#but well never a dull moment with this gentleman here | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

rendy-a · 5 months

Text

Here it is! The winner of the reverse trope poll: Accidentially kidnapping a mafia boss! I had a lot of fun writing it and hope you enjoy it as well!

An Accidental Deal

'Think of the puppies and kittens,' you tell yourself sternly. You stand outside of Ramshackle Shelter and try to psych yourself up for this confrontation. Countless affirmations run through your head. You can do this! The question still remains in your head; when they arrive, will you be able to do it?

The news has been tremendously shocking to all the volunteers: Ramshackle Shelter was all but sold to an entrepreneur to build a branch of a popular ocean-themed cafe. You'd heard of Mostro Lounge but never dared go to such a place. Not because the cafe wasn't nice sounding, no, it was due to the owner. It was an open secret among the residents of your city that the sly restaurateur Azul Ashengrotto was, in fact, mafia boss Don Azul. And now that scummy bastard was this close to shutting down your shelter.

You'd protested at city hall to block the zoning (failure), written to the paper to get the community to object (failure) and tried to raise funds to buy the place yourself (failure). Now, you were down to extreme measures only. So, this was it; you were really going to kidnap someone. You pat the pocket of your jacket where you have a cloth soaked in chemicals to knock someone out. Just one small thing stands in your way, abject fear.

Don Azul was terrifying. You'd expected an aura of danger and power, but when you saw the teal-haired gentleman step from the limo and adjust his hat, you realized you'd grossly underestimated him. He looks like he could bite your arm off... and would probably enjoy it. By contrast, the silver-haired fellow who emerges next in plain shirt sleeves seems far more kidnappable. 'Why can't you be Don Azul?' you think sadly. You watch from your alley hiding spot as the formidable Don and his secretary(?) head inside to inspect the building.

You hurriedly cross the street and slip into the side entrance. You had all the access codes from your years of volunteering, so it was easy for you to navigate the halls quietly and arrive behind the little inspection party. The two men were talking, and the secretary was gesturing in a way that made you feel like they were discussing how to set up the space. After they threw you and the animals out. You grit your teeth and scowl silently at the figure of Don Azul and pat your pocket again; he'd get what was coming to him soon enough.

Then, in a moment that takes your breath away, Don Azul looks up and into a mirror on the wall. For a moment, you think you meet his mis-matched eyes. You feel your heartbeat race as you enter panic mode. Then the Don sneezes, which breaks the illusion. You back your way down the hall and into a storeroom. Maybe you couldn't do this after all. There was no way you could face down that man when you couldn't even stand to meet his gaze.

You need a Plan B. Fast. The adrenaline causes you to shake and you rest your shivering form against a wall to think. What can you still do in this moment? You tap your pocket with the cloth, all set up to abduct someone. Well, that's a waste. Or was it? Your mind strays from the intimidating Don Azul to his companion, the secretary. Was a mafia secretary worth anything as a hostage? You consider the possibility that he might know a great deal of Don Azul's secrets. Maybe that was enough to negotiate for them to leave this place alone?

You hear barking from beyond the hall and guess they've opened the door leading to the dog kennels. In this moment you are decided; for the animals, you can do this. You were kidnapping that little secretary of Don Azul’s. The barking intensifies and then fades to a dull drum. You figure they've gone in back and closed the separating door. It's the perfect time for you to get into some sort of position out front for an ambush. You creep into the entrance room and jump back when you nearly bump into Mr. Secretary. He seems as surprised to see you as you are to see him. His light blue eyes flicker to the door where the frightening Don had disappeared.

"Didn't go in with the boss?" you mutter softly. "The boss?" he questions quietly before his eyes return to the door, and he puts it together. "Ah, yes. I'm sensitive to the dirty, ah, I mean, delightful animals." You scowl at him, "They aren't dirty. And they are a lot more charming than you." The mild man gives a shrug of his eyebrows as though to say, ‘If you say so.’ He seems tired as he sighs heavily and gives you a once over. You’d guess he’s done this any number of times while by the Don’s side. He is experienced and appears to have sized you up in one simple glance. “I take it you were affiliated with the location’s prior business?” This rubs you the wrong way and you whisper shout back, “Its not ‘the location,’ its Ramshackle Shelter and I’m not so sure it’s a prior business either! I’ve got some points to talk over with your boss!”

The man gives you a pitying smirk and another sizing glance. You appear to have been found wanting as he replies, “Is that so?” in a condescending tone. You frown hard, both angry and embarrassed at the interaction. “Anyway, it’s not up to you. I’m not here to make deals with some nobody secretary,” you tell him mockingly. His eyes widen for a moment and then you see the visible effort he makes to hold in his laughter. Ok, this has gone on far enough. Plus, you need to make sure you leave before the evil Don returns. You approach him in what you hope is a decent appearance of menace, “You better just come along quietly.” Finally, he appears to take you seriously as you see his chest expand to take in a large breath before a shout. Unfortunately for Mr. Secretary, you prove faster and thrust the cloth from your pocket over his mouth before he can sound the alarm.

It works like a charm and the small man is very easily knocked out. You run to the storage room and drag out a flat-bed cart used to haul animal kennels back and forth between the entry and back. On the cart is a large and empty kennel big enough to hold a great dane, so you figure one skinny secretary will fit pretty well too. Except, passed out mafia secretaries are significantly more difficult to shove in a kennel than a dog. You heave and shove his limp form until you mentally decide he isn’t so small after all. Fortunately, you manage to get him marginally concealed in the kennel and out the back before you hear the barking of dogs that signals the Don’s return. Time to hustle this cart down the back alley and into the waiting warehouse.

After getting your (not so little) secretary back to the warehouse, you look at him laying limp in the kennel and decide that’s a little too cruel for your taste. So, again, you take the effort to haul his limp form from the kennel and get him settled in what appears to be a reasonably comfortable position on a chair. Then you take a seat in another chair to wait for him to regain consciousness. Plus, you need the time to plan. Before, all your ideas had stemmed from having Don Azul as your hostage. Now that you only had his secretary, you were no longer sure how to even let him know that. Can you just call up the mafia and ask to speak to the Don? That…didn’t feel like a real thing.

You were pondering your options when a groan brings your attention to your hostage. You wait for him to open his eyes, place a tentative hand to his head and groggily ask you what happened. “I kidnapped you, of course,” you cockily reply. He holds up his unbound hands in front of him, “Shouldn’t you have at least tied me up then?” You feel your mouth fall open as you look forlornly at the hands held out for you to see. “Are you going to keep gaping like that? I might mistake you for a guppie,” he states in a cold tone. You slam your hand against a crate and shout, “Better watch that language or I’ll have you singing with the fishes!”

He gives you a startled look and then starts to laugh, “Singing? I think you mean sleeping.” Ok, this could be going better, but you can’t back down now! “I said singing! Maybe I want to hear you sing me a little song, beautiful. I’ve got to get the most out of my little captive princess before I turn her back over to her family,” you finish with a mocking leer. The barest hint of ‘beautiful?’ can be heard coming from the secretary’s mouth. You point at him and declare, “You’ve got two options; stay over there and start talking or walk your pretty little self over here and sing me a song. What’s it going to be, Princess?”

The man gives you a look from deep beneath his long lashes and says, “Those are quite the options.” Then he flushes and gives you another one of those sizing up looks. This time, it takes him several minutes to make up his mind, which you suppose is an improvement. Finally, he narrows his eyes in challenge and says, “Very well, if that’s how you’d like it,” and stands. You don’t quite know what to do when he marches over and sits in your lap. Then he looks at you coyly and whispers, “Did you have any requests?” This certainly wasn’t in your plan. You shrug helplessly and finally from the depths of your throat you hear, “Row, Row, Row your Boat?” emerge from your mouth. The corner of his lips curl up momentarily before he schools his expression, “Of course, as you wish.” Then he begins singing.

You feel silly for having requested such a childish song but, to his credit, he gives it a serious effort. And he sings amazingly. You listen attentively and when he finishes, you apologize, “I’d clap but I’m afraid that would knock you from my lap.” He smiles for a moment before replying in a serious tone, “That is an important point to consider. Perhaps you could join me in a verse instead.” Then he runs his thumb along your bottom lip with a coy gaze and breathlessly starts another round of Row, Row, Row your Boat. You feel a bit silly, but it would be rude to refuse after all that, so you timidly join him. When you finish, he smiles, “There, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” You suddenly remember that he is The Enemy and frown sternly. “Come now,” he chides playfully, “I’m just pointing out that I’m not that difficult to work with, Angelfish.”

“If you lot were so reasonable to work with, then why is my shelter being closed down!” you shout with tears forming in your eyes. You hate this feeling, like you are the vulnerable one when he is the one who is kidnapped. He looks deeply into your wavering eyes and finally sighs, “That place is really important to you, isn’t it?” You look up at him and answer passionately, “Not just for me but for all the animals. They have nowhere else to go. No one to look after them. If we turn them away, what will happen to them?” You can’t stand to look at his sympathetic gaze and turn to look at the floor instead, “Your boss’s café could go anywhere. Why take this from me? From them?”

The man, who you decide is far more gentle than you originally thought, appears to genuinely be considering your argument. For the first time since you met him, you give him one of your friendly smiles, “I know it isn’t your fault. You aren’t the boss.” Then you pat him gently on the back. “Don’t worry about it too much. I’m going to fix this somehow.” His breath catches and he whispers, “You just might at that.” You give him a grateful look, “At least someone has confidence in me. I feel like I’ve done nothing but mess up all day.” The gently man is having none of this, “I don’t know what you mean, Angelfish, you seem to be doing quite well from my perspective.” You laugh and give him a grateful smile, “Well thanks for that. I think I needed some cheering up.”

The kind (you’ve upgraded him to kind) man gives you a small caress on the cheek, “Is there anything I can do to help?” You look deep into his beautiful eyes and remark, “I wouldn’t mind another song.” He brushes a stray hair from your forehead and begins to sing again.

And that is when they find you. An amused chuckle from the door alerts you to his presence and you stop your duet immediately to turn, horrified, to face Don Azul. You fearfully meet the eyes of the lovely man in your lap and stammer, “It..its Don Azul, he found us.” Your statement causes the intimidating man to open his mis-matched eyes wide. Then, he bursts out into an unhinged laugh. Your fear compounds exponentially when you hear another voice emerge from the unguarded back entrance, “What’s so funny? Go ahead, I’m in the mood for a joke.” You turn your head and can’t help but blurt out, “Holy shit, there’s two of them!”

Your companion gives a resigned sigh and stands up, “Jade, Floyd. Come along. We’re leaving now.” You look up at him, entirely overwhelmed. He meets your eye and then smiles sadly, “In case you aren’t quite finished with me yet.” Then he reaches into his breast pocket, retrieves a small case and extracts a business card. He slips it gently into your hand and then walks confidently past the intimidating man (Jade? Floyd?) and out the door. The frightening twins give you amused (and terrifying) smiles as they silently turn and follow him out the door. It is several minutes before you regain your senses enough to turn over the card in your hand. It reads in flowing script: Azul Ashengrotto, CEO of Mostro Lounge.

-Several months later-

You sit at your desk and page through another document. In the background, the sound of barking dogs is almost soothing to your ears. Then, a nervous volunteer practically runs into your office, “Director! Someone is here. I…I think he might mean to tear up the place!” You calmly look up from your desk, “And then serve you tea afterward or burn the place down?” The volunteer looks at you like you’ve lost your mind. A moment later, a fearful comprehension crosses their face as they mutter, “Oh my god, there are two of them!” You nod, so, it’s both.

When the pair of twins saunter into your office, you smile welcomingly, “Jade, Floyd. How nice it is to see you today.” Floyd comes around the desk to drape an arm over your shoulders, “Hey Shrimpy, bossman sent us to pick you up.” You nod agreeably, “That’s right. Its opening night.” Jade places a palm to his chest, “The newest branch of Mostro Lounge will be most delighted to have the Director’s patronage for this special occasion.” You nod and direct them to wait out front as you finish things up back here.

When they leave, the fear struck volunteer questions you, “Who were they? They look like the mafia!” You shrug, “As far as I know, they are just employees of Mostro Lounge. As far as I know.” They give you a look, “Isn’t that the place that nearly shut us down a few months ago?” You grab your long purple jacket and give them a reassuring pat on the shoulder, “Yeah but we’ve come to an agreement since then.” The volunteer gives you a considering look and backs a half-step away, as though suddenly wondering if they’d misjudged the familiar Director of Ramshackle Shelter.

You understand, you’d been there before, so you pay them no mind. Brushing past the volunteer to flick off the light, letting them hide in the darkness of your office. Then you head out and wave to your waiting escort, “Come on boys. I’ve got a date with the princess. Time to make him sing for me.” Your inside joke never fails to amuse them, and they laugh appreciatively. Your relationship was a complicated thing. You weren’t sure who was supposed to be the hero or the villain in the whole story but, you supposed, you didn’t really care. Floyd held the door of the long black limo for you, and you stepped inside. You could ponder the morality of the whole thing later; you had your Princess waiting for you tonight. And, if you were lucky, you’d have Azul sing your song for you again. Ah, life was but a dream.

#twst #twisted wonderland #twst wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #azul ashengrotto #azul x reader #azul ashengrotto x reader #reverse tropes

178 notes · View notes

quinngefail · 1 month

Text

Comic and short story below the cut !! It ended up being longer than anticipated so. Under the cut it goes 😤

First time posting a piece of writing for these two as well..., I hope you enjoy :)

"May I take your coat, sir?"

It was a question asked through a goofy smile, and a 'fancy' tone that carried more than just a little bit of exaggeration; both very deliberate on Adam's part. It's not that he didn't like performing these sorts of 'cheesy' romantic gestures, but he couldn't exactly ignore the way a particular sort of embarrassment would take hold of him during said gestures... Embarrassment that sat within him, screaming about how 'damn corny' he was acting right now. So, this was his working method of combating those less than pleasant feelings: play up the theatrics, put on a silly voice, make it into a whole bit. Things like that.

It really only worked so well. But, it was better than nothing.

However, and far more importantly, these were romantic gestures for Lawrence. And Adam was more than willing to put up with his bouts of trivial embarrassment for Lawrence... A fact that was further solidified as an appreciative smile spread across the older man's face, and he began to remove his coat. Adam moved closer to help, of course, proper gentleman he was, and all that- and in no time at all, the coat was hanging in his grip.

"So courteous," Lawrence lightly teased, still wearing that heart-melting smile of his, as he turned to face Adam.

"Yeah, well, maybe I'm just doing so you feel compelled to make me something extra good for dinner tonight." Adam shot back, holding his eyes shut as a cocky grin spread across his face.

Lawrence gave a scoff, and a playful roll of his eyes. "And here I am, the fool who falls for it every single time." He holds his feigned look of utter defeat for a few moments longer, before returning to a genuine smile. He then leans in, placing a small kiss on his partner's forehead. "I'll go see what I can do for us." He murmurs, breaking away and turning to the direction of the kitchen.

Adam watches him disappear around the corner, unable to keep anything but adoration in his face. After Lawrence is out of sight, he turns his attention back to the coat in his hands. Without really even consciously deciding to do so, he gives it a few shakes as he moves to face the nearby hangers.

But then, there's a dull thud as something hits the ground. Adam’s gaze turns to the source, easily locating Lawrence’s fallen wallet.

Mild frustration brewing, Adam folds the coat over his left arm before bending over to snatch up the wallet. Returning to his full height, he absentmindedly flips the wallet over, intending to close and put it back in the coat's inner pocket.

And that was indeed the plan, but...

...

He really doesn't know how long he stands there, just staring at what was before him. He doesn't even notice Lawrence reappearing, poking out from behind the wall.

Heart racing, Lawrence approaches as fast as he can, putting his free hand on Adam's shoulder, trying to figure out what was going on, what was causing such a distressing reaction from the man he cared so deeply for-

But it doesn't take much detective work at all to put two and two together, as his eyes fall to what was in Adam's hand.

Squeezing his eyes shut, Lawrence leans back a bit. "Shit, I'm sorry, I kept meaning to show that to you-" he mutters before leaning forward, eyes open once more. He holds out a concerned hand, unsure now if he should or shouldn't offer his touch in this moment. "Look, um- I should have asked you about it first, and if it makes you uncomfortable, or if it feels like I'm moving things along too quickly, I can take it out-"

"N-no, no- it's not that," Adam interrupts him, giving a quick wipe to his eyes. "It's fine, really- it's just... I don't know, I guess I just never thought I'd ever be in anyone's wallet, is all," he ends with a small shrug and a diminished voice, his gaze falling away from Lawrence's... A silence hanging in the air.

"Well," Lawrence speaks, "I didn't just put it in there for no reason," he smiles gently, moving to stand behind Adam, leaving little distance between their bodies as he fondly looks down at the picture. "It's a photo that I really, truly love, just like I really, truly love you. And I'm happy to have it with me, just like I'm happy to have you with me."

As has often been the case lately, Adam doesn't know what to say. He stares at the photo for a little while longer, before finally giving a small, genuine "thank you,"

Lawrence hums in response. "Of course,"

They remain like this, just existing together... Letting their words sink in, and letting this moment linger.

"...I don't know if this picture really shows my good side, though." Adam remarks, being the first to break the silence, as was fully expected- a wry little smile cracking.

"And there he is," Lawrence gives another playful roll of his eyes, shaking his head a bit.

"No, seriously- this is what you want to carry around with you? This picture of you, sitting next to this ugly ass gremlin, who could look so much better if you just captured his good side?"

"I'm going back to the kitchen now," Lawrence pulls away, continuing to shake his head as he walks off.

"Good- because we do not want to see what happens if we feed my ass after midnight," Adam replies with a grin, sliding the wallet back into the coat pocket, finally hanging it up. "Really, Lawrence- I can go get my camera right now and we can fix this horrific situation- you can even wear that tie of yours, and I won't complain... Much,"

With that, he follows after Lawrence... Fully prepared to keep this going for a few hours longer at least.

And really, neither of them would have wanted it any other way.

#digital #writing #saw #sawposting #saw franchise #sawtism #saw 2004 #chainshipping #lawrence gordon #adam faulkner stanheight #adam stanheight #diana gordon #saw fanart #saw fanfic #comic

119 notes · View notes

bunnyhugs77 · 2 years

Text

𝑳𝒐𝒗𝒆 & 𝑷𝒆𝒕𝒂𝒍𝒔

Pairing: environmentalist! jungkook x college student! reader

Series: 1/2

Word Count: 9.6k

Content Warning: practically cottage core, readers dog is a little ‘bitchy’ get it?, age gap (reader is 21, jungkook is 27), lots of nature, skinny dipping, reader is a tease, flowers as a love language, gardening, mutual pining, suggestive themes, tattooed! reader, pierced! reader, nerd talk, improper use of limes and honey, mentions of long-distance relationship, lots of plant-talk.

Other Content

A filthy make out sesh, food play?, soft dom! jk, manhandling, grinding, dry humping, big dick! jk, penetrative sex, jungkook trying his best to be a gentleman, sex during a thunderstorm, unprotected sex (don’t be like them).

Of all the months in the year, June was definitely your favourite. What wasn’t there to love? Finally digging up your shorts and bathing suits from the drawer they’d been abandoned in upon the arrival of September. Eating cool treats under the hot sun. Not to mention, the perfect weather. Not too hot that you can’t walk a meter without breaking a sweat but still warm enough to wear shorts.

Best of all, June was when you would drive 3 hours south to Somerset and stay with your parents for the summer. Your parents’ Somerset home was one of two that they owned but it was definitely their favourite. Why wouldn’t it be?

Somerset is a suburb that’s been abundantly blessed with beautiful forestry that shaded over a number of neighbourhoods including your own but not in a way that blocked out the sun. Because once those first hot rays of golden sunshine beamed down on the community, it was practically tradition for everyone to head down to the lake for a swim.

At the end of the summer is the Summer Palooza. There’s great music, even better food, swimming and all kinds of activities for people of all ages to enjoy. Once the chaos of the day passed, the night would be filled with lights, blankets and watching the fireworks light up the sky.

You were already smiling just from pulling up onto your parents’ driveway. You loved it here. If only Taffy felt the same way.

Taffy is the 8-month-old cairn terrier that you bought not long ago as you had gotten a little lonely during the holidays. The minute she became part of your life, you would never live to see a dull day again, nor a stress-free one at that.

When she wasn’t parading around the house with one of your boots in her mouth, she was digging up dirt anytime she had the chance.

This meant lots of running when you took her on walks, hoping the owners didn’t see your dog assault their lawn. You had given up on writing apology letters after the first seven incidents. Your hand was beginning to cramp.

Even though the two of you got along well most of the time, it was moments like these when your heads bashed. Some people couldn’t imagine not getting along with their own dogs. Meanwhile, you didn’t have that much difficulty when it came down to it.

“Don’t growl at me.” You bickered with the terrier who was locked behind the bars of her cage, but still, the sound of her objection scared you a little. “We’re going to stay here for the next three months, trust me, you’re going to love it.” You wondered if anyone could hear you talking to her as if she were an actual human. Was that weird?

Whatever, you didn’t care. She was just as petty, emotional and stubborn as a real human. She made that very clear when the first thing she did after being let out was run to the other side of the living room, far away from you.

“She’s just the cutest thing,” Your mom gushes as her eyes followed Taffy’s fluffy body as she was on the move around the house. “To you,” You mumbled under your breath as you eyed her wheat-coloured fur bounce in the wind as she hopped up the stairs.

You let yourself get comfortable in the soft cushions of your parents’ couch. You talked about your drive over, and how things were with Taffy which naturally led to you bringing up how many times you considered giving her away. Your father found it quite amusing but you weren’t laughing.

“It’s not funny dad. She doesn’t listen to me, and she’s ungrateful--” you stopped talking as you caught onto a shared look between your parents.

“What was that?” you point between them and they try to shrug it off.

“No no, what was that look you gave each other.” You insisted you picked on an exchange between them and would not rest until they came clean.

“Nothing! Just sounds like you found a dog who’s just like you.” you objected, swearing up and down that you were nothing alike. Suddenly you stopped your rant, realizing you were defending yourself against the comparison between you and your own dog.

You had a long drive up, maybe the fatigue was finally catching up to you. It must be since you were yawning for the 4th time in the last 15 minutes. You decided it was time for a ‘nap’.

It was that same nap that consumed you for the next 13 hours, and you’re sure you could’ve slept longer if it weren’t for your mother waking you up. “Y/n, wake up.”

There were only two things you hated in this world. Ketchup and being woken up. Naturally, you turned your body away from your mother’s voice, pulling the sheets over your head while you were at it. Then, she did the unthinkable. The covers were ripped from your body entirely and all at once.

Your eyes shot open and your body shivered as the air conditioning was beginning to make contact with your bare skin. You sat up slowly, eyeing your mother down with death in your eyes.

“It’s Taffy.” You were filled with dread.

---

In nothing but your shorts and tank top, you slipped on your dad's slides before you followed your mom outside. You first noticed the stunning hues of orange that striped over the sky as the sun was beginning to rise.

Part of you thought you’d have to walk a little further out to see this grand revelation that was so important that your mother felt the need to wake you up from your nap, but you could see more than enough from the porch.

Holes everywhere.

But not on your parent’s side of the grass. Oh no, of course not. It’s like she purposely dug up the neighbour's lawn because that’s what would get you in deep shit.

But wait, it gets better. There was a beautiful arrangement of various plants along the neighbour's driveway until now that is. The soil was now littered with chewed leaves and torn petals.

You don’t smoke but you felt that today was the best day to get into the habit.

“Taffy did all this? By herself?” Your finger pointed loosely towards the terrorized grass. Your mom hums in agreement from behind you. Your face was full of shock, disbelief, awe, basically, any word that could describe your bewilderment at the situation.

“She must’ve gotten out last night. I was going to take her for a walk this morning but clearly, she beat me to it.” Your mom explains as the two of you walk back into the house.

“So what are you going to tell them?” your arms unconsciously folded over your chest as you questioned your mother about her next steps. “Me? Oh, honey, Taffy is your dog. Your responsibility.”

“What am I supposed to say? ‘Hey, sorry that my dog absolutely annihilated your property, here’s $1000, please don’t sue me?’’’ Comedy was not your intention, yet your mother laughed anyways.

