#beatrice x benedict

[lunadove]

Thinking about David Tennant and Catherine Tate’s “Much Ado About Nothing” and just loving the fact that in any other play, they’d be the side characters.

Cause Hero and Claudio are the main drama of the plot - they’re the “love at first sight”, misunderstandings abound, tears and yelling and heartbreak couple.

Comparatively Beatrice and Benedict are low drama. Their biggest issue is getting over themselves to realize they’re in love. They do have a little bit of yelling and crying when Beatrice asks Benedict to kill his best friend. But he’s against it for a grand total of 30 seconds until they talk about it and he agrees, and then they go back to being stupidly cute in love together.

Beatrice asks Benedict to defend Hero’s honor, but the dual doesn’t even happen cause everyone realizes they were tricked by that point. Benedict isn’t part of the big “shaming Hero at the alter” drama - it took several minutes of Claudio being the world’s biggest drama king for Benedict to realize something MAY have happened to throw off the wedding plans. Beatrice and Benedict’s impact on the overall plot is really low. The priest comes up with the plan to reunite Hero and Claudio, Dogberry exposes the villain’s plans, Beatrice and Benedict are there for emotional support, to show how a more emotionally mature couple acts, and to basically tell Claudio and Don Pedro they’re acting really shitty.

They’re so low in terms of the overall story that they barely interact with the villain. They spend a whole play flirting and being in love with each other (to the point where all their friends can see it), and Don John doesn’t even think about ruining their relationship too, they’re so far off his radar.

I love Much Ado About Nothing cause it’s a play where all the rules are flipped on their heads - the typical climatic event of a dual is cancelled, the villain runs off and is an afterthought rather than being dramatically caught, even the entire plan of ruining Hero and Claudio’s wedding is (in terms of acting against the prince) small. Don John hates his brother, but he’s too spineless to even actually try and act against him so he’s just making up rumors. It’s not even a DIRECT ATTACK against Don Pedro - he’s just hoping to ruin his brother’s friend’s wedding.

And Beatrice and Benedict, who normally would be comedic side characters, are the heroes of the plot. I personally think it’s why they’re so beloved - leave the screaming and crying and heartbreak to the other characters - they’re FUN.

[below-average-fangirl]

[simplybybea]

it's taken me a week and a half to be able to watch Much Ado About Nothing with Eve Best but I am watching now and I just - that 'I would eat his heart ij the marketplace' scene was so so so damn powerful.

Also, post confession, they continue to act like teenagers who have confessed a crush and aren't ready to ACTUALLY date and I LOVE IT. Feels much more on brand than all the cloying cutesy stuff in some adaptations.

[marcianoliterati]

# A MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING ADAPTATION WHERE THEY'RE STUCK TOGETHER DUE TO COVID LOCKDOWNS,BORED AF, AND ON THEIR PHONES 247.

A SOCIAL MEDIA AU. SORT OF.

claudio benedict pedro and tagalong little brother john are roadtripping

italy.

they pay a visit to their old friends' parents house, where hero and

beatrice are also holidaying.

hero and claudio have been heavily flirting online

beatrice and benedict have been fighting online for like a decade,

basically since they met

everyone who follows them but doesnt know them irl thinks it's just a

game and that they're actually dating

all of them are online but none of them are big influencers or anything,

no one has more than 5k followers

and their followers beyond friends and family dont even cross that much

they all post about different things outside of life stuff

only beatrice and benedict intersect, theyre the only ones who have a

lot of different active accounts and they follow each other on every

single one, from like lj to fb to tumblr to twitter to insta to tiktok,

they even regularly show up in each other's reddit posts for the sole

purpose of disagree,most of the time, theyre not even in the same

subreddits or fandoms

but their spats are amusing and a few bits have gone viral before.

but then you get a lot of late-twenty something stuck together, and

posting all the time, reviving somewhat dormant account, it's like an

impromptu accidental reality show

at first its just like games, from tag and hide and seek to passionate

games of uno and clue,tours of the place, building shit, improvising

stuff, and theyre constantly posting little snippets, and so on

benedict and beatrice both post the same thing like "worst person to get

stuck with" and at first people thing they went on holiday together but

now theyre just stuck at like a villa the parents rented

"oh so you just met up while on holiday. riiiiiiiight"

they keep posting, complaining about dumb shit the other is one, about

their disgustingly in love with friends, and so on.

their friends also post clips of them arguing, like during games where

theyre always rivals,and others of them always seeking each other out

a new account pops up something like beadick updates or something, that

takes the time of trawling through all the accounts to post compilations

and builds a bit of a timeline of them through the years

then a different account pops up that start sending them personal

videos, clearly some of their friends having fun

they also post about the group discussing b&b (crucially hidden from

them)

and later both bea and ben hearing the others discussing them and how

they react

cue compilations like "no women will ever tempt me" next to "but it bea

wants me im down" and ben dissing bea next to talking her up after, same

for bea.

it goes like that for a bit

the leak continues posting them acting awkward around each other, trying

to argue then running away, spying on the other,trying to do something

nice while seeming like they dont care

then theres some event theyve organised

a lot of posts of everyone looking nice

a few of people drinking

and then a livestream of dancing is interrupted by a lot of shouting the

sound of stuff breaking and what seems like a physical fight

and then everyone goes quiet

then it switches

the audience, which had been steadily growing, is left in the dark, the

fourth wall is broken when they decide to reach in and find out what the

hell is going on.

someone hacks the complex's cctv

the updates account posts different bits, claudio having a huge jealous

tantrum and starting a fight, hitting hero in the process

then b&b left alone in the garden, with confessions of love to follow

and then shouting and storming off "i will cut his heart out with a

spoon!"

"for you, i will defy covid and the goverment" promises ben before

leaving

the others try to pack and leave, but are stopped and so they hide in a

small cabin on the edge of the property, where they start drinking

it is there where ben finds them, smashes the bottles and dares them to

make it right or he will reign fire on them

claudio laughs at first going "but why is the rum gone?????!"

but then he gets actually worried

the audience witness this via cctv, they see ben through the grounds,

finding the cabin,hear the smashing and shouting

then they start looking back seeing if there is any back footage or if

its been deleted.

it hasnt

they find a treasure trove

not knowing how to contact them discreetly,beadick updates posts a video

of little brother john discussing sabotage plans with some minions and

they tag every account

the cctv is only outside for privacy reasons so they only know it worked

when they see john making a run for it, trying to climb the walls, being

caught by claudio and beaten before john pulls him off

then everyone reunites outside, when they see them coming up

hero goes up to john and hits him, then she goes up to claudio and does

the same

she spits at pedro and calls him a coward

claudio falls on his knees and begs for forgiveness

but she tells him he's clearly not worth her trust or love

everyone is feeling hurt and sore and not sure where to go now

pedro steps up and apologises

he shouldve known better than to trust anything john says, he's always

loved stirring up trouble for no reason

and they shouldve come to her not make a huge deal and ruin everything

claudio also apologises but more begrudginly, same as john

as they all just sort of stand there, their phones ping

and so pedro goes 'hey whats the deal with the video? who found it?"

before anyone gets an answer someone checks and gasps

the audience, stirring shit up, sends the video of them all plotting to

get b&b together, and laughing as they talked it all up

"so you do not love me? it was all a ruse?"

they both accuse each other and then turn to their friends, who in turn

took to look at the cameras in suspcion

their phones ping again. only b&b's first, which makes them both put on

pained faces of "what now?"

so then everyone's faces ping

it's a video compilation of b&b doing nice things for the other in

secret

bea spent an afternoon learning to make ben's favourite biscuits, and

then just left them in the kitchen for him to find

ben spent forever tracking something bea forgot, and then hiding it in

her room to make it look like it was just temporarily misplaced

bea finding ben's favourite movie and casually engineering things for a

watchalong

ben coming up with a thousand different ways to distract bea whenever

she starts to look sad or worried

they all watched, as it dawns on them that a) apparently, theyve had an

audience this whole time

and b)it was never a ruse

b&b were always in love, just too afraid or stubborn or emotionally

constipated to do anything about it

so hero turns to bea and goes "all this time? what the hell happened

between you two?"

beatrice and benedict look at each other and just shrug

"it doesnt matter. we're here now"

they kiss

beadick updates posts a playlist of several hours on yt featuring their

whole story, with videos of them as teens, shyly flirting, to a lot of

screenshots and clips of them arguing online, to the whole saga in

italy, ending in their big kiss

as an epilogue, the two post a video of them in the airport, they thank their audience, and say now they can travel so they will be going off together

[tealeavesandthorns]

Maria & Gareth - A Day of Theatre, Tea and Cakes

@tealeavesandthorns & @dontcxckitup

If Maria had an instagram this is what it would look like, but she mostly keeps this sort of thing just on her phone in collages....

[loversatthegreatdivide]

Heavy Lies the Heart - Chapter 3

Masterlist // Continue Reading

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x F!OC Word Count: 2.3k Tropes: mutual pining, fluff, angst with a happy ending, royalty Warnings: death Summary: When two second-borns looking for direction meet by chance, can they find purpose in each other? Or will circumstance keep them apart? A/N: CanNOT believe I'm updating a third time in as many days. This whole chapter is just dialog. All 2,300 words of it. I am deceased. I love writing dialog, but there is a limit. Also, tumblr is held together with old gum and scotch tape, so currently I can't reply to comments on posts. Until they fix it just know I do see them all, even though I can't respond at the moment. For now, if you want a direct response you'll need to send an ask!

Benedict was quite certain he must be dreaming.

He stood outside his home, in the low light of evening, with the girl he had been searching for.

She had come to him all on her own; and now he knew her name.

Beatrice.

"A lovely name indeed," he praised, "But it would perhaps be more proper for me to address you by your surname." Even Benedict, with his distaste for the rigid etiquette of the aristocracy, would feel a certain level of unease referring to a young lady of rank by her given name.

