless AU.

Sometimes you come across two things, such as two fandoms that on the surface seem so far farfetched until one ambitious fic writer creates a story that combines elements of the two and creates a wonderful gem of a story. Which is exactly what happened here.

Draco Malfoy and Cher Horowitz are so much alike, it's not even funny. Thus enhancing my enjoyment for this story to outright love love loving.

Again, elements to a famous story that brings on the nostalgia and enjoyment while also being it's own fresh spin. Plus FASHION. Draco as a Fashion Designer with Harry being his newest client. Along with Draco massively simping- always a win in my book.

6). Tracklist by Mia_Moon (sukuita/sukuIta)

Summary: Singer Sukuna x Fanboy Yuuji

Where they do kinky stuff together first and then get to know each other later.

Sometimes you have that fandom with an OTP that's set and your loyal ride or ship. Then there are other fandoms, where you love most of the characters, see the chemistry between them, love the dynamics, and it's fair game for shipping season. Jujutsu Kaisen is one of those fandoms, and sukita/sukulta was one of those ships that I just ended up falling in love with it.

Listen. Listen. Listen. I know the synopsis just give smutty smutty good time, but you get that and MORE.

What more you say be asking? Well, for starter our dear boy Yuuji who gets spoiled rotten, pampered, and yes, also gets sexed up 7 ways to Sunday- featuring some of the hottest smut I've read so far might I add. Mia_Moon did their thing, and I definitely will be reading more of and more of their works.

I don't know why to explain it, but there's something about a celebrity AU, where we have one half of the ship be this famous celeb and the other being this outsider getting pulled into their world. I ate it up every single time.

7). I'm Only Going to Heaven (If it Feels Like Hell) by stereobone (eruri)

Summary: "Are you saying you want to be my sugar daddy?" Levi says.

This story, I kid you not, came at the best timing, especially as I still try to untangle my very tangled feelings regarding the final season of Attack of Titan. But one positive that came outta it was my ulitmate love for Levi Ackerman, along with rekindling my love for eruri.

Good to note, one of the quickest quickest ways for me to immediately read a fanfic is if I see the keywords: Sugar Daddy.

What can I say? It gets me everytime. And this one was no different. This story not only came to my radar at the perfect time, but it also was just so damn perfect. So damn good. And of course had me looking through whatever other eruri stories the writer had under their belt.

8). Minor Family Supremacy by @yoonmoonbii (vegaspete, kinnporsche,payurain, prapaisky)

Summary: Like Vegas, Venice Theerapanyakun was born into a dangerous world of crime and power plays. And unlike Vegas, he is well protected by his family who shelters the little boy and spoils him to the core. However, in a day like every other, Venice is kidnapped.

Oh dear lord, where do we begin with this one? Well, much as 2023 was a hot flaming mess, it also became the year of Love of the Air (my new comfort show) and Kinnporsche. For not only me but also for my dear friends @littlenightdragon & @kila09. And what does one do after getting into a new show/fandom? Find fanfics to satisfy the fangirl cravings.

Minor Family Supremacy, or as me and @littlenightdragon often like to call it, the Minor Family Saga was the fanfic for us. And deliver what we needed after finishing Kinnporsche and wanted more of Vegas, more of Pete, and see the other side of the Minor Family.

This one, massive massive props, praise, and all the kudos for @yoonmoonbii for putting this series together because wow. Series starts off with Payu aka Venice as a kid, best friends with his cousin Prapai, being protected by his loving parents until one day changes their dynamics forever- and further widen the gap between the two . But quickly as each story goes on, the two find themselves being more aware of their positions, the complicated histories of their families, and how to stay on course of their own lives without falling into the trappings of Korn's narcisstic chesse game.

It's that good. Each story is like a TV season to the vegaspete spin-off we were so badly owed and sadly weren't granted.

9). Haute Couture, Mon Amour by @goldentruth813 (sheith)

Summary: When a scruffy stranger walks into Mamora Designs, personal shopper Shiro decks him in finery instead of sending him away. Little does Shiro know there’s more to this man than meets the eye and while trying to give him a picture perfect moment he just might find his own instead.

When it comes to @goldentruth813, you can count on several things. Amazing sheith stories. Incredible moments that will make your heart swoon or flutter (depending on the rating). And of course for Shiro to be spoiled rotten and given more depth than the show did.

This one, one word: FASHION. Fashion, fashion, with a lot of a Cinderella-ish vibe, only slightly if you catch it.

Honorable mention:

Wishing on a Frat Boy

10). He's The Bride by @sashadistan (tododeku)

Summary: Fae Prince Shoto has been waiting his whole life to marry his betrothed. As it turns out, a few interesting details were lost in translation, but Shoto still thinks his bride is worth the wait.

Oh @sashadistan, how I adore thee. For the way you just drop these amazing stories for us peasants, feeding us with wonderful content one story at a time. I always love your stories whether it's sheith, tododeku, and more.

This one was no different. This story has everything I could want: Fae Shouto, possessive Shouto, body worship, Izuku being his stuttering and flustering mess, and arranged marriage.

If y'all told me 5 or so years ago, I'd get into arranged marriage, I would have been dumbfounded. Or wonder if you were trying to be funny. Now? I love it. Just goes to show that sometimes it takes a good writer to make something you don't like a win in your eyes.

And now for the Honorable Mentions that were insanely good but due to time & length, couldn't go into full depth:

Just Breathe by @icecream-suga (2 part series w/1st part focusing on yoonmin & the 2nd on taekook; gangsters, drugs, gunplay, OH MY. So goooooood)

Right at Home by cmere (firstprince, alex x henry; grad students in a non-royal AU, fake-dating, and hijinks)

Hair Ribbons and Silk Ties by writer_of_passion (tiana x nanami/tianami; loving husband goes bonkers seeing his wife's curls loose and it GOES DOWN, so so so good)

Bedroom Hymns by Writcraft (drarry; daddy kink w/dom & sub undertones, insanely HOTTT)

Like, Comment, and Romance by @xskyll (tododeku; Youtuber Deku, pro-Hero Shouto, mutual longing and pining wrapped in a insanely fun read)

And there you have it. As usual, thanks to the awesome fanfic writers who do what they do. Fanfics, literally, is the only thing keeping us sane. And please check out all these stories.

HAPPY NEW YEAR, GUYS

[cantstoptheimagines]

Swan Princess (Prince Friedrich | Bridgerton)

Summary — You and the prince have never gotten along.

Requested by @acupnoodle — hii, if requests are open and if you write for prince Friedrich (bridgerton) could i get a fic where shes a princess and his childhood enemy(enemies to lovers) and they meet at the ball after a long time? and theyre shocked to see each other? obv they have to dance tgt being royalty but they “hate” it, and she starts getting jealous of daphne dancing him. ends in fluff please? Thanks!!!

Warnings & Other Tags ➳ Frenemies to lovers; playful teasing; jealousy from both Reader and Friedrich; the princess gets rather possessive by the end of this.

Notes ➳ Word Count is 1,325. ➳ Reader uses feminine pronouns (she/her), is referred to as ‘Princess’, and wears dresses. ➳ This request immediately made me think of ‘The Swan Princess,’ so that movie provided a lot of inspiration for this!

FAQ | Masterlist | Fandoms | Requests | Coming Soon | Schedule  

Another summer meant another social season. Another round of hot weather, in which doting lords and ladies paraded their most eligible sons and daughters around like prized cattle. Another bout of seemingly endless promenade sessions with boring men, all of whom were only interested in the jeweled crown upon your head.

All eyes were on you (or so it felt) as you helped yourself to yet another glass of champagne. A waltz was in full swing on the dance floor. Thankfully, none of the bachelors in attendance had been smart enough to ask questions about your dance card always being full.

In truth, there was only ever one person on your dance card. And it wasn’t by your choice. Because while another summer meant another social season, it also meant you’d be forced to keep up close relations with your worst nightmare.

You scoffed at the thought of his sparkling eyes and golden locks. Whenever he came into view, young women would always straighten their postures while the less appealing (when compared to a prince, at least) bachelors would furrow their eyebrows, unable to hide their envious hearts.

Not to mention that smug smile of his. It always seemed to spread over his lips at the strangest times, usually whenever you appeared to be particularly miserable.

As the orchestra was preparing to play yet another waltz, someone cleared their throat from behind you. You rolled your eyes at the sound. Setting your glass aside, you readied yourself to reject whoever the latest suitor may be.

Turning to greet the pathetic soul, you were quickly cut off, “I suppose even the ugliest of ducklings can become a swan when the time calls for it.”

Your fake smile dropped at Friedrich’s comment. You scoffed, quickly losing all sense of decorum at the sight of the queen’s nephew.

“And it seems that toads can be handsome princes,” you replied, “even if it is for only one night.”

Friedrich’s eyebrows rose in surprise, “You’re sharp this evening, aren’t you?”

You shrugged, taking the opportunity to glance around the room, “Always am.”

“And what of your dance card? Might I write my name?”

Your expression turned sour, “Your name is already on it, you fool. You know that.”

“Yes, I do. It just feels good to hear you say it,” he hummed. “If you’ll excuse me, Princess. Before our dance, there is another person to whom I must attend.”

“Better them than me.”

He gave you a sarcastic smile, complete with narrowed eyes, before turning away. You had half a mind to stick your foot out in order to make him stumble. Sadly, Friedrich made a quick retreat, almost as though he knew what had been running through your mind.

You watched with curious eyes as he made his way through the sea of guests until he came upon the person he had been searching for. The woman was none other than Daphne Bridgerton, who had been recently named the Diamond of the Season.

Friedrich’s gloved hand extended itself as a blush spread over Daphne’s cheeks. You furrowed your eyebrows, wondering why your chest had suddenly started to ache.

The two glided around the dance floor with the other guests. They were a vision of grace and beauty next to one another. With a deep sigh, you quickly approached Friedrich’s aunt, Queen Charlotte. She raised her eyebrows at you expectantly.