“Mom!” You whined, practically stomping your feet out of stress. “This is serious! What am I supposed to do? I don’t have that kind of money laying around..” Your thoughts trail off, a mischievous smile briefly appearing on your face before vanishing.

“Y’know, you look so pretty today.” You continue to compliment your mother’s attire, “And your face is looking more and more youthful by the day--” Your mother swatted your fingers away from her face.

“We’re not paying for the damages, Y/n, but nice try.” She smiles, now it was her pinching your cheeks. With one last comforting touch to your upper arm, your mom was going back upstairs. Slowly, your vision panned over to the dog who was sleeping soundly in her little bed.

‘Should’ve given you away when I had the chance’, you think.

----

It was a little past noon and you knew your neighbours were having a heart attack right about now and who were you to interrupt someone during a medical emergency, you should probably just push it off till later, or never, never works for you.

You could see it happening vividly. The old lady takes a mere two steps outside and suddenly grabs her chest before collapsing. God. You couldn’t believe it.

“Y/n, did you tell them yet.?” Now your dad was the one asking as he came down to the kitchen, making himself lunch. “Not yet, I’m going to shower first.” Secretly you hoped you too, would drop dead in the shower to avoid what was to come.

Stopping yourself at your front door, you opened your bank account for sentimental purposes. You were going to miss having money in here. With one deep breath, you made the short journey over to the neighbours.

You had only spoken to them a handful of times over the last decade since your parents had bought the house here. With a quick ring of the doorbell you contemplated running back inside, you could still make it.

You heard footsteps approaching the door, there was no going back now.

Ready to see the old lady with no more than 12 years left in her lifespan to welcome you but that’s not what your eyes were met with at all. Currently face-to-chest with undoubtedly the finest man you’ve ever laid eyes on.

The man was wearing a black long-sleeve button-up that strained over his broad shoulders with the top two buttons undone, teasing the visibly large pecs that lay beneath his shirt. He wore black slacks that were held up by a belt that hinted at his small waist.

“How can I help you?” He smiles warmly.

“You’re not old.” Is the first thing you say.

“I’m Jungkook, nice to meet you too?” He introduces himself, maintaining his quirked brow at your odd statement.

“No- I’m sorry. Obviously, you’re not old, I was just expecting you to be old-- I’m Y/n, I live next door..” You needed to compose yourself, you came here for a reason. You took a deep breath as you looked him dead in the eyes for the first time.

“I recently got a new dog who can’t seem to keep her paws out of the ground so she’s the one to blame for destroying your plants. I’m so sorry, if there’s anything I can do--” It wasn’t until Jungkook told you to breathe did you realize you had tried to say everything in one breath.

You inhaled. Then exhaled.

“Can I show you something?” His question seemed to have been mostly rhetorical as he was already making his way towards the gate between your houses that led to his backyard.

Once it was opened he stepped to the side, allowing you to walk through and you could just about feel your heart fall out of your ass at the sight.

More holes.

More dead flowers.

More money.

You were afraid to look at the man behind you, but you did anyways. His arms were crossed, and you felt sick. “How much is this going to cost me?” You didn’t even want to know.

“Well, with the damage done to the 30-year-old bonsai alone, that’s around eight thousand--”

Your vision went black. Suddenly you couldn’t hear or see. Unconsciously your left eye twitched and you felt like you were foaming at the mouth. He just kept talking and talking, the costs just kept going and going. You never even heard the final amount, the only thing you could hear were the voices in your head telling you to kill that little cairn terrier once you got home.

“Unless..”

Unless?! There was an unless? This was your way out. There was no way you would pass it up. Whatever it was, it couldn’t possibly be worse than selling your limbs just to afford the price of one bonsai.

“Yes! I’ll do it.”

“Great, so I’ll see you tomorrow then?” You don’t even know what he said. You completely blanked out. You tilted your head to the side. “Yes, of course, I’ll be there. For what, again?” Now he looked a little confused.

“To re-plant?” He mirrors your tilted head.

God.

At this moment you hoped Taffy would do what she was good at and dig a hole deep enough for you to crawl in and die.

“Taffy!” You shout the minute you walk through the door. Enter the energetic dog who came bouncing down the steps at the sound of your voice. She circled your feet and you fought the urge to kick her, but even you knew you would regret that.

She seemed to have been in a really good mood today and you couldn’t stop yourself from smiling, her energy was contagious.

“No! I’m mad at you.” You remind yourself as you kick off your slides and make your way into the house with her following behind you, this time with a toy in her mouth, wanting you to play.

“Not now.” Ignoring her, you take a seat at the kitchen table where your dad was working on some documents with focus. You sat in front of him quietly with a pout, hoping he’d notice you.

You sigh.

No response.

You sigh a little louder.

He flips over the next paper, still ignoring you.

You sigh even louder.

Slamming his pen down on the table, he gives you his undivided attention.

“What is it.”

“Nothing, except for the fact Taffy just cost me like fifteen thousand dollars in property damages.” Your father was silent. He too was in shock like you were earlier.

“He’s charging you that much!?” You shake your head, “No, he’s making me help him re-plant everything that Taffy ruined instead. That’s so unfair.” You complained. Your father couldn’t believe you were complaining about such a reasonable repercussion.

Maybe you needed this.

He goes back to filling out his papers and ignoring you.

“Dad!” You tried getting his attention again but you knew you had lost it for good this time. Instead, you decided to give in and play with Taffy. “Fine.” You take the rubber ball from her jaws, “I’ll play with you, but I won’t forgive you.” You toss it elsewhere watching her run after it.

---

The next morning you found yourself disappointed to see that you hadn’t died in your sleep. That means you actually had to go gardening for the next 6 hours. You were left perplexed once you got out of the shower. Staring at your closet, unsure what one would wear to garden.

You settled on capris and a t-shirt that you didn’t care to get dirty. With one last look in the mirror, you said goodbye to your happiness and made your way next door.

“Good morning,” He greets you the minute you make your way down the steps of your porch. You weren’t surprised to see he had already gotten started on the front lawn, a bag of grass seed on his right and a trowel in his gloved hands.

“Here, I got you gloves.” He hands you a pair of burgundy gardening gloves to match his green ones. “Thanks.” You stood awkwardly as you watched him return to his previous position on the ground.

“Have you gardened before?” He asks, looking up at you from where he knelt on the grass. You nodded, “Not a lot, only a few times with my mom growing up.” He smiles.

“Well, maybe now you can practice a little more. I think gardening is one of those things that don’t really seem to be all that exciting at first but you find yourself doing it and enjoying it more over time, y’know?” Humming along with a plastered smile on your face.

You? Enjoying gardening? Good one.

“Would you mind just taking this trowel and using it to raise all of the lifted-up patches of grass, then I'll add some seeds once you’re done, we can water and we’ll be done for the first part.”

When he says it like that, it sounded like you’d be finished in no time. Never in a million years could you have anticipated that it would keep you preoccupied for the next three hours. At least Jungkook wasn’t the worst person to talk to.

You didn’t talk much in the beginning, not sure if it was because you both were total strangers or because he was devastatingly attractive. Maybe a mix of both.

Just when another period of silence fell over the two of you, your parents were seen leaving your house, waving to the both of you before getting in the car and leaving to god knows where.

“I’ve seen your parents a few times, but I don’t remember seeing you.” Jungkook prayed he didn’t come off as creepy, he was simply curious to know where you’d been these last 4 months since he’d moved in. He’s sure he would’ve remembered you.

“Ah, yeah. I live about 3 hours north of here in Pineley, for school.” Jungkook knew he would be lying to himself if he said he wasn’t surprised to hear you were still in school.

“Oh really? What are you studying?”

“Just economics, I kind of hate it though, only one more year to go, then I’ll finally be done.” Jungkook was doing his best to crunch the numbers in his head.

Assuming that you graduated high school when you were 18... so 3 years later... You’re 21?

God, you’re 21.

He’s 27 and you’re 21.

Does he find you attractive? Yes, obviously. Who wouldn’t? Has he thought about you since the moment you met yesterday? Of course, but that stops now.

“But enough about me, what about you? The last time I was here, there was an old lady living here.” He chuckles, “So that explains the ‘old’ comment yesterday.” Your face flushes red as you continued to pat down the grass seeds in their rightful places.

“New job, you know how that goes.” You nod with a smile, patting down the last patch of grass, and you realized you were done. “I think that’s it.” He announces, dropping his trowel down the grass, and giving the lawn a lookover.

“It certainly isn’t as pretty as it used to be but once the new grass comes in it’ll look better.” He stands, offering you his hand to help you stand as well. You do your best to swat at the butterflies in your stomach from his gesture.

“Do you want something to drink? I have some inside.”

Now that you think about it, you were quite thirsty.

“That would be great actually, thanks.” you appreciate his kind gesture, standing awkwardly on the lawn not sure what to do until you see his head pop out of the doorway. “Y/n, you coming?”

His house looked nothing like yours. Everything was so, clean. Not to say that your house was dirty by any means but there was something about his selection of colours and arrangement of furniture that made everything so sleek and neat.

He definitely owned more plants than the average person, you also couldn’t help but notice how cool it was in here, but not to the point that it made you shiver, more so a refreshing feeling.

After the both of you washed your hands, he led you to the kitchen and invited you to have a seat on the stool behind his marble island. “You don’t have any allergies, do you?” Your eyebrows raised at his question.

“Allergies? I thought I was just coming here for some water?” You felt more than accomplished to see him laugh even though it was a genuine question.

“You’re helping me with a pretty big task, I think you deserve better than just water.” Anything he said after that fell on deaf ears, your brain was too caught up with his flattery. Maybe gardening wouldn’t be so bad after all.

You were intrigued to watch him pull out a wooden knife instead of a typical steel one. “Is all of your cutlery made of wood?” You were being sarcastic, poking fun at him. What you weren’t expecting was to see him pull open a drawer that revealed various assortments of cutlery all made from wood.

“It is actually.” Now he was the one laughing.

“Why?” Strumming your nails on the counter as you watched him roll up his sleeves for the first time today. Suddenly your palms were open and planted on the surface, bracing yourself. The sleeve of tattoos on his right arm knocked you breathless. Deep breaths in. Deep breaths out.

“Well, because--Are you alright?” He checks in, you looked like you were overheating, and you had to convince him and yourself that you were just fine.

Even if he wasn’t convinced, he decides to let it go and continues preparing your drinks. Turning his back to you as he opened his fridge. You should’ve suspected he had more tattoos aside from the lotus you spotted behind his ear earlier.

“As you were saying,” Prompting him to finish what he was saying earlier, “Yeah, for starters, wood handles heat better, they’re antibacterial but most importantly it’s eco-friendly. We’ve done so much damage to the earth already, so why not do things a little differently, y’know?”

That would explain all the plants. “So, I guess you take this global warming thing pretty seriously, huh?” His head tilts back while he lets out a fit of laughter. “I wouldn’t say that I take it lightly if that's what you’re asking.” He smiles as he skillfully peels the oranges with the knife.

You noticed that he put the discarded peels into a little electric composter he had on the corner of his counter. He was really serious about this earth thing. “I do what I can to reduce my carbon footprint. I had solar panels installed on the roof within the first few weeks of moving here, and I’m sure you noticed all the plants in here. They're quite useful since I don’t actually have air conditioning.”

Your eyes bulge out of your head, “No air conditioning? In Somerset? There’s a heatwave every other week in the peak of summer.” He shrugs, “Didn’t you notice how cool it was when you first walked in?” You nod slowly, curious to see where he was going with this.

“It’s thanks to the sansevierias, ficus elasticas and the aglaonemas I have around the house. When they go through their transpiration process they cool down the air at the same time.”

What.

Your severe confusion must’ve been visible enough to prompt Jungkook to dumb it down for you. “Think of it as when plants feel hot, they sweat and release water into the air which cools it down.”

“What are you some kind of plant freak?” He laughs, reaching for the manual juicer he had on his drying rack. “Environmental engineer actually, but plant freak works too.” You felt almost embarrassed for speaking. You decided to just focus on the freshly squeezed orange juice that was filling up your glasses.

“Enjoy.” He grins as he slid you your glass. Your taste buds were far from ready to handle the sweet yet tangy taste of the oranges. It was easily the best orange juice you’ve ever had in your life. “Oh my god.” He smiles, “Good right?”

“This is the best thing I’ve ever tasted.” You could not believe you were ranting about juice but there you were. “Would you believe me if I told you those oranges came from my backyard?”

“I would, honestly.”

---

It would be a lie if you said you weren’t a little disappointed to see how quickly the two of you had managed to finish replanting everything in the front yard. It’s been a few weeks and the two of you got along surprisingly well even though he was such a plant nerd.

You had a schedule, twice a week at 10 am you’d be at Jungkook’s door more excited than ever to garden. Something you never thought you’d say.

This morning you were taking Taffy for a walk because why not. It was a beautiful morning, damp grass from the rain the night before and the smell of petrichor still lingering in the air. “Good morning,” Nearly breaking your neck at the sound of Jungkook’s voice greeting you as you watched him approach his car but he stopped in his tracks when he noticed the leash in your hand and what it was attached to.

“Is this Taffy?” He points to the cairn terrier who was suddenly sitting pretty and wagging her tail. “The one and only.” He was already making his way over, making sure not to step on the grass that was growing in nicely.

“Can I pet her?” You were flattered that he had even asked in the first place. So used to children and even other adults just petting her without asking. “Of course.” You permit, watching his face light up as he ran his hand over her brown fur.

“How could something so cute cause so much damage.” It was a rhetorical question but you couldn’t stop yourself from throwing her under the bus, “Cute? This is all an act. The minute you get in your car I’m sure she’ll be 3 feet deep in someone else’s lawn.” The two of you laugh for a moment, falling into natural conversation until Jungkook realized that at this rate he was going to be late for work.

“I’ll see you later, Y/n.” His smile was so charming, so enchanting, so-- Taffy was already barking at you to start walking since Jungkook had already driven off.

“God it’s so hot.” The two of you laid sprawled out on the grass of Jungkook’s inconveniently large backyard. Jungkook had long given up on wearing long sleeves, now opting for simple t-shirts and cargo shorts.

“Maybe we should take a break?” Usually, you would take a break after 3 hours but it had only been an hour and a half so you were surprised to hear him propose such a thing but relieved at the same time.

Following the same routine as always once you go inside, washing your hands then reconvening in the kitchen for something to drink. After about three glasses of water, you were able to stabilize yourself in your seat.

“What’s next?” your curiosity prompts you to ask what the two of you would be doing once you returned outside. “I was hoping to start with the gardenias but I think they’re far beyond repair and we’ll have to buy more.” He leans forward on his folded arms, the closeness between your faces was getting to you.

You held your breath, eyes looking anywhere but his when you spoke. “We?” He backs up, standing back at full height. “Yeah, I thought maybe we could go pick up some more and hopefully by the time we’re back it’ll be a little cooler.”

“Sounds good.”

You had no idea joining Jungkook for a trip to the local greenhouse would turn into an entire tour. It was like every single flower and plant had a meaning.

“Do you just have the meaning of every flower imprinted in the back of your mind?” You cross your arms as Jungkook reached for the gardenias on the higher shelves. “Not every one, but I’m sure I know most.”

“This one?” Your index pointed to the calla lilies. “Beauty.”

“How about this.” Pivoting to focus on the opposite wall of flowers, quizzing him on the first flower you laid eyes on. “Health and prosperity.”

“Every flower really does have meaning behind it.” He hums in agreement, “I think that plants have a language of their own. That’s why bouquets are more than just flowers, they’re statements really.”

“I never really thought about it that way.”

“What about these?” You pointed to the red chrysanthemums that were so beautifully vibrant. “I love you.” It would be a lie to say the both of you didn’t freeze when you took in what he had said.

You were afraid to speak first. Thankfully you didn’t have to. Jungkook clears his throat. “That’s what red chrysanthemums mean.”

“Oh. Yeah, of course. Duh.” Awkward laughter erupts from your chest as you continued to walk by his side toward the checkout.

The beginning of the ride back was oddly quiet as opposed to the one on your way here which was filled with a sing-along and a lecture about the importance of compost.

Sunset was still a few hours away and the weather was still quite hot but it was a little cooler compared to earlier.

“Can we stop somewhere?” You broke the silence and Jungkook was quick to redirect the car to your request.

That’s how you found yourselves walking along Pacific Street. It’s like tourist central. it’s where all the popular shops and restaurants were found. Including Icee’s frozen dessert shop. It was easily one of your favourite spots in town.

You ordered a lime sherbet for yourself and a chocolate sundae for Jungkook.

“How did you know that’s what I wanted?” Jungkook leans down behind you and whispers in your ear. “Because you have 2 pints of chocolate fudge ice cream in your freezer,” You whisper back, watching the woman whisk herself around behind the counter preparing your orders.

“And how do you know what’s in my freezer,”

Your curiosity got the best of you. You wondered if he ate leaves for a living so when you found yourself alone in the kitchen when he went to use the bathroom you couldn’t help yourself.

“Oh! Would you look at that, our order’s ready.”

The two of you walked around town for a while. Now you were the one giving him a tour of the heart of Somerset. Sitting on the trunk of Jungkook’s car the two of you looked over the lake and the people down below you.

“Do you like it here?” With the gentle breeze softly blowing your curls in your face you looked over the lake, not looking at him as you spoke and he did the same. “I mean, the greenery is great, there’s a lot of parks and--”

You turn to face him, “Yeah and the carbon levels here are perfect blah blah blah, but do you like it here?” He grins at your teasing. “I do, yeah. The people here are just...” Neither of you realized how close your faces had gotten until your lips were millimetres apart. “..perfect.” he breathes out and you leaned in but he pulled away.

“Oh. I’m sorry I thought-” Your ears were red and you’re sure your face was too. “No, you’re right... It’s just. We can’t.” He sighs, looking away from you for a moment before looking you in the eyes once again. Your head tilted to the side confused, and he hated it when you did that.

It was so cute.

“Why not?” You ask.

“Because, you’re 21, I’m 27. I just don’t want you to do anything you’d regret.” Your heart warmed. At all times he had your best interest at heart.

“I know what I want, Jungkook.” Cautiously, you moved closer until you were as close as you were before. You weren’t really doing anything but you were driving him up the wall.

“Do you know what you want, Jungkook?” You were bad for him. So so bad. Everything in him was telling him this was a bad idea, but he threw caution to the wind the moment he pressed his lips against yours.

Taking your face in his hands as he kissed you, over and over again until you were left breathless. “Oh shit.” you breathe out and he just laughs. “Where did all that come from?” He leans back with a smug look, “Been wanting to do that for a month now.”

The cool breeze passed by again, bringing a weighted silence with it. Leaving that question in the air. It was all a matter of who was going to address the elephant in the room. Unsurprisingly, it was you. “Now what?”

“Nothing.” He says, and your heartbeat falters just a little. He must've noticed the change of expression on your face, “Nothing if you don’t want anything to change, but I’d be happy to see where this goes..” He struggled to look you in the eyes, not used to being the one under pressure.

“I’d like that.”

“And then he kissed me!” You felt like you were in high school again the way you were throwing yourself all over your bed and swinging your feet as you talked to your dog about your eventful night.

Taffy seemed to have been a little more excited than you were based on her endless barking. “I know right, and now we’re going to the Summer Palooza together.” Taf hopped up onto your bed with you and started to ambush you with licks and it made you laugh.

Even though she was a little monster, she was really like your best friend.

“You really do this for fun, every day?” You were developing a slight attitude, blame it on the heat. You enjoyed gardening when the temperature lets you, but days like these where you could see distorted waves of heat made you miserable.

Jungkook didn’t respond, he only smiled knowing you were just ranting. You felt as though you were melting. Sweat beading on your forehead from doing nothing, the hot sun beating down on your skin with no remorse.

“I’m taking a break.” It’d only been 30 minutes since you had begun gardening today but you couldn’t take it anymore. The moment you walked inside you regret making fun of Jungkook for his lack of air conditioning because those plants were doing a damned good job at cooling you down.

You’d begun to learn your way around his house after spending so much time here. You reached for a glass from the cupboard before pouring yourself a glass of water. Taking sips as if you hadn’t tasted water in days.

You let out a small gasp at the feeling of hands on your waist from behind you, “How can you make drinking water so attractive?” You cringed and pushed him away, “You’re so corny.” You snort before finishing off the rest.

“I wanna show you something,” He says it enticingly, as if what he was to show you would change your life forever. “I’m listening.” You stalk towards him slowly as he picked up his keys off the counter. “Up for a drive?” You grin.

“Y’know, when you asked me if I was up for a drive I didn’t know we’d be trekking through the forest.” You were complaining again and Jungkook could do nothing but roll his eyes. “We’re almost there, I promise.”

True to his words, only a few more minutes and you had arrived at your destination. The 10-minute walk was more than worth it. You were met with the sight of a gorgeous blue lake, it wasn’t the biggest but there were mini waterfalls sliding down the large rocks off to the side.

There was direct sunlight bouncing off the water and making everything seem brighter. “Woah..” You stepped towards it slowly. You were shaded by the forest for most of the way here so you didn’t feel as hot but now that you were out in the open again the heat was overwhelming.

Without thinking you stripped yourself off your top and bottoms, leaving you in just your underwear. “Care to join me?” You pivoted to face the man who was fighting off some of his most intrusive thoughts at the sight of your body.

He could only remain so calm, but the moment he laid eyes on the cherry blossom tattoo that stretched from your mid-thigh up to the underswell of your breast or the butterfly jewelry that dangled from your navel, he was done for.

He was going absolutely feral.

“fuck.” he mumbles, watching you dive in head first. He was feeling too much blood rush south but it didn’t make him think twice before stripping himself of his own shirt and shorts. In nothing but his boxers, he jumped in with you.

He swam towards you with the biggest grin on his face. “Feel better?” You shake your head as your hands moved below the water. “I’m still..” Your voice had dropped an octave and become more seductive, “quite hot.” You punctuated your sentence with the revelation of you holding your panties in the palm of your hand.

Surely you had to know what you were doing to him.

Jungkook feared he would drown.

You’re too distracting, and you only proved his point by stripping yourself of the last article of clothing you were wearing and tossing them onto the grass as well. Jungkook was doing his best to be respectful, never wanting to cross a line without your permission.

That’s how he found himself cross-eyed trying to stop his line of sight from falling. “It’s okay, you can look.” Even then he tried to be respectful and only look for a few seconds at a time but he was hopeless once you had taken his hand and pressed it against your chest.

As if it was second nature he gave it a light squeeze. He thanks the universe for his sharp hearing or else he would’ve missed the small whimper that escaped under your breath. “you drive me fucking insane.” Jungkook’s voice was low and guttural before he pulled you closer to him. Wasting no time to bring his lips to yours.

Kissing you deeply, as if his life depended on it. You were intoxicating. He couldn’t get enough. God, he was going to fucking miss you. It was a bitter thought he kept in the back of his head the more he felt himself getting used to having you around.

Fortunately, he didn’t let that gloomy thought ruin his mood as the two of you enjoyed your time together. Neither of you were expecting to spend two hours swimming but that’s exactly what you did until you couldn’t swim anymore.

The drive home was a wet one but it made the shower feel ten times more refreshing. With a towel still wrapped around your hair and in nothing but an oversized t-shirt you walked towards your bed and checked your phone.

It’s mission impossible trying not to smile at the sight of Jungkook’s name on your screen.

Jungkook: I had fun today ;)

“This is the last one,” Jungkook announces and you felt a little emotional as you watched him squeeze the plant out of its plastic container. It was a blue vervain flower. “Hopefully it rains soon, these ones need a lot of water.” He informs you and that’s when you realized it hadn’t rained in weeks which was a little unusual for a Somerset summer.

“Would you like to do the honours?” He offers you the pile of dirt with the sprouting plant. “Can we do it together?” His eyes crinkle at the sides with a smile. So, together, you planted the blue vervain.

“Are you sure we’re finished? We didn’t miss a spot?” You stand up abruptly, searching through the empty bags of soil and containers that once had sprouts in them. “Y/n, are you okay?”

You were fine. Wasn’t it normal to cry once you finished gardening?