Beatrice looked back at him nervously, "No no, I think Beatrice will do just fine."

"You do have a surname?" Benedict joked.

"Naturally," she lied. While her full name was rather long, it did not include a surname. As was the case with all members of the royal family.

Benedict raised a brow curiously, "It would seem you do not wish to tell me."

"Well...no, I would rather not."

"How intriguing; why ever not? Is your family embroiled in some sort of scandal?" he asked.

"It is nothing like that," she replied, her eyes moving to avoid his gaze, "It is only...well, truthfully I fear once you learn of my lineage, obligation will keep you from speaking honestly with me."

Beatrice knew she was dancing close to the edge. While she had not directly told Benedict her true identity, the more he knew, the more likely he was to put the pieces together. All but telling him her family was of a high rank was a risk, but she wanted to be as honest as she could be with him. She did not enjoy the thought of deceiving him any more than was absolutely necessary.

There was a small smile on his face as he examined her worried expression. He could see this was quite important to her, so decided to leave it be.

"My, your family must be quite important," he commented, "But I shall ask no more. I believe we are all entitled to a secret or two--and of course, I would also enjoy continuing to speak freely with one another." He smiled reassuringly at her as she stared back in surprise, "Beatrice it is."

She felt her face flush at the sound of her name. While it had been at her insistence, it still felt strange to be addressed so casually by anyone outside of her family.

"Thank you," Beatrice replied with a grateful smile.

"However, there is a condition," Benedict continued, "If I am to address you by your given name, I must insist you address me by mine."

"Oh." Beatrice hadn't considered it, but then again it did seem only fair, "I suppose that would be alright...Benedict."

She knew her cheeks were red, but she took some comfort in the fact that he seemed similarly effected.

He looked away, attempting to regain his composure, "Good. Yes, alright then," he cleared his throat, "Now that we've gotten all of that settled, perhaps you would do me the pleasure of an evening promenade?"

He seemed apprehensive, perhaps worried she would decline; Beatrice found it rather endearing.

"That sounds lovely," she answered. He looked back at her, clearly relieved by her answer, "Oh, but before we go," she pointed to his cheek, "you have a bit of charcoal on you face, just there." Benedict's hand instantly flew to to his face.

"How humiliating! And you said nothing as I stood here looking like a chimney sweep?" he joked through his embarrassment.

Beatrice laughed, "Well, there never seemed to be a good time to tell you--and if your were secretly in the business of cleaning chimneys, I would certainly have hated to embarrass you by pointing it out."

"Well then perhaps I should be thanking you for your discretion," he smirked, his hand moving to wipe his face in an attempt to remove the dust.

"No no, don't do that! You'll only smudge it more," she said, batting at the air near his arm in protest. He stopped, lowering his hand as instructed. "Here, allow me."

She lifted her arm, her free hand grabbing the reticle around her wrist. She adjusted it until she was able to reach inside, pulling out a handkerchief. It was lovely: Pure white, with intricate floral embroidery and a lace trim. She raised the handkerchief towards his face, and he instinctively leaned back.

"No ah, well, that is..." he sputtered, "You'll ruin your handkerchief," he finally managed to say.

In truth he was simply startled by her sudden action. She had been so casual in reaching out to touch him, as if it hadn't occurred to her how it might look. Benedict found himself once again surprised by her. So often she seemed to try to conform to the expectations of society, even when it clearly caused her discomfort. Then she would do something like this, and she hardly seemed to care what others might think of it.

"It is only a handkerchief, it can be cleaned you know," she replied, her hand moving once more. Benedict didn't shy away this time, and soon felt the soft fabric rest against his skin. His heart began to race at the simple gesture.

He suddenly found himself unable to look her in the eye.

Beatrice was gentle as she began wiping the charcoal away, seeming completely unaffected by the action or his reaction to it. It lasted only a few moments, but to Benedict it seemed far longer.

"There, much better," she said, removing her hand and smiling at her work. Benedict blushed.

"Yes, thank you," he replied nervously.

"It was no trouble," she assured him, moving to place the handkerchief, now stained with black, back inside her reticle, "Though, I believe I can offer little help for your gloves."

Benedict looked down, his white gloves covered with splotchy, black fingerprints. His hands must have been covered in charcoal when he left his room, and he simply hadn't noticed.

Had he truly been so distracted?

"Forgive me, I am truly a mess this evening."

"Not at all," she replied, before grinning, "It seems you were dealing with quite the begrimed chimney."

He smiled gratefully, "Surely they must keep their fire going year round, to build up such an impressive level of soot."

With that, he offered her his arm.

"Now that you will feel marginally less mortified to be seen with me, perhaps we can be off?" She smiled shyly, pulling at the edge of her hood.

"Yes, I would like that," she answered, her hand moving to entwine her arm with his. They set off down the street, strolling to nowhere in particular at a leisurely pace.

"So," Beatrice was the first to speak, "You are an artist then?"

"And what makes you say so? There could be any number of reasons for a man to have charcoal on his hands...and his face," Benedict quipped.

Beatrice smiled, "No, I believe I am right. You certainly behave like one passionate about the arts."

"Oh? And how is it I behave exactly?"

"Well, my grandmother would say you are rather...bohemian," Beatrice replied.

"Bohemian? And I suppose your grandmother would not mean that to be complimentary?" Benedict asked.

"Indeed she would not," Beatrice laughed, "Though as a rule she is simply not one for compliments. She is, above all things, proper, and can be rather terse at times."

Benedict nodded in understanding, "Ah yes. I have only a few childhood memories of my own grandmother, but she seemed much the same."

"Please don't misunderstand--I am actually quite fond of her," Beatrice corrected, "She is simply not an overly affectionate person."

"I see. So do you spend much time with your grandmother then?" he asked.

"As much as I am able, though my father is quite strict and doesn't like me away from home for too long. I am quite lucky he allowed me to stay with her for the season," she replied.

"Ah, an overbearing father. That makes sense," he commented, smirking at her as she pouted at him.

"Oh? And what about you? I can't imagine your parents restricted you much, given your proclivity for breaking with societal expectations."

Benedict laughed, "This from the girl who has clearly left home without permission to meet a man unchaperoned." She blushed in surprise, turning her face away.

"Well, that is..." She struggled to find a believable justification for her actions.

"Not that I judge you. If anything I'm glad you decided to break a few rules," he smiled as she continued avoiding his gaze, "And for what it's worth, you are correct; I am guilty of being raised by kind, loving parents who supported my interest in the arts and allowed me plenty of freedom."

"I knew it." Beatrice turned back, smirking at him triumphantly, "About you upbringing and being an artist, it would seem."

Benedict laughed, "Oh please, do congratulation yourself more."

"Perhaps I will," she joked.

Soon, her face fell into a thoughtful smile, "You're parents, did they love each other?"

That seemed an interesting turn in conversation.

Benedict nodded, "Yes, from what I remember they were quite mad for one another. My mother talks about it often, particularly mow that so many of her children have come of age. She is constantly encouraging us to find love matches for ourselves."

"You're all lucky to have such a caring mother. Not many would prioritize their children's happiness over their obligation to secure a good match," Beatrice replied.

"You're right, we have been very fortunate," Benedict smiled affectionately, "And so far my mother has gotten her wish: Both my brother and my sister have found love matches for themselves, though it is less certain that the rest of my siblings will follow suite."

"And you?" Beatrice asked without thinking.

"Me?" Benedict repeated, "Well, I'm not sure I shall ever marry."

In spite of herself, Beatrice could not help but look somewhat disappointed, "Oh, I see."

"Though," he continued, "I suppose love may be the one thing to entice me into such an arrangement, should I ever find it."

He couldn't help noticing how the corners of her lips turned up ever so slightly as he spoke.

"And what of you? Are you hoping to marry for love?" It was little business of his, but he had to admit he was more curious about her answer than he aught to have been.

"I," she hesitated, her head falling as her gaze fell to the ground, "I would certainly like to, but I'm afraid it's rather unlikely. At best, I can hope my future husband is someone I don't utterly dislike."

"Ah, right--you mentioned your father was strict. Will he be choosing for you?" Benedict asked sympathetically.

"Yes," she confirmed, trying to hold fast to her smile, "My mother and father's marriage was arranged, and now the two despise each other. I suppose so long as my marriage is at all better than theirs I can count myself lucky."

"That must have been a difficult way to grow up," he commented, not know what else he could say.

"I suppose, though it could have been worse. My mother hasn't lived with us since before I was born. When they are forced to around one another, it is an unpleasant affair for all involved; so perhaps it's for the best."

"That's...quite an unusual situation," Benedict noted.

"Perhaps it is, but it is mine," she replied, glancing up at him, "But now it is I who has made you uncomfortable. Perhaps we should move to a lighter subject?"

"Of course," Benedict agreed.l

He wanted to comfort her in some way, but he wasn't sure how he could. He certainly had no idea what it was like to grow up the way she had, or what it was to know that inevitably your future would be chosen for you. There had been a certain level of expectation placed on him as the second son, but he still enjoyed immense freedom. He felt any attempt at comfort may come off as disingenuous, or perhaps even patronizing. He wanted her to know he was sincere.

"Are you attending the next ball?" she asked him after a long moment of walking in silence.

"Hmm? Oh, yes. This is my sister Francesca's first year out, and the second year for my sister Eloise. My brothers and I typically accompany our mother to help keep an eye on them."

"What thoughtful brothers you are," she replied, her tone somewhat teasing.

"Well yes, I suppose we are rather good brothers--the best, even. Our sisters are quite lucky to have such devoted elder brothers looking out for them," Benedict joked back. Beatrice smiled at that, turning her head so he wouldn't see.

Benedict cleared his throat, "Will you also be attending?" he asked as casually as he was able.