“My Queen,” you greeted, offering a curtsy, “I ask that you provide me with an introduction.”

Another ridiculous rule for the social season. Any lady who wished to interact with a potential suitor must first be introduced by another member of her party.

A smirk slowly made its way onto the queen’s face, “To whom?”

You turned to scan over the crowd until your eyes paused on a head of dark hair. With a mischievous glimmer, you pointed to the man, and muttered, “Him.”

The queen’s eyes followed your line of sight. Her gaze trailed over the man you had chosen. She held out a hand, which you quickly took, and began leading you through the crowd of guests. With a glance, you spied Friedrich watching the two of you with a curious expression.

If Friedrich can have a Bridgerton, then so can I.

Violet Bridgerton’s eyes widened at the sight of an approaching queen and princess. Why royalty had suddenly decided to descend upon her family, she wasn’t sure, but she definitely couldn’t complain about her sudden improvement in social standing.

“My Queen,” she smiled, “and Princess! How lovely to see you both—!”

“As you know, Lady Bridgerton, our dear princess is only here for a short while on a visit. Her family is very close to mine,” interrupted Queen Charlotte. “It seems, however, she may soon have a reason to stay.”

You nearly grimaced at her words, but contained yourself so as not to make a spectacle of yourself. You could still feel Friedrich’s eyes burning into you.

“Oh?” stuttered the matriarch. “And why is that, Your Highness?” 

“One of your strapping, young sons seems to have caught her attention,” said the queen, before turning to the man in question. “Benedict Bridgerton.”

Benedict froze in surprise. His brothers slowly allowed teasing grins to spread over their faces. The eldest quickly clapped Benedict’s shoulder, shoving him closer to you. Queen Charlotte stood aside, watching as the man took your hand into his own and pressed a gentle kiss against the fabric of your glove. 

“Princess,” he said, “would you like to join me for a waltz—?”

“Actually, Lord Bridgerton,” another voice cut in, “I do believe I have the honor of the next dance with Her Grace, though I’m sure there are plenty of other wonderfully kind ladies who would love to join you.”

Each of you turned to find Friedrich with a blank expression. You spotted Daphne on the dance floor, dancing the night away with the Duke of Hastings, smiles on both of their faces.

Friedrich extended his hand. Slowly, Benedict released his grip, knowing he couldn’t compete with the queen’s nephew. He quietly muttered, “Another time perhaps.”

“Perhaps,” huffed Friedrich, quickly leading you to the center of the dance floor.

The ache in your chest was gone. Friedrich placed your free hand on his shoulder before his met your ribcage. The two that were connected remained so as the orchestra began playing another tune. His eyes occasionally glanced over at Benedict with a glimmer of an emotion you had never seen in Friedrich before then.

“What’s wrong?” you asked, lacking your usual teasing tone of voice upon realizing how tense Friedrich was at the moment.

“You are quite annoying, you know?”

You scoffed, “If you dragged me to the floor just to insult me, I’ll happily take my leave—!”

“No. You won’t,” he interrupted. “While you may provoke ire within me, Princess, I must tell you that I do not wish to see you with another.”

Your eyebrows furrowed. Friedrich slowly twirled you beneath his arm before pulling you closer than you had been before. The two of you were so close that even Lady Whistledown would be blushing at the sight.

What a scandal this will be in the morning.

Your proximity left you quietly gasping for breath. Friedrich’s eyes flickered over your features, examining every aspect of you, deep in thought. Finally, he licked his lips and spoke once more.

“I will not see you with another.”

His stern tone sent shivers along your spine. You risked a glance at his lips, swallowing any retort you may have had. Instead, you asked, “What are you saying, toad?”

Friedrich chuckled at your attempt at an insult. It was obvious he was getting to you. He relished in the way you trembled in his arms as he traced shapes into the fabric of your dress. With a smile, he clarified his words, despite believing he had made his intentions very clear.

“That you’re mine, swan princess.”

[inlovewithquotes]

"Ladies and gentlemen," Colin announced, his strong, confident voice booming throughout the hall, "I would like to propose a toast to the most remarkable woman in the world."

A low murmur spread across the room, and Penelope stood frozen, watching everyone watching her

"I am a newlywed," Colin continued, beguiling the partygoers with his lopsided smile, "and therefore you are all required to indulge me in my lovesick ways."

Friendly laughter rippled through the crowd.

"I know that many of you were surprised when I asked Penelope Featherington to be my wife. I was surprised myself."

A few unkind titters wafted through the air, but Penelope held herself perfectly still, completely proud. Colin would say the right thing. She knew he would. Colin always said the right thing.

"I wasn't surprised that I had fallen in love with her," he said pointedly, giving the crowd a look that dared them to comment, "but rather that it had taken so long. I've known her for so many years, you see," he continued, voice softening, " and somehow I'd never taken the time to look inside, to see the beautiful, brilliant, witty woman she'd become."

Penelope could feel the tears trickling down her face, but she couldn't move. She could barely breathe. She had expected him to reveal her secret, and instead he was giving her this incredible gift, this spectacular declaration of love.

"Therefore," Colin said, "with all of you here as my witnesses, I would like to say--Penelope--" he turned to her, taking her free hand in his and said: "I love you. I adore you. I worship the ground you walk upon."

He turned back to the crowd, lifted his glass, and said, "to my wife!"

"To your wife!" they all boomed, caught up in the magic of the moment.

Colin drank, and Penelope drank, even though she couldn't help but wonder when he was going to tell them all the real reason for this announcement.

"Put down your glass, dear," he murmured, plucking it from her fingers and setting it aside.

"But---"

"You interrupt far too much," he scolded, and then he swept her into a passionate kiss, right there on the balcony in front of the entire ton.

"Colin!" she gasped, once he gave her a chance to breathe. He grinned wolfishly as their audience roared its approval.

"Oh, and one last thing!" he called to the crowd. They were now stamping their feet, hanging on his every word.

"I'm leaving the party early. Right now, as a matter of fact." He shot a wicked, sideways grin at Penelope. "I'm sure you'll all understand."

The men in the crowd hooted and hollered as Penelope turned beet red.

"But before I do, I have one last thing to say. One last little thing, in case you still don't believe me when I tell you that my wife is the wittiest, cleverest, most enchanting woman in all of London."

"Nooooo!" came a voice from the back, and Penelope knew it was Cressida. But even Cressida was no match for the crowd, none of whom would let her pass, or even listen to her cries of distress.

"You might say that my wife has two maiden names," he said thoughtfully. "Of course you all knew her as Penelope Featherington, as did I. But what you didn't know, and what even I was not clever enough to figure out until she told me herself...."

He paused waiting for the silence to fall over the room.

"....is that she is also the brilliant, the witty, the breathtakingly magnificent--- Oh, you all know who I am talking about," he said, his arm sweeping out toward the crowd.

"I give you my wife!" he said, his love and pride flowing across the room. "Lady Whistledown!"

For a moment there was nothing but silence. It was almost as if no one even dared to breathe.

And then it came. Clap. Clap. Clap. Slow and methodical, but with such force and determination that everyone had to turn and look to see who had dared to break the shocked silence.

It was Lady Danbury.

-Romancing Mister Bridgerton

[thollandx]

Misunderstanding

Benedict Bridgerton x Reader

Angst to Fluff

My eyes followed the dancing couples at Lady Danbury's ball. Secretly I wished that I would be one of those couples and dance with Benedict all night long.

But he was unfortunately not present today, his little brother Colin told me earlier that he would not come. Benedict was at the university today and therefore could not appear. But he sent me a message.

Amused, I read the note over and over again.

"My dearest, it hurts my heart that I cannot be by your side at the ball tonight. But I beg you to leave your dance card blank. All the dances are only for me and here with I reserve them. I promise you that we will dance all these dances together. I carry you in my heart tonight and forever. With love Benedict Bridgerton"

Happy that he was still thinking of me despite his studies, I smiled and continued to watch the couples.

"Ah, look who we have here...All alone like this....Where is Mr. Bridgerton?",

Confused, I turned slightly to the side and caught sight of Cressida Cowper and her mother.

Both looked at me spitefully as they were.

I knew they were jealous of my connection with Benedict.

"Good evening, Mrs. Cowper and Cressida. An extremely beautiful ball isn't it?", I asked them both, smiling.

"Oh it is indeed my dear. But why aren't you dancing? Where is your faithful fiancé Mr. Bridgerton?", Mrs. Cowper asked me curiously.

"Benedict is at the university studying for his degree. He therefore has no time tonight and is indisposed," I explained to her and saw Cressida laughing in the corner of my eye.

Confused, I looked at her.

"Then what is there to laugh about?", I asked her therefore.

"Oh I get what Mr. Bridgerton is learning so exactly," she expressed bluntly.

Frowning she didn't look at me and I didn't understand what she was trying to say.

"Oh dear, best we tell you before it gets too late and you are standing at the altar with Mr. Bridgerton," now Cressida's mother spoke.

These words now confused me even more and I looked at her questioningly.

"From my spouse, his nephew is also studying at the same university as Mr. Bridgerton and he told me some things about her fiancé. Your fiancé is studying there not only the arts but also something else...He is studying there the charms of special women and not just once my dear," Mrs. Cowper explained to me, grinning nastily along with her daughter.

No...Benedict would never do such a thing. They both say that just to hurt me and make me feel insecure!

With a smile I said goodbye and then quickly went to the balcony in the mansion.

I desperately needed fresh air and I needed it now!

Unsettled, I leaned against a wall in the balcony and looked out into the night. My mind was wandering around Benedict and even though I didn't want to believe it, I kept thinking about what the Cowpers had told me.

It just couldn't be true. My Benedict would never do something like that to me. He only ever promised to love me. I was going to tie the knot with him....

Sad and insecure I began to cry. Alone for imagination hurt me incredibly.

The idea that Benedict held another woman in his arms and loved her.

No...no...I was not allowed to believe the stupid gossip!

It was Benedict!

My Benedict!

The Benedict who promised me eternal love.