“Yes, can’t you see? I’m clearly fine.” Your tearful eyes weren’t so convincing. You didn’t have to explain what was wrong, because he knew. This wasn’t about gardening. Without thinking he wrapped his arms around you, holding you and it only pulled more emotion out of you.

“I don’t want to leave you.” You mumble through broken cries into his shirt. “I know, but you can’t stay for me either.” He was right. Even though you had just met less than three months ago you grew attached to him so it made the thought of leaving him more difficult than it should be.

It was nearing sunset when Jungkook was doing nothing important at home when his phone buzzed on his coffee table.

He too, couldn’t stop a small smile from forming at your message.

Y/n: do you have limes?

Jungkook: Homegrown or store-bought? :)

You didn’t need any more small talk before you were already on your way over. That’s why Jungkook wasn’t surprised to hear the ring of his doorbell. Always happy to see you.

“Limes?” Jungkook brings up your odd request as he walked behind you towards the kitchen. “Yes, limes. I wanted a snack and we ran out, so now I’m here to take some of yours.” Jungkook did his best to keep his eyes off the way your hips swayed from the left to right with every step you took.

He leaned against the counter, watching you whiz around the kitchen. Grabbing the wooden knife you once judged him for but grew fond of and a lime. “Do you have any honey?” He points to the cupboard to your left.

Now that you had everything you needed, this was your favourite part. Slicing open the first lime in half, then again into thinner slices. You drizzled on just a little bit of honey onto the citron and bit onto it.

Jungkook looked horrified.

“Should I call someone for help?” You took it personally and objected. “It’s so good you have to try it.” You approached him with a honey-coated slice of lime but he immediately moved away from you to the other side of the island.

Jungkook’s place had dozens of big windows and skylights to welcome natural lighting as a replacement for regular lights. That’s how you noticed the clouds get progressively darker over the last 15 minutes but it wasn’t your concern at the moment.

What you needed was to get Jungkook to try your creation. “How about I kiss you instead?” He freezes with interest. “I’m listening.” With the simple beckoning of your index finger, he was standing in front of you.

“Open.” You instruct, holding the bottle of honey high enough so it would fall onto his tongue. Next, you squeeze a generous amount of lime juice on yours before grabbing Jungkook by his cheeks. Crashing your lips together, creating a deliciously sweet but sour taste between the two of you.

Your tongue swiped over his plump lower lip trying to savour the flavour and the kiss to the best of your ability but Jungkook was losing his self-control. His hands found themselves holding you at your hips, pulling your front to be flush against his, but he suddenly pulled away.

Your eyes were half-lidded, dark and full of lust; your lips beginning to swell a little from the previous attack they just endured. you looked like sex on legs and that’s why jungkook had to stop himself.

“What’s wrong?” he couldn’t believe you had the audacity to ask him such a thing. as if you didn’t know. “You. You’re plaguing my mind, y/n, and I’m afraid that once I start I can’t stop.” your teeth played with the plump flesh of your lip at his confession.

“then don’t stop.”

A clash of thunder roared in the sky.

Your clothes were scattered along the stairs leading up to Jungkook’s room which was massive if you might add. You couldn’t believe you hadn’t been up here yet.

Gently, he laid you down on his bed, leaving you to admire his body that was sculpted by the gods themselves. Broad shoulders, defined abs and those muscular thighs you so desperately wanted to ride, but maybe another day.

“You have no fucking idea how badly I’ve wanted this.” The feeling of his hot breath against the side of your neck gave you burning chills. With his arms on either side of you, he rolled his hips into yours and through his boxers alone you could feel his dick that was begging to be freed from its confines.

“I- I need you.” your breath hitched at the feeling of his lips sucking on a particular spot on your neck making you let out a breathless moan.

“You’ve got me. I’m all yours.” He reassures you before he locked your lips with his while skillfully removing your bra. you helped with the action by arching your back giving him full access to undo the clasps.

within seconds he was attacking your full breasts. licking over your nipples with desperation. your hand raised to gently run your fingers through his locks while your legs widened to make more room for the man between them.

soon his kisses began to move south but stopped at the ink that patterned your skin. the tattoo was in black and white since you felt the blossoms were pretty enough that they didn’t need colour. once jungkook was done with you he had managed to colour in every single blossom with sinful bruises.

jungkook’s room was probably the most susceptible to natural light as it had the biggest windows, giving the both of you a front-row view of the storm that pummeled the world outside, but that didn’t matter. nothing else mattered except this very moment.

now paying attention to the jewelry that was pierced into the skin above your belly button. jungkook let his fingers toy with it tauntingly, “a flower, hm?” your eyes were shut, too focused on keeping it together to respond.

“Pretty sure the last time I saw this little thing it was a butterfly, wasn’t it?” your body froze once you felt the pads of jungkook’s fingers touching your clothed core. you didn’t respond.

“I asked you a question didn’t I?” he applied a sadistic amount of pressure to your clit, knowing it was just enough to get your attention but not enough to give you what you were looking for.

“yes.” you breathed out, finally opening your eyes to see he was staring right back at you. “why did you change it? I thought you loved butterflies.” he was mocking you. using your words against you from a discussion you had a few days ago. he knows why you changed it.

“you know why,” as if he was ignoring you he continued to rid you of your underwear leaving you completely bare. “no, I don’t think I do. refresh my memory.” the moment you felt his big and calloused hands gripping your thighs you felt you may never speak again.

Every touch, every whisper, every look he gave you left you on fire and wanting more. “you. I did it for you.” jungkook’s wicked grin was the last thing you saw before your eyes shut as he pulled you to the edge of the bed, with your ankles hanging over his shoulders and his nose against your dripping core.

a flash of lightning lit up the room briefly before it relied on the dim lighting of two naturally scented candles he had lit a little before you came over. “look at you, dripping wet and I’ve barely touched you.”

“please,” you whimpered and he was so weak. he couldn’t deny you for long, you had no idea how much of a hold you had on him. wasting no time, he licked a flat stripe up your cunt and it took everything in you not to scream, including closing your legs on his head.

there was no other place jungkook would rather be than between the soft flesh of your thighs but if he wanted to eat you out until you cried he’d need a little more space.

he pried your legs open once more and you were already shaking. placing a comforting hand on your abdomen he tried to calm you down, “you gotta relax baby, I've got you.”

you were helpless, unable to do anything but grab fistfuls of his organic cotton bedsheets as his tongue assaulted your poor pussy. “f-feels so good.” you whined, beginning to roll your hips against his face.

quickly you felt the heat begin to build in your core with the skillful use of his tongue. “jungkook-!” your vision became distorted as your body was overwhelmed with pleasure, but jungkook didn’t stop. he lapped up every last drop of your orgasm on his tongue before bringing a kiss to your lips.

jungkook was fucking filthy and you loved it.

“I need you,” already one step ahead of you, jungkook was stripping himself of his boxers. in one swift motion jungkook was flipping you onto your stomach and lining himself up with the entrance to your sopping cunt.

you had barely gotten a chance to see and admire his dick but for a brief moment, you did it and had your breath hitching in your throat. you knew you would struggle to stand tomorrow. “you ready, baby?” he checks in with you and you decided to answer with actions.

arching your back and pushing your ass towards him gave him all the answers he needed. “god, y/n. you’re going to be the death of me.” he groans, inching in slowly giving you time to adjust to his large size. A size you knew would take a while to get used to.

he continued to slide in until he eventually bottomed out and your two bodies were connected. you were squirming nonstop beneath him as if trying to escape, body so overwhelmingly full. “just relax,” he whispers near your ear and plants a reassuring kiss on the side of your neck.

doing as told you to relax your muscles and jungkook could immediately feel the difference. “that’s it, you’re taking me so well.” you smile into the pillows at his praises until your mouth fell open with erotic moans once he began to pound into you.

“fuck.” gruff and low moans fell from jungkook’s lips frequently. you never took him to be the kind to make much noise during sex but you were more than pleasantly proven wrong. his sounds only added to the speed at which you were approaching your climax.

“oh shitt, jungkook, I’m gonna-” this time you really did scream at the added pleasure from the friction you felt as jungkook mercilessly rubbed your clit. “me too, baby. me too. just hold it a little longer.” you couldn’t. it was impossible but you tried to hold it for as long as you could.

“cum.” you didn’t have to be told twice. your arms went limp, no longer able to hold you up as you were pushed over the edge and came with jungkook following closely behind. his hips losing their consistency and becoming erratic before you felt him painting your insides with his cum.

“oh shit..” the room was filled with nothing but the sounds of your heavy breathing and even heavier rain as it bounced off the glass of his windows. “at least it rained.” your voice sounded weak from all the screaming you’d done.

your body was weak but your brain couldn’t seem to understand that as you watched jungkook whiz around the room with heart eyes. he looked like the epitome of sex and sin. the waves of his hair falling over his face loosely as some were stuck to the sweat on his forehead.

the size of his muscles distracting but not distracting enough to consume your attention away from the tattoos that covered the entirety of his right arm. before you could drool over him any longer he was already making his way toward you with a warm cloth to help clean you up.

Once the necessary post-sex priorities had been taken care of, the two of you were left cuddling in Jungkook's bed. He had one hand behind his head and the other on your waist as you laid your head on his chest.

Jungkook didn’t want to ruin anything with you but he was a strong believer in communication. This is why he brought up the sombre thought that plagued his mind for the majority of the summer. “When do you leave?” your head sunk along with his chest as he exhaled heavily.

You pick your head up to make eye contact, “Is this your way of kicking me out?” His eyes bulged. “No, never. I mean when do you have to go back to Pineley?” Now it was your turn to sigh. Putting your head back to where it was before, beginning to draw small circles on his pecs.

“Thursday.”

“Oh.”

That was three days away.

“yeah.”

This conversation suddenly made your lips feel chapped, “do you have any chapstick?”

“middle drawer,” he replies, prompting you to roll away from him and check the instructed drawer. Looking for a small tube, instead, you found a journal of sorts. “What’s this?”

Jungkook sits up with a defeated look on his face. “It’s a present. For you, actually.” Your ears perk at that. “For me?” He nods, “Open it. I was going to give it to you the day you leave but I suppose now works.” The book is still unopened, you tilt your head to the side, confused.

God, you were so fucking cute.

“Why not just give it to me at the Palooza?” He sucks in a breath of air through his teeth, “About that. I got sucked into some board meeting that day with some important people like state officials and whatever, but I tried to get out of it, believe me.”

Holding one of his hands in yours, you reassured him that everything was fine. “That sounds like a pretty big deal. It’d be silly for you to blow it off for some dumb event.”

“It’s not some dumb event and you know it. You talked about the Palooza as if it were heaven on earth, and I was looking forward to going with you.” Your heart swelled. “Yeah, I mean, there’s always next year,” you say and it causes Jungkook to grin.

“Next year? You sure you won’t forget about me by then?” Playfully you sent a hit to his chest, “Don’t say that. I’m gonna open my present and forget you even said that.” Admittedly he was a little nervous. He wasn’t the best at gift-giving, never knew what exactly to get people.

Your eyes scanned over the pages as you flipped through them. It was like a flower dictionary. It had all kinds of meanings for all kinds of flowers, but there was something personal about the way the journal was put together.

The paper had a little more texture than you were used to seeing, it must’ve been recycled; but the way the string held together the pages at the top through unevenly sized holes made you wonder.

“Jungkook, did you make this yourself?” His face was red. “Yeah, I know it’s a little lame but I--” Leaving the book on your lap before you pulled him close by his face and pressed your lips to his, pulling away with a smile. “I love it.”

“Remember to give us a call when you get back, alright?” You hugged your parents tight as they helped load your car will all the stuff you brought

“I will.” You smile waving goodbye to them as you stood near your car and your parents made their way inside. It would be a lie if you said you weren’t secretly hoping to see Jungkook one last time before you left.

That’s why you were so delighted to see him step out his front door, but not empty-handed. A bouquet of flowers accessorized his right hand as he made his way toward you.

“You’re here,” Smiling with nothing but teeth as he stopped in front of you.

“I had to see you before you left, I didn’t want to interrupt.” He gestures to your house which your parents had just walked into. “I got these for you,” Handing you the bouquet of arranged flowers that consisted of pink carnations and white clovers.

You’d spent an embarrassing amount of time reading Jungkook’s little flower dictionary he had given you which explains why his bouquet nearly moved you to tears just from looking at it.

You remembered what he had told you in the greenhouse all those weeks ago.

“I think that plants have a language of their own. That’s why bouquets are more than just flowers, they’re statements really.”

Pink Carnations: Gratitude, I’ll never forget you.

White Clovers: Think of me.

“It’ll be impossible to forget you.” Your bodies moved on their own accord. He wrapped his arms around you and yours doing the same, even with the bouquet in hand. It was as if neither of you wanted to pull away but you knew you needed to go.

“I’ll see you at the next Palooza.” your heart hurt a little to see the sad smile he had on. “Sure, but if you're able to squeeze me into that tight schedule of yours, maybe you could come to visit sometime?” You were nervous, you were proposing more than just Jungkook visiting you in Pineley.

“Like, long distance?” The arch of his brow told you everything you needed to know and you were regretting opening your mouth in the first place, “If you’re up for it?” You begin to make your way toward the driver's side of the car, thanking him for opening it for you.

Carefully placing the flowers on the passenger seat with Taffy in the back. “I’m certainly willing to try.” There was the grin you were hoping to see on him before you left. Closing the door, and strapping on your seatbelt, Jungkook stepped to the side of the driveway giving you the space you needed to pull out, but you stopped parallel to the sidewalk.

“See you in Pineley?”

“See you in Pineley.” He smiles, waving you goodbye before you drove off.

#jungkook #jungkook bts #bts #bts one shot #btsscenarios #jungkook smut #jungkook ff #oneshot #jungkook fic recs #jungkook fluff #fluff #btssmuts #smut #bts smut #Jungkook oneshot #jungkook x reader #bts x reader #jungkook imagine

1K notes · View notes

aiizenn · 1 year

Text

busy. kento nanami.

ₓ˚. ୭ cw: fem!reader, jealous!nanami (rough and slightly mean) ,slight degradation, alcohol, praise, fingering (f! receiving) masturbation, no actual sex but still juicy

in my nanami era! it was about time i wrote for him.

summer was here.

as you walked out to the backyard, the warmth of sun rays touched your skin. the laughter from a certain pink haired and white haired bothering the ever so black haired dull boy. the twins, a very cheerful nobara and miwa in the pool talking about the latest fashion trends. the quiet yet annoyed toge laying on the ledge lounger listening to the other seconds years rants. the polite utahime keeping her cool from listening to mei's money rambles. and to the corner of the pool is found the luscious blonde man, drinking beer.

besides the warmth, he was the reason behind putting the mini summer floral dress on. secretly wishing he would throw you into a room and shove his cock inside your dripping pussy.

the white-haired man ran towards you, taking the beverages from your hand—helping you out. he flashes you a flirty smile along with a wink, in return you chuckle; placing your hand on his shoulder. your small interaction is not missed by the blonde man, gripping the beer bottle just a little tighter than before, making his knuckles turn white.

a gentle breeze rushes past you, causing the hem of your dress to lift. the incident doesn't go unnoticed, nanami’s eyes were on you the whole time, making his jaw clench.

the pink-haired boy gets up and opens the chair for you, such a gentleman. “you look beautiful.” he says, giving you a sunshine smile. followed by another compliment, this time it’s from the blue-eyed man. “right? i picked that dress for her” you shake your head at his blatant lie and thank the boy for his sweet compliment. then gojo’s hand lands on your lower back, playing with the fabric of your dress. “when will the food be ready?” asked the dull boy. “it should be out soon” answers geto. “which reminds me, i need the seasoning.” he says as he places the tonsils down. “i’ll get it” standing before he moves any further.

once in the kitchen, you look around for the seasoning. found neither in the drawers nor the counter, so you look in the pantry. bingo! you’re about to head out, until a strong grip wraps around your forearm, shoving you into the storage room.

the dim lighting from the window hits you, and you are met with brown eyes, those eyes that you are all too familiar with. but this time, for the first time, you couldn't read them…anger? frustration? his breath was heavy and his slick hair was now disheveled. he was caging you in between his arms, against the wall.

“nanami, what’s wrong?” coming out as a whisper. he tilts his head to the side and scoffs. “what's wrong? well, let’s see sweetheart. you’re being all giddy with satoru, playing along with his teasing and flirting—touching him. letting him do the same to you, his touch lingering on you longer than it should. you're walking around with a big smile, laughing with no care. while wearing this skimpy dress, advertising to everyone that you want to be fucked like a little slut.” he breathes in. “so sweetheart, why don't you tell me what's wrong?” he finishes.

it was probably not the right moment to think about it, but you were liking this side of him. he was always so neat and well put together, always had composure. but the person in front of you looked like he was breaking with every second that passed. so you decide to play a little. “what do you mean? i’m just being nice to ‘toru, he’s my friend after all.” you say with a tiny smug. “ toru? you have a nickname for him now?” he said baffled.

his hand moving to your waist, sliding down to the small ruffles of your dress. his fingertips touching your thigh, that touch alone sending vibrations to your core, a sensation that satoru’s touch could never do. his thick fingers dance as they reach your already drenched folds. “does ‘toru know how wet you get? does he know how to touch you? or how you don’t wear any panties?” making small circles on your clit. the small contact making you jolt, placing your hands on his shoulders.

fuckk.

the roughness of his digits added friction to his vulgar movements. you felt the build up in your lower stomach, closing your eyes in bliss. “does toru know what you look like when you're about to cum? does he know the way your toes curl, and hole clenches when you’re at your climax? or where your sweet spot is? hmm?” the pace of his fingers make you mewl. the feeling causing you to look up; nanami's lips landing on your neck, leaving ghost kisses. “you're going to keep me busy, butterfly.” his hoarse voice echoing in the small room. he halts his movements, and takes you in.

you looked unworldly, your lust hazed eyes and heavy breath made him feel something inside. all he did was touch you and it had you all flustered and pent up. “you're going to cum, but not on my fingers” that’s when his beer bottle comes into view. as you look at him and back to the bottle in his hand, your cunt tingled. . .knowing exactly what he was asking of you.

“you're going to make yourself cum on this. on your own.” the seriousness in his tone making you squeeze your thighs together. “go on, butterfly. let me see what you can do. you’re a big girl, yeah?” you take the bottle from his veiny hand—the seasoning long gone—lifting your dress as the cold air from the a.c hits your pussy.

aagh.

you see the blonde man making his way towards the back wall—wanting to get a good view of you. your hand shakes due to his intense gaze. his intense gaze that makes you melt. your knees come in contact with the cold tile floor, placing the bottle under you. lowering yourself down, you feel the cold glass in your wet walls.

tch “look at that. it went right in, such a filthy whore.” his harsh words stripping you naked. the wetness of your insides made more than just the tip slide into your cunt. the unfamiliar feeling was enticing, the shaft of the bottle was so deep in you, you could practically taste the beer. it takes you a minute to adjust to the weird yet enthralling sensation.

“move. now.” the sternness of his voice only making it harder to get anything done. not wanting to upset him you move up, while holding the bottle down. the feeling of the bottle was pleasant, but you wanted him. you wished that it was his cock going in you, not his bottle. your small whimpers filled the space between both you, the chatter from outside overlapping your whimpers. that’s when it hits you, your friends are outside, one wrong move and you could give yourself away. the idea of being caught made the situation more exciting, yet you covered your mouth causing muffled noises to come out.

the squelching noises below you were so lewd, you were riding a bottle in front of the man that’s made you cum countless of times. it all felt unreal. “just like that, butterfly. ride that bottle. cream all over, leave your filthy juices in it. so when i drink from it, your little toru looks and doesn’t have the slightest idea it’s his little friend’s cum.” the dirty praises add more pleasure to the pressure on your stomach. your movements are now faster, your breasts bouncing with every breath and thrust.

nanami's lust-blown eyes were fixated on your pussy; your pathetic moves made him want to tease you. he noticed how you were growing steadily lost into your rhythm, your thighs moving farther apart, placing more of the bottle in you. your drooling cunt visible to him, taking in the item so well. “touch yourself” he demanded. the hand that was once covering your glossy lips, was now on your glossy clit. you start with small circles, trying to mimic his movements from earlier. the size of your fingers not making up for his thick ones. the pace of your swirls rise, the tingles clearly present, soft curses falling from your plumpy lips.

“good girl”

those two words alone were enough to make you moan, though combined with cold glass—who’s nanami's lips were once on—and the motion of your fingers on your aching clit, your whole body shook. it was clear that you were close, that much was obvious. your movements were feeble as the bumps of the shaft touched your walls.

the knot in your stomach was getting too intense; you wanted to cum, but you so desperately needed his permission. subconsciously you knew that you needed his authorization, and nanami knew that you were aware of it; making the bulge in his shorts grow. with every second that passed your breath hitched. swollen lips, decorated by your saliva, giving them a glossy look. . .to nanami you looked heavenly.

“cum for me, butterfly.”

your dignity was long forgotten, your mouth opened, while your eyes turned practically white. the knot that was presented was now gone, your bouncing was sloppy, as your knees trembled, almost giving out. your orgasm was like no other, this certain climax was different. gushing out, convinced this was the hardest you’ve cummed before.

“good. . . good fucking girl” you hear his voice and footsteps getting closer. he kneels down and meets you eye to eye, his eyes still dark, as if painted black. “you’re dripping everywhere, butterfly. i can’t wait to taste those sweet juices of yours.” your inner thighs were covered with your cream, the sight itself was erotic. nanami's large hand lands on your face, and you nuzzle into it, feeling his warmth. his thumb strokes your cheek, then on your swollen lips. what he does next is unexpected. he kisses you. it was rough yet sloppy, dominance clearly shown. his lips were soft unlike his fingers, the feeling adding undeniable pleasure. and you let out more of your juices you didn't know you had.

“guess you weren't done, little one. now be a good slut and clean up after yourself.” smiling against your lips. nanami gives you no mercy as he tortures you by retrieving the bottle, leaving you hot and bothered. the only thing you hear is the a.c running, and your loud heart beat. . . it takes you awhile to pull yourself together. a few minutes pass before you make your way back. as you exit the door to the backyard you are met with multiple pairs of eyes. “are you okay? what took you so long?” asks satoru. you’re attention is caught by the blonde man, who is sitting down in his usual spot. you answer gojo while keeping eye contact with nanami.

“i was. . . busy.” you answer. the edge of nanami's lips rise as he places the bottle in his mouth, the bottle that contains not only the beer but your juices. drinking it infront of everyone. the seasoning definitely forgotten.

#jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk smut #nanami smut #nanami x you #nanami x reader #kento nanami #jjk oneshot #jjk fanfic #jujutsu nanami #໒꒰ྀི 🍥 ۫ ּ ᭡#୭̥ ⋆ ˖ nanami ꒱

549 notes · View notes

anika-ann · 11 months

Text

Back and Forth - prologue

Prologue: Flash Forward

Type: series; agent!reader, inhuman!reader Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader Word Count: 800

Series summary: Calling yourself an Avenger would be overstatement, even if you have been joining them on missions quite frequently lately. Calling them your friends would be an overstatement also. Calling you and Steve Rogers friends, now that would be an insult to the entity of friendship – though unlike him, you have enough self-awareness to admit that he isn't the only one to blame for that. Most of the time anyway.

However, the Avengers need your abilities and so you and Steve tolerate each other... and then you’re thrown into a situation where mere tolerance isn’t an option. That should end well, shouldn’t it?

Series masterlist

Warnings: canon-typical violence, allusions to death, pain, blood, hurt/comfort-ish, language

A/N: prologue to a new series with enemies-to-lovers-ish vibes and inhuman reader; dividers by @firefly-graphics 💕; moodboard is for the vibes and does not necessarily reflect reader's appearance

The exhaustion was coming and going in waves, alternating with pain, concern and fruitless determination.

You wondered if Steve felt the same; you assumed he did. Asking would feel a little silly though; you didn’t see the point and frankly, you and Steve had never been close enough to just sit down on a couch and share your feelings, keeping them close to the vest except for the heat of your occasional arguments. So you stayed quiet, alone in your wondering.

The pulse of pain in your legs dulled a while ago; you let your head lull back against the wall you were leaned against, the thud sounding just as dull.