It was unlike him, but even the chance he may be able to dance with her was enough to entice him into attending every event for the rest of the season.

"I believe so," she answered.

"So we will see each other again soon?" He asked, hope clear in his voice.

"Yes, though..." she looked up at him nervously, "before that, perhaps I might visit you again?"

"You mean sneak out and see me at Bridgerton House?" She nodded in response, "Hmm...you're not going to throw more rocks at me, are you?"

Beatrice laughed, "I won't so long as you're paying attention."

"Well then, how could I say no?" He smirked.m, and she smiled back at him shyly.

At that moment, they stopped. Benedict looked around, surprised to see it had gotten quite dark. He realized they had walked farther than he had intended to go.

"As much as I loathe to suggest it, perhaps we should be heading back?" he asked.

"Oh, yes. Of course," Beatrice agreed, "Though, I believe I am closer to home here than back the other way."

"Well then, allow me to walk you home," he offered.

"No!" she answered quickly, "Thank you, but I am quite alright getting back on my own."

He nodded, "Ah yes of course--your secret. Well, so long as you're certain you'll be alright alone?"

"I will," she looked away, looking pleased, "Thank you for understanding."

She unwound her arm from his, "Well, I suppose I should be off, it was truly a pleasure to see you again, Benedict."

He smiled, reaching forward, grabbing her hand and holding it in his.

"The pleasure was all mine, Beatrice," he replied, kissing the back of her gloved hand gently. She felt her cheeks burn. He released her from his grip, and Beatrice held her freed hand tightly against her chest.

"Yes, well...I'll be going then," she replied, quickly turning and making her way down the lamplit street. She glanced back only once, and he lifted his hand to give her a small wave.

Benedict continued watching her until her silhouette finally disappeared into the night.

----------

Tags: @empressnatsume @sarahskywalker-amidala @may-and-lay @lovelyxjanett @asterizee @g4ns3y

[pupsmailbox]

WEIRDCORE ID PACK

NAMES ⌇ abigail. abyss. achlys. adam. adelaide. adeline. agatha. agnes. albert. alexander. alfred. alice. amelia. angel. annabelle. apparition. arch. archie. arthur. atticus. aud. augustus. babel. babylon. barren. beatrice. benedict. benjamin. blanc. bliss. bubbles. bug. bunny. cain. calvin. cassian. cassius. catherine. cecilia. celeste. charlotte. chimera. clara. clementine. cloudi. cloudy. crow. dahlia. daisy. daphne. darcy. daze. deja. delusion. dorothy. dove. dream. echo. eleanor. elizabeth. emily. enigma. ernest. error. eve. evelyn. exite. eyes. felicity. felix. flaw. flower. gideon. glitch. glitchy. graham. harriet. hattie. haven. haze. hazel. henry. hmone. hollis. hugo. hun. illusion. imogen. inara. ink. iris. itzal. ivy. izhi. jane. juliet. juno. jupiter. kai. kasumi. kasumu. ka’awa. kgodi. kiri. kohu. kora. lilione. link. lucy. lulu. luminal. mabel. margaret. mars. matilda. matrix. mazin. meglena. mercury. miglė. mihika. mirage. misty. mok. mold. moon. moss. moth. muggur. nameless. nebula. neptune. niara. nihari. nihilo. nihira. nirav. nix. nobody. noir. noire. noiresse. noirette. nostalgesse. nostalgette. nothing. nox. ocula. odditie. olive. oliver. olivia. orion. oytuman. penelope. phoebe. pluto. poppy. portal. pujoq. raven. rinan. rinku. rūkas. salem. sanoe. saturn. senka. serene. shroom. shrum. shunya. sierra. sky. smile. socket. sophie. spook. spookie. spooky. spotty. stitch. sugar. sumu. sunny. suong. taktuq. telle. terhi. theodore. thoka. tomanbikä. tooth. tripp. tuban. unknown. usva. vacara. vacio. vega. venus. victoria. vivian. void. vortex. walter. xihir. yogiri. zero. zeta.

PRONOUNS ⌇ ?/?. ?t/?t. [redacted]/[redacted]. abandon/abandon. backroom/backroom. being/being. bizarre/bizarre. blank/blank. blur/blur. clock/clock. cloud/cloud. creature/creature. daze/daze. deja/vu. deranged/deranged. dim/dim. dizzy/dizzie. dream/dream. eerie/eerie. empty/empty. entity/entity. error/error. eye/eye. familiar/familiar. float/float. flower/flower. fog/fog. forget/forget. glitch/glitch. gone/gone. gray/gray. haze/haze. hush/hushe. it/it. ix/ix. jpeg/jpeg. lim/liminal. liminal/liminal. lost/lost. miss/missing. mush/shroom. no/exit. nostal/nostalgia. nostalgia/nostalgia. null/null. o/o. odd/odd. one/one. rem/ember. shush/shushe. space/spacey. stat/static. static/static. strange/strange. stuck/stuck. surreal/surreal. tele/vision. th?y/th?m. that/thatthing. thing/thing. thon/thon. tooth/tooth. tv/tv. un/canny. un/un. uncanny/uncanny. vague/vague. voi/void. void/void. vor/tex. watcher/watcher. weird/weird. where?/where?. x/x. yellow/yellow. zero/zero. ⏺️ . ☁️ . ⚪️ . ⚫️ . ❓ . ❔ . 🌁 . 🌫️ . 🏚️ . 👁️ . 👤 . 💨 . 💭 . 🔇 . 🔲 . 🔳 . 🕳️ . 🗝️ . 😶‍🌫️ . 🚪 .

[somedaylazysomeday]

A Grand Deception - Part Two

Some weeks after your infiltration, your shop receives an unexpected visitor.

Continued Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

Rating: Explicit. Minors, please do not interact

Word Count: 4,600

Warnings: Money concerns, overworked employees, lying, discussions of sexual experience, discussions of keeping a mistress, kissing, fingering, unprotected sex, handjob.

Previous | Masterlist

---

The weeks after your excursion passed in a rush of activity. 

It had been simple to burn the gown you had worn to the masquerade. The day after the ball, you cut it into sections of fabric, disguised those in baskets of scrap material, and sent all of it to a nearby furnace. Your mask had ended up in the Thames. 

Speaking officially, it was not the time of year when your dress shop was busiest. The late months of winter saw a few requests for dresses and other articles of clothing, but most ladies had already purchased a full wardrobe by the mid-point of the season. Other than the occasional wedding trousseau, you would not see more orders until the weather began to grow warmer. 

However, you found yourself busier than usual in early February because one young lady had worn a dress with a particularly daring neckline to a recent ball. She had been met with censure by mamas in the ballroom, but had received some six proposals the next day. Young ladies and their mothers across the ton were demanding gowns altered to feature a similar neckline.

It was a simple enough alteration to make, but time-consuming with the delicacy of the fabrics. You and your two assistants found yourselves occupied with sewing from sunup until your eyes could no long bear sewing by candlelight in the evening. 

“I cannot stop crying,” Beatrice announced, rubbing at her watering eyes. Lottie reached out without truly looking, preventing Beatrice’s dropped garment from falling to the floor. “How many more dresses need to be altered?” 

“Seventeen,” you answered without counting. The ever-shrinking number had been your sole source of motivation, and yet it was still a terribly large number. 

A stunned silence met your answer. You sighed, lowering the dress you held onto the table you were all sharing. “Finish the dresses you are working on, ladies. After that, you may go home for the evening.” 

“It is but six,” Lottie objected. “And we have seventeen-” 

“I am well aware, trust me,” you interrupted. “We will not finish our orders this evening regardless, and we only risk ruining fabric if we continue to work while our eyes are weary. Finish what you are working on and I will send messages for the remaining fourteen. I will offer them a lower price for a later completion date. We will start work a half hour before dawn tomorrow in hopes of finishing sooner.” 

“Can we afford to accept a lower rate?” Beatrice asked softly. 

The impertinence of the question was excusable with how hard you had all been working, but even more so because you were warmed by her use of ‘we’. The business was yours, but it was wonderful to have two assistants who cared as much as you. 

“We shall be fine,” you assured her, smiling. “Come now, finish that gown. We cannot have you weeping on the fabrics.” 

Beatrice wiped at her streaming eyes, smiled, and bent back to her work. Lottie had been sewing steadily while you spoke and finished setting her stitches first. You examined her work, deemed it perfection, and dismissed her for the evening. Beatrice was not far behind, though you had to stop her from trying to surreptitiously pick up another gown. 

“The work will be here tomorrow morning,” you promised. “Good night. Be safe.”

The gust of winter chill that blasted through the back room of your shop pulled you from the comfort of your seat. You needed to search for the names attached to the gowns that were not finished, then send notices to them. 

It was no easier to write by the trembling candlelight than it had been to sew. You closed your eyes when the notes were finished, stealing a moment to breathe. 

You would never burden them with your worries, but you had not been entirely truthful with Beatrice and Lottie. The shop could survive discounting your rates for the unfinished necklines, but your funds were already low. You needed whatever business you could steal until the spring brought a flurry of orders for light weight dresses. 

The spring inventory had been ready months ago, and you were pleased to see that they were still on-trend. Your store had only to survive until the days grew longer and warmer. It was your responsibility to see that your doors were still open in two months. 

When you felt worry shift toward self-pity, you cut the thoughts short. You gathered your stack of notices and stepped out into the piercingly cold night, waving down a few messenger boys and instructing them where to deliver your notices. 

The cost of the deliveries was unavoidable, yet you felt the weight of your financial struggles bear heavier on your soul as you returned to the warmth of your shop. Perhaps you would attempt to finish another neckline or two before you closed up for the night…

The bell above your door jangled cheerily and the cold of the night rushed in, turning the warmth of your stove to something barely above freezing. You turned, striving for an even tone as you requested, “Please close the door.” 