Sadly, I lay in bed that night, constantly trying to push the negative thoughts aside, but it just didn't work.

My heart ached terribly and the tears found their way out of my eyes.

I knew that Benedict was very popular with the women and I was not such a beautiful woman...I was not a diamond.

Even though I didn't want to admit it to myself, my mind realized that maybe it was all true what they had told me.

Why should Benedict love me? I was not beautiful and had no special talents. Nor was I worthy of the name Bridgerton. I'm sure I bored him and he wanted to break up with me anyway. I'm sure he just didn't want to hurt me and kept it from me....

With tears and a broken heart, I fell asleep in sorrow.

The next day, I was really tired from the sadness, I went down to the hall and caught sight of Benedict talking to my father. At the sight of him, I bit my lower lip and tried not to burst into tears again.

How could I have let this man go? I really loved him, but it wasn't me he loved....

Heartbroken, I walked up to them and Benedict noticed me first. He smiled at me and my father said goodbye when he saw me.

Benedict hugged me when my father left the hall, but I could not return the hug.

I kept wondering if there was another woman in his arms and now he was hugging me.

"Stop it!", I suddenly shouted and quickly moved away from Benedict.

My fiancé looked at me confused and wanted to take a step towards me, but I raised my hand, making it clear to him not to come closer.

"What's the matter, dear? Is it because I didn't go to the ball yesterday?", Benedict asked me confused.

"Why...", I asked him, my voice trembling.

"Why, what? Dearest, what's wrong?",

"Why am I not good enough for you? Why do you have mistresses? What's wrong with me? Am I too ugly for you?", I asked him and cried.

My whole body began to shake and Benedict immediately pulled me into his arms.

"Who told you such crap? I would never cheat on you! My heart and soul love only you and belong only to you. No other woman will ever be as special to ever take your place in my heart. You are my true love and I only count the days when I can finally call you my wife. Please believe me and don't leave me! I could not live without you! We belong together my darling. I don't know who told you that and I don't want to know, but I want you to know that there are no other women! There is only you and me! Only the two of us! Forever!",

Benedict looked me in the eyes full of sincerity and love and only now I understood what I had done. I had doubted our love! How stupid I was!

I really believed that he would cheat on me and only because of the stupid talk of the cowpers!

"I am so stupid! I'm sorry that I doubted your love and insinuated that. Please forgive me...". I whispered and put my head on his chest. I was ashamed to look at him.

"You don't have to apologize and also you are not stupid. You were just told something to hurt you. But I will not let this happen. I made you a promise that I would always make you happy and we'll start with that right now. Would you give me this dance?", Benedict said and gently moved away from me.

My fiancé smiled at me and held out his hand.

"I told you that I would catch up on all the dances from yesterday," he explained to me, winking.

I started to laugh unintentionally but took his hand.

Benedict pulled me close to him and I knew then that I would never doubt him.

He would make me infinitely happy.

He was the love of my life.

[ljf613]

OwlCrate Unboxed (01/24)

I just got my first @owlcrate box, and honestly, I wasn't really sure what to expect, or if this was really worth it-- I rarely spend more than $10 on a book, so the full charge of just one of these boxes (including shipping) definitely had me thinking twice. And what if, after all that, I didn't even like the book?

But one of the reasons I was willing to take a risk on this one was because the theme was clearly tailor-made for me specifically.

"Enchated to Meet You"? Regency-esque romance with magic and royalty? That soft, vintage aesthetic that I adore? Yes, please.

And I was not disappointed. While I still haven't read the book, so I can't say if I'll like it or not, what I can tell you is that before I even got particularly deep into the box, I already knew that the price I'd paid was more than worth it even without the book.

(To avoid spoilers, product images and reviews beneath the cut.)

First up, this canvas tote bag:

The design is based on a book called Once Upon a Broken Heart by Stephanie Garber. (It's on my to-read list, I'm just waiting for my hold to come in!) It's got a sweet, elfish woodland vibe going on-- I half-expect to see a tiny winged fairy peeking out from behind one of those toadstools. This bag is also has great functionality. I am always in need of a sturdy cloth bag to carry my books, and I am positive this is one I'll be getting a lot of use out of. The material is thick and durable, and it's wide and deep enough to easily hold at least half a dozen books without any stress. An all-around cute and useful item!

Next up, a reusable cleaning cloth:

The design is based on a book called Strange the Dreamer by Laini Taylor. (I'd never heard of this book before, but it looks intriguing, so I suppose I'll add it to the list.) It's kind of generic, but I do like the colors. And it does look like the kind of thing that would be perfect for dusting my desk and bookshelves. It's probably my least favorite item in the box, but I don't hate it.

Moving on to the metal bookmark:

The design is inspired by Emily Wilde's Encylopaedia of Faeries by Heather Fawcett. (I just read it a few weeks ago, and the sequel is currently sitting on top of my dresser waithing for me to read it.) It's supposed to be Shadow, the dog belonging to the stories main character. However, my first thought upon seeing a large black dog in a forest, standing on a pile of skulls, was of Ruth from The Ancient Magus' Bride-- who just-so-happens to be one of my favorite characters ever. I hope no one minds if I continue to see it that way. (No hate to Shadow-- he's a good boy!) It's a very whimsical design and I like it a lot!

And now the coloring kit:

I definitely wasn't expecting this from a subscription book box, but I am absolutely not complaining. (I've been thinking I wanted to sit down with some colored pencils and coloring pages one of these days.) The quote on the left is from Pride & Prejudice (my beloved), the top-most is from Bridgerton (read the books and liked them well enough but have zero interest in watching the show), and the one on the right is from Outlander (I think that's a show based on some books, maybe I'll look into it one of these days). The quotes are lovely, I like the simple yet elegant floral designs, and I love the soft pastel color palette (and will absolutely be holding onto those pencils).

The last item (aside from the book) is the enamel pin:

The characters shown here are Sophie and Howl (+ Calcifer!) from Howl's Moving Castle (the book, not the movie, though I love them both!). I love enamel pins and happen to have a decent-sized collection, but I don't think I've ever seen a sliding design like this. This design is absolutely enchanting, and I'm looking forward to seeing more from this pin collection in future boxes. I included the envelope it came in because I think it's really cute, and it gives me some serious Violet Evergarden vibes. (The design on the backer card is also pretty! It's really evident that a lot of thought and care was put into every aspect of every item in this box.)

And, of course, there's the book:

This is A Fragile Enchantment by Allison Saft. I'm not going to take pictures of every single customization in this one, but suffice it to say that it looks really pretty and I'm hoping the story inside lives up to everything else in here.

All in all, I'm really happy with this box, and glad that I got it.

[horizon-verizon]

The idea of Bridgerton/Queen Charlotte horrifies me. Why are Black and South Asian people being depicted as the historical figures who colonized them, enslaved them, and genocided them or depicted in romances with them ? Just so unserious, they had these dark-skinned Indian girls being considered as legitimate wives for these highborn British men and I’m like in what world ??? A Black queen at the time Britain colonized most of the world and was committing crimes against humanity ??? On some level, I can understand why people of color enjoy these shows but I can’t detangle it from the blatant historical revisionism and the utter whitewashing of colonial legacy.

I never read them as full stories, but the books are not so (descriptions of characters I quickly perused). All the characters are white and European. I would have preferred this.

Still, it was a deliberate choice to do blind color casting and historical revisionism for the sake of including and centering PoCs in American TV, not necessarily because of an altruistic gail so much as this is the demand from audiences and there's money to be made from it.

The show (in-world but more BTS, in the larger American society) definitely encourages and sets up race as more become a commodity to sell that something to really confront or acknowledge as a sociopolitical/economic force of discrimination that defines the parameters of real people. Maybe not race exactly so much as making the acknowledgement of race the commodity or whatever we call the ring which makes a thing more materially valuable. Race becomes more of a decoration, I think I can say, too.

I mean they basically said the solution of all solutions for the end of racism was having a black person be the head (or intimate with) of the government....meanwhile Barack Obama was elected and racism still very much exists.

Anon, what you say in particular about Indian girls being considered legitimate wives of British men reminds me of the withdrawn brideofires' Twitter post (they are "daughter of death" there) about the same franchise. I tend to agree, yet I find myself watching the Charlotte mini story when I wanted to see what the duss was about and awaiting my Dune books and reluctantly enjoying myself. The only Brigderton story I ever independent watched (the others I watched through reactors bc I didn't want to spend money) and finally got my Netflix up (she protests too much, i know).

Point is, as a PoC myself (black), this franchise discomfited me from the start yet I watched one installment and overall liked it apart from the attempts to incorporate race only to give it the needed approach. I think that PoCs who like Bridgerton or are obsessed either do not keep the history close to their memory or that they prioritize the modern media acts of centering (or getting close to that) PoC characters in order to set up more appearances of PoC actors and characters and BTS people. Perhaps these two things inform each other, sometimes maybe not (grip to group, person to person).

I'm sure you're already aware of that, though, since you refer to it. I wish to "explain" why PoCs leave behind or set aside the colonial history and specific, harrowing events. I myself was able to enjoy it only after shoving aside all those memories or reading about colonial, dehumanizing actions against PoC societies. And then thinking about it after finishing the show. But I don't think we should continue writing like this because of the capitalist and racist implications and effects on society for the precedented literal apathy for colonialism (that's already happening, but why reaffirm it?). We don't actually need a Bridgerton or a Black Queen Charlotte. There are actually so many PoC fantasy/sci-fi books to adapt shows from, those written by and about PoC people. TV writers and or producers should head on over to AbramsBooks (the publishing house) to select those stories. There's your fantasy and actual centering of PoC people. Great place to start. Looking for a series adaptation?--look at Tomi Adeyemi's Legacy of Orisha series. One story that could be broken up to two?: Denise Crittenden's Where it Rains on Color. Reni K. Amayo's duology The Return of Earth Mother is guaranteed to draw in both black and white audiences (because that's what these producers are mainly thinking about, rake in more cash), plus literally every other person fed up with white stories and the dominance of white fantasy in TV.