The irony wasn’t lost on you; you and Steve had been colleagues, reluctant friends as best, guarded and unsure about the other most times despite him being one of the most honest people you had ever encountered. It was true that you stood by his side and he did by yours, but there had always been an invisible wall between you. By the irony of fate, now, when an actual wall separated you, you could feel the figurative one crumble down.

It was surreal and frankly scary; which was just as ironic, given your circumstance that should feel much more terrifying. And yet… you couldn’t help the little warmth spreading in your chest, knowing your back was aligned to the same wall Steve’s was, mere inches apart, and while admitting certain things to him hadn’t been pleasant, in hindsight, it felt good. No matter the outcome, you had no doubt that if you survived, you’d remember these moments fondly, at least to some point.

And yes, it probably made you a masochist; but what else was new.

“Why didn’t you tell me about the files?” Steve’s low voice snapped you out of your musing, making your heart jump a bit in fright.

It shouldn’t have surprised you he asked one of many questions you didn’t want to answer. It was another of his annoying and endearing talents – and you rarely gave him the satisfaction of replying fully, just for that. But what the hell, right? Maybe you were about to die here. And you had just thought about how telling the truth, while embarrassing, felt liberating too.

“Would you have listened?” you questioned him back anyhow.

“Yes.”

“Liar.”

You heard him shift, the clank of metal and a low hiss escaping his lips making you gulp. You weren’t the only one battling pain.

“I would have heard you out. I admit I was angry at that time and I wasn’t… behaving as I should have and I’m sorry. But I would have heard you out.”

A brief barely-there smile curled your lips as he apologized again. Steve Rogers, ladies and gentlemen, unable to bear the fact he himself had been less than a gentleman. You might have been far from a friend and even farer from being able to tell you knew him and understood him despite having screamed at him the opposite, but you understood enough. Even if you sometimes wished you didn’t.

“But would you have listened?”

He didn’t reply.

You both knew the answer: no. He wouldn’t have, because he was the damn Captain America and he believed he knew the best, blindly following his inner compass pointing the true North even should all hell break loose, and those files weren’t a real concern anyway, were they?

Damn him.

And yet. As you challenged him further, you couldn’t stop the warm feeling in your chest humming louder, because yes, that was who he was, and you liked him that way, even if he was driving you mad at the same time.

“Or would have you just waved it off, because you are invincible?”

Silence stretched again.

You closed your eyes and tried to focus on hearing his breathing through the wall, still startled and relieved at how easy it was to do so. It was a good distraction from the pain still radiating from your wounds; and it kept your hope alive.

Dum spiro spero, right?

Despite the situation – or maybe out of spite, given both yours and Steve’s nature – you were still breathing and so was Steve. As infuriating as he was, you knew your heart would break to pieces if he stopped. Unable to walk or not, you’d find a way to break through the wall in mere seconds if he stopped talking to you.

Which he did just now.

Something in your ribcage contracted painfully, your voice shaky when you spoke his name, praying he was only offended at you calling him out. After all, being shot really fucking hurt, so you’d rather not move at all, let alone try to crash through concrete; that was the sole reason for your prayers. Liar, whispered a breathless voice, but you ignored it, your heart hammering against your sternum.

“…Steve?”

Next chapter

Series masterlist // S.R. masterlist

Well, well, well... I'm leaving - to a certain point - the realm of fluff to dip my toes in action and angst. Should end well too, right? Anyway. I hope you enjoyed this little tease😇

I admit this fic really is just a baby for now, even as the outline is done, but I simply had to share - too excited not to... oops?

I'm fairly confident this should be around 7 parts including prologue and epilogue, but I'm also me, so the number might slightly rise.

Thank you for reading 💕

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers x you #steve rogers #captain america #agent reader #captain america x you #captain america imagine #captain america x reader #shield agent reader #avenger reader #back and forth #anika ann #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fanfic #captain america fanfiction #captain america fanfic

171 notes · View notes

kurishiri · 3 months

Text

06 . . . “ drowning in the shallows ”

— 🐚 elbert’s main route chapter 6 his side story. thanks to @myusuchaa for providing a recording! 🥺🫶

— this translation may not be 100% accurate or may contain creative liberties for characterization or narrative flow purposes. if you enjoy, please consider reblogging, but don’t repost or claim these as your own!

— cw: objectification, non-consensual touching, bullying.

——It was as though I was drowning in the shallows.

(I wonder if Kate is alright.)

When I saw that she was by Al’s side from my peripheral vision, though, I let out a sigh in relief.

(...Thank goodness.)

Middle-aged gentleman: Oh, you mustn’t turn away from me. Look at me, Elbert.

Elbert: …Alright.

Middle-aged gentleman: Truly, your beauty is second to none.

Green-eyed lady: Elbert, turn toward me as well… My, are you a little short on sleep, perhaps?

Elbert: …I’m fine.

White-haired lady: Are you sure? You aren’t so scared you can’t sleep, aren’t you? I can sing you a lullaby again.

Elbert: …Thank you.

I was showered with admiration that I was beautiful.

Gazes would tangle with each other, and hands would reach out toward me.

And every time, I would push down the discomfort I felt rushing through me, and swallow down the nausea threatening to overflow.

(...I, can’t breathe.)

They were distant relatives of mine, and so, after my father’s death, they would try to ‘love’ me in excess.

At times like these, it was always the same — it felt like I was drowning.

Even so, I would bear it without moving from where I was, and for me, that was my only choice.

Because, if I tried to breathe again and move from where I was, my Curse would make the people around me sad.

The discomfort, and the repulsion, too——

I accepted it all, as it should be.

Elbert: ......

But, even so, I could never grow accustomed to the way they touched me, as though leaving their fingerprints so that it clung to my body.

My breathing felt like it would lose its rhythm at any moment, so I numbed my own heart to bear it.

And at that moment, I suddenly felt someone gently touch my elbow.

(......) [surprised]

The hand touching my body — its touch somewhat hesitant as though concerned for me — was not my own, and yet, it felt much more comforting...

...and when I turned around, there I saw Kate, her brows furrowed in worry.

Kate: Lord Elbert, it would appear as though the host has not yet arrived… so, would you care to come outside?

Elbert: …Kate.

Kate: U, um… your complexion looks slightly pale, and so I figured going outside for some fresh air would benefit you…

(Ahh...)

(I’ve made you sad again.)

And yet, just a single word from her was like magic, as it became easier to breathe, dispeling that which had been making me suffer.

It made me want to cling onto that hand which extended toward me, and rise up from the deep depths of the water that threatened to drown me.

(But... I can’t.)

(I, can’t move from here.)

(Not until I have the ‘most beautiful thing in the world.’)

I stood where I was, unable to take her hand and return the gesture.

——That would bring about my own ruin. [1]

Green-eyed lady: I apologize, but who might you be? Elbert, is she a new guard or something else of the sort?

Green-eyed lady: If that is the case, then excuse me, but your dress looks like it’s weeping. Not to mention your conduct is quite disgraceful.

(...!)

The sharp point of the spear that should have been pointed toward me was now facing her, baring its fangs.

Middle-aged gentleman: Haha, there is no need to go that far; I feel bad for her now.

Middle-aged gentleman: Young miss, we have been Elbert’s acquaintances since he was young. So, would you mind staying out of this?

(...Stop this.)

The feelings, which had become dull and muddy as it robbed me of my breathing from within the depths of my chest,

tried to pull the chains, crawling out from within.

Middle-aged gentleman: Are you listening, young miss?

Kate: …!

Grabbing her jaw, he roughly lifted her face so that she had to look up.

(Please, don’t hurt her...)

Middle-aged gentleman: Now, that just won’t do, a rubbish stone like you, standing among the finest gem in the showcase.

White-haired lady: Truly… she is a disgrace to beauty.

Middle-aged gentleman: What is that look in your eyes?

The moment when those eyes, directed toward Kate, became clouded in wrath,

The discomfort and the repulsion, and the sadness and anger all became a chaotic mess as they mixed together——

and spilled from my throat.

Elbert: ……Could you stop?

(She... has not committed a single sin.)

——She was strong, and kind.

Even when the sins before her eyes tried to hurt her, she tried her best to look forward with a smile.

Even when she lamented over the things that had hurt her, she tried to not let sadness consume her.

And, when she thought of another’s happiness——she would look so happy as she smiled.

Kate was like the shell she found at the beach — as pure as the snow.

(There is no reason for Kate to receive this kind of slander...)

(...Not a single one.)

Elbert: Touching her, criticizing her… please stop that.

E: ...Please.

It was like my throat, filled to the brim with something muddy on the brink of overflowing, had squeezed out those words in a murmur.

They at last let go of her jaw.

Middle-aged gentleman: ...If you say so, Elbert, I suppose it cannot be helped.

White-haired lady: I apologize, that may have been a little uncouth of me. I will be careful from now on.

Green-eyed lady: Let us meet again, Elbert. In a quiet place no one can interrupt, that is.

They looked somewhat disappointed, but nonetheless they tried to distance themselves.

(...Thank goodness.)

(Now Kate doesn’t have to go through any more pain.)

But——

Kate: W-wait.

Kate’s brows were furrowed as she, for some reason, called out to stop them.

(...Kate?)

Kate: If it’s possible, could you treat him the same way you treat me?

Elbert: ... [surprised]

Middle-aged gentleman: ...What you are saying is beyond me.

Kate: I’m saying that you could greet him more normally...

White-haired lady: ...Don’t get full of yourself. You are naught but a stranger; do not speak with me ever again.

With those biting words, they left Kate alone for sure this time.

This entire time, I couldn’t take my eyes off of her — not once.

(Kate is strong, and kind.)

(Even when she knows her actions will hurt herself, she tries to face them nevertheless.)

—— Flashback ——

???: Uu... hu... hic...

Kate: ...! Sorry about that...!

Elbert: ...!

—— End flashback ——

——Just like that day when she had pushed my chest away and ran to Daisy’s side in the pool of blood,

she was trying to pull me out from the water’s depths.

(Every time I feel that strength of hers, and that kindness, too, I...)

(...I can never, look away from her.)

Elbert: Kate...

Kate: ...I’m sorry, even though I don’t know your circumstances, I did something out of turn.

Elbert: ...No... you have no need to apologize.

E: Rather, I apologize for making you see that... I’m sorry.

Kate: But, it’s not your fault...

Elbert: ... [surprised]

Before I knew it, I had become desperate.

Kate: Things like admiration, or love... those are not justifiable reasons to push their selfish desires onto you.

K: Can I ask why, didn’t you resist?

(You are strong, and kind.)

(But...)

(...Maybe, just a little too kind.)

Elbert: ......I’m used to it. And...

E: With that distance, one careless move and... I would have stepped into their shadows.

E: I don’t want to do that to them.

Kate: Lord Elbert, you...

K: ...are too kind.

Elbert: ...That’s not true.

Kate: ...No, it is.

(...She doesn’t know.)

Just how much one’s sad memories could gnaw at one’s heart as if being eaten by worms, or even kill them.

And, just how much this life of mine may be abhorrently cursed.

Neither did she know the sins I have committed — she was privy to none.

(Just as there was no reason for you to be hurt,)

(There was no reason for me to be protected by you... Kate.)

Elbert: ...As I thought, I am not kind.

E: Like now, I’ve made you sad.

I wanted to return that kindness with a smile of my own, but it seemed her sad expression wouldn’t let up.

Just from her eyes, I could tell that she was so wholeheartedly worried for me to the point it hurt...

...and once again, I was able to breathe.

——Is she, beautiful?

I felt like, from the deepest, darkest depths of the hole that was agape in my chest, I could hear a hollow voice.

(...I don’t know.)

(And it’s fine if I still don’t know the answer.)

(Not yet, at least——)

← prev next →

˗ˏˋ full masterlist ´ˎ˗ 🍎✨

🏷️: @magicalkoo @complexivelovely @just-a-writerr (leave a comment, send an ask, or dm me saying you want to be added to the tag list if you want to be tagged!)

NOTES:

[1] the original line here is [ーーそれが、災いした] (sore ga, wazawai shita). I wasn’t completely sure how to translate it, but 災いする (wazawai suru), the dictionary form of 災いした (wazawai shita), means to ‘bring the ruin of’ or to ‘cause misfortune.’ If anyone’s got a better or more accurate way to translate this, I’m all ears!

#ikemen villains #ikevil #イケメンヴィラン #ikevil elbert #ikevil elbert greetia #elbert greetia #ikemen villains elbert #cybird ikemen series #cybird ikemen #cybird otome #ikemen series #ikeseries #otome game #otome #ikevil translation #ikevil translations

24 notes · View notes

floralcrematorium · 1 month

Text

in honor of hetamyu fruk, i’m sharing a snippet from one of the fics i’ve been working on. there’s an actual little plot, but i am just thinking about Them. all you need to know thus far is francis wore lipstick to the conference they’re both attending today and they haven’t seen one another in quite some time

here’s a little bit of the next part i have to edit, so some things are subject to change:

—

Arthur immediately feels the satiny slip of the cosmetics once their lips lock. Not an unwelcome sensation in the slightest, but definitely new. If he had access to Francis after every conference or meeting with parliament, Arthur would never again know the true meaning of the word “stress.” Any tension in his sternum dissolves and the chronic stiffness is long forgotten, especially with the placement of Francis’ hand on the small of his back.

Hands tangle in Francis’ curls, a decision which Arthur would certainly hear an earful about later. But that’s later. In this moment, the softness of Francis’ hair is the only thing that matters. Francis’ treasured locks are certainly his second best feature. They better be, considering the sheer amount of time which goes into washing, conditioning, and styling them every morning. If there ever comes a day his lover is forced to cut away his gorgeous curls, it would call for a day of national mourning.

When Francis’ affections stray from his partner’s lips, Arthur wants to die. The scratching of his beard on the underside of the Englishman’s jaw is swiftly followed by a flurry of kisses. Even after all these years, the sensation is akin to the touch of a dozen butterflies as Francis works his way down Arthur’s neck.

Goddamnit, he missed this. He missed Francis. Thank God for this entirely boring meeting, which allows their paths to cross for a taste of momentary bliss until their duties pull them apart again.

A dull pain protrudes into the side of Arthur’s neck, earning the perpetrator a sharp gasp from the Brit, who is all too eager to stifle it.

“Francis!”

“Hm?”

As Arthur’s pulled away, he’s greeted by the most innocent man. Sweet doe eyes are impossible to be cross with. Although Francis never plays fair, Arthur plays to get even.

He sinks his teeth into Francis’ expensive navy blazer, pushing his back to the wall, and granting him control of the situation. Being the merciful gentleman he is, Arthur ushers an immediate apology in the form of a kiss to Francis’s shoulder, which leads him up his partner’s neck, under his jaw, and back to his boyfriend’s lips once further. Before Francis has the chance to fully break away, his lower lip is momentarily caught by Arthur’s teeth.

“Arthur, if your spit stains my suit, you are paying for my dry cleaning. This is Vivienne Westwood!”

“Then don’t play games you can’t win.”

A kiss breaks the whining, but only long enough for Francis to interrupt with more whimpering.

“Mon grand is so mean to me! So unforgivably mean!”

Another kiss.

“So-”

Arthur guides Francis back to his lips, hand below the Frenchman’s chin. His hand comes to cup Francis’s cheek, brushing his thumb against his cheek once more, before he throws his arm over his lover’s shoulder. Rather than be broken apart by another set of French dramatics, it’s his sly smirk and a fit of giggling.

“My dear, I can’t help but believe you like this.”

“Well I certainly won’t say no,” Francis grins.

It’s impossible not to smile when Francis’ fills Arthur with jittery satisfaction.

“I’d say so,” Arthur begins, planting another kiss firmly to the other man’s cheek. “Unfortunately, I’m afraid we should begin heading back.”

“You kill me.”

“If I didn’t have that speech to give, I’d be more than happy to continue fraternizing with such delinquency, but alas.”

#sorry the snippet i chose to share is them absolutely mouthing it #actually i’m not sorry #anyway they both definitely bite one another with the intent for mischief #fruk #floralcrematorium writes #hetalia #WIP #fic wip #hetalia fic #hws france #hws england

22 notes · View notes

blueraineshadows · 1 year

Text

A Very Sebby Christmas 🎄 💚

Okay, so it's not Christmas, but this was a request from the lovely @pugsnotdrugs92 I hope this is what you were after. Plenty of fluff 💓 and a splash of spice 🌶 with Sebastian x F!MC

Sebastian snapped the locks shut on his suitcase and took a deep breath. He could hardly believe he was about to board the Hogwarts Express with MC and travel to London for Christmas. His heart beat a little faster at the thought. Christmas in the big city, Christmas with MC and her family.

"All ready to leave?" Ominis asked. He was packed and ready to go home for the holidays, his face grim at the thought. "Are you still alright about making the trip? There has been a fair amount of sighing going on."

Sebastian thought for a moment, his eyes moving to the portrait miniture of MC on his nightstand. "What if her family don't like me?"

"Come now, my friend," Ominis said. He moved to place a hand on Sebastian's shoulder. "I am quite sure everything will be just wonderful. MC is a delightful young woman, why should her family not be equally as amiable."

"Perhaps your right."

"Of course I am," Ominis said. "Failing your obvious charm, you could always hex them if they turn out to be rather monstrous I suppose."

Sebastian stared at his friend. "Ominis!"

Ominis chuckled and moved back towards his own suitcase. "Come on, we have a train to catch."

-----*-----

Platform 9 3/4 was bustling with parents and students, luggage wagons were rolling, and the excited chatter was a dull roar in their ears as Sebastian and MC stepped from the train. MC was up on her tiptoes trying to spot her parents through the crowds, she glanced behind and grabbed Sebastian's arm. "Come on," she urged.

Sebastian couldn't help but smile at the excitement dancing in her eyes and allowed himself to be tugged through the throng. MC gave an excited cry and headed for a well dressed couple. The gentleman wore a fine suit and hat, a pocket watch chain in finest gold glinting under the gas lights. Sebastian was rather impressed by his moustache and imagined growing one himself one day.

The lady wore a dress in fine blue silk, delicate jewellery gracing her ears and throat. She was a beauty, her smile bright and lovely when she spotted MC hurrying towards then.

"Mother, we're here!" MC had never cared much for strict propriety despite the etiquette training she had received and had no qualms about giving her parents fierce hugs. "Merlin, how I have missed you!"

Sebastian stood back a little, watching the warm family reunion and tried to swallow down the lump in his throat. He wondered where Anne was spending her Christmas and then forced the thought aside. She had sent an owl. She was safe. That was the main thing.

Then MC was taking his arm and pulling him forward. "Mother, Father, please, I would love to finally introduce you to Sebastian Sallow."

MC's father immediately held out his hand. "A pleasure to meet you, young man. We have heard a great deal about you in MC's owls."

Sebastian eyed the hand offered and took it, shaking with a firm grip. "Its a pleasure, Sir, and thank you for the kind invitation to your home."

MC's father nodded and then her mother was taking his hand in both of hers. "You are most welcome, my dear," she said warmly. "It is so lovely to finally meet the young man that MC speaks so highly of, and she was right, you are as handsome as she promised."

Sebastian felt his cheeks warm and he smiled. "You are too kind Mrs MCsLN."

"Yes, well, shall we head for the carriage?"

At her father's words, MC nodded and they went to collect their luggage.

.....*.....

MC's home was a large city house in Chelsea, Sebastian tried not to gawp at the finery surrounding them, and managed to hold a rather pleasant conversation with MC's mother about Herbology. He found she had rather a sharp mind and found himself warming to her immediately. He could see so much of MC in her.

At dinner, her father mentioned some magic theory he had come across in archives at the Ministry where he had an office. Sebastian's eyes lit up and mentioned what he knew of it. Her Father was most impressed and they launched into a rather long conversation, discussing books they had both read.

"Shall we leave the men to it, my dear?" Her mother whispered. "They look like they will be wagging their chins for a while yet."

MC nodded and moved to put her hand on Sebastian's shoulder. He looked up at her, eyes devouring the way her hair was piled up so sophisticated on her head, the delicate gown she wore and his heart swelled. How was she his? "I'm just going to spend some time with Mother," she said. "I will come to say goodnight before I retire."

"Of course," he said. His gaze moved to her mother, who looked equally as lovely. "Thank you so much for dinner. It was delicious. And as for the company, well, what can I say? I feel like the luckiest man in London right now."

MC's father raised an eyebrow at the lovely blush that spread across his wife's cheeks. "Oh, Sebastian, you are welcome any time. Especially if you continue with sweet words such as those!"

MC and her mother moved to the sitting room where a cheerful fire burned in the hearth. MC moved to the Christmas tree and admired a glittering bauble.

"What a lovely young man you have secured for yourself, MC," Mother said. "I can see why he makes you so happy. After a year I am surprised he hasn't offered you a ring."

MC blushed. "I may have known him for that time, but we have only officially been courting for a few months. We were friends first, and then it became something more."

"Oh! But you spoke of him so warmly, and it was apparent that you spent a lot of time together. I assumed too much it seems."

"Perhaps my feelings for him were there the whole time and I just didn't see it," MC said. "Sebastian is devoted to his sister and she was quite poorly, he dedicated a lot of time to her care and well being. She has since improved and moved on with her life, so now he has more time for things such as courting."

Her mother gave a little sigh, her hand to her chest. "He sounds more wonderful by the moment. And you are truly happy?"

MC hurried to her side, dropping to her knees and taking her mothers hands in her own. "Fiercely happy Mother, like you wouldn't believe," she said. "He makes my heart sing and the merest touch of his hand makes me feel like the only girl in the world."

Tears welled in her mother's eyes. "I felt the same with your father, and I still do." She cupped MC's face with her hand. "My baby girl is all grown up and in love. I approve sweetheart. Your father may not say so, but he approves too. He would not sit and hold such a long conversation with a man who did not entice his mind, as your Sebastian clearly does. You have our blessing."

.....*.....

Christmas Eve. The family had shared a lovely dinner with some friends, Ministry people who were equally impressed with Sebastian's bright, young mind. One of them could play piano, and after the fire whiskey had been brought out, Sebastian led MC's mother in a dance, his heart thudding with nerves the whole time. When he danced with MC, he had dared to hold her close, their eyes only for each other's. If they had been able to tear their gazes away to look, they would have seen the sentimental glance shared between her parents. It was obvious. The youngsters were very much in love.

The hour was late and Sebastian lay awake listening to the house settling. His heart was as full as it could be, MC's family were welcoming and warm, he felt wanted here. There was an ache deep inside for Anne, and for his lost parents. He knew they would have loved MC for her wit, her cleverness and her fierce loyalty. He missed them terribly, but he didn't feel alone.

The creak of his door made him turn and a figure slipped into his room, closing the door with a quiet click. MC tiptoed to the bed in her long nightdress, her hair unbound and trailing over her shoulders. He felt flame and want gather. He knew he would always want her, it was like there was an invisible cord between them, linking them in ways only they would know how.

"Sebastian, quick, look," she whispered. She tugged at his arm. He smiled in confusion and allowed her to pull him from the warmth of his bed. They went to the window. "Its snowing."

They stood for a moment watching as the flurries fell, coating the street in a blanket of white. It was nature's own brand of magic, snow. It seemed to bring with it a peacefulness and Sebastian thought he could relate. He slipped his arm around MC's waist and held her close, her soft curves a comfort and a stoker of growing flames. "I love you," he whispered. "I hope you know that."

She smiled. She knew, of course she did, but oh how she loved to tease him. She toyed with a button on his sleep shirt. "Maybe you need to prove it," she said cheekily.

"You are not trying to seduce me under your Father's roof now, are you?"

She pressed her mouth to his neck, sucking gently. He allowed himself a sigh, not risking a moan at her kiss. "Is it working?"

"Absolutely not," he said. He focused on the snow drifting against the window, but her lips were so soft, so wet...

A strangled gasp left his mouth as her hand cupped his growing arousal. Her fingers smoothing up towards the tip. "Hmm, this little chap tells me otherwise," she sighed.

"You are a naughty girl," he whispered, his mouth seeking hers. He kissed her thoroughly, tongue sweeping hungrily.

"You love it," she said between kisses.

He risked a low groan, hands rucking up her nightdress to cup her delicious behind, backing her up to the bed. She fell back onto it, her hips barely on the edge as he slid two fingers into her, her folds slick and ready for him. She arched, moaning softly. "Yes, Seb, yes."