Your guest did as you asked, turning to pull the door shut against the wind. You took the moment he was facing away as an opportunity to gather yourself.

What Benedict Bridgerton could be doing in your dress shop, you hadn’t the slightest clue, but he did not know your true identity. He could not. 

When he was facing you once more, your expression was politely neutral. “How may I help you, sir?” 

“I- am looking for silks,” Benedict said, his explanation disjointed. “For my sisters, of course. I have been tasked to find someone who can create garments for them. Do you-? Is that a service you provide here?” 

“Yes, sir,” you agreed. “I am no modiste, but I can shape silk garments well enough. Do they need only custom items? I have a selection of pre-made garments ready for sale. Gloves, scarves, bonnets..?” 

“I believe they need custom garments,” he told you, peering at you far more intently than was necessary from the question. “What is your name?” 

You smiled, leaning forward to ask conspiratorially, “Did you not see the sign above the door?”

Benedict looked stunned, then a wide smile broke across his face. “You are the owner?” 

“None other,” you confirmed. Who else would you have named the store after, if not yourself? It had been your labor that brought it into existence, and you had thought it only fair. “It is my greatest accomplishment.” 

“It is very impressive,” he agreed, looking around appreciatively. “Though I believe your greatest accomplishment was fooling a ballroom of people into thinking you a member of the Sharp family.” 

You had expected this, but you had also expected that he would hint about it more subtly. You stared at him in a silence that stretched far too long. “I do not understand.” 

“I recognize you,” Benedict said simply. “You wore a mask, but nothing could disguise the intelligence in your eyes or the strength of your wit. To find that you own a successful business is wonderful, but far from surprising. I expected nothing less of you.” 

The compliments mollified you slightly, gave you hope that he did not intend to drag you into the street to be accused of trespassing or worse. “Why are you here?” 

“We did not finish our conversation.” 

It was a simple answer, but it still made you laugh aloud. “That is true. But what could a Bridgerton care for the opinions of a dressmaker?” 

“Let us forget, for a moment, Bridgertons and ballrooms and social status,” Benedict suggested. “I greatly enjoyed your company when we met. I would like to spend more time with you. Do you feel the same?” 

You could not lie to him: “Yes.” 

He nodded, though he was already smiling again. “Good. That is… good.” 

“I must ask, though…” You lifted your chin, staring him in the eyes. “Precisely what would you like to do in the time you spend with me?” 

Benedict hesitated for only a moment. “Whatever you would like to do together. I will not pretend I do not find you desirable, but I would never push that on you.” 

“Benedict, I am no blushing virgin,” you warned. “I am no whore, but I have known men. Does that bother you?” 

“Not in the slightest,” he said instantly. “I am experienced as well. Why should it bother me that you are not untouched?” 

“The motivations of men are beyond me,” you said with a shrug. 

Benedict smiled at your faux-despairing tone. “On the topic of male motivations, I will state mine plainly: I wish to make you my mistress.” 

You considered the proposition for a moment. It piqued at your pride, though you had no objections to Benedict as a partner. “Why can we not simply enjoy each other without worrying about what we call our dalliance?” 

“I would prefer to have an arrangement between us,” he revealed. With an apologetic look from under his lowered brows, he added, “I fear I might become rather jealous of your time.”

Men, you thought irritably. Why could they not allow something to exist without attempting to own it? “I do not believe-” 

“I would provide you with all of the usual benefits of being a lord’s mistress, of course,” he interjected.

You narrowed your eyes at him. “And let us suppose that I am unfamiliar with the customs surrounding the practice of keeping a mistress. What benefits?” 

“I will rent an apartment for you. I will meet you there,” Benedict explained. “I will provide for your needs - food, clothing, and whatever else you may require to live a comfortable life while you are my mistress.” 

A sudden inspiration overtook you. “I have a counterproposal. I would like you to invest in my shop. It would not be charity, nor would you be purchasing anything untoward, but I would furnish you with a percentage of my profits at the end of each year.” 

Benedict eyed you. “You… want me to support your business. Instead of supporting you?” 

“Yes. I can support myself and, if we decide to form an attachment, you are more than welcome in my home. But this is what I value the most.” 

You gestured around the room. It was warm and cheerful, a candle reflector spreading the light of a long taper. That golden glow lent an intimate illumination to the finished dresses and bolts of fabric around the room. A mirror triptych with a stool in the middle helped you with fitting in the daytime, but after dusk, its reflection served as another light source for the room. 

“This is what I would choose for you to support if we were to be man and mistress.” 

“For a second time, you have sounded uncertain of this,” Benedict pointed out. “If you have doubts about this arrangement, I will not force you into anything.” 

“I simply believe it would be wise for us to see whether we are well-matched in the bedroom before we make commitments of any kind,” you said. 

Benedict’s look of shock was strong, but it melted into a lascivious smile soon enough. “You need not convince me. But first, I should ask… How many investors does your business have?” 

“You are the only one.” You paused. “Or perhaps you were asking about other relationships in my life…” 

“No, I truly was asking about your business,” he hurried to say. “And I am honored that you are allowing me to take part in something of such importance.”

“I have no other lovers,” you clarified, on the chance that was also a concern for him. “Not for a while.” 

“Neither do I,” he murmured, stepping closer to you. “May I kiss you?” 

“Yes.” 

The last sibilant letter had scarcely touched the air when Benedict pressed his lips to yours. One of his hands rose to cradle your jaw while the other cupped heat against the side of your neck. 

His lips were gentle against yours, asking for your acceptance instead of demanding it. You met his kiss softly, but your eagerness shone through the way you leaned closer. In the tightness of your grip against his forearm as you steadied yourself. In the way you were the first to deepen the kiss. 

Benedict made a noise of surprise, but it was clearly not one of displeasure. His hand tightened against your jaw, tilting your head to a better angle. The brush of his tongue against yours was welcomed, and you gave a satisfied sigh even as the furor inside of you raged higher. 

Time passed by as it ever did, yet you both seemed unaffected in the peace of your shop. It seemed a mythical burrow of some magical creature - a warm, quiet hiding place allowing some comfort against the chill pervading the busy street outside. 

When you finally parted, Benedict wore a dazed expression, and you were certain your own face mirrored it. Neither of you spoke immediately. For your part, you were entranced by Benedict’s reddened lips and the quickness of his breath. 

Your voice was low enough to keep the scene intact instead of bursting it like a soap bubble. “I do not believe we need worry about a lack of compatibility.” 

“No,” Benedict agreed, his eyes crinkling with his smile. “How much experimentation do you intend to do tonight?” 

“I would prefer to have a final decision before you leave my shop,” you answered honestly. When he seemed surprised, you hesitated. “If you object, of course, we can plan to meet up another time…” 

Benedict shook his head immediately, the motion strong and certain. You were relieved; the ache that had been building between your legs would have left you very unhappy if it were not sated.

“Forgive me for asking yet again, but I must know that you are certain. I am willing to wait as long as you require-” 

“I am certain,” you interrupted, laughing softly. “I truly am, Benedict. In fact, I am nearing desperation.” 

His eyes went dark. “We cannot allow that. Where should we go?” 

“One moment,” you requested. He waited patiently as you locked the door, then beckoned him toward the back room where you had been working with Beatrice and Lottie. 

The back room was smaller than the main shop, but even warmer. The lack of a large mirror in that space left it slightly dimmer, more intimate with the shadows filling the corners of the room. There were designs hanging on the walls, bearing your theories of what fashions might change between this season and the next. Scraps of fabric overflowed from a basket in one corner. Lottie had sewn together a charming little dog out of some extra fabric one slow day, and he presided over the basket.

“I like this room,” Benedict announced as he followed you in. It did not appear to be false flattery, as he studied every detail he could. He seemed particularly enamored by your designs. “These are quite good. You have a particular talent with lines.” 

You laughed despite yourself. Even before you offered an explanation, Benedict was smiling at you, sharing in your joy. “I should hope so. What is sewing if not a collection of lines?” 

“I believe you are right, though I’ve never considered it before,” Benedict admitted. He reached out to tangle his fingers in yours, tugging you closer with your joined hands. “You must forgive me. I find my interest thoroughly captured by one thing in this room above all else.”

“The patchwork dog,” you guessed. “His name is Scrap. You needn’t be embarrassed; he captures the interest of all.”

You had never before had occasion to be kissed while smiling, but you found it intoxicating. 

It seemed you had only just begun when the kiss began to change into something far more intense. While your previous kiss had been lovely and glimmering with tension, this was filled with intent. You stroked over the muscles of Benedict’s jaw before weaving your fingers through his hair. From there, it was a simple thing to walk him backward until his legs met the edge of your worktable. 

He made a noise of surprise, eyes opening to search yours. You glanced behind him. “The table is full, but I believe we can make good use of that chair.”

Benedict looked back as well, taking in the sight of a dozen neatly written dress tags, an assortment of sewing needs, and a diagram of how to alter the necklines of the gowns you had been working on. His gaze traveled last to the chair you had indicated, excitement flaring in his expression when he faced you once more. 

“I believe we can,” he agreed, voice low and intimate. “Shall we… oof!” 

Shoving a gentleman forcefully into a chair was inelegant. From the surprise on his face, this was the first such encounter Benedict had experienced and you were likely not doing credit to your social class. Unfortunately, you were far too impatient to allow for anything more leisurely. 

You straddled him a moment later, hastily shoving at your skirts to keep from sitting on them. There were far too many layers of fabric between you as it was. 

Benedict recovered quickly from his shock, his hands roaming eagerly over your body as you kissed once more. Your fingers were busy unfastening the row of small buttons holding his waistcoat closed, then worked on the ones fastening the neck of his shirt. You pushed the fabric away the moment you had finished your task, luxuriating in the feel of Benedict’s bare chest. Coarse hair met your fingertips and you kissed him harder as your body realized what was about to happen and responded with a surge of excitement.