I am waiting to see now if the 3rd season of Bridgerton will be as focused on "explaining" the widespread and untroubled presence of aristocratic and PoCs, but as soon as they made PoC aristocrats especially with the story of a black woman as Queen fixing race Bridgerton became ethically unsalvageable.

[frankchurchillsaysrelax]

i might lose everything if i lose the pain

part two of two

It was exceedingly rare for a person to never receive a soulmark, but it did happen on occasion. Penelope had always been grossly fascinated by the grim tales of heartbreak and loneliness, reading the stories from far away lands of people destined for a life lived only for themselves. Now, for all intents and purposes, she was one of the misfortunate ones. 

“What do you mean you don’t have a soulmate?” Eloise all but bellows. The room goes eerily quiet in the wake of her words, everyone’s eyes turned toward Penelope. Her face burns at the attention and she makes sure to only keep her eyes on her friend. 

She licks her lips nervously. “I mean precisely what I say, Eloise, and I would ask you to please keep your voice lowered.” She can feel Colin only a few feet away staring at her most likely with pity along with the rest of his family.

“Well that is unacceptable,” Eloise continues at a normal volume, crossing her arms like a child whose toy has just been taken away. “If anyone deserves a soulmate it is you. Are you quite sure you have checked everywhere?” She begins to circle Penelope as a bird stalks its prey, her eager hands brushing her careful curls aside for a view of her neck. Penelope steps to the side, bumping into the table in her efforts to escape her friend’s wandering hands. 

“I am completely sure,” she grumbles most un-ladylike, pressing down on her skirts and rearranging her hair. The others are still watching. Penelope feels like an actress on the stage who does not remember her lines. “The idea is antiquated and ridiculous yet I am most deserving?” She cannot keep the anger from her voice. 

“You deserve love, Penelope.” Eloise grabs her hand and swings it gently between them. Her voice holds nothing but honesty but when Penelope looks her in the eye she sees something she never thought she would receive from Eloise. She sees pity. 

A fire sparks inside of her growing with each angry breath she takes, lighting a forge that builds a layer of armour over her skin. “A soulmate does not always come hand in hand with love,” she practically sneers, her eyes itching with the threat of tears. 

She wrenches her hand away and takes a step back directly into Colin. Too quickly he grasps her shoulders to steady her, her own hand raising to meet his. The lace of her glove does little to protect her from his warmth that puts the first crack in the delicate steel protecting her. His hands lower but hers stays in place for too long. 

“Pen, are you hurt?” Colin asks. She turns to look at him reluctantly. In his eyes, she sees no pity, only concern and something else that she cannot discern. His soulful eyes trap her in his gaze.

“N-no,” she stutters, licking her lips nervously. Her hand finally falls and clasps the other toying with the strings of her reticule. How had everything gone so wrong so fast? 

“You do have a mark,” Eloise’s voice cuts through the air piercing her metaphorical armour and leaving it in shambles at her feet. She now stands before them exposed and raw, only the thin layer of her dress hiding the ugly truth from the people she loves most in this world. Eloise makes a move to grab her arm and Penelope flinches. 

“Eloise Bridgerton, that is enough!” Lady Bridgerton finally steps in to break up the scene and Penelope has never been more grateful for the older woman’s soothing presence. She walks over to her daughter, nudging her to stand straight. “Apologize for your behavior at once.”

“Mother!”

“Now, Eloise,” Lady Bridgerton says through a tight-lipped smile. 

Eloise offers a, mostly, sincere apology, and Penelope accepts it with only a nod of her head. The room stays quiet in the aftermath. It is Anthony who breaks the tension. “Let us all have some tea, shall we?”

“I beg your pardon, but I am afraid I must decline. I feel rather tired and I think it best that I return home.” She keeps her eyes on the floor as she feels the first signs of moisture. 

“Of course, my dear,” Lady Bridgerton accepts. Penelope gives a small curtsey to the room at large and turns to leave ready for this terrible turn of events to be over. 

“Allow me to escort you home.” It is Benedict who rises from his place on the sofa and crosses the room to offer his arm. She takes it and follows him down the hall, out the door, down the stairs, and across the square to her own house. If he notices her shaking he does not comment. 

“Penelope,” he starts, lets his mouth hang open for a moment as words do not come to him. “Happy birthday.” He briefly squeezes her hand before letting his arm fall from hers. With a final awkward smile, he leaves. 

She spends the rest of the day in bed, even forgoing the evening meal and accepting the passive aggressive remarks from her mother about skipping meals. She cries and when she has no more tears to give she writes. She writes until her fingers are ink-stained and cramping. She writes until she has no more words. She writes as Lady Whistledown but she also writes as Penelope, the heartbroken, lonely, and confused young woman who was perfectly content only yesterday. She has always found solace in the written word, her thoughts making more sense once she got them out of her head, but no amount of ink on parchment would clear up the mess of emotions inside of her now.

When she wakes in the morning she vows to not wallow in her misery any longer. She gets up ready to face the day and the new normal her life has taken. When Mrs. Varley informs her she has a visitor she expects it to be Eloise. Entering the drawing room and finding Colin standing near the window, she suddenly wishes she had not left her bed after all.

“Good morning, Pen,” he greets with a delayed bow. He does not offer the usual charming smile that so often rests on his face, instead looking most serious. 

“Good morning,” she replies, minding her manners, almost forgetting herself. “Should I call for tea?” She turns, expecting Mrs. Varley or another chaperone to be lurking nearby but finds only shadows.

“That can wait.” Colin gestures toward the sofas and she abides his request, crossing the room to take a seat. She startles when instead of occupying the sofa across from her, he sits next to her, only a few inches separating them. “How are you feeling?”

In her surprise, it takes a moment to recall the day before and her abrupt exit from his house. “I am well, thank you,” she says. 

“I am glad to hear it.” An unprecedented uncomfortable silence befalls them. “Pen, I hope you do not think me too forward, I wish to speak with you about yesterday.” She goes to interrupt but he barrels on. “I spent most of last night going over what happened. I wondered what could make you so secretive, what would cause you to lie about something so important, and I have come to a conclusion.”

“Oh,” she breathes. Her face feels too warm, her corset too tight, the room too small. She wills her feet to flee, to take her to safety, but she does not move. “What conclusion is that?”

“Am I correct in assuming that you have a mark on your shoulder?” He stares at the spot so intensely that she worries his sharp gaze will burn through her dress. She can only nod in response. “Mine is in the same place.” His eyes travel up to meet hers and in their deep blue, she sees the world, galaxies, the whole universe. “It’s you.” 

To her horror, she begins to cry. “I’m sorry,” she whispers. Everything is out of her control leaving her untethered to her own body. She thinks a part of her will haunt this moment for eternity.

“Why?” He takes her hands in his and she knows she should let go but his comfort offers her a tenuous connection to reality. 

“I know you do not care for me in that way Colin.” 

“How can you know my feelings when I have never spoken to you of them?” His thumb begins a soothing path across her knuckles. 

She screws her eyes shut, the memory of that day playing out behind her eyelids. She tells him what she heard, what she remembers him saying. She does not tell him how it made her feel but the tears marking her cheeks reveal that truth for her.

“That was two years ago.” He takes her chin between his fingers, urging her to look at him. She stubbornly keeps her eyes closed. “A lot can happen in two years, Penelope.” It’s his tone, warm and deep, that gets her to meet his gaze. He looks almost amused. “A boy can become a man. He can wake up and see what has always been right in front of him.” His finger moves to caress her cheek following the path of her tears.

The world snaps back into focus and she feels solid. She searches his eyes for insincerity and finds none. “What are you saying?”

“I love you, Pen,” he whispers, the words living in the space between them, electrifying the air around them. “If you do not feel the same way, I understand, but-”

“I love you too,” she interrupts his foolish statement. How could he not know her feelings for him? Well, as he said, she had not spoken of them before. She would have to rectify that now. “I have always loved you, only I thought you could never feel the same. That is why I lied yesterday, I would never wish to make you uncomfortable or to force you into any unwanted situation. Not that I expect anything from you now, either, if you-”

It is his turn to cut her ramblings off and he does so with his mouth on hers. It’s a soft press of lips at first but then his begin to move. Reciprocating is as easy as breathing. He retreats before the kiss can deepen and rests his forehead against hers, their damp breaths mingling between them, caressing each other’s faces. 

“Can I see it?” It takes a moment for her mind to understand what he is saying but when she does she blushes, turning her arm in his direction and allowing him the opportunity to roll up her sleeve. He does so with a soft touch that leaves gooseflesh on her skin. His fingers press into her arm and slowly he leans down, kissing the sun so sweetly it doesn’t even burn. The smile on his face when he looks at her again lights him up from the inside. 

She wants to be bold and ask to see his too but that would require the removal of many layers and she doesn’t think Mrs. Varley would stay hidden if Colin began undressing in the middle of the drawing room. Penelope doesn’t think she would survive it either. 

They remain sitting side by side, two halves of one whole, their future looking bright.

[fayes-fics]

Tattoo

Pairing: benedict bridgerton x fem!reader, Modern AU

Summary: Modern AU, Benedict goes for his first tattoo.

Warnings: 18+ smut, minors DNI, vaginal sex. Mentions of tattooing, needles but detail is intentionally vague.

Word Count: 4.8k (oops…)

Authors Note: This is for @amillcitygirl who sent the image above as a fic idea. Enjoy lady! <3 Thanks as ever to @makaylan for a beta read. Full disclosure - I don’t have any tattoos. I did a little research into rules/licensing for tattoos in UK and chatted briefly to a friend who is heavily inked, to gather info. But still l don’t claim accuracy about the process - she was also tattooed in France, which may be different to UK/US. Please forgive any inaccuracies and the latitude as, well, this is just a silly fic.

It’s another warm summer afternoon in Brighton, and if you have to turn away one more giggling teenager tumbling into your shop and asking for some hideous cartoon character, you might scream. You sit listlessly in front of a fan, and as you hear the bell signalling the door opening, you almost wish you were closed for the day.