He silenced her moans with kisses, his fingers seeking out what pleased her most, swirling and teasing before fucking her as deep as his fingers would allow once more. She was soaked, his fingers sliding effortlessly and his cock strained against his pyjama bottoms. He was going to lose it.

Fumbling to free himself, he pushed her thighs wide and buried himself inside her, both of them biting back their moans of pleasure. He began to thrust and then paused at the squeal of protest from the bed springs. His heart was thudding and his balls felt like they were going to explode, but the bed was going to give them away.

He glanced around the bedroom, reluctantly pulling out from her. "What is it?" She asked, sitting up.

He pulled out the chair at the desk and turned it, placing it in the centre of the floor. "In order not to be detected, we need to be a bit inventive."

"Why not cast a silencing charm?" She asked with a frown. He grabbed her hand and led her to the chair, taking a seat. He patted his lap. "Because, where would the fun be in that?"

She grinned as he tugged his bottoms down further and pulled his slick cock free, all ready for her. His hand on her hips, she straddled him, gripping his shoulders as she slid deliciously onto his cock. She immediately did a testing roll of her hips and he groaned. "Oh, fuck that's good."

"I thought we were being quiet," she said, smothering a giggle.

He smirked and pulled up her nightdress, tugging it over head. "Let's get rid of this so I can have a perfect view of these while you fuck me," he said. He cupped her breasts greedily, rolling her nipples under his thumbs. He bent to suck one into his mouth and her head fell back, her hair trailing to his thighs. "Gods, I love these," he mumbled, mouth full.

MC began to roll her hips, finding a rhythm that made his cock rub her in all the right places. His fingers dug into her hips and she panted, her feet balanced on the very tips of her toes. She could feel the pressure building, the fear of being discovered, the slide of his thick cock, the way he was watching her through lidded eyes building the fire within her. She began to bounce on him, eager, desperate, her thighs slapping down against his and then she threw her head back, her release crashing through her. Sebastian gasped, hanging on to her waist with one arm and wrapping the other hand over her mouth as a long moan escaped her lips, low and as sexy as fuck. He shuddered, his cock pulsing and bursting at the sound she had made, filling her with his own release.

They both panted, foreheads pressed together, his fingers tangled into her hair at the nape of her neck. "I love you too," she said. She pressed a soft kiss to his mouth. "Merry Christmas."

.....*.....

The Hogwarts Express wound through the English countryside enroute to Scotland. The hills were still coated in a blanket of white from the snowfall at Christmas that had carried through to the New Year. Sebastian sat near the window, his arm wrapped securely around MC. He thought about the small box in his suitcase, handed to him by MC's father Christmas morning wrapped in bright paper. Inside had been a set of silver cufflinks, the tops shaped as a coiled snake. He had been choked, overwhelmed by such a lovely gift, and had tried to hand it back insisting it was too much. But her father had placed a warm hand over his, making the box stay firmly within Sebastian's grasp. "Nonsense, boy," he had said. "You are family now."

Even now it made his throat want to close up and he held MC a little closer. "Are you glad to be returning to Hogwarts?" She asked.

"Yes, and no," he replied. "I'm not sure if the city is for me, however the trip turned out to be rather a pleasant one."

"So, you enjoyed Christmas?"

He looked down at her and booped his finger playfully on her nose. "The best I've had since I was a small boy."

He realised it was the truth, and it was all because of her. MC's smile was warmer than any Christmas candle. "I'm so glad," she said. "Perhaps we can visit again, summer perhaps?"

"That sounds perfect."

MC snuggled closer against him, thrilled that she had managed to make Christmas special for him. She thought about Christmas Eve when she had snuck into his room, a warm glow spreading through her. A smile tugged her lips at their failed efforts to be quiet. She hadn't told Sebastian about the conversation she'd had with her mother the following day, he would probably be mortified to know that she had overheard them. But MC had a little box of her own in her suitcase containing a few bottles of potion to prevent conceiving a child. She had flushed scarlet at first when her mother had handed them over, but the accompanying words had eased the embarrassment.

"Take these," she had said. "While I am pleased to hear you already have a supply of your own, I want to show you that I support your decisions. You have grown into a wonderful young woman, out there making me so proud with all that you are learning, finding your feet in the world. I was young and in love once, I know how it feels to burn for a man, believe me. All I ask is that you finish your education at Hogwarts, take everything that life has to offer you, and then make the most of every moment with that lovely young man of yours. Spend some time, just the two of you, exploring what life has to offer before you even think about a family of your own. Cherish those moments alone with him, I promise, you won't regret it."

MC had never loved her mother more than in that moment. They had hugged, maybe shed a tear or two, and then they had giggled when her mother had confessed that she could see why MC had been tempted into Sebastian's bed, if she had been a much younger witch, she would have had her head turned herself!

....*....

Suitcase unpacked, robes hung up ready for classes resuming the next morning, Sebastian picked up his miniature portrait of MC and smiled. He was going to marry her one day, he would make damn sure of it.

Ominis came into the room, wand held up, his face brightening when he realised Sebastian was there. "Good Christmas?" He asked.

"Actually, yes," Sebastian replied.

"So, no need for any hexing then?"

"Absolutely not, you were right. MC's family are as perfect as she is."

Ominis nodded and then frowned. "Wish I could say the same for my lot," he sighed. "Unfortunately, there was a need for a hex or two, you know what my brother is like."

Sebastian smirked. "Indeed I do, tell me everything."

#hogwarts legacy fanfic #mc x sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow fanfiction #sebastian sallow smut

167 notes · View notes

villainessprefect · 2 years

Text

title: Choice

summary: You don't know where you are or how you got here or what is going on. All you know is that you have a choice. Pick a hand and take it.

ship: Idia x gn!reader

word count: 1,449

note: a take on the whole ‘choose a character’ from the intro of the game!

Read on AO3!

Everything is dark. Cold. Your body feels strange. Weightless yet grounded.

You hear a voice but can't make out anything they're saying. Surely, they're speaking to you. It's the only conclusion you can come to. You wish to hear them, to understand what they're saying. And that wish is granted with their final words.

"If your heart bids it, take the hand of the one reflected in the mirror."

After those words are uttered, the darkness enveloping you releases its hold. While the world may still be hidden in the shadows, the dim light shines upon you.

Here, you find yourself in a room. In the center, a large mirror floats midair, hovering over a small fountain overflowing with green liquid. The glass is pitch black, reflecting nothing. There's a foreboding feeling in the air, making it hard to breathe. Such power comes from that single object. It's daunting. Inviting. Like a forbidden temptation it draws you in even though you shouldn't give into its bewitching calls.

You gulp. Fear strikes through your core and keeps you in place. But another force is at play.

Something- or someone- from the darkness nudges you forward. You stumble but don't fall. When you turn to see who could have done this, there's nothing behind you. Just pure darkness. You hold your hands to your chest and consider calling out to the stranger. Your gut says to hold your tongue and you listen to it.

You return your attention to the mirror. Another breath is taken.

What's happening? Why are you here? Where are you? Who was that person? How did you get here? Why do you need to obey their command? And what is so important about this mirror?

Thousands of questions swirl through your mind. No answer comes forth and you don't expect any given your current situation. Perhaps, if you do as you're told you may find some.

Only one way to find out.

You shake off your nerves as best as you can. With another breath, you stand tall. Don't show your fear, you tell yourself. Slow steps are taken toward the mirror.

When you stand before it, there is no reflection as one would expect. Eternal darkness welcomes you, but only for a moment. With a loud 'whoosh' green flames erupt from behind the glass. Startled, you step back. You can feel the warmth of the fire from beyond. But the flames will never reach you; the glass protects you.

Soon, the flames begin to dull. They fizzle out yet remain at the rims of the mirror. An image of a person begins to form. It's unclear, hazy, shrouded in smoke, and you can barely make out a silhouette. But what you can see clear as day, is the hand that is held out towards you.

A slender hand extends to yours. It's concealed by a black glove with a red rose embroidered on the side. Despite being unable to see the hand underneath, you can feel that it's hiding something, like years of hard work and loneliness. If you take it, you have a feeling that it will never let go.

When you don't reach for it, another takes its place. This one is gloved as well, with white instead of black. It's held out like a gentleman waiting to take the hand of his love. It's more charming than the other, but something from the hidden figure stops you from making a move. A dark, thick tentacle sways. It prevents you from reaching out to the hand. And you feel bad for not doing so.

The next hand offered to you is one of beauty. If you have to describe it in one word, it would be perfect. The hand looks smooth and you're certain that even the skin hidden underneath the black sleeve would be divine to the touch. Almost unreal. Someone such as yourself isn't worthy of taking such a pristine hand. So, you don't.

The mirror shifts through more hands, offering you more and more to take. It never grows impatient, always remaining on one hand for the same amount of time as the last.

None reach out to your heart aside from those first three. You hate to hesitate, but how are you supposed to take the hand of a stranger? One that you can't even see. You have to choose one or else you'll never leave.

You sigh, about to give up hope. Until the mirror offers you the next hand.

This one has long, slender fingers. A lanky hand that trembles as it reaches for yours. It's as if this person is doing all they can to keep their hand out for the allotted time. It even tries to curl into the black, geometric sleeve that reaches its wrist.

Why, out of all the hands, do you find this one the most enticing?

Perhaps because it seemed like you weren't alone with fear. The others held such confidence, and power. Meanwhile, this one gave away their true feelings. It didn't want to be here and neither did you. A kindred spirit.

It starts to recoil into the darkness.

"Wait!" You shout, your voice echoing throughout the room.

The quivering hand returns once more.

There's more to this one than the others, you think. It's different, special, calling out to you. You want to take this hand. Something inside of you yearns to. No words could properly explain your reasoning as to why.

Is this what it means to pick the one your heart desires?

As the hand lingers in place, the hazy smoke surrounding the person begins to clear. And you find yourself looking at a tall, slouched man. The first thing you notice is the long hair of blue flames. You think it's fake until you notice the way the ends flicker and sway just like the green at the edge of the mirror. His other hand is firmly grasping his arm as if to keep his extended one in place.

Your eyes meet with his. Radiant gold that shines despite the shadows cast over them. He can't keep his eyes on you for long, always trying to look elsewhere. He bites down on his lip and you catch a glimpse of his sharp teeth.

If you could look elsewhere, you would. You have a feeling your curious gaze is uncomfortable. But you want to know more about him.

"Idia Shroud."

The voice startles you, especially since it's your own. It's an unfamiliar name, one you've never heard yet felt so right to say.

Behind the glass, the boy physically flinches.

"That's...your name, right?"

He blinks and nods. His mouth trembles but nothing comes out. He shakes his head and fights against the unknown power keeping him in place. He's ready to disappear. Before you can let that happen, you quickly move to accept his hand.

Your fingers fly through the glass as if it were never there to begin with. Your body follows shortly after. You never let go of his hand, even as you make it through the other side of the mirror.

"Wh-Why...?" He speaks, voice strained and full of uncertainty. He squeezes your hand, looking for support and to confirm your choice. "Why did you choose someone like me?"

You look up at him and give him a reassuring smile. Despite not knowing why you're...happy to have chosen him. You want to tell him about your weird reasoning. How a part of you wanted to reassure him that things would be okay. Now that you were in front of him, he seemed more frightened of the predicament than you were! And you didn't even know what the hell was going on! You could almost laugh about it. He really didn't seem like a bad person either. A bit shy, perhaps, but that wasn't a bad thing.

You open your mouth to answer, but find your voice lost. Your eyes widen and a hand goes to your throat.

Why couldn't you speak?

Before you could process anything, a sudden wave of fatigue overcomes your body. It feels as if someone had just cast a sleeping spell on you. Keeping your eyes open and your mind awake is an impossible task. You feel your grip on his hand weakened.

You see panic take over his entire being. He sputters out another name in panic, calling for help.

"Idia..."

His name is the only thing that can escape from your lips. And it's the last thing you say before being consumed by darkness.

The next thing you hear is the rattling of a door and the distressed voice of someone wanting to find a uniform.

#twisted wonderland #idia shroud #twisted wonderland x reader #idia shroud x reader #gn reader #twst x reader #twst #idia shroud x you #ignihyde

285 notes · View notes

luimagines · 1 year

Note

Another request because my brain has decided to start working somewhat the chain finding someone not from their world

This one... Is very vague. So don't mind if I take many creative liberties XD

Masterlist

Part one will include Wild, Legend and Hyrule.

Content under the cut!

Wild

Wild wasn't sure if he was meant to be looking at this person at the moment.

She had a high ponytail, with their quiver and shield strapped to their back. The sheath which held her sword rested at their hip, a very familiar sheikah slate was hooked on the other side.

She was blond with blue eyes and burn marks all over the side of their face in a very familiar pattern.

Wild gulped and stuck a hand out, trying to mean no harm. "Uh, hi. Why do you look like me?"

She eyes him with suspicion and slowly puts her hand in his. "I could be asking you the same thing."

"Hey Cub, have you seen- oh god there's two of them." Twilight fumbles out of the surrounding foliage. He blurts his words without thinking and points.

The girl eyes him with just as much suspicion, borderline glaring at him. Twilight shrinks back somewhat, not expecting this. "Hello...Can we help you?"

"You look familiar." She mutters and but shakes her head. "Where am I? Who are you people?"

Twilight coughs. "My name is Link and his name is Link. We're... actually not from here. But you can call me Rancher or Twilight. I respond to both. He goes by Champion or Wild. What's your name?"

She takes a step back, very purposefully looking them both up and down.. "...My name is Linkle..."

Twilight looks just as lost as Wild feels. Wild shakes his head, smacking his cheeks for good measure. He hopes that there's no triggered memory because of this. That would really bad at the moment.

"A new hero maybe?" He ventures tentatively. "We're going to have to tell the others."

She looks even more on guard. Her hand goes to rest on the hilt of her sword. "Others?"

Twilight nods, putting his hands up. "We have a group of others named Link...We're all heroes of Hyrule. Sound familiar?"

She doesn't relax but she nods. She makes no move to follow them though. "Where's Prince Zelden?"

Wild frowns. "Never heard of him....There's Princess Zelda though but she's not here right now."

Everything about her reminds him of himself but it's never been so... off. Is it because she's a girl or too similar to him? Wild cant figure it out.

He looks over Twilight as he pinches the bridge of his nose. He's getting a headache. Wild isn't sure why though. She's his look alike- Oh wait, that might be why.

Wild offers his arm like any good gentleman (Sky would be proud). "We all have questions, I'm sure. Together we can both try to figure out what's happening. Would you like to join us for lunch? I was about to start the fire."

She slowly reaches for his arm and nods. "...Yes. I'd like that actually. Thank you."

Twilight shakes his head. "I'll let the boy know we have company... Please don't set anything on fire."

"...I need to start the fire though."

"You know what I mean."

The girl next to him giggles. "I have a friend just like him. She tells me the same thing all the time."

Wild smiles. "She sounds fun."

Legend

He had to crane his neck to get a decent look at them.

They were huge, as big as a hinox. They had four arms and a massive maw full of razor sharp teeth. They has large scales on their body in a brilliant green color. The closest thing Legend could compare them to were beatle wings but they must much larger and hard as a rock.

"Admiring my armor?" They said. Their voice shook Legend to his core. Something about it spoke of power and restraint.

He finds himself nodding. "It's armor then? How do you put in on? There's no strap of anything."

They laugh. "Of course not. It's a part of my body. They've only gotten this strong because of all the times I've torn them off."

They poke their shells. It makes a small dull sound. They bring it closer for Legend to touch as well. He does, only because he has no idea what would be considered weird in this circumstance. It's smooth but warm. Solid. "Did it hurt, Sniper?"

"Of course." They pull back. "The blood is always a pain to clean up but it's necessary where I'm from. My people pick from the toughest warriors and strongest soldiers. There's someone I have my eyes on so I hope to prove myself tough enough to form a life bond."

Legend nods. He understands only the need to peacock to catch attention. He doesn't understand the rest of it.

"The Drev are a war species." They explain, as if that's an normal to say. "We pride ourselves in being unbeatable and we train our young from a young age to be a merciless on the battle field as out predecessors."

Legend finds himself only getting more freaked out by this conversation. Is this normal? Can someone call him or something? Get him out of this!

"We..." He tries to explain himself and his people. But how does he not piss off this giant behemoth of a creature?

They had met up while they were tracking down the shadow. The shadow ran out of a portal like their life depended on it and this...Drev, came out chasing him. It appears they they did enough damage to be thirsty for more.

It's unnerving.

No one really had a choice when they said they were traveling with hem now to track down the shadow and given their battle prowess... they weren't going to turn them away from that either.

"You are all soft and squishy." The drev pokes his leg. "It's incredibly you've all survived as long as you have."

They laugh and Legend is inclined to let them have their moment. Of course it's obvious that they've all had close calls. What does he even say to that?

Hyrule

Hyrule knew by this point that there were many worlds beside his own. His own world has changed so much that he could hardly recognize it outside of his own existence. It might as well be a different place entirely.

So when he comes face to face with a person who's entire bottom half is a serpentine, he's not exactly inclined to ask many questions at first.

Their eyes are bright and vibrant. Between the slits down the center and their yellow color, Hyrule finds himself drawn further into their differences.

Their tail is black with orange bands. Similar scales trail up their uncovered torso and over their joints and arms. Their hands are completely covered by the scales and end with razor sharp black tinted claws. The scales become more patchy by their neck, face and hairline and end when long black hair starts to grow out of their scalp.

Hyrule seems to focus more on the their face, trying to make the situation as less awkward as possible. It only polite to hold relative eye contact. "Hello."

They slither away, crouching lower to the ground.

The others shout and cry out from just behind him. The creature has made itself known but apparently by mistake.

"Hyrule! Are you hurt?" Warrior calls out, running with his weapon out.

Hyrule forces himself to his feet. The sight of the new being has left him a little unsteady, but he doesn't want them to attack for no reason. "I'm ok! We're all good here!"

That gets them to slow down at least.

Legend makes it to him first with the help of his pegasus boots. Hyrule is tackled into a hug and pushed behind the other hero. "What on earth?"

"This is new to you too?"

"I've never seen anyone like them."

They slither back even farther and start going up a tree.

"Wait!" Hyrule moves away form Legend, even putting his hand on the outstretched blade to lower it. "Don't go away! We won't hurt you."

"But will they hurt us?" Warrior slide in, also holding his weapon.

"They didn't even do anything!" Hyrule tries to defend. "We just crashed together, that's all."

"Looked more like an ambush to me."

The snake being pulls themself higher into the tree, never taking their eyes off of the young boys as they begin to gather around.

Hyrule bounces his knee nervously and coughs. "Do you have a name?"

The person tilts their head and looks to the rest of them.

Legend clicks his tongue. "Do they even speak?"

"....Kara."

The entire group stills.

"My name is Kara."

Part 2

#linked universe #linkeduniverse #I'm going to make so many new characters #and keep none of them #are they aliens? from a different universe? alternate versions of them?#it's going to depend #i'm going to have to pull out all the stops lol #the drev are from starr-fall-knight-rise #they write for humans are space orcs #and they have an ongoing story and i love it #i might add their Vrull later... but I feel like that would be cheating XD #but go check them out if you're into that fandom

82 notes · View notes

wheels-of-despair · 1 year

Text

Worth It | Ralph Penbury x You | Masterlist

{<-Previous} [Questioning Miracles] {Next->}

Summary: Your secret isn't a secret anymore. Time to face the music. Words: 2k

"I don't want to go home," you whisper, head resting in the crook of Ralph's neck on your favorite bench in the park.

"You don't have to," he whispers back, arms wrapped around you. "Marry me. Tonight. And then my home is your home, and you never have to go back there again."

You close your eyes and sigh. "I wish it were that easy, Ralph."

"It could be."

You look up at him, his eyes nearly black in the low light of the approaching evening. You know he's serious. He'd marry you tonight, without hesitation. You love that about him; that he's so sure of his love for you. You know you love him too, and that you want to spend the rest of your life with him. But there's still a little voice somewhere in your head that tells you, "not yet."

"I know, Ralph."

You lean up to kiss him on the cheek, then return your head to his shoulder. In an effort to distract you from your impending doom, he'd told you as much about the wedding as he could remember, and how he'd spent the whole time thinking of you. You told him about sitting alone in the park, and even though it's a place you'd enjoyed in solitude for ages, it somehow it felt wrong to be there without him now. It wasn't your place anymore; it belonged to both of you.

You told him about Donald the Dull's standing Saturday appointment for tea with you and your mother and occasionally your father. It's not something you intentionally kept from him, it's just that you hated the thought of Donald's visits so much, you didn't want it to infringe upon your treasured Ralph Time. Thinking about that excruciatingly long hour with the most boring boy in the world could put a damper on anything.

Ralph, sweet and understanding gentleman he was, didn't fault you for this. He'd never specifically asked what you did when you weren't together. He admitted that he wasn't as fond of weekends as he used to be either, now that his favorite moments always happened during the week, in the middle of the day, on this bench with you.

As the sun goes down, your stomach growls, and his eyes widen.

"Well, since we're not getting married tonight, would you care to accompany me to dinner instead?"

You laugh and nod, not caring who sees you together now. You exit the park arm in arm, and he leads you to a nice restaurant nearby.

After a delightful dinner that almost made you forget how much you were dreading the rest of your night, Ralph walked you home. You peeked in a window and confirmed your father was there, to prevent your demise, and then turned to kiss Ralph one last time.

"Are you sure you don't want me to come in with you?"

"No, love, it'll be fine. My father's here, he has a considerable amount of experience in preventing us from killing each other."

He looks at you sadly, and kisses your forehead. "I'll see you tomorrow?"

You nod. Come hell or high water, you would be at the park waiting for him tomorrow. You'd just spent seven long days apart, and you'd both vowed to never let it happen again.

You bid him good night, and sneak around back so you can enter through the kitchen door. Like a coward. You poke your head in, determine the coast is clear, and ease the rest of your body in the doorway. As the outer door clicks shut, the door that leads to the dining room swings open and bangs against the wall. This would have been a great time for a lightning flash or a thunder crack.

"YOU." Your mother seethes, that vein in her forehead visibly pulsing. Not a good sign. "Do you have any idea what an embarrassment you are? I can hardly stand to look at you."

You don't move.

"I knew you were running around with that boy behind my back. Do you know what people say about him? A drug fiend who will propose to anyone who stands still long enough? And that tramp of a sister of his, who will fornicate with anything that moves! Is this the kind of family you'd like to see linked to ours?"

"Ralph's not like that."

"And their father, a lecherous old rogue who died beneath some foreign floozy he brought home from the circus? The mother, who's spent time in every wellness center in the country, we all know what that means. She's crazy! What would anyone respectable say about us, associating with a woman like that?"

"At least their crazy mother sought help. Mine's still out gallivanting as she pleases, reigning terror and judgement down from her high horse upon anyone she deems inferior." You don't know who said that, or where it came from, but you do know that you heard a loud crack and were suddenly staring at the wall to your right. The pain hit your cheek all at once.

She reaches back to strike again, but another hand seemingly appears out of thin air to stop it from cracking back down on your face. Your father, your savior, your favorite man in the world.

"Go to your room," he says in a low voice, not moving from behind your mother or releasing her hand.

You scurry past him and up the stairs.

Some time later, you hear a quiet knock on your door.

"Come in," you say with a lump in your throat.

Your father enters your bedroom and closes the door behind him, making his way over to the sofa. You sit on the bed and watch him, half of your face still red and stinging. He pats the cushion next to him, and you go to it. Once his arms are around you and your head rests on his shoulder, you let out a sigh.

"Your mother seems to think you've been sneaking around with the Penbury boy."

You can neither confirm nor deny, so you stare at the floor.

"Is that the one you kissed at the dance?"

"Yes."

"Is he also a friend of Mary Lennox?"

You stiffen, and he... laughs at you?

"You were obsessed with that book for a year. Did you forget that summer I helped you plant your own little garden out back?"

You're such an idiot. The other side of your face turns a shade of crimson to rival the slapped side.

"You didn't say anything."

"You were leaving the house willingly and coming home happy. I thought it best not to question miracles." You lean forward and bury your burning face in your hands.