“Wait,” Benedict urged, catching your hands in his to still your explorations. “You have yet to lose a single stitch. And, if my sisters are any measure, undressing a lady requires time. We must hurry; I am desperate for you.” 

You considered undressing, but discarded the idea after a single moment. While Benedict was quickly stripped, you were wearing far too many layers to allow for such a thing. At any rate, the air in the shop was cool and exposing yourself to it entirely seemed a poor choice. 

“Allow me to compromise,” you proposed, tugging at the skirt of your dress until you were pressed against the fabric of his breeches. 

Benedict still wore a confused expression, and you took his hand in yours. It took little urging for him to put his hand under your skirt and run his fingers over the cloth covering your mound. When he found the slit in your drawers and his fingertips made contact with your folds, he released a choked gasp. 

“One moment.” 

The next instant, you were were back on your feet. You had no recollection of standing, but Benedict’s hands on your waist told you that he had likely towed you upward. Without you blocking his access, he worked efficiently at the buttons of his breeches, quickly freeing himself from their confines. 

You caught a single glimpse of his cock, rising hard and proud from the puddle of the clothing that he had hastily shoved aside. Your study was cut short when he hauled you back onto his lap. 

“Allow me to ask a final time,” he started. 

“Yes,” you interrupted, kissing him again as you stroked him. The texture of a man was one you found incredible - hot velvet over unimaginable hardness. His tip was leaking liquid, ready to ease the push of him inside of you. From the state of your underclothes, it would be unnecessary, but the response of his body told you that his hesitation stemmed from consideration for you rather than from misgivings of his own. 

There was some amount of fumbling in getting yourselves positioned perfectly. Benedict tore a section of your skirt. You lost your balance twice. He ensnared himself in your drawers while trying to sheathe himself in you. During that last misstep, Benedict treated you to a blistering curse at his own foolishness while you laughed. 

“I vow to you, I am not as clumsy as I appear,” he explained. Embarrassment was not an emotion that seemed to come easily to Benedict, but color had risen in his cheeks. 

“Have you already forgotten our evening spent together?” you asked. “Of the two of us, I was by far the clumsier. Allow me.”

You reached between you, nimbly avoiding both your skirts and his breeches to take him in hand once more. Benedict twitched in your grasp, thrusting helplessly into your palm as you guided the flushed head of him against your entrance. 

If pressed, you likely could have deciphered which of you had moved first. However, in the moment, the magic of you lowering yourself and him arching upward thrust him into you in a long, slow stroke. It felt as if the moment would last forever, and yet you would never tire of feeling him stretching and filling you. 

When you blinked, you were sitting on Benedict’s lap once more, your body working to reconcile itself with the pleasurable invasion. Your chest rose and fell with your quickened breaths, your toes curled against the chill of the floor, and your hands were fisted in the unbuttoned halves of Benedict’s waistcoat. 

“‘S everything well?” Benedict asked. His voice sounded strangled, and you felt less embarrassed by the tremble in your own.

“Yes.” And because of the expressions playing over his expressive face, you returned, “And you?” 

Benedict gave a short laugh. “I believe ‘well’ would be understating the way I currently feel. You are… incredible.”

Heat rose in your face. You had not been complimented for quite some time, especially not in such a blunt way. Still, you sought to brush it away as if you were unaffected by Benedict’s praise. 

“And I believed the flattery would stop when we shared a bed.” 

“Flattery? My lady, I speak only the truth.” Benedict tilted his head back, all the better to stare up at you. “Though you have made a grave error. If this is the only way I can convince you to continue our arrangement, I will do my utmost to win you over.” 

“Then do,” you challenged. 

Benedict grinned, though it went a little slack as you lifted up on your toes to start riding him in earnest. His hands rose to your waist, helping you rise and fall on him in an ever-quickening pace. 

Your panting was loud in the quiet room, drowning out all sound from the street outside. Benedict was breathing heavier as well, matching you as your shared pleasure grew. Occasionally, a sound would escape one of you, spurring the other to repeat what they had done. 

You found that tightening the muscles of your core when you were at the bottom of each stroke drove Benedict wild. He twitched inside of you each time, the muscles of his chest jumping under your palms. For his part, Benedict had discovered that tilting his hips changed the angle at which he reentered you. His constant experimentation kept you from growing accustomed to the sensations of your joining, and each thrust was new and different yet managed to build on all of those that had come before. 

The slow and steady movement of you atop him had increased in pace and grown unsteady with the combination of weary muscles and need. Your thighs were trembling, and Benedict’s guiding hands had shifted to half-lifting you. The desire had grown thick inside of you, solidifying low in your belly as it wound tighter and tighter. The tension could not twist much further before it snapped entirely. 

Benedict’s hand wriggled roughly under your dress once more. It was not subtle - you watched, dazed, as he fought past the layers of skirts and petticoats until he reached you - but you still jolted with shock when his fingers made contact with you. Dextrous fingers parted your damp folds, pressing between them until he could stroke gently over the sensitive button at the top of your slit. 

You jolted again, tipping your head back to release an animalistic cry. That simple touch had snapped the tension entirely, and you were blinded by pleasure. Your body tightened and relaxed around him again and again, your inner muscles working over him even as the rest of your body continued to mindlessly shudder and thrust.

When you at last fell still, your core continued working around Benedict’s length. His hand rose to cup your cheek, and you glanced up to find him watching you with warmth in his eyes. “You are beautiful.” 

You smiled at him, pressing briefly into his hand before gathering your strength. You lifted yourself from his still-hard cock, but did not retreat far. You sat slightly further back on his lap and began working your fist over him. The shine that you had left on him aided your efforts, and you soon found a speed and grip that made Benedict’s breath catch in his throat. 

His hips danced subtly beneath you, working him through your hand until he gasped. Benedict’s hand wrapped around yours, tightening your shared grip as he sank his teeth into his lip and tried to contain a groan. His release burst from him a moment later, thick ropes of milky liquid coating your hands and leaking onto any clothing that had not been pushed far enough away. 

When the tension in Benedict’s grip eased, you followed suit. Some men could not bear to be touched so soon after they had reached completion. It was best to take your cues from your partner until you learned what he liked. 

There was a pensive sort of look in Benedict’s expression as he caught his breath. You reached over and snagged a scrap of fabric from what had been removed from the altered necklines and used it to wipe Benedict’s release from his skin. You took care to be gentle on both his manhood and his hand, then took the same care with your own fingers. 

When you were both clean, you glanced up to find him watching you with a smile playing around his mouth. It was a common expression for him, but you could not help but think it looked lighter than you had ever seen it before. 

“Cleaning us with silken handkerchiefs?” he teased. “What luxury.” 

“I should rather think the son of a lord wipes his bottom with silken handkerchiefs,” you fired back. 

“What an idea!” he said, pretending to consider it. “Perhaps I should suggest that when I return home.” 

You hummed noncommittally. 

Benedict allowed you nearly a full ten seconds of peace before he spoke again. “And? What is your verdict on our compatibility? I believe we are exceptional together.” 

“I believe… we could be very well matched, indeed,” you admitted. You did not hold misgivings about Benedict save that you could already feel your attachment to him growing stronger. When your dalliance ended - and it would - you would be left shattered. 

If only that seemed justification enough not to go through with it. 

“I agree,” Benedict said, leaning forward to capture your lips in another kiss.

---

Author's Note - Thanks for reading! I would feel too weird about having a story so close to canon for me to continue writing this fic, but I can't let it end without explaining that Madame Delacroix is the one who 'helped' Benedict find the reader.

I never do this, but I've gotten a good response from this fic, and I feel a little guilty because this is very much not my typical subject matter. If you like my writing and want to read more stories of this nature, you might enjoy Captured, which is written like an old pirate-themed bodice ripper. Or Dreams, which is similar to this in descriptions and certain themes, but is more supernatural. Both of the stories I've listed are a little darker than this one. I also have two Hobbit fics (A Boon and Dexterity - featuring Thranduil and Thorin, respectively) which have some Regency-ish manners and themes, but with a fantasy tilt. As always, check the warnings to see whether it's something you want to read.

Thank you for reading! I appreciate the kind words about yesterday's chapter. They really made me smile!

[666writingcafe]

The Bookstore

Content Warning: anxiety attack x Satan

"I have to say, I really like this bookstore," Satan tells me softly. "It's so quiet and peaceful in here, and they have a really large selection of books."

"I've always been drawn to this one," I reply. "It feels more cozy than a traditional store. Sadly, I've had to limit the amount of time I spend in here, because otherwise I'd go into debt from spending all my money on books."

"Does your employer not pay you enough?" I sigh.

"I mean, I have enough to cover bills and other necessities. I just try to have some money saved up in case of an emergency."

"I see." Satan pauses long enough to clear his throat. "So, um, it's been a while since I've read anything from the human world, and I was wondering if you had any recommendations."

"Define 'a while'." He glances down at the ground, a slight blush developing on his cheeks.

"Shakespeare..." Honestly, that sounds about right. I figured it must have been a few centuries ago.

"Comedy or tragedy?"

"It was a comedy, I think. Much Ado About Nothing? I liked the dynamic between the two main characters. Benedict and Beatrice." Perfect.