“How can I help you?” Your words almost die in your mouth at the man before you. He’s beautiful. 

“I’m umm looking to get a tattoo,” he frowns, realising he’s stating the obvious.

“Well, you’re in the right place,” you chime with a smile. His responding grin does strange things to your insides. “Do you have an idea of what you might like? We have books of designs and on the walls,” you gesture.

“I was hoping for something more original, actually,” he admits and reaches into his pocket, unfolding a piece of paper and placing it on the glass counter between you.

You look at the design and are captured by the beautiful sweeping lines. It’s abstract art but also looks like an ancient language symbol.

“This is stunning,” you confess, “where did you find this?”

“Umm, it’s an original; I drew it,” he answers bashful.

You look up at him, surprised, “You’re an artist?”

“I… dabble,” he demures.

Oh, he’s just lovely.

You smile at him. “I’m sure this is possible; it might take a couple of hours. Are you around for a little while?”

“I can be,” he smiles.

“Then when do you want to start? I can fit you in now, or you can come back when convenient?”

“You? I thought you might just be the….”

“Receptionist?” You supply with a pointed eyebrow raise.

“I’m so sorry. It wasn’t meant as an insult; I’m just surprised. I’ve never seen a tattoo artist without tattoos themselves,” he rushes out as an apology; it’s sincere and sweet. 

You can’t help but smile. “That’s okay; it’s an honest mistake. And you’re wrong.”

He furrows his brow with a slight head tilt, questioning.

“I am inked. Just not anywhere you can see,” your voice unintentionally husky.

You watch as his gaze slips over your body briefly as if trying to guess where then back to your face. Oh, that was hot. The temptation to rejoinder with ‘would you like to see it?’ burns on your tongue. Dear god, what is it about this man?

“Will this be your first tattoo, or do you have others?” You ask, trying to focus.

“My first,” he admits, “will… will it hurt?”

“Difficult to say. It all depends on location and your pain threshold; it’s different for everyone. Where are you thinking of for this?”

He pulls aside the neckline of his t-shirt slightly. “Sort of here,” he gestures at his upper pectoral muscle, “with the sweeping point going up my neck slightly.”

“That area could be slightly painful, but I’m sure you are brave,” you have no idea why, but you wink. Momentarily horrified by your lack of professionalism, you go to apologise until you see his reaction.

He bites his lip, looks down briefly, and then looks up at you between his lashes with a shy smile. “I’m sure I can take it. From you.”

Something slides down your spine, and your mind flashes an image of you riding him as he lays in your tattoo chair, his fingers tracing the lines of your private inkwork. 

Fucking hell. 

“Uh. You’ll need to sign this consent form before I can start,” you say, shaking your head lightly to rid yourself of that image and handing him the form and pen.

He doesn’t even bother to read; he just signs quickly and slides it back to you, looking expectant.

“Ok... Please come through,” you gesture towards the door to your tattoo studio, wanting desperately to tamp down your errant thoughts. 

He rounds the counter and follows you.

“Please take a seat,” you gesture to the tattoo chair, closing the door as he sits down.

“I will leave the room while you remove your t-shirt”, you offer as you wash your hands. There are towels over there should you wish to cover up anywhere that isn’t the tattoo site,” you gesture.

“No need,” he breezes and whips off his t-shirt before you’ve had the chance to turn away.

You’ve tattooed plenty of fit bodies in your time without blinking an eye, but somehow, this one undoes you. From your vantage point above his head, you can see down the plains of his lean and sculpted body, and your fingers twitch, wanting so bad to trace the defined lines of his musculature. He is very much your type of thing. 

“All ok?” He asks, tilting his head back slightly to look at you. There’s a little smirk on his face.

“Yes, sorry,” you shake your head and open the paper design.

“Is this the actual size you want or just a representation?” You query, grabbing a pair of gloves and a marker to start outlining.

“Actual size,” he confirms as you wheel your stool over. 

“Do you mind if I…?” You rest the piece of paper on his chest as a reference.

“Not at all,” he says genially as you draw closer, your knees under the chair and hunching over his shoulder. 

He closes his eyes and breathes gently as you start to draw freehand lines to match his work. It takes a few moments, but you enter your zen space where the rest of the world melts away. As you go to draw the section that traces up his neck, you watch his Adam's apple bob slightly as he moves his jaw away from you. He has beautiful lines; you want to nuzzle his neck and trace over his cheek and nose.

Dear god, get it together, woman.

“I never asked your name,” you say quietly, realising you didn’t even glance at the form he signed, “I should probably add your information into our system before you leave today. Phone number, name etc., so we can trace you if any follow-up is needed.”

His eyes open, and you are struck by the hazy colour - they are captivating up close. 

“I'm Ben,” he replies, “and if you tell me your number, I can text you mine right now.” He says, fishing his phone out of his jeans pocket without looking. The tone is not particularly flirtatious, more friendly than anything, but you’re still taken aback.

“I'm not in the habit of giving my personal mobile to people,” you respond cautiously, “the shop has a number you can call”

“I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that. Most people seem to do business via their mobiles these days, so I just…. It was presumptuous of me, my apologies,” he mumbles and places his phone on his bare stomach. 

You find yourself staring at his phone briefly and chewing your lip before you go back to tracing the shape onto his skin. 

You lean over to concentrate on one particular intricate section, and now you can smell his skin. He's not wearing cologne, but it's a clean soap smell and, well, just a human male scent you haven't been around for ages. Your tongue swells in your mouth, and you have to fight the urge to lean a few more inches over and just lick a line across his collarbone.

You hear him inhale slightly, then turn his head towards you. “Why do I smell mangoes?” he asks, almost absent-minded.

“Sorry, that's my hair conditioner,” you brush a strand behind your ear and move away slightly on instinct.

“I wasn't complaining,” he murmurs. 

Your eyes meet for a moment, and you stop tracing. You feel your pulse on your lips; it's an odd sensation, so you have to break the eye contact.

“If you don't mind me asking, how many tattoos do you have?” he asks after a pause as you go back to work.

“One. But it wraps around my body,” you answer honestly.

“Oh wow,” he exhales, “where?”

“Around my hips and goes down my thigh,” you respond, not thinking much about it until he inhales at your description. 

“That sounds…. unique,” he opines quietly, but it's not a judgement, more curiosity.

“It is. It's a vine. It's for my family. We own a vineyard in France. I grew up tending the vines, and I miss it so much when I'm not there. I wanted a physical reminder on my body where I come from, my literal roots. So it doesn't matter where I am in the world; I am always home.” You have no idea why you are suddenly confessing this to a stranger. 

He is staring at you now, close up, his face moved, so it's almost under yours. “May I see it?” he requests, his voice soft.

For some reason, you want to show him. So wordlessly, you wheel back your stool and stand up near the middle of the chair, unbuttoning the top of your jeans so you can pull down the waistband and show a section over your hipbone. 

“That is beautiful,” he whispers, and suddenly light fingertips are tracing over your skin. It's a tingling fire that shoots straight down into your underwear. The sensation makes you lose grip on the marker pen, and the clatter of it hitting the floor breaks the spell. “Oh gosh, I am so sorry,” he mumbles and withdraws his hand suddenly, his cheeks colouring.

You pick up the marker, rebutton your jeans and sit down, wheeling back into place. “I'm not sure why I did that,” you mutter, as much to yourself as him.

“I'm sorry if I overstepped; it's just that it was wonderfully drawn,” he apologises.

“I drew it,” you admit quietly “my friend then tattooed it.” 

“You are an artist?” his face lights up with enthusiasm.

“I dabble….” you respond with a skewed pout, echoing his words back to him.

He huffs a laugh, and you find yourself giggling back. 

“I umm think I'm done recreating the design. Would you like to check it?” you reach for a wheeled mirror and angle it so he can see the design. “You can check here or..” You wordlessly point at the ceiling. 

“Oh wow,” he huffs a laugh looking straight up, “I didn't notice you had a mirror on the ceiling.”

“Not my idea,” you rush to assert. “The owner seems to like the idea that clients can watch the work as it's happening,” you shrug.

“It's certainly novel,” he laughs. Then his focus falls to the markings you have made over his skin. “Oh wow, that's... Better than I thought it would be,” he admits.

“It's just the outline,” you offer, “so I know where to needle. The final design will be much closer to yours.”

“What do you think?” he asks, suddenly apprehensive.

“I think it looks amazing,” you disclose, “it suits you.”

He blushes again, and you watch with fascination as it creeps down his neck a little. “Thank you.” 

“So are we doing this?” you request, leaning in to double-check the lines.

“What?” he questions suddenly, his face jerking over and your cheekbones brush.

“The tattoo,” you whisper slowly but not moving your face. “Are you sure you want it? There's no going back after this.” Somehow it feels like your words have a double meaning—a subtext of burning tension.

“I want it”, he breathes, the gust moving the tendrils of hair around your ear. 

You swallow hard.

You pull over the tray with the inking and gun supplies, methodically prepping. Then you wipe down his skin with alcoholic wipes, ensuring the area is completely sanitised. The whir of the machine firing up surprises him a little, so you place a calming pressure on his shoulder.

“Tell me if you need me to stop; we can go as slow as you want,” you say close to his ear so he can hear you clearly.

He just nods; you see his tendons in his neck standing up in relief.

“Relax,” you instruct, giving his shoulder a quick squeeze, “it will hurt less if you don't tense.”

You watch as he takes a breath and loosens up. 

Then you begin. When the needle touches his skin, he flinches slightly but not excessively.

“Is that okay?” you check

“It feels strange,” he admits. 

“Do you want me to stop?” 

“No,” he closes his eyes and moves his head to look away from you.

Time seems to speed up as you trace the outlines of the design. He is still, just the gentle rise and fall of his breathing. Again you are into your zone where this could be anyone anytime; it's about the effort and the artistry of the work. Thoughts of your strong attraction to him melt away as your focus is purely on the task at hand.  It's probably been about a half hour when he clears his throat, so you stop and look at him expectantly.