He chuckles at your shame. "Tell me about the boy."

And so you did. Your father already knew about the dance, but you told him about meeting Ralph the next day, the nosebleed, the picnic lunches, the way he holds your umbrella for you in the rain, and how he remembers everything you tell him, and the way he looks at you like you're the only girl in the world. You even pointed out the book Ralph bought you about India, which you brought home and passed off as gift from your dear friend Mary. You told him about how your heart hurt during those seven dreadful days you spent without him, and that the sound of his voice during tea today was the most wonderful thing you'd ever heard. You didn't even make a conscious decision to walk out on Donald; your body did it for you. You told him about Ralph offering to marry you tonight, so you wouldn't have to face your mother, and taking you out to dinner, and offering to come in and make sure you were safe. You didn't stop talking until you were out of breath.

He takes in your rambling with smiles and nods, and when you're finally done purging your every thought and observation about Ralph Penbury, your father asks, "Do you love him?"

Your eyes fill with tears. "Yes," you whisper. It's the first time you've ever said it out loud to anyone except Ralph. It's a strange, but freeing feeling. He nods.

"Does he feel the same?"

"Yes," you whisper again, a little louder this time.

"I want to meet him." Your breath catches, and your tears spill over.

"Oh come on, it's not going to be that bad," he jokes, swiping his handkerchief under your eyes, careful of your cheek. "I already like him better than Donald the Dull." You snort.

"Speaking of which… what happened with him today?"

You start shaking with laughter, and do your best to recount the tale for a second time. By the end, you're both laughing.

"Are you sure Ralph can handle you?" he asks.

"He sure seems willing to try," you say with affection.

Your father heaves a sigh. "I'll handle your mother. Just steer clear of her for a while."

"Noooo problem," you say slowly, widening your eyes.

"She demanded that I punish you for the lies and the deceit and the damage inflicted upon poor, sweet Donald," he states. You look up at him with pleading eyes.

"I think sending you to bed without dinner will suffice," he says with a conspiratorial wink. You knew you could count on him.

Meanwhile in the Penbury household, Ralph was going mad with worry. He had half a mind to go back and check on you, but had no idea how to accomplish this without making things worse. He wished he knew where your bedroom was, because he'd climb a tree just to look in and make sure you were alright.

He paced and paced the library floor and bit his fingernails to nubs, feeling helpless and stupid. He didn't know what he'd do if anything happened to you. He didn't think your mother would really kill you, even though you joked about it frequently. But what if you weren't allowed to see him anymore? He didn't think his heart could handle it.

"RALPH!"

"WHAT?!" he bellows, without thinking.

Victoria stood in the doorway, a surprised look on her face. He'd never yelled back at her before.

"I called your name three times. What is wrong with you?"

"Nothing," he snaps, continuing his frantic pacing.

"Your stomping woke me up from my nap."

"What pity."

"There is something bothering you, then."

"Never you mind."

"Did you find her?"

Ralph finally stops to look at his sister. "Yes."

"And had she?"

"Had she what?"

"Forgotten she was supposed to meet you at the train station, silly."

"No, she did not forget," Ralph says through a clenched jaw.

"Then what did she do to upset you so, little brother?"

"She didn't do anything." Ralph softens a bit.

"If you say so, darling," Victoria turns to leave with a sigh. "Let me know when you get over her, and we'll have a party to find you someone new."

"I am NOT going to get OVER her!" Ralph shouts. Victoria spins back around with a bewildered look. "We are ENGAGED, and I LOVE her, and I am SICK of the way you constantly dismiss us both! She loves me, and she appreciates me, and she listens to me, and she wants to be with me! She even took care of me when I was ill. You didn't even notice! You just carried on without me!"

Ralph stops for a breath, and Victoria pounces.

"You're really engaged?"

"Yes."

"She actually said yes?"

"Am I really so unlovable that you can't imagine anyone saying yes to me?"

"That's not what I meant, Ralph."

"Yes it is." Ralph drops onto the sofa, exhausted from the emotional roller coaster he's been on tonight. Victoria perches delicately on the arm of a chair.

"You really love her?"

"Yes."

"And she loves you?"

"Yes."

"You're sure?"

"For the love of God, Victoria, yes! I'm sure!" Ralph lets his head fall back, choosing to stare at the ceiling instead of his dense sister.

"Then why are you here, and she's there?"

Ralph scrunches his eyes closed and feels a twist in his stomach, then reluctantly begins to explain the day's events to his sister. For once, she lets him tell his story without any interruptions. Is one outburst really all it took? He should've gone off on her years ago.

#writings of despair #ralph is worth it #ralph penbury #ralph penbury x you #ralph penbury x reader #ralph timewasters

107 notes · View notes

zoeykallus · 2 years

Note

Hmmm I’m curious

How would the bad batch court their s/o? We know how Echo court his s/o, what about Wrecker, Tech, Hunter and Crosshair?

We do? Hmm. Okay, well, let me look into it :))

The Bad Batch x Reader HC's - Court you

Mostly Fluff

Hunter

As soon as he knows you are the one he wants to be with, his first impulse is to spend time with you. He makes time whenever he can. Hunter is caring and protective, showing you clearly there is someone looking out for you, any time. Your first dates won't be official romantic dates, he doesn't dare to ask you out right from the start.

He will try to get you to spend time with him in other ways, offering help, offering to show you things and places you haven't seen yet. While doing so, he casually invites you for lunch or dinner. When Hunter gets the feeling this thing between the two of you could work, he finally dares to ask you for an official, actual date.

Hunter will always be a gentleman, taking care of your safety and well-being whenever you are with him. His first gift to you will be self-made, a hand-carved figure made of wood, he is very skilled with the knife and can make the most beautiful figures. It will show how well he already knows you by representing your favorite animal or plant.

Echo

He is the man of many small gestures. He shows you that he thinks of you by bringing you little gifts from his travels. Flowers, trinkets, books and souvenirs. Echo listens to you, he knows what moves you and what you like, he remembers things you say to him and surprises you with them again and again.

It is quite easy to fall in love with him, he is considerate, attentive and caring. Echo is good at giving you sweet, innocuous compliments. He doesn't want to impose, but he also wants you to know that he likes you. Even though he's not sure if he's good at it himself, he still is.

The first date will result like this:

He tells you about a place that you would probably like very much, he makes it palatable to you until you yourself ask him, "Should we maybe go there together?"

He will smile at you and say, "I'd love to. When do you have time?"

"Tonight. Do you have time?"

Echo will nod, whether he has time or not, he'll take it.

"Sure. So it's a date then"

Wrecker

Sweet Wrecker is a little bit shy at first, but not for long. As soon as he realizes how nice you are and how well you get along, he behaves very naturally and openly towards you.

He is lively, cheerful and up for any fun. He will often invite you to all sorts of things, to trips, to fairs and of course to dinner. Wrecker does not hide how he feels about you, he is caring, loving and playful when he is with you.

It's probably needless to say that he likes to be your protector and let you feel that, should you ever be scared or insecure. Woe betide anyone who dares to harm you in any way!

He also likes to flirt with you, he does that with just as much vigor as he blows things up. He figured out pretty quickly how to make you blush and giggle. There's never a dull moment with Wrecker.

Tech

I'm sure I've mentioned this here and there, but Tech is really shy at first. Underneath this shy, perhaps insecure shell, however, slumbers a very passionate man, a generous partner and lover.

His way of courting you starts with fixing things for you and prioritizing the things you need and getting them done first. He invents things for you that make your everyday life easier or are just pretty and entertaining, depending on what comes to his mind.

He digs into information about everything that concerns you. The place where you come from, where you grew up, the things you like, the holomovies you like, the food you prefer, everything. With others this might be creepy, but Tech is harmless, not a lunatic. He's just honestly interested in you and what makes you tick. And Knowledge and Information is his thing.

He likes to give you gifts, and they are always thoughtful, reflecting that he knows you and really likes you. As soon as he is in love with you, you will notice it, because every day he has something new for you, a new idea, a new invention, a new topic that he wants to discuss with you.

It takes time, and you will probably have to be gentle with him. However, once you have thawed him out, you will have a very passionate, loving and attentive man by your side.

Crosshair

Here's where it gets a little more complicated. He doesn't find it easy to admit his own feelings, even to himself. It may be that before you even realize that he is interested in you in any way, he has already had a crush on you for a long time.

Things don't get really serious until he offers to train you on his rifle. He doesn't let just anyone touch the firearm, and in fact, he's usually not interested in teaching anyone either. With you, it's different. It's an excuse to spend time with you, to be close to you, to talk to you without him having to drop his metaphorical armor.

Once he's sure he wants you to know he's interested in you, he'll want to impress you. You'll notice sooner or later. Crosshair will excel at solving your problems, always in a particularly cool way, of course, pretending it's no big deal and grinning inwardly with satisfaction when you admire him for what he can do.

It's a game of patience. If he just wanted you for bed, he would have hit on you unabashedly long ago, but he really does have feelings for you and that's a whole other story that he approaches much more thoughtfully and cautiously, for fear of getting hurt by rejection and making himself vulnerable in general. Finally, when he gained the confidence and is sure that he can open up to you, he will flirt, very fiery and passionate, complimenting you and asking you out.

Ko-Fi (If you feel like giving me some coffee)

@rintheemolion

@andyoufollowyourheart @clone-whore-99

@brynhildrmimi @kaliel2310

@misogirl828 @tech-deck

@meshla-madalene

@chxpsi

@thebahdbitch

@nahoney22 @ladykatakuri

@darkangel4121

@ttzamara

@arctrooper69

@padawancat97

@agenteliix

@puppetswithteeth

@palliateclaws

@either-madness-or-brilliance

@ortizshinkaroff

@andy-solo1

@hunterssecretrecipe

@heyitsaloy

@greaser-wolf

@starwarsnerd111

283 notes · View notes

carolmunson · 1 year

Note

Lol the three least likable people in this fandom writing a Titanic AU, this is so embarrassing for you

so true actually. in fact, please sign this petition to get us removed from the fandom.

here's another snippet just for fun:

Palm Court is as stunning as you expect, a beautiful sunny restaurant enclosed by tall arched windows that allow the creamy sunlight to blanket your dull lunch. It’s decorated with tan wicker furnishings, lush green planters, striking white and black patterned tiling from the floors and up the walls. It’s marvelous, really. But sitting between Steven and your mother makes it terribly difficult to appreciate.

Your mother is allergic to ever letting her nose turn down, Steven is only interested in schmoozing the men across the table, and the men across the table are more than happy to indulge each other and, therefore, themselves.

“She is the largest moving object ever made by the hand of man in all history,” the Managing Director of White Star Line, Scott Clarke, remarks proudly. There’s a kink of a smile that’s poorly concealed by his voluminous mustache. Clarke waves a small gesture of his hand across the table to a younger, more handsome gentleman, “And our master shipbuilder, Mr. Alexei here, designed her from the keel plates up.”

Mr. Alexei turns red at the ears, disliking the attention he attempts to deflect. “Well, I may have knocked her together, but the idea was Mr. Clarke’s,” he nods and Clarke holds his chin a bit higher. “He envisioned a steamer so grand in scale, so luxurious in its appointments that its supremacy would never be challenged. And here she is,” Alexei is proud without ego, he slaps the tabletop in a bout of excitement, “willed into solid reality.”

“Here, here,” Steven cheers obnoxiously through a grin.

While Mr. Alexei’s enthusiasm seems contagious to everyone else at the table, including one Erica Sinclair, it’s hard to embrace while suffocating like cargo, a heat expanding in your throat that you desperately wish you could ignore. You’re distant from the chatter as you reach for relief, the cigarette stuffed neatly in its tortoise shell holder. A strike of a match and a deep inhale help suppress that clawing in your throat. The nicotine flows up into your thoughts and you’re graced with relief for only a moment before your mother leans in. Feathered hat bobbing like her craned neck.

“You know I don’t like that, dear,” she says displeased just for you to hear. Her sharp eyes and clipped words are daggers. You exhale the plume of smoke and it envelopes her face, she blinks wildly, bewildered. Embarrassed by your actions she shifts uncomfortably in her chair, even more when you refuse to look away. You’re pleased to watch her squirm, you bet she’s wondering whom at the table caught you. You hope everyone.

“She knows,” Steven interjects, leaning over to quickly pluck your cigarette from its holder with his uncalloused fingers. He stubs it out in the crystal ashtray between you. Steven’s unphased by your antics, keeping you in line is a chore he’s used to. He doesn’t miss a beat when the waiter steps just beside him. “Mm, yes, we’ll both have the lamb. Rare, with very little mint sauce.”

It’s by accident when your eyes meet Erica’s widened one’s across the table. Steven very rarely allows you to speak for yourself. Him ordering on your behalf is nothing new, but Erica’s observing. She flicks her eyes to your mother then to your unaware fiancé. Steven turns to you but you’re focused on a window just behind Erica. The light of freedom beyond the frosted glass taunts you.

“You like lamb, don’t you, sweetpea?”

44 notes · View notes

thecrayonindisguise · 13 hours

Text

Chapter 2: An Unexpected Connection|| Bonds and Barriers

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x Original Female Character

Summary: After their very first ball, Caterina and Teresa Medici make quite of an entrance at Lady Danbury’s ball, turning heads with their charm and captivating the attention of London's elite. Teresa effortlessly draws Lord Ducker into her orbit, while Caterina, determined to avoid emotional entanglements, catches the eye of Benedict Bridgerton. Their witty and fiery exchanges spark both curiosity and leave the ton abuzz with whispers about the enigmatic Medici sisters. As the days unfold, the tension between Caterina and Benedict becomes undeniable, hinting at a deeper connection that neither is prepared to face.

Masterpost || << prev || next >>

Word Count: 12.5k

Warnings: no particular warnings

Authors Note: Heyy! How are you? I’m back with the second chapter, I hope you like it! I know...I wrote way too much but I wanted to introduce you better to the characters :) As always I apologize if you find any mistakes but English is not my first language

Dearest gentle readers,

As the glittering halls of Lady Danbury's annual ball came to life, it was clear that the season had officially begun, and with it, the customary swirl of gossip, intrigue, and, of course, scandal. The evening was a spectacle to behold, but rest assured, it is the guests rather than the décor that provided the most entertainment.

Fresh off the boat from Italy, two radiant gems have graced our shores and stirred the waters of the ton. Allow me to introduce the Medici sisters. The elder, Lady Caterina Medici, has taken to London society with an air of cool indifference that is certain to attract every gentleman's attention, and perhaps drive them mad with her elusiveness. Her wit is as sharp as her beauty, and I dare say, there was not a dull moment in her company. Though she spent much of the evening avoiding the dance floor, her conversations were anything but dull. One might wonder whether Miss Caterina is here for sport or something more substantial. If her interactions with the eligible bachelors of our society are any indication, we may find that her icy demeanor will melt only for the right match, or perhaps for no one at all.

And then there is the younger, Miss Teresa Medici, whose sweetness is as charming as her sister’s sharpness. She, too, seems well on her way to captivating hearts, but do not be deceived by her innocent smile. It seems the Medici twins are not just diamonds in the rough, but polished gems with a sharpness that can outwit even the most astute gentlemen. It appears also that Lord Edward Ducker, cousin to the esteemed Bridgertons, was seen twice on the dance floor with the enchanting Miss Teresa Medici. Could there be an alliance between the Scottish nobility and the Italian beauties of the season?

Speaking of which, one cannot ignore the Bridgertons, whose reputation for creating drama seems to persist. One cannot help but notice the sudden and fervent interest of none other than Benedict Bridgerton, the second son, known more for his artistic pursuits than for indulging in the formalities of our society, it is highly unusual to see Mr. Bridgerton so enamored by the charms of the ballroom. Could it be that the Medici allure has cast a spell on him as well? His eyes followed Caterina Medici throughout the evening, and one cannot help but wonder if a new romance is on the horizon.

As for the Queen’s search for this season’s diamond, the royal eyes have yet to make their decision. But make no mistake, dear readers, the Medici sisters have undoubtedly caught the attention of many, and it would surprise no one if one of them found herself the subject of such a coveted title.

In a season already filled with anticipation, one thing is certain: the Medici sisters have arrived, and London society may never be the same again.

Yours truly, Lady Whistledown

─────────

The early morning light crept into Caterina’s room as her maid, Vanessa, gently tried to rouse her from her slumber. "My lady?" Vanessa called softly.

"Mmmh?" Caterina groaned, her voice muffled by the plush pillows as she buried herself deeper under the covers.

"Your sister is ready, my lady. Your mother could come in any minute," Vanessa continued, moving gracefully across the room to draw open the curtains.

Caterina squinted against the light now pouring into the room. "But what day is it today? Is it a special day? Why do I have to wake up so early?" she moaned, pulling the blankets over her head.

"No, miss, it's not a special day," Vanessa chuckled, her tone lighthearted as she opened the first curtain. Caterina let out a noise of displeasure, squeezing her eyes shut against the invasion of daylight. "I shouldn’t have drunk so much last night," Caterina mumbled as she sat up groggily, her hair tousled from sleep. "Can you repeat to me the reason for this sudden awakening?" she asked, still half asleep, watching Vanessa move briskly around the room, opening the last curtain and then the window to let in fresh air.

"Your mother ordered me to wake you up early, miss," Vanessa explained. "It is possible that some gentlemen from last night’s ball may visit this morning, and you must prepare. Come on now, miss, we don't want to keep them waiting," she urged, gently pulling back the covers.

Caterina groaned in protest. "But I wanted to visit London today," she muttered, her voice full of disappointment.

"You can always do that with one of the gentlemen, my lady," Vanessa teased with a smirk as she began pulling out a fresh gown from the wardrobe. Caterina rolled her eyes while her fingers ran through her tousled hair as she let out a long sigh.

Vanessa bustled around the room, laying out a soft lavender morning gown on the settee. As Caterina slowly stood up, she cast a glance toward her maid, noticing the curious gleam in Vanessa’s eye.

“You look like you have something on your mind, Vanessa. Out with it,” Caterina said, her voice still groggy but edged with a faint smile.

Vanessa, clearly delighted at the invitation, couldn’t suppress her question any longer. “Well, my lady, how was it? Your first ball, I mean. It must have been grand! So many lords and ladies, so many suitors all vying for your attention.”

Caterina snorted, shaking her head as she padded barefoot across the room toward the vanity. “Oh, please. It was as grand as it was exhausting. There were far too many people pretending to be interested in me, and even more pretending not to be bored.”

Vanessa laughed softly, handing Caterina a silver brush to tame her wild locks. “I thought you might enjoy the excitement. Surely the dances were fun, no?”

Caterina rolled her eyes in the mirror as she brushed her hair, the sarcasm evident in her voice. “Yes, if by ‘fun’ you mean being twirled around by men who have absolutely no idea how to lead without stepping on your feet. Honestly, Vanessa, I had more fun watching the footmen trying to juggle trays of champagne than I did dancing with half of those gentlemen.”

Vanessa grinned, clearly amused by her mistress’s sharp tongue. “But there must have been at least one gentleman who caught your eye, no?”

Caterina raised a brow, pausing mid-brush. “If by ‘caught my eye,’ you mean nearly putting me to sleep with endless talk of their ‘family estates’ and ‘social connections,’ then yes, plenty of them caught my eye.”

She sighed dramatically, setting the brush down and standing. “One of them droned on about his collection of rare hunting dogs. Dogs, Vanessa! For nearly fifteen minutes. I think he expected me to be impressed by his…hound expertise,” Caterina continued with a smirk. “I swear, if I have to endure one more gentleman boasting about the length of his ancestral lineage, I’ll start taking naps during waltzes.”

Vanessa chuckled, shaking her head as she helped Caterina into her morning gown. “You’re always so sharp, my lady. But I’m sure there were some interesting moments at least? Or something exciting that happened?”

Caterina shrugged nonchalantly, fastening the delicate buttons at her wrists. “Oh, of course. There was a riveting debate over whether pheasant or venison made for a better roast. I was on the edge of my seat.”

The sarcasm was heavy in her voice, and Vanessa burst into laughter, unable to contain herself. “Pheasant or venison? I can’t imagine that conversation holding anyone’s attention for very long.”

“Exactly my point,” Caterina said with a wry smile. “And you should have seen the way they tried to impress me with their wit. One gentleman thought it clever to comment on the ‘exoticness’ of Italy as if I were some rare artifact on display.”

Vanessa’s eyes widened. “Oh no, he didn’t!”

Caterina waved a hand dismissively. “Oh, he did. And not only that, he mispronounced half the Italian words he tried to use to impress me. Terrible effort.”

The maid shook her head in disbelief. “I’m surprised you didn’t put him in his place, my lady.”

“Oh, I did,” Caterina said with a sly grin. “I smiled sweetly and thanked him for his ‘astounding knowledge’ of Italy, and then proceeded to ask if he could name one city other than Rome or Florence”

Vanessa stifled a laugh behind her hand. “And?”

“Let’s just say, his face turned as red as the drink he spilled on himself shortly after,” Caterina replied with a chuckle.

Vanessa finished lacing up the gown, her eyes still bright with amusement. “It sounds like you survived your first ball well enough. And surely, there are more to come.”

“Survived is the key word,” Caterina muttered, smoothing down the skirt of her gown. “At this rate, I’ll need an entire vineyard to get through the next one.”

Vanessa handed her the silver brush again, this time with a knowing smile. “Still, my lady, it seems you made quite the impression. I overheard some of the servants this morning, everyone’s talking about the Medici sisters.”

“Let them talk,” Caterina said with a sigh, turning back toward the vanity. “I have more pressing matters to worry about than who noticed me at a ball. Like figuring out how to avoid these tedious suitors for the rest of the season.”

Vanessa grinned as she stepped back, watching her mistress from the corner of the room. “Well, I’m sure you’ll find a way, my lady. You always do.”

Caterina smirked, glancing at herself in the mirror one last time. “That, Vanessa, is the only thing I can guarantee.”

─────────

The morning sun bathed the Bridgerton dining room in a soft golden hue, casting long shadows across the polished mahogany table. Breakfast was in full swing, with the usual hustle and bustle of a large family settling into their seats, but it wasn’t the food that occupied everyone’s attention this morning.

Violet Bridgerton, seated at the head of the table, looked out over her brood with her usual mix of fondness and light exasperation. Next to her, Anthony sat with his arms crossed, eyes sharp as he observed the lively conversation between his siblings. Francesca was engaged in a quiet discussion with Colin, while Eloise, true to form, had a book in one hand and a cup of tea in the other, occasionally glancing up to join in on the conversation.

At the center of it all, however, was Lord Edward Ducker, who, like Benedict, sat with an easy, languid grace. His dark hair, slightly tousled from the morning, caught the sunlight as he glanced over the freshly printed copy of Lady Whistledown’s, which had just been delivered moments before. He flicked through it casually, but when he spotted something interesting, he cleared his throat, drawing everyone’s attention.

"Ah," Edward began, his voice dripping with playful mockery, "I see that Whistledown has deemed me worthy of mention."

Benedict, lounging opposite him with a bemused smile, raised an eyebrow. "And what scandal have you stirred up now, cousin?"

"Well," Edward replied with mock gravity, holding up the paper as though about to recite an epic verse, "It appears I have committed the grievous sin of dancing twice with Miss Teresa Medici."

A collective murmur rippled across the table. Eloise looked up from her book, Francesca’s eyes widened with interest, and even Anthony, ever the vigilant head of the family, seemed to lean in slightly.

Benedict chuckled. "Twice in one evening? Clearly, you’re more dedicated to causing a stir than I gave you credit for."

Edward grinned as he began to read from the paper, affecting a haughty tone: "Lord Edward Ducker, cousin to the esteemed Bridgertons, was seen twice on the dance floor with the enchanting Miss Teresa Medici. Could there be an alliance between the Scottish nobility and the Italian beauties of the season?"

Violet set down her teacup, a wry smile playing on her lips. "I must say, Edward, Whistledown doesn’t waste any time, does she?"

Edward feigned a pained expression. "It seems I am to be thrust into matrimony before I’ve even had my second cup of tea."

Benedict leaned back in his chair, eyes gleaming. "You always did have a way with the ladies, Edward. Though I must say, two dances with Miss Medici? You might as well have proposed on the spot, by Whistledown’s standards."