"Follow me."

~~~

In the end, we've settled on ten books: The Importance of Being Earnest, Pride and Prejudice, Jane Eyre, Great Expectations, The Mysteries of Udolpho, The Castle of Otranto, Frankenstein, Dracula, Interview with the Vampire, and A Clockwork Orange.

There's a lot more that I think Satan would enjoy, but I don't want to overwhelm him. Knowing him, he'll have these ten books finished in a couple of months--and be able to talk intelligently about them.

"Hey, do you remember which way we came from?" Satan asks. "I want to say it was from the right..." He stops mid-sentence. "Wait, no. Maybe it was the left?" He's getting anxious. I can tell.

"Take a deep breath and try to relax," I instruct. "If we stick together, we'll find our way out." He doesn't seem to hear me.

How could he? He's having an attack.

He doesn't allow many people to see him like this, not even his brothers. The only exception is Asmo, although Lucifer does know about them.

It's not like Satan wanted me to witness him in this state, either. I merely stumbled into the situation the first time.

What makes his attacks different than, let's say, a human's, is that his anxiety is quite prone to becoming anger, and considering that he's the literal Avatar of Wrath...

Not even the amount of money Diavolo gave me would be enough to cover a damaged bookstore.

I set my stack of books down before grabbing his from him and putting it next to mine. Then, I gently guide him to sit next to me on the floor.

"Count or touch?" I ask him. Sometimes, he's able to handle external sensations when he's in this state, but other times he doesn't want to be near anything that can even remotely brush up against him.

Silently, he scooches closer to me.

"Are you sure?" He nods his head, and I wrap my arm around him. I don't mind that he's currently not talking. That means that he still has some control over his emotions.

After a few moments, Satan sighs.

"If only I could have you this close all the time," he murmurs. "You have a soothing heartbeat."

[grellsutcliffsworld]

British victorian era generator ! :D

Your month of birth:

January: Prince/Princess

February: Baron/Baroness

March: Marquis/Marquise

April: Earl/Countess

May: Butler/Maid

June: Duke/Duchess

July: Homless boy/girl

August: Salesman/woman

September: King/Queen

October: Joker

November: Prostitute

December: Farmer/worker

First letter of your first name:

A: Arthur/Alice

B: Benedict/Beatrice

C: Charles/Cordelia

D: David/Dorothea

E: Elijah/Evelyn

F: Francis/Fiona

G: George/Gwen

H: Humphrey/Helena

I: Isaiah/Iris

J: John/Juliette

K: Kyrie/Kelvin

L: Luther/Lucille

M: Marcus/Muriel

N: Neville/Novalynn

O: Oscar/Ophelia

P: Pascal/Penelope

Q: Qasim/Quintessa

R: Randall/Rosemary

S: Samuel/Sophia

T: Theodore/Theodosia

U: Uriah/Urith

V: Vincent/Victoria

W: William/Willow

X: Xerxes/Xenia

Y: Yoel/Yolanda

Z: Zander/Zipporah

Last letter of your last name:

A: Addams

B: Berrycloth

C: Chapman

D: Dankworth

E: Edwards

F: Featherswallow

G: Graham

H: Hughes

I: Insworthy

J: Jones

K: Knight

L: Lawrence

M: Matthews

N: Naiswell

O: Osborne

P: Palmer

Q: Quintrell

R: Ratcliff

S: Stewart

T: Taylor

U: Underhill

V: Villin

W: White

X: Xavier

Y: Yates

Z: Zachary

Your favorite color:

White: Death by suicide

Yellow: Poisoned by an secret admirer

Orange: Burned alive as a witch

Brown: Stumbled into horseshit face first, while being drunk and suffocated

Red: Killed by Jack the Ripper

Purple: Ran over by a carriage

Blue: Fell of a great height

Green: Ripped apart by a grizzly bear

Grey: Died peacefully in their sleep

Black: Killed by the pest

Comment bellow what you got and tag at least three people >:D

@ctitan98

@lacelynpage

@we-r-loonies

[shoot-me-now-or-shoot-me-later92]

• “Much Ado About Everything”•

Summary: London current days. You finally decide to start a basic acting class as hobby, you would never believe where this experience will lead you and especially the luck will bring you in the near future. Both in your career and love. But life isn’t all puppy dogs and rainbows…

Relationship: Pedro Pascal x (f) reader (y/n)

Warning: None for this chapter, maybe some cursing.

Tags: cursing, mention to anxiety.

Words count: 1,330

Notes: This is the first time I’m writing after almost 15 years. I’m sorry for any error or mistake, English is not my first language. I was inspired by something that is actually happening to me adding a bit of fantasy. I hope you’ll enjoy it! :)

~ Chapter one ~

You couldn’t believe this was happening. “Just luck” you thought staring blankly to nothing.

Last year you forced yourself to do something for you, something to enjoy and entertain yourself: signing up to acting classes. You always loved cinema, the core of it, how movies were made, scripts, pre and postproduction and you always had an interest in acting but you never believed you could be any good. This time, something changed: “It will be just as a hobby. I’ll meet new people, hopefully make some good friends and sharing the same interests!”. So you did. The course went by quickly, you moved from basic to intermediate, from character building to stage techniques.

You were loving it!

At the end of the year, your teacher organised and prepared all the students to stage a play:

“Much Ado About Nothing by William Shakespear.”

You were Beatrice who falls in love with Benedict.

On the same day of the premiere, Marcus, your teacher spoke to all of you with good news:

“I took a step forward and I have invited few friends from the industry to come and see the play.

I know you were expecting something more intimate and low key, but one of them is a talent scout and one... a Hollywood actor.”

The tension in the room spiked up and you all started chatting and trembling with anxiety.

“Alright alright, calm down! I didn’t want to tell you and spoil the surprise! I thought you were going to be excited; I didn’t think I was going to cause destress! Just enjoy the evening, don’t think about anything I said, do everything you did during the rehearsal and especially… HAVE FUN!”

Your friend Martha started whispering to you “Who do you think the actor is?” “I don’t know, I don’t want to even think about it, or I’ll freak out. Plus, if I have to be entirely honest, I don’t care about the actor but more about the talent scout. If this person is here I guess they are looking for someone for a minor part or something like that!” You said while creaking your fingers.

The play was a success and all of you seemed to have forgotten what Marcus said at the beginning.

The theatre was small and there were probably around 100 people among friends and family.

You were all happy and satisfied with how it went, especially Marcus.

All of you rushed to the backstage hugging, laughing, screaming, releasing all the tension tat was built up for months! Marcus entered the room and behind him two people following him. He joined the hug and congratulated each of you.

“I can’t express enough how happy I am with how this evening went! Everything was perfect: except for you David farting on stage during the scene!” everyone laughed. “Hey! That was intentional! It was to break the silence and save the moment!” David said ironically.

But it was true, you were not that happy because the silence during the scene was caused by you forgetting the line. You panicked, but David “gas release” gave you the time to look at Marcus to give you the line while the audience was laughing.

“Yeah… sorry guys!” you said crossing your arms and looking at your feet.

“Don’t be silly Y/N! It could have happened to anyone; the most important thing is that we found a way to improvise and save the moment as a team… even though it was David’s fart!” Martha said squeezing your shoulders. You laughed but It didn’t make you feel better though.

“It’s not like you fell, broke a rib and had to continue acting like nothing happened while in total and visible pain! Believe me, that is the worse, talking from experience.” It was the voice of one of the two people behind Marcus. None of you really paid attention when they entered the room behind him, you were all too excited, but in that exact moment you all looked at where the voice was coming from and there he was: Pedro Pascal.

Jaw dropped and eyes out of the orbit. You all knew him of course, but none of you could believe he was there, I mean, a shitty play from a minor theatre company. Marcus must have had very good friends in the past.

Pedro winked and smiled at you to make you feel better. You were out of words. “So don’t think about it, no one noticed it, you were great!” he added, and you blushed. “You were all great guys! Qudos to all of you!” he said looking at everyone to break your clear embarrassment to the compliment.

“Guys, this is Lynda Erkiletian, she is a talent scout looking for new faces for an upcoming project. And of course… I guess he doesn’t need an introduction: Mr Pedro Pascal, my dear friend from NYU.”

Everyone thanked and approached Lynda and Pedro sharing compliments and questions. The night ended going out to a pub till. You were all impressed by how Lynda and Pedro were so easy going and approachable. You went back home drunk, lying on your bed with a big smile and thinking what an incredible experience you just had.

The next morning you woke up in complete hangover and with a mix feeling of happiness and sadness for realising that the course ended, and that the experience was already just a memory. Back to reality, it was Sunday and from tomorrow you were starting over your boring office job.

You filled your mug with some hot strong coffee and you sat on the kitchen chair contemplating the absolute nothing. Zooming out, you were remembering every bit of last night with a smile and absent eyes.

The moment was interrupted by your phone buzzing. You look at the screen: It was Marcus.

You answered with a cracked voice: “Hello teacher!” “Hello my dear, how’s this morning going? From how much you drank last night and your voice I bet you are in pain!” laughing.

“Jesus Christ Marcus, keep it down, my head is exploding!” you said placing your hand on your forehead.

“Well, if your head is exploding now, wait until I give you the news… you’ll be bloooown”

“What’s that? What did I do? What happened, SPEAK YOU DEVIL!” you never liked being left with anticipation and guessing.

“Let’s just say that you gave a very good impression to Lydia and Pedro last night..” you could hear his smirk over the phone.

“What you mean? They barely spoke to me after the play.” You were confused as they spent the night talking to Martha and David thinking that they were the “chosen ones”.

“True, but apparently it was done on purpose as they kept an eye on you during and after the play to see what kind of person you are without giving a hint or pressuring it.”