“Still okay?” you check-in.

“Yep, just a tickle in my throat,” he responds, a little dry.

“How about a drink? We can take a break here, actually,” you put down the gun and peel off the gloves you are wearing.

“Yes, please” 

“Water? Coke?” you offer

“You don't have anything stronger, do you?” he asks cheekily.

You laugh. “I do, but it's not supposed to be for customers.”

“I won't tell if you won't,” he says with a wink.

You roll your eyes a little, “Wait here,” and leave for the supply cupboard outside, where you keep the birthday whiskey your boss gave you. You grab two glasses and some ice from the kitchenette.

“Whisky on the rocks?” you announce as you reenter the room.

He’s sitting up now, taking what appears to be a selfie with his phone.

“Not vain honest,” he says sheepish, “just sending to my brother. He never believed I'd have the courage to do this. Yes, please to whiskey.”

You put down the glasses and hand him the whiskey bottle. “Here you do the honours. I will take a photo for you if you like. So you can send it?”

“Deal,” he grins, unlocking his phone and handing it to you. He cracks open the bottle seal as you snap a few shots that best show the design so far. Then you flick to another screen, type in a number and your name, and then hit send. You quickly lock the phone and hand it back.

In your pocket, your phone buzzes. 

“Did you just give me your number?” he queries, a crooked smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as he hands you a glass with a very generous pour. Oh, that smile is dangerous.

“Maybe…” you shoot back, hiding yours behind the glass as you raise it to your lips.

“Wait, we have to toast,” he frowns playfully as you go to take a sip.

“What to?”

“To beautiful art, whatever the canvas may be,” he says, his voice somehow more silky than before, as he clinks his glass against yours.

“That's an interesting one,” you murmur before you take a sizeable fortifying sip, enjoying the burn of the amber liquid. “You know I can’t in all good conscience continue tattooing you now I've had a drink,” you confess.

“Oh,” his face sinks slightly, “I hadn't thought about that.”

“We can continue tomorrow if you have time,” you suggest, “I can book you in.”

“Tomorrow works,” he nods, “what time do you open?”

“Usually 11am, but I can open earlier if you wish,” you offer, taking another swig of drink.

“That's very generous, but no 11am is fine. How much longer will it take?” he asks.

“Hmm, probably another hour,” you speculate. “Give or take,” as you drain your glass.

“So by lunchtime tomorrow, I will have my first finished tattoo?” he raises his eyebrows. 

“Indeed,” you smile.

“Thank you,” he says, suddenly quite earnest. “I'm not sure I would have been brave enough to go through with this if it wasn't for you,” it's a quiet confession, and he looks down, then up again through his eyelashes. 

It makes you want to pick up his chin and kiss the crap out of him.

“You are welcome,” you reply quietly, hugging your empty glass curled against your shoulder, enjoying its coolness seeping against your heated skin, unsure what else to say.

“You need a refill,” he states, gesturing for you to hand your glass over. The brush of fingers as you do so makes you want to gasp. There is silence as you watch him refill both glasses.

“No music?” he asks idly, “probably a stereotype, but I figured a tattoo parlour would have loud rock music playing all day.”

“Haha,” you deadpan, “I prefer classical or jazz when working. More zen. I can put some on if you’d like?”

“Sure, jazz sounds nice,” he says as you flick the remote and the music starts. You forget that it also programs the lights dimmer; he doesn't comment, so you let it pass.

“Ahh, Miles Davis,” he smiles, instantly recognising the track.

“Well done,” you nod, impressed and lean against the arm of the tattoo chair, enjoying the music, and the softer light in the room. 

“Can I ask you a question?” It's so quiet you almost don't hear him as he puts down his drink.

You turn slightly to face him. “Sure,” you whisper back, placing yours aside too.

“Would you have any objections if I kissed you right now?” he closes his eyes, almost pained that he is asking. 

It's the most adorable proposition you've ever received. So instead of answering, you just lean forward and press your lips to his before he even opens his eyes again.

His response is instant and surprising. For a demure proposal, the kiss that follows is anything but—a hand snakes around your waist and pulls you against his warm naked torso, his lips hungry, his tongue snaking into your mouth and stealing your breathe as he teases yours. He kisses hungry, passionate, sensual. 

God, I want to push you down and climb on top of you right now; your mind cries at him.

“Yes, please,” he gasps as you belatedly realise you spoke the words into his mouth. Out loud.

Before you can be embarrassed, he twists and starts to recline in the chair, his arm around you, pulling you over him. So you hop up and straddle him instantly, lowering yourself over him as your lips meet again.

You know, without a doubt, you will be fucking him right in this chair. A hot slide of feeling inside, heat and moisture pooling between your legs. 

As you come up for air, you reach into your pocket and unlock your phone, quickly opening an app and tapping in a code.

“That bad, huh?” he jests, a little brittle.

“Oh god, no,” you murmur, “I'm locking the fucking shop door.”

“Oh…” he smiles, “wow, it's hot when you swear.”

“Oh really,” you tilt your head and run a finger over his lips, “then I’ll say what I thought the minute you walked into my shop.” You toss your phone aside.

“What?” it’s a little breathless.

“I hope he fucks me in my tattoo chair,” you confess.

He growls and pulls your hips down against him, surging up so you feel him rigid and insistent between your legs. You are desperate for this right now; it's been what feels like hours of tension and teasing, and you are beyond ready.

“Can we just fuck?” you suggest, “I know it's like a first, but please, I just want to go fast and hard.” You've never confessed that to anyone, even when you have felt it in the past.

“Oh god, yes,” he affirms and paws at your clothing. You rip off your top, and he helps you unhook your bra, his hands instantly grabbing your breasts as soon as they are free. 

You hum approvingly as you grind against him, unfastening your jeans and his at the same time, one hand on each.

“Wow, that's efficient,” he breathes, impressed.

“Yeah, I have talents,” you laugh, pushing his jeans down his thighs.

“I can tell,” he agrees, as you hop off him, strip off your jeans and underwear to the floor and are back on him in a flash. He stutters as you grind your naked, soaked cunt against his grey boxer briefs, the moisture seeping through the cotton. “Fast and hard, you mean it?”

“Yes, I do,” it's your turn to growl.

His expression melts into something else entirely, and he surges up and forces you down on top of him. Strong arms lock you against his body as he kisses you with a ferocity you didn't think him capable of. You feel a hand next to your leg tugging down his underwear; then, he grabs himself and, without warning, surges his cock into your body.

“Oh FUCK” you scream against his lips, eyes rolling from the sheer invasion.

“You asked for it,” he gloats.

“Yes, yes, I did,” you stutter and pant as he just holds there, allowing you to adjust to the sensation.

“Is that what you wanted?” he whispers darkly. 

“Oh god, yes,” you reply and tilt downwards so his pelvis is flat on the chair. You rise, careful not to put your hand anywhere near the fresh tattoo as you place your hands on his body and start gyrating in little circles, dragging his cock against all your walls, stretching yourself out, revelling in the feeling of being so viscerally filled and violated. “Damn, you feel good,” you moan.

“So do you,” he groans, “please, please fuck me.” 

You've never had a man beg like that before, and god, it does so many things to you. You want to pull his hair and push him down, licking a hot stripe up his neck, biting his chin. Realising there’s nothing to stop you, you do it - his responding noise is music to your ears. You pull up and slam down onto him, stuttering a yes through clenched teeth. Knowing you will do this for hours until your thighs are trembling if he’ll let you. 

His hands grab your hips as you begin a steady rhythm. “Your tattoo is the sexiest thing I have ever seen,” he asserts, his fingertips trailing the vines just as you'd fantasised. Little fires of heat follow wherever he touches, bringing goosebumps to your thighs and arms. It makes you ride keener, sitting up, back arched, using just your thighs as leverage. As he reaches the vine that twists and wraps around your thigh, you moan, his knuckles brushing the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. “I want to trace it with my tongue,” he declares.

“Yessss,” you hiss, “ I want that.” He feels divine sliding in and out of your cunt, just the right dimension to make it invasive as you push down, the kind of slight ache you chase from every new sexual partner but rarely receive. You keep a steady pace, lingering on the downstroke, revelling in the stretch, then a snap up. You throw your head back and close your eyes, enjoying the intoxicating moment.

“Open your eyes,” he murmurs, his voice deep, “watch yourself”. 

You do so and see your reflection in the ceiling mirror—it's an arresting sight. He looks gorgeous laid out beneath you, and you look close to a goddess as you rise and fall onto him. 

You make eye contact with him in the reflection, which charges the atmosphere. This is so wrong, but so right - fucking this stranger in your place of work.  Hypnotised by the tableau you see above you, you grab his hands from your thighs and push them onto your breasts, leaning forward into his hold and changing the angle of your hips. You shudder as his cock nudges just right, deep inside. 

“Oh, there it is,” he smirks and tweaks your nipples as you start to pant open-mouthed and fuck yourself roughly, using him, “that's it, how does that feel?” his voice velvety.

“So… fucking… good,” you groan a word with each stroke, tearing your eyes away from the ceiling to look down at him, the chair starting to squeak a little in protest as you go faster. Plunging without thought for anything but chasing the spiralling feeling coiled tight in your belly.

“I- I can’t last like this,” he warns at your onslaught, moving his hands to grasp your hipbones, his thumbs pushing into the flesh of your belly like a band over your tattoo.

“Just hold on, please; I just need a little more. Fuck, your cock feels so good,” you babble through gritted teeth, mindlessly close to something amazing.

“What you need is this,” he growls and flicks a fingernail at your distended clit as you rise. You scream at the sensation, and your cunt clenches forcefully onto him. “Fucking hell,” he cries at the pressure.

“Do that again,” you order through gritted teeth, and he obeys, a whole pulse running up your spine this time, causing you to buck hard against him. 