Edward shot Benedict a sideways glance, his smirk deepening. "Well, not all of us can hide in the shadows, avoiding the spotlight."

"Hide?" Benedict echoed, amusement lacing his voice. "I’ll have you know, I am a master of subtly avoiding entrapment by the likes of Whistledown."

"Oh really?" Edward teased, his eyes dancing with mischief as he turned back to the paper. "Because it seems you’ve managed to make an appearance here as well, my dear cousin."

Benedict’s smirk faltered, just slightly. "Me? Nonsense. I’m perfectly innocent."

Edward scanned the paper before reciting aloud with relish: "One cannot help but notice the sudden and fervent interest of none other than Benedict Bridgerton, the second son, known more for his artistic pursuits than for indulging in the formalities of our society, it is highly unusual to see Mr. Bridgerton so enamored by the charms of the ballroom. Could it be that the Medici allure has cast a spell on him as well? His eyes followed Caterina Medici throughout the evening, and one cannot help but wonder if a new romance is on the horizon.”

Benedict groaned lightly, shaking his head as a few chuckles echoed around the table. Francesca raised an eyebrow and glanced at her brother. "Two Medici sisters? How very intriguing."

Eloise piped up, clearly enjoying the attention being thrown in Benedict’s direction. "How scandalous, Benedict. Perhaps you’ve found your muse?"

"I assure you, it was nothing of the sort," Benedict said, waving off the playful jabs. "Miss Medici is… interesting, yes. But I’d hardly say Whistledown has reason to believe I’m courting her."

Eloise leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table with a grin. "You forget, Benedict, that the ton doesn’t need much reason to believe anything. A look, a dance, even a mere conversation, suddenly, you're halfway down the aisle."

"And with a Medici no less," Colin chimed in, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. "You certainly don’t do things halfway, do you, Benedict?"

Benedict rolled his eyes, though his lips curled into a smile. "The last thing I need is Whistledown playing matchmaker on my behalf."

"Indeed," Edward added with mock seriousness. "Especially when it seems I am already being prepared for my own romantic destiny."

Eloise exchanged a glance at that "I wasn’t aware that dancing twice meant an engagement was imminent," she said her eyes sparkling with humor.

"Ah, Eloise" Edward replied, turning his gaze to her with a playful smile. "In the eyes of Lady Whistledown, two dances might as well be a declaration of undying love."

Violet, who had been watching the banter with amusement, finally spoke up. "It seems that this season will be full of surprises, especially if Lady Whistledown continues to take such an interest in our family affairs."

Edward looked at Benedict. "Then we’ll just have to give her something worth writing about, won’t we?"

Benedict lifted his cup in a mock toast. "To surviving Lady Whistledown’s gaze. And to ensure that whatever scandal she writes, we at least look good doing it."

The table erupted in laughter as the cousins clinked their cups together, both fully aware that the games of the ton had only just begun.

─────────

The morning light filtered through the tall, elegant windows of the Langstone dining room, casting a warm, golden glow on the pristine white tablecloth and delicate china that adorned the long table. The Medici and Langstone families, now gathered together for breakfast a quiet conversation was filling the room.

Caterina sat at the table, her hair elegantly tied back, though her posture betrayed a slight weariness from the previous night’s ball. Across from her, Teresa was nearly vibrating with excitement, her eyes alight as she eagerly helped herself to a scone. Their mother, Lady Medici, sat beside Teresa, conversing lightly with Lady Langstone, who sat at the head of the table, while Olympia and Cynthia Langstone, the daughters of the house, chatted excitedly about the night’s events.

But the real excitement had only just arrived with the morning delivery of Lady Whistledown, which sat untouched at the center of the table, waiting, like a mischievous spirit, to stir up trouble.

Cynthia, ever eager, was the first to reach for the paper. “Oh, I cannot wait to see what she’s written about last night!” she exclaimed, her voice bright with anticipation. “You know she never misses anything.”

“I wonder who has made her infamous pages this time,” Olympia added with a sly smile, leaning forward to peer at the column as her sister unfolded the crisp paper.

Caterina leaned in, her curiosity piqued. “Is that the famous Lady Whistledown everyone has been speaking of?” she asked, eyeing the paper with mild interest. “I’ve heard her name whispered in nearly every corner of the ballroom last night.”

Teresa, equally intrigued, glanced at the Langstone sisters. “Yes, what is the fascination with her? I’ve never heard of such a thing in Italy.”

Cynthia, her eyes alight with enthusiasm, eagerly took the opportunity to explain. “Oh, Lady Whistledown is the most infamous writer in all of London! She writes about the ton, the scandals, the romances, the gossip, and no one is safe from her sharp wit.”

Olympia nodded, adding, “She seems to know everything before anyone else does. If you’re mentioned in her paper, it can either be a blessing or a curse, depending on what she writes about you.”

The Medici sisters exchanged intrigued glances, clearly fascinated by the idea of a secret chronicler wielding such power over the social scene.

Caterina raised an eyebrow, her lips curving into a slight smile. “So she has the power to make, or break, someone’s reputation with a single word?”

“Precisely,” Cynthia said with a nod. “And no one knows who she is. Her identity is the greatest mystery in London. Everyone speculates, but no one has any idea.”

Teresa’s eyes widened with excitement. “How thrilling! It’s like something out of a novel.”

Olympia chuckled softly. “It’s far more real than any novel. Last season, she practically ruined a debutante with a single article. She has the ability to shape the entire season. Some people are terrified of her.”

Caterina, ever the skeptic, leaned back in her chair and sipped her tea. “Fascinating. And yet, it seems so… impersonal. To be judged by someone who remains hidden. It’s almost cowardly, don’t you think?”

Olympia shrugged with a grin. “Perhaps. But that’s what makes her so powerful. She’s everywhere and nowhere at once.” Teresa was enthralled, her curiosity growing with each word. “And you’ve been mentioned before?”

Cynthia beamed proudly. “Oh yes, several times. Usually about our gowns or our partners at various balls. But nothing too scandalous, thankfully.” She leaned in conspiratorially. “Once, she commented on how Olympia’s gown nearly outshone a duchess’s.”

Olympia laughed, waving off her sister’s comment. “That was ages ago. But the point is, you never know what she’ll say, or when she’ll say it.” Lady Medici, who had been listening quietly, looked at her daughters with a mix of amusement and caution. “Well, let us hope our first mention is a favorable one.”

Before Teresa could respond, Cynthia gasped dramatically, her eyes wide as she scanned the paper. “Oh my! Here it is!”

The room fell silent as all eyes turned to her. She cleared her throat and began to read aloud, her voice bright with excitement.

“And then there is the younger, Miss Teresa Medici, whose sweetness is as charming as her sister’s sharpness. She, too, seems well on her way to captivating hearts, but do not be deceived by her innocent smile. It seems the Medici twins are not just diamonds in the rough, but polished gems with a sharpness that can outwit even the most astute gentlemen. It appears that Lord Edward Ducker, cousin to the esteemed Bridgertons, was seen twice on the dance floor with the enchanting Miss Teresa Medici. Could there be an alliance between the Scottish nobility and the Italian beauties of the season?”

Teresa’s cheeks flushed a deep pink, but her smile was radiant. “Oh! That’s wonderful! I can’t believe I’m mentioned!”

“Twice, no less,” Olympia added with a wink. “It seems Lady Whistledown has a soft spot for romances.”

Before Teresa could respond, Cynthia’s eyes darted back to the paper, a mischievous smile curling on her lips. “Oh, but that’s not all…”

She glanced meaningfully at Caterina before continuing. “One cannot help but notice the sudden and fervent interest of none other than Benedict Bridgerton, the second son, known more for his artistic pursuits than for indulging in the formalities of our society, it is highly unusual to see Mr. Bridgerton so enamored by the charms of the ballroom. Could it be that the Medici allure has cast a spell on him as well? His eyes followed Caterina Medici throughout the evening, and one cannot help but wonder if a new romance is on the horizon.”

Caterina’s expression didn’t waver as she took another sip of her tea, though her eyes sparkled with a hint of amusement. “a spell?” she repeated dryly, placing her cup back on its saucer. “That’s a generous interpretation. I’d say it was more like a man desperately trying to survive an evening of unbearable conversation.”

The table erupted in soft laughter, though Teresa shot her sister a playful look. “Come now, Kitty, it wasn’t that bad. He seemed quite taken with you.”

Caterina leaned back in her chair, smirking slightly. “Taken with me, or taken with the idea of escaping all the simpering debutantes that were flocking around him? Either way, I’m flattered that I provided a distraction.”

“Oh, please,” Olympia teased. “You looked perfectly happy out there. And if Mr. Bridgerton is as charming as they say, I doubt you were bored.”

“Charming is one word for it,” Caterina mused, her lips curving into a mischievous smile. “Though I will admit, his attempts at humor were… admirable. For a man who escapes such formalities, he certainly talks a lot.” Teresa rolled her eyes affectionately but couldn’t hide her excitement as she reached for the paper herself. “Regardless, it’s thrilling to see both of our names in Lady Whistledown.”

Caterina smiled warmly at her sister, her teasing tone softening. “Yes, well, just don’t let it go to your head, Tess. You still have a whole season ahead of you. And who knows what else this Whistledown will have to say?”

Teresa, undeterred, beamed. “I can’t wait.”

Lady Medici, watching her daughters with a fond smile, raised her teacup. “To a successful season, then. And may we continue to make the pages of Lady Whistledow, for all the right reasons.”

─────────

As the morning bathed the Langstone estate. The Medici family, ever poised, were expecting a full day of visits from eligible gentlemen who had attended the ball the previous evening. Caterina, however, appeared completely unbothered by the prospect, her mind seemingly elsewhere.

“Caterina, darling, please do remember that we are expecting quite a few visitors today,” Lady Medici reminded her daughter from across the room, adjusting her posture as she awaited the arrival of the day’s first guests. “You mustn’t be so cold to them, darling. This is a serious matter.”

Caterina sighed, swirling the tea in her cup lazily. “I’ll be perfectly polite, Mother, but I’m afraid I can’t promise much beyond that. I would rather do other things today than sit, listen, and smile.” Her voice carried a note of amusement that her mother did not appreciate.

"You have to take this seriously, Caterina. You cannot afford to offend every man who dares approach you."

Before another word could be exchanged, the first knock echoed through the grand estate. A parade of gentlemen had begun, much to Caterina’s restrained dismay. She straightened her shoulders, bracing herself for what would undoubtedly be a long day.

The butler, ever efficient, opened the door, revealing Lord Barrington, a tall man with an awkward gait but a kind smile. He approached Caterina with flowers in hand, bowing deeply.

“Miss Medici, it is a pleasure to see you again. I brought these from my family’s garden. The ones I told you last night during our wonderful dance” he offered, handing her the bouquet of roses.

Caterina’s polite smile barely concealed her disinterest. “Thank you, Lord Barrington. Roses, how charming.” She took the bouquet and set it on the table without a second glance. “What brings you here this fine morning?”

Lord Barrington seemed slightly flustered but continued. “I hoped to invite you for a stroll through the gardens. The weather is delightful, and I thought it would be the perfect opportunity to converse in a more intimate setting.”

“A walk?” Caterina tilted her head, her gaze flicking briefly out the window where the sun shone brightly. She seemed to weigh the offer for a moment before her smile grew just a bit sharper. “I’m afraid I’ve had enough of the gardens for one day, Lord Barrington. But do enjoy them on my behalf.”

Lord Barrington blinked, clearly taken aback, but managed a polite bow before excusing himself. As soon as he left, Teresa leaned over to her twin, giggling softly.

“Oh, Kitty, you really are impossible.”

“I never promised to entertain every dullard who knocked at our door,” Caterina replied with a smirk, eyes sparkling mischievously.

Not long after Lord Barrington’s departure, another knock came at the door. This time, it was Lord Fairfax, a dashing gentleman with a quick wit and easy charm. He greeted Caterina with confidence.

“Miss Medici, a pleasure as always. I was hoping we could share a ride through the countryside, it's the perfect day for it.”

Caterina looked him up and down, clearly sizing him up. “You are quite bold, Lord Fairfax, to assume I would agree so easily.” She stood, walking to the window as though contemplating. After a moment of silence, she turned, her eyes narrowed slightly in amusement. “I am not so easily won, my lord. But do continue your efforts. They are…entertaining.”

Lord Fairfax raised a brow, sensing the challenge in her words. “Then, Miss Medici, consider me up for the challenge. I shall win you over yet.” He bowed deeply and left, a confident smirk playing on his lips.

The hours passed, and the gentlemen came and went like clockwork. Some brought gifts, others tried to charm her with witty conversation. One by one, Caterina dismissed them with the same composed elegance she had mastered over the years.

The drawing room was now filled with the scent of the floral bouquet presented to her by Lord Wilkins, a gentleman more nervous than the others. He stammered through his conversation, constantly glancing at Teresa as though hoping for help.

“I—Miss Medici—I’ve brought you lilies…from my estate,” he said, his voice shaky.

Caterina raised a brow, glancing at the flowers. “Lovely. I imagine they must be quite beautiful at your estate,” she commented, her tone neutral.

Lord Wilkins took that as encouragement, nervously continuing. “They are. You should come to see them sometime, I mean… if you would… if you’d like to.”

Caterina leaned back in her chair, folding her hands in her lap as she studied the flustered gentleman. “Perhaps,” she said noncommittally. “Although I’ve never been particularly fond of lilies.”

Wilkins paled, his earlier bravado quickly evaporating. “Oh, well, I could…bring something else next time?”

“There’s no need,” Caterina said, her voice kind but final. “You’ve done enough for today.”

When he left, Lady Medici let out an exasperated sigh. “Caterina, how will you ever secure a match if you continue to send them all away?”

“Mother,” Caterina began, now completely weary of the parade of suitors, “I have no intention of securing a match simply to satisfy social expectations. The gentlemen who have visited today have been…fine, but none of them stir anything in me. Do you really expect me to spend a lifetime with someone who does not?”

Lady Medici's brows furrowed in frustration. “You cannot wait forever, my dear.”

Caterina turned her gaze towards the window, watching the sunlight flicker across the gardens outside. “Perhaps I can. But I have enough for today. Vanessa!” she exclaimed, calling her maid “It’s time!” she added.

So then she made her way to the grand staircase, pausing at the top to compose herself. With a deep sigh, she forced a bright smile and addressed Vanessa, her voice dripping with playful sarcasm. "Ah, what a wonderful day for a promenade, don’t you think, Vanessa?"

As she descended the stairs, she was immediately greeted by a line of more and more eager suitors who were still waiting, each clamoring to gain her attention. "Oh, Miss Medici, allow me to escort you through the streets of London!" one gentleman offered, his voice filled with enthusiasm.

"Miss Medici, you must let me go first! Some streets are dangerous, and I would be honored to protect you!" said another, pushing forward slightly.

Their voices overlapped, each trying to outdo the other with offers of assistance. But Caterina, her eyes sparkling with mischief, ignored their advances, descending the staircase with a slow, graceful stride and a sly smile playing on her lips.

When she reached the bottom, she turned to face the group, her tone polite but firm. "Please, any of you who have come here today to court me may as well leave now. I’m not in the mood anymore to be adored. But you can still try your luck with my sister or one of the Langstone ladies. They would be more than pleased to entertain you all."

The room fell into a brief, stunned silence. Several of the men shuffled uncomfortably, their expressions turning sour at her bluntness, some even letting out quiet huffs of frustration.

But before Caterina could leave, her path was blocked by none other than Benedict Bridgerton and his cousin, Lord Ducker. Benedict, standing in front, held a modest bouquet of wildflowers in his hand, his crooked smile making Caterina pause.

"Mr. Bridgerton," she greeted him, her voice laced with playful mockery. "So eager to see me again?"

Benedict bowed, offering her the flowers with a charming smile. "Miss Medici, might I have the honor of escorting you through London today?" His tone was teasing, though there was a sincerity in his gaze that caught her attention.

Caterina tilted her head, pretending to consider his offer with exaggerated thoughtfulness. "Do you really wish that, Mr. Bridgerton?"

He blinked in surprise, clearly expecting a different response. "If you wish it, Miss Medici."

With a smirk, she shook her head. "No… not really." Her words caught him off guard, and he stared at her, momentarily at a loss for words.

Before he could respond, she turned to his cousin with a polite smile. "Have a nice day, Mr. Bridgerton. Lord Ducker."

And with that, Caterina gracefully brushed past them, leaving Benedict standing at the bottom of the stairs, bouquet still in hand, watching her with a mixture of amusement and intrigue. As she exited the house, he couldn’t help but smile to himself.

─────────

The sunlight streamed through the tall windows of Lady Danbury’s house, casting a soft glow across the drawing room where Lady Medici and her daughters sat, engaged in polite conversation with Lady Danbury. The aroma of freshly brewed tea mingled with the scent of roses that adorned the table, creating an atmosphere of refined elegance.

Lady Danbury, with her ever-watchful eyes, leaned in slightly, her voice dripping with curiosity. “So did you already find a particular interest in someone at my ball, ladies?” she asked, her gaze flickering between the ladies.

Teresa, ever the more sociable of the two, immediately responded with a mischievous glint in her eye. "Undoubtedly, there were some notable gentlemen, Lady Danbury. I even made the acquaintance of a few this morning," she said, her voice light and melodic.

Lady Danbury, intrigued, raised an eyebrow. “Oh? And do you recall any of their names, my dear?”

Teresa chuckled softly as if amused by the question. “There was Lord Dumbling, Lord Harrington, and also Lord Melrose, who brought me the most beautiful peonies from his family’s garden this morning. But if I am to be completely sincere, most of the other gentlemen were quite captivated by my twin sister Caterina, were they not?” she teased, her gaze sliding over to her sister, who sat quietly, sipping her tea as though she were miles away.

Caterina finally glanced up, her expression impassive but her tone laced with cool detachment. "Well, those were the ones who were able to enter the room. I had afterward ejected many others." Her words hung in the air, sharp and unexpected.

"Caterina," Lady Medici said, her voice filled with maternal scolding as she shot her daughter a look of disapproval. But Caterina merely shrugged, unbothered by the reaction she had caused.

Lady Danbury, ever the sharp-witted observer, chuckled softly at the display. “And may I ask why, Miss Caterina? I thought the whole reason you embarked on such a journey to London was to find a husband, was it not?”

Caterina didn’t falter. "It most certainly is," she replied calmly, though her mother gave her a reproachful glance, silently urging her to act with more grace. Still, Caterina remained unflustered, sipping her tea with steady composure.

“The gentlemen who arrived this morning were quite enthusiastic,” she began in a measured tone, “but I wasn’t feeling particularly disposed to entertain them. The dance you hosted, Lady Danbury, was so splendid and engaging that I found myself needing some rest afterward.” Her voice was smooth, her words carefully chosen. “Besides, I had a great desire to explore the streets of London. It’s a beautiful city, especially on such a lovely sunny day. I hear there aren’t many like it in England.”

Lady Danbury leaned forward, her curiosity piqued. “So, if I may be so bold, what exactly are your expectations for this… husband you seek, Miss Medici?”

Without missing a beat, Caterina replied with perfect poise, but her words caused a visible shift in the room. “Well, I am certainly looking for someone with significant financial wealth,” she stated flatly, as though it were the most obvious answer in the world.

Teresa’s eyes widened, and she cast a glance at her mother, who was already sighing in resigned exasperation. Lady Medici’s lips thinned, though she refrained from any verbal reprimand, clearly accustomed to Caterina’s candid nature.

Lady Danbury, always one for a bit of scandalous conversation, gave a bemused smile. “Wealth, you say? My dear, there is much more to marriage than wealth.”

Caterina’s gaze did not waver. “Of course there is,” she replied evenly. “But security is paramount. A man of wealth can offer a comfortable life, and that is something I will not compromise on.”

Lady Medici shifted uncomfortably in her seat, her eyes briefly closing in silent frustration at her daughter’s bluntness. Teresa, in an attempt to lighten the mood, chimed in.

“But surely, love must play some part in your decision, sister?”

Caterina tilted her head, considering her words carefully before answering. “Love is a luxury, sister. It is not essential for a match.” Her voice was devoid of emotion, her gaze steady as she addressed the room.

Teresa exchanged a quick glance with their mother, both of them understanding the deeper meaning behind Caterina’s words. Lady Medici sighed, looking at Lady Danbury with an apologetic smile. "You'll have to excuse Caterina's… practical nature."

But Lady Danbury, ever perceptive, smiled knowingly, her eyes lingering on Caterina. "Practicality has its merits, but sometimes, dear, the heart has its own plans, plans that may surprise even the most pragmatic among us."

Caterina, for once, seemed to pause, her fingers tightening ever so slightly around the teacup. But she quickly masked her reaction, offering a polite smile. "Perhaps, Lady Danbury. But I prefer not to rely on surprises."

─────────

The evening of the second ball arrived, casting a soft glow over London as carriages rolled up to the grand entrance of the lavish estate where the event was being held. The Medici sisters, Teresa and Caterina, had planned for this night with the utmost precision. Their gowns had been crafted in Italy, a design that, in their homeland, might have been considered daring but elegant. In London, however, it would be nothing short of scandalous.

As their carriage drew closer to the estate, Teresa fidgeted with her gloves, casting a glance at her sister. "Are you sure about this, Kitty?"

Caterina’s lips curled into a knowing smile, her eyes gleaming under the soft lamplight that filtered through the window. "We knew exactly what we were doing when we had these dresses made, Tess. Trust me, we’ll make an impression. Isn't that the point?"

Teresa bit her lip but nodded. "I suppose so. But I can already hear what Lady Whistledown will write about us tomorrow."

"Let her write," Caterina said with a flick of her wrist. "We’ll be the talk of the ton. That's what matters."

─────────

The carriage rolled to a stop, and the footman opened the door, offering them his hand. Caterina exited first, her gown a stunning light gold, catching the light as she descended the steps with graceful confidence. The dress clung to her figure in all the right places, the fabric shimmering with every movement. But what truly caught attention was the back of the gown, or rather, the lack thereof. From the nape of her neck down to the small of her back, her skin was left exposed in an elegant swoop of fabric, the boldness of the design sending ripples of shock through those who saw it.

Teresa followed her gown a softer, more muted pink. It shimmered with a subtle glow under the candlelight, highlighting her delicate features. Though softer than Caterina’s, her dress was no less daring, with a similar open back that revealed much more skin than any proper English lady would dare show.

As the twins stood side by side at the entrance of the ballroom, their presence commanded attention. The grand hall had been abuzz with conversation, laughter, and the murmur of gossip, but as the Medici sisters made their entrance, almost complete silence fell over the room.

Caterina held her chin high, fully aware of the eyes upon them. Her smile was serene, calculated, as if she relished in the shocked gasps and murmured whispers that followed their every step. Teresa, though slightly more reserved, matched her sister’s poise, her head held high as they glided into the room.

The fabric of their gowns caught the light, drawing attention to the elegant curve of their exposed backs and the finely embroidered details along the edges of the material. Every step they took seemed to be designed to command attention, the soft rustling of their dresses the only sound in the otherwise hushed room.

The looks on the faces of the ton were a mix of disbelief and judgment. Elderly matrons clutched their fans in shock, and young debutantes exchanged scandalized glances. Lord Ducker, standing near the entrance, nearly choked on his drink when he saw Teresa. His eyes widened as he tried, and failed, to look anywhere but the bare expanse of her back.

"Good heavens," a lady murmured from across the room, her eyes narrowing as she turned to her companion. "Did you see what those ladies are wearing?"

"Wearing? More like not wearing," another woman replied, her tone scandalized.

As the sisters walked further into the ballroom, Lady Ducker, standing near Lord Ducker, arched an eyebrow and let out a quiet hum of disapproval. "It seems the Medici sisters have decided to bring their fashion to England," she said, her eyes lingering on Teresa. Her tone was pointed, but beneath her words, there was an edge of amusement as if she knew exactly the effect their entrance would have.

Caterina caught sight of Benedict across the room, his eyes already fixed on her. She met his gaze, her lips curving into a subtle, knowing smile. His expression was unreadable, a mixture of surprise, admiration, and perhaps something else, a flicker of something more primal beneath his well-mannered exterior. But he didn’t look away.