“Shut up.” You said. “What?!” Marcus replied. “I was drunk, a fucking idiot, Marcus! I thought they were into Martha and David so I didn’t bother at all!”

“Well… I guess that’s what they were looking for and they liked you for who you truly were last night!” he said, and you couldn’t think of anything to say, your mind was already spinning and your heart racing.

“Anyway, before you start throwing up, they want to meet you for dinner tonight and Lydia wants to talk about a small part in a movie with Pedro, if you are interested. I’ll be there with you, don’t worry. I’ll give you the lines if you freeze again!” he laughed.

You couldn’t believe that was happening. How could it be? You?! You never took this course seriously; it was just a hobby. Yes you liked it very much but you never thought it could become anything else than just a nice experience.

“Just luck” you thought hanging up on Marcus after a quick “ok”, leaving your phone on the table you kept staring at nothing.

In shock.

A lucky shocking moment.

[undeath1245]

The disassembly drones' former names

I figured that I would share this headcanon with all of you sooner or later. You know each of the disassembly drones’ serial designations? Well, what if their letters were based off their former names back when they were worker drones? And I’m not talking about the first letter of their names. I’m talking about the name of the letter in each of their names. For example, N’s former name was probably either Kenneth, Bennett, or Leonard, and V’s former name probably either Venus, Vivian, or Genevieve. J’s former name was probably either Jamie or Jane, the latter of which I was initially going for Mary Jane (yes, the same name as the famous supporting character from Spider-Man). I’m unsure about CYN or Cynthia, though, largely because that she probably died long before the events of the series that she wasn’t converted into a disassembly drone. Besides, for all we know, she was going on a crazy, murderous rampage that she had to be put down. And if she was converted into a disassembly drone, her designation might be either C from the first letter of her name or T from a phonetic of her name (Cynthia).

The former names should go as followed:

A – Ada, Eva, Avery, Abraham, Adrian

B – Beatrice, Bianca, Phoebe; Sabine

C – Caesar, Cecil, Casey

D – Diesel, Delia, Deanna, Heidi, Nadine

E – Edith, Eden, Elaine, Ian

F – Efrem, Jeffrey, Stephanie

G – Giovanni, Georgina, Regina, Eugene

H – Rachel, Horatio

I – Isaac, Ivan, Isaiah, Ivy, Iris

J – Jane, Jamie, Jayden

K – Katie, Kayla, Casey

L – Eleanor, Elliot, Elias, Elvis, Elmer; Bella, Angelica, Melanie, Danielle, Michelle; Denzel

M – Emma, Emerald, Emmett, Emmerich, Clementine

N – Kenneth, Bennett, Benedict, Leonard, Henry

O – Ophelia, Olivia, Odette, Opal

P – Peter, Penelope

Q – Cueball, Queue

R – Archie, Armand, Charles, Harley

S – Essence, Estelle, Esther, Jessica, Lester, Marquess

T –  Christina, Valentina, Misty

U – Ulysses, Unity, Eunice, Eustace

V – Venus, Vivian, Genevieve

W – Winston, Wilson

X – Xavier, Rex, Alexander

Y – Wyatt, Wyvern, Wyoming

Z – Ezekiel, Lindsay, Suzie

I also want to share that I used to have a theory that J, N, and V used to be regular secretary drones before being converted into disassembly drones, as well as my former headcanon that N used to be friends with his assigned human coworker.

Anyway, that’s all I have for this headcanon for now. This might be re-edited soon, but if you’d like to add in some additions, feel free to do so in the replies and reblogs. You can use this list as an outline for your OCs if you want. And I’ll see you all next time.

P.S. If Uzi were to transform into a disassembly drone, should her designation be either U or Z?

[lovelyllamasblog]

Just some random EAH AUs I made for fun 😉

Fairytale Maker F/F

Fairytale Maker Duet

Princess Charming and the Daughter of Snow White

Prince Charming and the Daughter of Beauty and the Beast

The Daughter of Goldilocks meets the Royal Vizier’s son

(last one is for @sayuricorner​, who has gotten me hooked on Jamil x Blondie.) 

She wonders into the woods and somehow ends up in a desert kingdom. There she meets the Prince (Kalim) and his childhood friend (Jamil), who is the son of the Royal Vizier, who agree to help her find a way to home. They have pleasant talks and often argue, but in a fun and friendly kind of way (think Benedict and Beatrice from Shakespeare’s Much Ado About Nothing). Eventually, they have found a way for her to go home, and she has to choose whether to stay or go.

[rillabrooke]

i was tagged by @dangerously-human - ty darling!

three ships —

beatrice x benedict

mary crawley x matthew crawley (i forgot they're distant cousins)

margaret hale x john thornton

first ship —

anne shirley x gilbert blythe (i think? it's been a hot minute)

last song —

10 préludes, op. 23: v: alla marcia in g minor - rachmaninoff

last movie —

casablanca (1942)

currently reading —

dracula - bram stoker

a tale of two cities - charles dickens (rereading)

currently watching —

nothing currently but i'm looking to rewatch the bear pretty soon

last thing I wrote —

i haven't truly written in months :') so the last thing i wrote was a short essay for my education class this morning (i.e. a lot of hot air). boring and not worth posting.

current obsession —

i will sing a tale of two cities from the rooftops!!!!! i'm so behind in my read-through but that's a-okay cuz i'm enjoying the heck out of it anyway. sticky notes and annotations bring me much joy.

the bear. oh my gosh. i haven't posted/rbed much, but i honestly don't have the emotional capacity to sort through the tag rn. carmy and sydney and rest are always rotating in my head like a pig on a spit though.

tagging (with no pressure) @bluebellwren @fairytale-lights @perhaps-mr-collins-has-a-cousin

[unfortunate-arrow]

arrow | she/her | isfp | hobby writer | a menagerie of ocs 

General Tags

⤷ my writing • my aesthetics • my character profiles • aesthetic trades • my edits

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Feel free to block any tag. I try my best to tag things appropriately. Please be respectful, though.

general disclaimer: expect spoilers for both the books and the show amongst all of my bridgerton tags. my next gen ‘verse involves like 90% book canon and 10% of show canon (aka book canon supersedes show canon). auggie basset & ernest livingston are only in a modern au.

𝓛𝓪𝓭𝔂 𝓥𝓲𝓸𝓵𝓮𝓽 𝓑𝓻𝓲𝓭𝓰𝓮𝓻𝓽𝓸𝓷’𝓼 𝓖𝓻𝓪𝓷𝓭𝓬𝓱𝓲𝓵𝓭𝓻𝓮𝓷

⤷ Edmund, Miles, Charlotte, and Mary Bridgerton

⤷ Charles, Alexander, William, and Violet Bridgerton

⤷ Agatha, Thomas, Jane, and George (“Georgie”) Bridgerton

⤷ Amelia, Auggie, Belinda, Caroline, David, and Edward Basset

⤷ Amanda, Oliver, Penelope, Georgiana, and Frederick Crane

⤷ John and Janet Stirling

⤷ Katharine, Richard, Hermione, Daphne, Anthony (“Ant”), Benedict (“Ben”), Colin, Eloise, and Francesca (“Frannie”) Bridgerton

⤷ George and Isabella St. Clair

Tags: #bridgerton next gen | #bridgerton next generation

𝓜𝔂 𝓞𝓒𝓼

⤷ Juliet Knight, Grace Hill, Rupert Townshend, and Arthur Townshend

⤷ Helena “Nell” Shepherd, Emma Rutledge, Róisín O’Connolly, and Jonathan “Jack” Fullerton

⤷ Stephen Ridlington, Eleanor Dane, Morgan Howell, and Olivia Sharpe

⤷ Ernest Livingston, Phoebe Wycliff, and Molly Campbell

⤷ Alice Linfield, Christopher “Kit” Barrington, Leopold “Leo” Wivenly, and Beatrice Winslow

⤷ Adeline Meadows and Samuel Prentice

⤷ Gabriel “Gabe” Montgomery, Elizabeth Winslow, Neil Pemberton, Timothy MacMillan, Felicity Holroyd, Vivian Marsh, Evangeline “Evie” Wright, Adam Howe, and Nathaniel Moore

⤷ Lilliana Steele and Patrick O’Donovan

Tags: #bridgerton next gen oc | #bridgerton oc

𝓢𝓷𝓪𝓹𝓼𝓱𝓸𝓽𝓼 𝓲𝓷 𝓛𝓸𝓿𝓮: 𝓐 𝓜𝓪𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓹𝓸𝓼𝓽 (coming soon…)

general disclaimer: do not support or agree with jkr’s views or actions, but not here to explicitly discuss my personal or political views. canon storylines are utilized mostly for the hphm ocs.

OC x OC Relationships: HL & VE | HM | MA & NG | Misc.

𝐇𝐨𝐠𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬 𝐋𝐞𝐠𝐚𝐜𝐲 𝐄𝐫𝐚

Orla O’Rourke | profile

Cillian Lynch | profile

Tadhg Lynch | profile

Niamh Kelly | profile

Vincent Fitzroy | profile (wip)

Brianna O’Rourke | profile

Fankids (wip)

Tag: #hphl

𝐕𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧 𝐄𝐫𝐚

Maxwell “Max” Pembroke | profile

Georgie Parsons | profile

Edmund Kennedy | profile

Minerva Kennedy | profile

Simon Battersea | profile

William Devlin | profile

Fankids (wip)

Tag: #hp victorian era

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝 𝐖𝐚𝐫 𝟏 𝐄𝐫𝐚

Ophelia Lovell | profile (wip)

Linus Sullivan | profile

Colm O’Shea | profile

Minor OCs → Eugene Lovell • Ralph Myers (wip)

Fankids (wip)

Tags: #hp wwi era | #hp ww1 era | #hp ww1 verse

𝐅𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜 𝐁𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐬 𝐄𝐫𝐚

Rory O’Neill | profile

Aisling Lynch | profile

Fankids (wip)

Tags: #fbawtft oc | #fbawtft era

𝐇𝐨𝐠𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬 𝐌𝐲𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐄𝐫𝐚

Ruth Rosen | profile

Ryan O’Donnell | profile

Cara O’Donnell | profile

Sara O’Donnell | profile

Conor O’Donnell | profile

Minor OCs → Cian Jacob O’Donnell (wip)

Fankids (wip)

Tags: #hphm | #hogwarts mystery

𝐀𝐜𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐬 𝐄𝐫𝐚𝐬

Oscar Lynch | profile (wip)

Nicholas Wraxall | profile (wip)

Fankids (wip)

Tags: #hp professor oc | #hp marauders era oc

𝐌𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐜 𝐀𝐰𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐄𝐫𝐚

Finn MacKade | profile

Nate MacKade | profile

Jack Whitten | profile

Thea Whitten | profile

Minor OCs → Paddy MacKade • Owen MacKade (wip)

Fankids (wip)

Tags: #hpma | #magic awakened

𝐍𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐄𝐫𝐚

Sophie Power | profile (wip)

Luke Battersea | profile

Declan O’Donnell-Lee | profile

Jude Cozens | profile (wip)

Fankids (wip)

Tags: #hp next gen | #hp next gen oc

𝓑𝓻𝓲𝓭𝓰𝓮𝓻𝓽𝓸𝓷

In Which William Bridgerton Is Born Prematurely

I’d Still Dance with You

To See My Son Become a Father

You Belong Somewhere You Feel Free

You Must Know You Are Beloved

The Aftermath

Bridgerton Writing Requests (closed)

𝐇𝐏 𝐎𝐂 𝐖𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐬

HP 12 Months of Magic (2023) one-shots

30 Day (2020) OTP Challenge

Valentine’s Day 2022 Challenge

Spring Break 2022 Challenge

Summer Break 2022 Challenge

Back to School 2022

[loversatthegreatdivide]

Heavy Lies the Heart - Chapter 8

Masterlist