You lean over and kiss him hungrily, moaning into his mouth, running your hands over his face, into his hair. As you go to pull away, he grabs your jaw and holds you in place, kissing over and over until your lips feel sore and your lungs burn for more air. All the while, you push insistently down onto him, unable to stop yourself from chasing the feeling so hard.

“Cum with me,” you whisper against his lips, looking down at him as you push yourself closer and closer.

“In-inside you?” he stumbles, his pupils blown wide, surprise written across his features as if it never occurred to him that you would allow it. 

“Yes, give it to me,” you respond gustily. You belatedly realise in your mindless haste that you are riskily bareback fucking a stranger; it’s just not like you. “I'm protected,” you shorthand.

“Okay,” he whispers, a touch reverential. 

You rise back to a sitting position, and then his finger slips against your clit, circling with the necessary pressure, and you feel hurtling straight towards oblivion, wound so tight. 

“Don't stop,” you chant, closing your eyes as you ride so fiercely the chair rocks on its moorings. He groans loudly now and is surging up strongly into you, meeting you on your downward thrust, fucking himself so deep you know you will feel it tomorrow. Opening your eyes, you see him staring up at you desperately, a bead of sweat forming on his brow that you ache to lick off. “Ben,” you cry as you snap.

You know he is groaning and calling your name and a litany of other things as you convulse around him, sunk deep, your thighs trembling, but it sounds far away as blood rushes in your ears—the vibrations coursing through your body from a tingle in your scalp to spasms in your hands. Then he sinks his fingers into the flesh of your thighs, cumming deep inside you, the warmth coating your walls.

You slump on top of him, uncaring of how inelegant it may be, the bone-deep satisfaction causing your muscles to feel languid and weak. You pant against his neck from the exertion, glad you collapsed on the side away from his tattoo.

“That was….” he begins but pauses to exhale heavily, “fuck, that was amazing,” he concludes, his hands running up and down your back in soothing, swirling patterns. “I… just… fuck, I honestly can't talk,” he gusts, embarrassed.

You giggle and lift your head to look at him. “It was wonderful,” you opine and run a finger over his lips. He busses against it, and a lazy breathtaking smile breaks across his face.

“So umm, may I see you again?” he asks, the sweet bashful man back again.

“Yes, 11am tomorrow bright and early,” you say pointedly with a smile.

“Oh fuck, I almost forgot,” he gusts a laugh attempting a glance at his shoulder.

“But umm, if you want to hang out after that, I'm amenable,” you offer with what you hope is a nonchalant tone; inside, you are yelling, please, please.

“How about before then?” he asks, “What are you doing this evening? And overnight? And in the morning?” his voice teasing and sweet.

Oh.

“I can be available,” you respond lightly, a smile tugging at your lips.

“Good,” he sighs, “because I’m probably going to need help tending this tattoo” he tilts towards his fresh ink. “And I’m definitely going to need time to tend to this tattoo,” his voice suddenly husky as he traces his fingers lightly over your vines.

Well, that's an offer you are not going to refuse.

Benedict taglist: @makaylan @foreverlonginguniverse @iboopedyournose @colettebronte @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @margofiore @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enchantedbytomandhenry

[vampiremilfs]

hiiii <3 big ask big answer is what i'm expecting would LOVE to know your top 5/faves across various media that are new(in release or just new to you) this year! so: shows, movies, games, books, songs/albums, new artists you've discovered etc

OMG AAAAA I LOVE THIS ASK

brief comment i wanted to make, but this was the year i finally took control of my mental health and went to go see someone about it so congratulations to me for finally breaking down the wall of "im fine" and allowing myself to admit that i could use some help. that aside, lets get into it! beware, possible spoilers

MOVIES

1. Nope (dir. Jordan Peele) - this movie surprised me so much and reflects a LOT of my views on performative/spectacle-like behavior in front of the Camera and the effects things like hollywood or social media could potentially have on people...not going to get into that but i just liked the movie alot okay

2. X (dir. Ti West) - love me some camp. love mia goth. i also really liked Pearl and cannot WAIT for MaXXXine, i am so ready

3. Cruel Intentions (dir. Roger Kumble) - i dont think 2022 was the first year i watched Cruel Intentions but everytime i watch it, it feels like something brand new...i am so compelled to read the book that its based on like seriously

4. Turning Red (dir. Domee Shi) - this is the only Disney movie that exists to me...the mother-daughter relationship portrayed here is just so personal

5. Kiki’s Delivery Service (dir. Hayao Miyazaki) - yeah im extremely late to watching this lol. i watched literally every other ghibli film growing up but somehow, in some way, skipped over Kiki. so i watched it over the summer as an adult and needless to say...yeah i missed out as a kid asjashd

6. American Psycho (dir. Mary Harron) - this is the funniest film ive seen this whole year. im not even kidding

TV SHOWS

1. Breaking Bad/Better Call Saul - never thought id enjoy a show about a middle-aged white male turning to meth production to make ends meet and becoming the most annoying character ever created, but here we are. loved it, and literally EVERYONE around walt deserved so much better (jesse, gus, johnny/saul, mike, skylar, marie, hank)

2. Ranma 1/2 - ive taken a break from watching new anime this year and started diving into older ones. i love ranma simply bc its a bit ahead of its time and is just so easy to digest. just a fun little show!!! a great way to take my mind off of shit

3. The Sandman - just found out recently that this was a DC comic so congrats to DC for successfully infiltrating my anti-superhero visual barrier LOL. anyways i am in dire NEED of the next season

4. You - PENN BADGLEY. thats all im going to say. im a huge fan of Gossip Girl (2007) and as soon as i saw him playing the lead character i RAN to watch the first season when it dropped. was not disappointed

5. The Witcher - ive never played the game lol but the show is so good...im not a fan of GoT (and therefore will never watch HotD) so this show p much fills the dark fantasy void for me

6. Bridgerton - im so glad i got over my weird distaste and finally gave this show a try...i see the hype, i see it!! and the show itself is so beautiful to look at, despite being historically innacurate or whatever

7. Gossip Girl (2007) - ive watched and rewatched this show a grand total of maybe like....20 times in my life total. rewatched it again this year. all six seasons. it never gets old despite being the most ridiculous insipid shit ever. im also currently watching the new version, and while i love the cast and maybe the soundtrack, it doesnt match up to the campy and fun vibe that the first one had. it takes itself way too seriously and the plot is almost nonexistent lol

but anyway, lets move on to music!! im skipping over books bc i have currently finished NONE from the book haul i had back in october.

MUSIC

just gonna list out a bunch of songs that have carried me thru the last half of this year :]

ass like that victoria monet / bang (my body) chase icon / meta angel fka twigs / wish i never kehlani / king for a day pierce the veil, kellin quinn / pass the nirvana pierce the veil / antagonist nova twins / gibson girl ethel cain / like a tattoo sade / the perfect pair beabadoobee / so it goes tamino / daybreak’s bell l’arc-en-ciel / colors flow / distant tevomxntana, cayo / grapefruit tove lo

sorry if this is extremely long. thanks for asking!!!!!! ❤️

[petalsmooth]

Look , I desperately want the next season of Bridgerton. I don't begrudge Queen Charlotte but I never asked for it. It was done imo because was more original content to claim credit for but I supported it and watched it. Thought it ok, wasn't in love with it but I thought the casting for Brimsley and the Queen and King was good. My favorite parts were the narrations with Whistledown and Queen Charlotte's verbal commentary on her family. And I always love the ELDER version of Lady Danbury even if I hated the story for her younger version. But I wanted season 3 and feel like it got pushed aside a bit longer for release for this show. Then the strikes have happened so further pushed back.

And as badly as I want the season, I don't want it if it means the actors get screwed their time to shine and promote it. I know these two with equity and can and probably will be out there because they can't strike but they can't have others like the producers out there promoting it or anyone who IS on strike. And since the rumored release date was said to be mid December there is some time to resolve this so they can still do the promotion they deserve but it needs to be settled within next month or two to be sure of that.

I say all this because if Netflix thinks I will be on THEIR side because I want my show they are insane. Because more than my show I want the ACTOR'S and everyone behind it's production to get their due and attention and I'd rather it be bottled up into next year than deny them that vs begging netflix to release it on time and screw them over.

The obvious answer to all this is for Netflix and Disney (the two who seem most behind the issues) to just offer a fair deal so we all can resume our shows without interruption of deserved promotion of course. But I am willing to delay MY gratification of seeing the season for the benefit of the writers and actors. And I don't know if the studios understand that simply releasing it won't satisfy your consumer base. Because the fans want to see their favorites advertise and commentate on it too and will feel cheated and a bit bitter and it's won't be the actors/writers the pointed bitterness will be sent to. For a service like Netflix that relies on loyalty of its consumer base especially, seems like embittering your subscribers is not good business. As I'm less likely to watch any new content than what I already invested in. Once the show is done would just leave and never return.

They have already bred discontent with how they remove shows without letting people purchase or cancel after one season so really not sure why they think we'd support them.

[viscountessevie]

I was turned off from the hype of Brigerton early on (idk I wasn't feeling it) but I've been seeing gif sets of Kate and Anthony and I'm kind of obsessed. Would I need to watch season 1 for me to get it or can i skip right into season 2 for the kathony canon content?

Ohmygod hello! I'm so flattered you regard my opinion highly enough to ask me about this! Honestly you're so valid and I'm SO happy that Kathony is drawing in people who were never interested in Bridgerton before S2 dropped. More under the cut because as always this got LONG: 

Okay so this is tricky and really depends what you're into as a romance fan? S1 is about Simon and Daphne and they are a fake dating trope which was really fun and wholesome to watch! S2 is of course Kate and Anthony and they are PEAK Enemies to Lovers and are very HOT. While the romances each season are stand alone - S1 does have a storyline for Anthony which acts as a prequel for his story in S2 I'll talk more about later in this post. 

Honestly as much as I adore Kathony but their season was all over the place as a cohesive story - at times it felt like I was watching two different shows because there was an annoying plotline that didn't connect to the main story and romance AT ALL. (Honestly I always skip their scenes on my rewatch feel free to do the same).