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x F!OC Word Count: 2k Tropes: mutual pining, fluff, angst with a happy ending, royalty Warnings: death Summary: When two second-borns looking for direction meet by chance, can they find purpose in each other? Or will circumstances keep them apart? A/N: I'm going to be real with you guys--this chapter was just for me. It's disgusting, cheesy, romantic nonsense and I absolutely love it. I hope you do too. :)

Writing an amateur poet's love letter was so ridiculous and fun, but I also may have f'ed myself up a little bit. Save me pathetic, handsome, unabashedly romantic gentleman who respects me as a human being with deep thoughts and valued feelings but also compares my eyes to flaked amber in the sunlight and treats me gently like a beautiful flower laid softly on the shrine of a solitary goddess...you're my only hope.

My dearest Beatrice,

These nights we have spent apart have been perhaps the longest of my life.

I had not realized just how completely you had made yourself at home in my heart until you were no longer here with me. I look to the space you have carved in my soul, and I find it empty. You have gone, and taken a piece of me with you.

At night I sit in the windowsill searching the streets below, desperate to see any sign of you waiting there for me. I pray for just a glimpse of your shrouded form, bathed in the silver light of the moon. As I wait, I know I would have forever been happy to be your Leander, swimming across the sea each night, guided by your light.

I have found my days as listless as my nights, waiting to hear any mention of your name. I dread what news time may bring, yet cannot stop myself from wishing the hours to pass as minutes. Time may yet be my enemy, but it still remains the one bridge that leads me to you.

I hope you are well my darling. I see an image of you sat alone with your worries, and it haunts my every thought. I hope to find some relief in the knowledge that my family will be with you soon, even if I cannot be. I hope your brief time with them will bring some measure of comfort to you, as they have comforted me.

When my mother and sisters return, I pray they bring good news. But know that no matter what, my feelings will not waiver. I am willing to stand steadfast against any tide we may yet face, so long as it is your wish to stand alongside me.

I worry now that perhaps my lack of interest in the movements of the aristocracy may have translated poorly. You must know that my distaste for their grandstanding, their rigid adherence to proprietary, and their many pointless rules means nothing in the face of my feelings for you. So now I shall be clear, so that there can be no misunderstandings between us.

I love you Beatrice. I will love you for as long as you will have me, and then one hundred lifetimes more.

Yours eternally,

Benedict

---

Beatrice sat in her nightdress, curled up in the armchair nearest the windows of her room. She clutched Benedict's letter close to her chest as she gazed out across the moonlit garden. It looked so similar to the place where she and Benedict had first met. It was not so long ago, yet it felt like a lifetime had past since then.

She turned her attention back to the letter. In the dim candlelight it was difficult to make out his flourished words, but that hardly mattered. Beatrice had read it so many times already that she could all but recite it word for word. She ran her fingers over the last line, smiling as she thought of the man that had written it.

I love you.

She wrapped her arms around her legs, pressing her forehead io her knees as she blushed. She could hardly contain the emotions that threatened to burst forth from her chest. Even having read it dozens of times, she could hardly believe it was real. And so she read it once more, then again, only to make sure she was not dreaming.

The feelings between them had always been clear. She did not need words to know Benedict cared for her. But to have it articulated so beautifully? To have him decalre it so boldly? That was a different thing entirely. Perhaps it was best then that it was written and not spoken. If she had heard it first from his lips, she surely would have perished in an instant--her heart too overcome with feeling to possibly be contained.

Her letter expressed her worries and her desires. Now she almost felt foolish thinking of the words she had written, having believed his choice rushed. And perhaps, regretted. Still, they needed to be said all the same, and now she could rest soundly knowing she had not in some way entrapped him in a life he did not want.

She prayed they would be allowed to see each other soon, but resolved herself to do whatever she must if she was not. She would see him again, no matter what.

She sighed, taking one last look out into the night before readying herself for bed.

As she laid in the dark, Benedict's letter tucked safely under her pilllow, she smiled to herself. She drifted off to sleep, knowing she would have sweet dreams.

---

My Dearest Benedict,

I hope this letter finds you in comfort and good health.

I have wished desperately to visit you these past nights. I have longed to be near you, to see your face and to hear your voice. The thought of never seeing you again forever stalks my every days and nights.

We spoke so little about my deception before we were forced to part. I know you have assured me all is well, but even so I must beg your forgiveness just once more. It was a crime committed completely for my own selfish desires, and I made you my unwitting accomplice.

And while I cannot in good conscious condone my actions, nor can I condemn them. For if I had been honest from the start, I believe we would never have been able to grow to know each other so well. For that time we spent free of society's eyes and expectations, I will apologize, I will accept the consequences, but I will never regret.

I know you must be worried for what is to come. The truth of it is I do not know myself. There are many possibilities, all reliant on many choices made by many people who care very little for the hearts involved. Ultimately, it comes down to this: Will I be permitted to see you again and if so, will you wish to see me?

I have not forgotten what you said as we danced. That you were willing to openly pursue me in spite of my title and any trouble that may follow. I was glad to hear you say so, gladder still for you to show your resolve and declare your intentions to all with every dance we shared. But I ever worry I have put you in a difficult situation, where you made a choice in the heat and haste of a moment, and now feel you must continue to honor your word and protect my feelings.

It is the knowing you care for me, but yet surely not wanting the burdens that I will place upon you, that haunts me so. That you may one day wake to a feeling of resentment towards me for your confinement, and wish in vain for release. I know you to be a free soul my dearest, and you do not belong shakled to a crown. And so I wish to be clear that I would never disparage you, even if it should be that you choose to place your freedom first.

But if this is to be the time I lay bare all my truths, I shall do so in full and know for certain I have said all I wished to. Then, regardless of what outcome the future holds, I can live contented by the knowledge that I have spoken every wish that lives in my heart.

I love you, Benedict. I have loved you since the night we met, and I will continue loving you every night and every day that follows for the rest of our lives and beyond. Whatever choice is made, regardless of who makes it, know that my feelings for you will never change.

And while it is so that I would never blame you for chosing to live your life a free man, the truth is I desperately ache for you to instead choose to spend it locked away with me. Together in a prison made for two, with no direction or purpose other than to be forever by each other's side.

I find I am only filled with such selfish thoughts when I am with you, and so it is with such selfishness that I reveal my deepest wish. I want nothing more than to spend the rest of my life with you, my love, forever and always until the day we die.

Yours always,

Beatrice

---

Benedict sat on the windowsill, reading over the letter held tightly in his hands.

While in his own letter he had chosen to make his feelings know beyond all doubt, he had not expected Beatrice would do the same. It is not that he questioned her love for him, but even so it made it no less of a shock to see it written so bodly in her own hand.

Benedict had of course been certain she shared his feelings, but Beatiece was by nature more reserved than others. Certainly more than he had ever been. Her feelings had never been uncertain, but even when they were alone it was clear that she held herself back.

Not that he minded, of course. He found her shyness enduring, and never considered her in any way insincere. Quite the opposite; he truly thought her to be the most genuine person he had ever met.

So it was not a surprise that Beatrice felt she had to be so forthcoming with her concerns for him.

That she had been so worried for him in spite of her own feelings was an unwelcome revelation. Benedict had never wanted her to feel pain over any aspect of their relationship. And that she knew his choice, but still wished to convey he was not bound by to it made his heart ache. He felt it all the more when he considered that she did so in direct opposition to her own feelings, all for his sake.

But then she had followed it all with such a bold declaration of her love. Whatever pain he held was lessened considerably by her uncharacteristicly assertive words. Despite her feelings of guilt for her actions and the weight she believed she had placed upon him, she still chose to make her wishes known.

Beatrice loved him, and she had made it clear she wanted his love in return.

Benedict was soothed then in the knowledge that she had received his letter. Whatever worry she had about his choice were surely dispelled the moment she read it. There could now be no doubt between them that they both desired the same thing.

He only hoped this separation would end soon, so that he might show her the depths of his resolve.

He loved her, and she loved him. Regardless of what choice was made by others, he had already made his decision.

Benedict smiled as he folded the letter gently, sliding it back into the safety of its envelope. He prayed, as always, that tomorrow would be the day he received the news he so desperately longed to hear. But if he must continue waiting for a word that he could see her again, he would do so safe in the knowledge that Beatrice now knew his true feelings. And that wherever she was, she was waiting for him too.

----------

Tags: @empressnatsume @sarahskywalker-amidala @may-and-lay @asterizee @g4ns3y @bubblegumcat229 @mhmoony @mmmunson @iamcailin08 @mads198-9