It was shit as an adaptation which is why I'm currently an S2 hater like I love the Kathony of it all but the rest of the season can get fucked - and its mainly because I'm a huge fan of their book. So I would recommend just watching S2 and then reading their book for more of their scenes together - for all her flaws Julia Quinn really FED US with the Kathony content. Also Kate's family is featured more and they are so wholesome! Kate even gets a fully fleshed out backstory (minor spoiler but we were robbed of that in the show) My friend did that and she said the book after watching S2 first felt like a comfort cos you got more scenes. Whereas a book reader, we felt robbed of a lot of pivotal book scenes.

If you have the time and are up for it, I would definitely recommend watching S1 because it was a solid adaptation of Book 1 and Anthony's arc in it is so compelling - yes he was a dick and everyone thought he was annoying af (not me though I've always loved my hot mentally ill eldest sibling clown) but really it's a shield to protect himself from his past trauma - no spoilers but it gets covered in S2! So to see his development from S1 to S2 is very satisfying if you want the whole picture.

Simon and Daphne are cute until their main conflict which was pretty fucked up and going to try to keep it vague but spoilers for S1EP6 at timestamps 47:15 to 49:40 there's a sex scene that turns into an assault at 48:50 and it just soured the rest of the series for me because the perpetrator never atones for their actions. If that's a trigger for you I would suggest just skip that scene all together and come up with a conflict of your own for the couple lmao.

Other than the SA, it was a pretty solid first season, a good introduction to the main family and characters and a cohesive story, the side plots actually worked and the main characters were actually connected to most of them so it didn't feel as disconnected.

Storytelling aspect aside, I will say Kathony is the superior couple just because Simone Ashley and Jonathan Bailey have INSANE CHEMISTRY and that's what you're seeing in the gifs so I'm not surprised you're hooked! And honestly ignoring the issues I had with the season itself, all their scenes are HOT and amazing and I love these two fucked up clowns in love so much.

Do let me know if you end up watching it and what you think of the show! Honestly if you would just prefer reading, then I recommend just reading the books only (Kathony's book is Book 2 named The Viscount Who Loved Me) I wouldn't bother with the show (it's slowly becoming my new PJO movies/ATLA live action)

[shameonmeeguiltypleasure]

I'm very excited for the next SMB update🥰

I'm so grateful for your patience xx

I've said it before, and I'll say it again, I have a lot of plans for my SMB universe.

Chapter 8 is getting a very deep editing makeover right now, and some scenes are getting cut buuuut...... they will be reappearing in my version of Eloise's story 'To Sir Phillip, with Pleasure' :))

So yes, there's a lot of excitement to be had and I'm so very happy to know readers are feeling it too.

So have a sneak read of a bit of Eloise's Pov that will feature in 'To Sir Phillip, with Pleasure'.

I’m actively cutting out Eloise’s Pov in SMB and putting them aside for TSPWP. Eloise is a smart woman, y’all. She knows exactly how SMB is going to end. But just because it’s inevitable, it doesn’t mean she has to make it easy.

So I do hope you enjoy this very short snippet xx

Sincere Gratitude,

ShameOnMee

As the best friend to a wallflower, one learned the best ways to escape notice. It was a skill Eloise rarely ever put into practice. Not when her mother had a talent for knowing how to thwart her attempts. But against her siblings? When in need of relief from their overbearing presence and occasional harassment? Eloise could disappear like a ghost in the wind.

Just as Penelope could be boldly outspoken, Eloise could shroud herself with invisibility whenever she desired. It was rare, but it was indeed possible.

Escaping Anthony’s watchdog presence was simple. For all he claimed he wished to see her wedded, Anthony would never let any of his sisters court without properly assessing the suitor of interest. Eloise only needed to show the barest of interest in a man and Anthony would metaphorically gut the man in conversation – asking after his every intention, dissecting him for every weakness.

Anthony might wish for her to settle on a suitor, but she knew he would only bless it if it were to be a love match. Especially so after his many blunders during Daphne's courtships.

Eloise checked to see if her eldest brother was still occupied with poor Mister Porter. Even from her hiding spot among the plants, she could see the shine of his sweat as Anthony interrogated him about his prospects.

“As if I would settle for a man without mystery,” she muttered with disgust.

Eloise watched the room, searching for her favourite redhead among the guests. But upon finding her dearest friend Eloise was overwhelmed by a sudden rush of indignant fury. From her current position, Eloise had the perfect view of Penelope by the refreshments table. A view that unfortunately included her most infuriating sibling.

Should anyone with a brain think to notice, the looks exchanged between her brother and Penelope lacked any sort of innocence and propriety. They looked at each other with hunger, a hunger Eloise only ever noticed between her Parents and her siblings towards their spouses.

She knew of Penelope’s love for her brother. While she didn’t exactly rejoice in the fact, she accepted its existence. At a certain point, she thought to even encourage it. Penelope would legally be her sister and a Bridgerton! The only possible way to claim her as a family member without bloodshed, blackmailing or even kidnapping.

But Colin didn't deserve Penelope. How dare he spend years running away from something so obvious!? How dare he, now after so many years of inadvertently hurting her friend due to stupidity, believe himself entitled to Penelope's love!!!?

Eloise loved her brother, but he needed to know just how lucky he was to be the one man her best friend fell in love with. He needed to know, that despite Penelope’s wallflower nature, he was still the man she chose despite her many options!! If not for Eloise, for Anthony, hell even the Featheringtons, another man could have swept into Penelope’s life and stolen her heart while he was oceans away doing god knows what. 

And if it meant she'd have to allow other men the privilege of approaching Penelope for him to understand, so be it.....

- To Sir Phillip, with Pleasure: Eloise Pov of the Smythe-Smith Musicale (SMB chapter 8) 

[notyetbulletproof]

Okay I am back to being annoyed about Edwina saying she’s more kind hearted than Kate. I mean I don’t for a second think that Kate did anything she did because she’s kind hearted. I KNOW she did what she did because she took it upon herself to be the parent Edwina had lost. To be what her father could no longer be. She set her own happiness aside and found a way to ensure that both her sister and mother were provided for. NOT HER. She did not ask to be included nor did she think she would be. Yes, fine it’s fair to say she projected everything she wanted onto Edwina. Yes, Kate herself says that if she could marry to save her family she would but that is why her one stipulation to her plan is that Edwina marries for love. The title or money that she marries into will just ensure that she and Lady Mary will be cared for. Literally Kate thinks that she will be left behind and was fine with that. Her father died and it tipped her world (that was already off kilter when she lost her mother) upside down and she’s been fighting to get it right side up ever since. She stepped up and became the parent and the only person that really understands that is Anthony. That understands the impact of that is Anthony. Yes they handled it differently but their worlds were knocked of its axis at the sudden death of their parent. It is not that Anthony would never have taken on the role, it was that he had not been prepared for it. He took it on because his father died suddenly. 10 seconds ago he was a child, Violet and Edmund’s first child and then suddenly he was Anthony Bridgerton, Viscount and head of his family. Because his father died. And he couldn’t do anything to stop it or to help. He was powerless watching his Father die. The best man he ever knew just fading fast and his pregnant mother begging his father to stay with her. Then she was screaming his (Anthony’s name) telling him to protect his siblings. He was just back from school, there was more to learn, more to do and he’s spent the last 10 years wondering how different it would all be if his father was still alive. Knowing in his heart of hearts, it would be better. Praying he would be seen as enough. Over-personalising every failure.

And Kate? There was no son to step up to the mantle of leading the family, no rank, no title to carry on. There was being a woman in a time where woman were still an extension of their husband and nothing more (and she was barely 18). Even though there was always so much more to a woman. Also Kate had one more painful thing she internalised— that she had to earn her place. Lady Mary loved her, Edwina loved her as family (because she is!) but she saw it as something she had to maintain. She had to be useful to be loved. She had to look after them the way her father would because it was now her duty. It was gone when her father died and she just stepped up to take it and not once did she consider what it would mean for her, once they got to England. Once Edwina married. Once families were reconciled. She didn’t think about it because she made herself the lowest priority and like Anthony, personalised every failure. Took control of everything because she would not deviate from the sole mission of ensuring her family would survive without her. Also because she didn’t think she deserved to be in the family.

Then they met each other and they both tipped the scales for the other. Sent their worlds spinning. Made them question everything they pushed down before, the resolve they worked so hard to maintain. The held beliefs about themselves. Their stubborn nature. The things children do when they are parentified. They push away their own feelings. They feel guilty for chasing what they want. Their hyper reliance on themselves. Their inability to say what they need or what they want.

Yes, nobody expected them to be excellent at the role. Sure. But everyone expected them to take it on. To not fail. You get what I mean? Lady Mary, Lady Violet were grieving and in their grief, their children took on the mantle of making sure the world kept turning and somewhere along that way, they (Kate and Anthony) stopped asking themselves how they were and started asking themselves what can they do for the family? How can they be useful?

So be angry at Kate and Anthony for ignoring what they really wanted for fear of not being worthy of it/losing it or being subjected to grief or loss or pain. Be annoyed with them denying themselves in the interest of familial duty and how that singular focus still caused strife to those they love. Yes. But to accuse them of being cruel? No.

Misguided? Yes. Controlling? Yes. Righteous? Most definitely. But to act like they planned to do it or that they set out to hurt people is unfair and ignores what they had to do to survive.

And considering Kate had to humble herself beyond words to reach out to people that always thought less of her and probably downright hated her so that her mother and sister would not go without, it really bugs me that Edwina could not see that despite her anger. That she could not see Kate’s sacrifice.

That line and the half-sister line will irk me till kingdom come. I get why! I’m still mad. Why did they do that to Edwina’s character good lord.

So yes, I too want to see Kate and Anthony revel in love. To live for themselves and each other as much as they live for their families. To make themselves a priority too. And I understand the psychological conversation this season had with us all.

Edit:

I get that the Edwina and Kate thing is resolved by the last episode but STILL.