Teresa, on the other hand, had her attention drawn to Lord Ducker, who was now standing frozen near the refreshment table, unable to tear his gaze away from her. He looked positively bewitched. She glanced at Caterina, who nudged her lightly. "See? We have their attention."

"Too much of it," Teresa whispered, though there was a faint blush on her cheeks, not entirely out of embarrassment.

They stopped near the edge of the dance floor, their presence undeniable as the ballroom began to hum with activity once more. The music resumed, but the gossip spread like wildfire, whispers following the Medici sisters wherever they moved.

A nearby group of young women exchanged judgmental glances, their voices low but not low enough for Caterina to miss. "It’s indecent, really," one of them said, her voice filled with disdain. "They might as well have come in their undergarments."

Caterina turned her head ever so slightly, catching the eye of the girl who had spoken. With a calm, confident smile, she lifted her chin and gave a subtle nod, as if acknowledging their words but dismissing them with a quiet power. They may talk, she thought, but it was she who had the attention of the room.

"I told you," Caterina murmured to Teresa, her voice low but filled with satisfaction. "We’ve already won."

Teresa sighed, though her lips twitched with a smile. "I just hope we survive the night."

Caterina chuckled, her eyes scanning the room once more. "Oh, we will. But I suspect after tonight, the ton will never forget us."

─────────

The ballroom was alive with music, light, and laughter, but all Benedict could focus on was the woman standing across from him. Miss Caterina Medici. As soon as he caught sight of her at the entrance of the ballroom, everything around him seemed to be still. For a moment, he was utterly captivated. His breath hitched, barely perceptibly, as his eyes raked over her, trying to fully comprehend what he was seeing.

She was breathtaking.

The gown was scandalous, yes, but more than that, it was a work of art on her body, every curve and line of the fabric designed to seduce. His gaze traveled from the delicate curve of her exposed shoulders down to the elegant dip of her bare back, the smooth skin gleaming in the soft glow of the chandeliers. The deep gold of the dress seemed to make her skin glow, every inch of her a tantalizing combination of elegance and temptation. Her hair was pinned elegantly, though a few rebellious strands framed her face, giving her an air of effortless beauty.

Benedict’s grip tightened around the glass of champagne in his hand. Damn her. It wasn’t the first time Caterina had rendered him speechless, but tonight… tonight it was different. Something raw, something primal unfurled inside him, tugging at his restraint, pushing against his usual composure. There was an air of defiance in her tonight, a woman who knew exactly what she was doing and was reveling in the chaos she caused. And God help him, he couldn’t look away.

His mind raced with thoughts he shouldn’t be having. The delicate slope of her back, the smooth line from her neck to her spine, made him ache to touch her. His imagination filled in what his hands wanted to do, run over that exposed skin, feel the warmth of her under his fingers, claim her in a way that wasn’t even appropriate to think about in a crowded ballroom.

She was temptation personified, and it was driving him mad. She knew the effect she was having on him; he was sure of it. The way her lips curled into that infuriatingly serene smile when their eyes met across the room told him everything. She was aware, and she enjoyed it.

Benedict swallowed, shifting in his stance as he tried to regain some semblance of control. But as she moved deeper into the room, her eyes locking with his for a brief moment, the sharpness of his desire returned, making his blood run hot beneath his skin.

I should not be thinking about her this way, he chided himself, but the thought only served to make his craving for her more intense.

He wanted her, and not just in a simple, gentlemanly fashion. There was something far more primal in the way his body reacted to the sight of her tonight. Something that went beyond flirtation, beyond the witty exchanges they’d shared. It was possessive, all-consuming, and utterly undeniable.

As she made her way through the room, collecting whispers and shocked gasps like jewels in a crown, Benedict’s decision crystallized.

He needed to have her attention, to remind her that no matter what game she was playing tonight, he was part of it, and he intended to win.

He set his glass down on a nearby table with purpose, his gaze never leaving her as he crossed the ballroom. His steps were confident, and deliberate, the buzz of the crowd dimming in his mind as he approached her. There was a flicker of something in her eyes when she noticed him approaching, anticipation, perhaps? Or was it the same desire that roared in his chest?

“Miss Medici,” Benedict’s voice was low, dripping with a mix of amusement and challenge. He bowed slightly, his eyes never leaving hers. “I believe you owe me a dance.”

Caterina’s lips curved into that familiar, teasing smile. “Do I?” Her voice was like silk, her brow arching as if to mock his request. She lifted her chin, clearly prepared to banter, but Benedict was having none of it tonight.

He stepped closer, his presence dominating, his tone dropping to a near growl. “Oh, you do. Don’t think I didn’t notice.” His eyes flickered down to the exposed skin of her back, then back to her eyes, his voice taking on a sharper edge. “You come dressed like this, catching everyone’s attention, and expect me not to claim my due?”

Caterina blinked, momentarily caught off guard by the intensity in his voice, but she quickly regained her composure. “I didn’t realize you had anything due to you, Mr. Bridgerton.”

He smirked, a wicked glint in his eyes as he extended his hand toward her, waiting for her to take it. “Oh, I think you owe me more than just a dance.” His voice softened, turning into a low murmur meant only for her. “After all, if anyone’s going to be stealing glances at you tonight, it’ll be me.”

Caterina stared at him for a beat, her lips parting as if to retort, but the intensity of his gaze, the way he held himself with such confidence, silenced her. Slowly, almost reluctantly, she placed her hand in his. A spark shot up his arm the moment her gloved hand touched his.

“Shall we?” Benedict’s smile was almost predatory as he led her onto the dance floor, aware of the eyes following them.

The moment they were in position, and the music began, Benedict took her in his arms, their bodies closer than they had been in days. The tension between them simmered just beneath the surface, and he could feel the heat of her through the thin fabric of her gown.

"After the event at your house, I was expecting a bit more resistance to my invitation, Miss Medici," Benedict said, his voice low as he twirled her around, bringing her back in front of him with a graceful spin.

Caterina’s lips curled into a smirk as she came back into his arms, the spin bringing a fresh wave of her intoxicating perfume with it. "An invitation from an attractive man is always accepted, Mr. Bridgerton," she replied smoothly, her tone light but edged with a certain seductive confidence.

Benedict’s eyebrows shot up at her remark. "Attractive?" His voice dipped playfully. "So, you find me appealing, Miss Medici?"

She met his gaze, her eyes gleaming with mischief. "Certainly I do," she said, her voice almost a purr. "I’m a woman, Mr. Bridgerton, and I have eyes too. I can hardly deny such a thing."

Their eyes met, and for a moment, there was a spark of something dangerous in her gaze, something that made Benedict’s pulse quicken. He tightened his hold on her waist just slightly, guiding her effortlessly through the steps of the dance.

Benedict let out a low chuckle, caught off guard by her directness. He couldn’t recall the last time a woman had spoken to him with such brazen honesty, especially not while looking at him like that.

"Additionally," Caterina continued, her smile widening, "I heard you don’t attend many balls…" She arched an eyebrow, her tone playfully inquisitive.

Benedict snorted, shaking his head slightly. "You’ve been reading Lady Whistledown, haven’t you?" There was a trace of irritation in his voice, though not entirely directed at her.

Caterina chuckled softly, clearly noticing his reaction. "I must somehow integrate into the English ton, Mr. Bridgerton," she said, her voice dropping into a sultry, teasing tone. She raised her chin ever so slightly, making her intentions clear, and yet keeping everything veiled in playful banter.

Benedict’s expression tightened for a brief moment. "Aren’t you bothered by what was written about you?" His eyes flicked down briefly to her dress undoubtedly one of the subjects of tomorrow’s paper and then back up to her face. He was testing her, probing to see if her confident demeanor was as untouchable as it appeared.

Caterina’s laugh was soft but full of amusement, her eyes sparkling as she met his challenge head-on. "Why would I be? Those are just words, Mr. Bridgerton. Gossip. Nobody really knows me." Her tone was dismissive as if she found the entire concept of caring about public opinion amusing.

Benedict’s eyes narrowed slightly, intrigued by her indifference. Most women in the ton would be mortified by such scandalous attention from Lady Whistledown, but Caterina seemed completely unphased. There was something deeply alluring about a woman who refused to be swayed by the whispers of society.

"I see you’re not one to let words affect you, then," Benedict remarked, spinning her once more, his grip firm on her waist as she twirled effortlessly back into his arms.

"Not at all," she replied with a light shrug. "In Italy, we care about gossip but here, it seems like it’s the lifeblood of society." Her lips twitched into a smirk. "A curious difference, wouldn’t you agree?"

"Curious, indeed," Benedict said, still studying her closely. "But not everyone is as impervious as you, Miss Medici."

She laughed again, a soft, musical sound that sent a strange thrill through him. "Perhaps they should be. After all, Mr. Bridgerton, isn’t it far better to live by one’s own truth than to be shackled by the opinions of others?"

Benedict was silent for a moment, turning her words over in his mind. He wasn’t sure what he had been expecting from this dance, maybe more of the flirtatious banter they’d been engaging in, but Caterina’s insight caught him off guard. "And what is your truth, Miss Medici?"

Caterina’s smile grew, her eyes flashing with something unreadable. "That, Mr. Bridgerton, is something you’ll have to discover for yourself." She leaned in just slightly, her voice dropping to a near whisper. "If you’re brave enough."

The challenge was clear, and it sent a spark of excitement through him. "I think I’m up for the task," he said, his voice steady but charged with a new energy.

Their eyes met, and for a moment, the bustling ballroom seemed to fade into the background.

They moved in perfect harmony, the music guiding their steps but their attention solely on each other. Caterina’s gaze flicked to his lips for the briefest of moments before she pulled away, the distance between them lengthening as the dance continued.

Benedict couldn’t help but smile. He had expected many things from this night, but meeting someone like her, a woman so unafraid to be herself, so unapologetically bold, had certainly not been one of them.

As the music began to wind down, Caterina gave him a sly, knowing look and with a graceful curtsy, Caterina stepped back, her gaze lingering on his for just a second longer than necessary. "Thank you for the dance," she said, her voice soft and yet filled with promise.

Benedict bowed, watching her as she turned and walked away, her scandalous dress drawing even more attention as she rejoined her sister and the other guests.

He exhaled, realizing he had been holding his breath.

As she disappeared into the crowd, Benedict couldn’t help but think that Caterina Medici was far more than she seemed, and perhaps, that was exactly what intrigued him most.

─────────

Dearest readers,

The ball of last night was nothing short of a spectacle, but it wasn't the glittering chandeliers or the flowing champagne that stole the evening's attention. Oh no, it was the attire of the notorious Medici sisters that set tongues wagging! Miss Caterina and Miss Teresa Medici shocked the ton by arriving in daring gowns with their backs scandalously exposed. How very… audacious of them!

It would appear the Medici sisters have introduced a new fashion to our ever-watchful London season, a daring display of Italian boldness, with backs bared more than one might deem appropriate for a respectable young lady’s wardrobe.

But that, dear readers, was merely the beginning. Lady Ducker's keen eye seems to have settled on a match for her son, Lord Edward Ducker, and it would appear Miss Teresa Medici is the favored candidate. A match to unite two prominent families? We shall see.

Yet, nothing has caught my quill quite like the simmering tension between Miss Caterina Medici and one certain Mr. Benedict Bridgerton. I saw everything, dear reader, stolen glances, whispered words, and a dance that left the room breathless. One wonders: what exactly is brewing between those two?

Yours truly,

Lady Whistledown

The morning air of the day after was cool, and a gentle breeze whispered through the bustling streets of London. The Medici sisters were walking gracefully along the streets of London, their dresses fluttering slightly in the breeze as their heels clicked against the cobblestones. The light murmur of their conversation was drowned out by the hum of activity around them, carriages rattling by, the calls of vendors, and the occasional laughter of passersby. However, all of that seemed secondary to the glances and murmurs from the other women, heads turning as they recognized the sisters, especially now after the most recent publication of Lady Whistledown.

Caterina held her parasol delicately, tilting it just to keep the sun from her face, while Teresa moved with an air of quiet reflection. The previous night’s ball, with all its gossip, danced uncomfortably in both their minds. Caterina, of course, was more amused than anything else. Teresa, however, was still processing what had been written in Lady Whistledown's Paper.

As they strolled, Caterina smirked and unfolded the paper she had been holding since breakfast, giving it another glance. "Well, Tess, if we weren't known before, we certainly are now."

Teresa sighed deeply, her shoulders sagging slightly. "Do we have to talk about it, Kitty? You know how Whistledown exaggerates."

Caterina’s eyes twinkled as she read aloud, her voice filled with mock drama. "it would appear the Medici sisters have introduced a new fashion to our ever-watchful London season, a daring display of Italian boldness, with backs bared more than one might deem appropriate for a respectable young lady’s wardrobe."

She laughed and looked sideways at Teresa. "Respectable? I believe Lady Whistledown may have finally run out of more scandalous things to write."

Teresa flushed, though a small smile crept onto her lips. "I didn’t think the gown was that scandalous. It was elegant. Tasteful, even."

"Tasteful, yes. But perhaps London society is not yet ready for this kind of taste," Caterina teased, folding the paper and tucking it into her reticule. "Still, we managed to turn quite a few heads. I think it’s a triumph."

"Mother will faint as soon as she will read the paper," Teresa said, shaking her head with a soft laugh. "I’m certain she would write to our aunt in Naples, asking for advice on how to handle such improper daughters."

Caterina grinned, clearly enjoying herself. "Oh, but we haven’t even gotten to the best part yet." She glanced at Teresa, her eyes dancing with mischief. "Lord Ducker."

Teresa’s cheeks flushed a deeper shade of pink. "Kitty, stop."

"I will not stop. Lady Whistledown practically devoted an entire paragraph to how Lord Edward’s attentions were fixed solely on you throughout the evening. And let’s not forget Lady Ducker’s strategic glances in your direction. If I didn’t know better, I’d say she’s plotting a match."

"You're reading too much into it," Teresa said, though she couldn’t entirely hide the smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "Lord Ducker was simply being polite. His mother… well, she’s just observant."

"Observant, yes," Caterina teased. "Observant of her son’s growing interest in you, perhaps? Tess, the man couldn’t take his eyes off you during your second ball. He’s clearly smitten."

Teresa let out a long-suffering sigh. "You're impossible."

"I’m only impossible because it’s true," Caterina grinned, nudging her sister lightly. "Don’t tell me you didn’t enjoy his attentions."

"I… well, he is charming," Teresa admitted, her tone soft. "But there’s no need to get carried away."

Caterina smirked but decided to let her sister off the hook. For now. She was about to change the subject when something caught her eye. "Ah! The market’s ahead. Let’s go see if those accessories Olympia recommended are still there. I’m certain I saw a table with the exact stones I need for my gown tonight at the theater."

With a shared glance, the sisters altered their course, heading toward the market square. The air grew thicker with the smell of fresh-baked bread, sizzling meats, and the fragrant waft of flowers being sold from nearby carts. A cacophony of voices called out, from vendors selling their wares to buyers haggling over prices.

The market itself was a vivid tapestry of colors and sounds. Caterina led the way with the same determination she brought to every task, her eyes scanning the trinkets and jewelry laid out on various stalls.

She paused at one table, admiring a set of glimmering stones that matched her dress. "These are perfect," she murmured, picking up a delicate emerald-colored gem. "Olympia always has the best taste."

Teresa, standing at her side, admired the piece. "They’re beautiful, Kitty. Are you planning on wearing them tonight?"

Caterina nodded, distracted as her eyes flicked across the market. But then something unexpected caught her gaze, a small, unassuming stall near the end of the row, one that wasn’t adorned with the usual finery but rather had brushes and bottles of paint stacked neatly.

For a moment, Caterina stood still, the noise of the market fading around her. Her chest tightened as her eyes rested on the small collection of oil paints and canvases. Brushes of different sizes were laid out, the sight of them immediately conjuring a flood of memories. She remembered the days spent at home, under the dappled sunlight, painting… The world had felt so open, so full of possibility back then. Her hands, now adorned with jewelry, used to be stained with paint, marks of freedom and expression.

Her breath hitched slightly. It had been years since she had touched a brush, and yet here they were, simple and unassuming, waiting for someone to use them.

"Kitty?" Teresa’s voice was gentle, pulling her back to reality. "What is it?"

Caterina’s fingers hovered over the brushes, a strange mix of longing and sadness swelling within her. "Nothing" she whispered, barely loud enough for her sister to hear.

Teresa smiled softly in her direction. "You were brilliant at it."

"I…" Caterina said, her voice thick with emotion. Her fingertips brushed against the handle of one of the brushes, and the familiar texture sent a shiver down her spine. Could she still paint? Did that part of her still exist?

"You should get them," Teresa suggested quietly. "It might be nice to start again. You always seemed so at peace when you painted."

Caterina hesitated, biting her lip. The thought of starting again, of rediscovering that part of herself, felt daunting. Yet at the same time, something inside her yearned for it. She missed the feeling of losing herself in the strokes of a brush, the way the world melted away when she was creating something entirely her own.

"I… maybe," Caterina said, her voice barely above a whisper, but the thought lingered with her as they continued through the market. The paint, the brushes, and the memories clung to her as she walked alongside her sister, feeling as if she had uncovered a piece of herself that she had almost forgotten existed.

─────────

As the opera house buzzed with the excitement of London’s elite, Lady Marie Medici and her daughters, Caterina and Teresa, settled into their private box. The family had garnered quite the attention since arriving from Italy, especially at recent social events. Tonight, however, the opera promised to be a relaxing reprieve, or so they thought. Just as they were adjusting to the view of the grand stage, a soft tap of a cane and the distinct presence of Lady Danbury signaled a different direction for their evening.

"Lady Medici," Lady Danbury greeted with her sharp eyes gleaming, her voice cutting through the hum of the room. She leaned slightly on her cane, casting a knowing glance over at Caterina and Teresa, who smiled politely.

"Lady Danbury, always a pleasure," replied Lady Marie Medici, nodding respectfully.

“And of course, your charming daughters,” Lady Danbury added with a sly smile, her gaze lingering on Caterina, who raised an eyebrow but returned the smile, knowing better than to take Lady Danbury’s compliments at face value.

“Lady Medici, come with me. There’s someone you must meet,” she insisted, gesturing for Lady Medici to follow.

Caterina and Teresa exchanged a curious glance with her mother as she stepped across the box seats to the hallway to the others' adjoining boxes. There, Lady Bridgerton was engaged in conversation with some ladies.

“Lady Bridgerton, may I present Lady Medici?” Lady Danbury introduced.

“Lady Medici,” Violet greeted with a warm smile, her kind eyes settling on the Medici lady. “I’m delighted to finally make your acquaintance.”

“The honor is mine, Lady Bridgerton,” replied Marie Medici with a graceful nod. “I’ve heard much about your family in London.”

Violet chuckled lightly. “I do hope it’s nothing too scandalous! My family has had its share of adventures.”

“Oh, I assure you, we are no strangers to excitement ourselves,” Lady Medici responded with a smile.

“Your daughters have caused quite the stir in society, I must say,” Violet replied, casting an affectionate glance toward Marie.

Just then, Lady Danbury interjected, “And I must add, they have brought such a refreshing energy to the season. It’s a breath of fresh air.”

Violet nodded in agreement. “Indeed!”

Lady Medici chuckled, her gaze drifting toward the stage. “Well, we certainly encourage a bit of mischief. Life is too short to be dull, wouldn’t you agree?”

Violet leaned in conspiratorially, her smile was calm but meaningful. “Absolutely! And speaking of, I must confess that I’ve noticed that my nephew Lord Edward Ducker, seems to have taken a liking to your younger daughter, Lady Teresa.” She leaned in slightly, her tone a bit more personal. “I believe they make quite a charming pair.”

Lady Danbury cut in with a playful grin. “Indeed. It appears young Edward can hardly keep his eyes off her.”

Violet nodded thoughtfully. “In light of that, I would like to extend an invitation, Lady Medici, to you and your daughters. Please join us for a small, dinner tomorrow evening at Bridgerton House. I would very much like to get to know you all better.”

Lady Marie exchanged a brief look before smiling at Violet. “That would be lovely, Lady Bridgerton. We would be honored to attend.”

As they exchanged a few more pleasantries, Lady Danbury’s knowing smile never wavered, her sharp eyes flicking back and forth between the families as if plotting her next move. Soon, the lights dimmed, and the opera was about to begin, forcing the conversation to a close.

Later, as the performance was about to begin, Lady Medici announced the exciting news to her daughters.

“There’s news,” Marie began, folding her hands neatly in her lap as she looked at her daughters. “We have been invited to dinner at Bridgerton House tomorrow evening.”

Teresa’s face lit up instantly. “Dinner with the Bridgertons!” she exclaimed. “Mama, what a wonderful thing!”

In the semi-darkness of the opera house, Teresa leaned over to Caterina, her voice barely a whisper. “Dinner at Bridgerton House! Can you believe it? Mama seemed so calm about it.”

Lady Marie smiled warmly at her daughter. “Indeed, my dear. Lady Bridgerton extended the invitation herself, and it’s clear there’s some interest on behalf of their family.”

Caterina, however, leaned back against the chair, her lips curling into a teasing smile. “Interest, or matchmaking?”

“Both, perhaps,” Lady Marie said thoughtfully. “Lord Ducker has certainly taken a liking to you, my lovely.”

Caterina smiled faintly, though her mind was elsewhere. “She’s probably more interested in the alliance this could create.”

She gave her sister a sideways glance. “Lord Ducker, hmm?”

Teresa flushed but remained composed. “He’s…” Teresa’s face turned bright pink, and she nervously smoothed out the folds of her gown. “He’s very polite, kind, and attentive. That’s all.”

“Mmhmm,” Caterina teased, though her voice lacked its usual edge. Her mind was drifting.

Teresa pouted. “Kitty, stop it.”

“Enough, ladies,” Lady Marie interrupted with a gentle laugh. “It’s a good match. But we mustn’t get ahead of ourselves. Tomorrow is about making a good impression, not encouraging gossip.”

Caterina’s teasing faded, and she glanced in front of her, to the opposite box.

As the opera began, Caterina found her eyes drifting once more across the room, landing on Benedict Bridgerton, who sat attentively watching the stage, into the opposite box.

The dim light softened his sharp features, his focused expression surprisingly at odds with the lively, almost mischievous energy he exuded during their conversations.

There was something different about the way she felt when she was looking at him tonight, a strange, quiet ache in her chest, as though something within her was shifting.

The sharp retorts she always prepared for him felt less necessary, and instead, she found herself wondering about the dinner.

Would they speak? Would she see him across the table, his eyes searching for hers?

The thought caused an uncharacteristic flutter of nervousness in her stomach, and she quickly tore her gaze away, focusing back on the stage. What was this feeling? Anxiety? Excitement?

She exhaled softly, willing herself to stay composed, though her mind wandered. Tomorrow would be something, a test of her ability to maintain her composure, to keep Benedict Bridgerton at a distance. Yet, deep down, she wasn’t entirely sure she wanted to.

Across the way, in the Bridgerton box, Benedict Bridgerton was trying to concentrate on the performance too. Yet, his eyes were drawn across the room to Caterina.

“Are you going to stare at her all night, or do you plan to watch the play?” Anthony teased, smirking.

Benedict shook his head, chuckling lightly. “I was admiring the view, brother.”

“Right. Admiring. Just make sure you don’t miss the second act,” Colin added, grinning.

─────────

The soft glow of twilight filtered through the curtains as Caterina sat at her vanity, brushing out her curls in front of the mirror.

Teresa stood near the window, adjusting the necklace that sparkled against her neckline. They were both preparing for the much-awaited evening's dinner at The Bridgertons, a dinner that would place them directly in the company of the all family.

“Kitty,” Teresa began, her voice lilting with a teasing tone as she admired herself in the reflection of the glass. “You can’t deny it. He’s interested in you.”

Caterina, her hands still in her hair, met her sister’s eyes through the mirror, a wry smile forming on her lips. “Every gentleman of the ton is interested in me, sister,” she responded dryly, her voice edged with sarcasm. “It’s hardly news.”

Teresa laughed, shaking her head. “No, Kitty, I’m serious this time. Mr. Bridgerton. He’s really interested, and tonight, I’ll prove it to you.” She stepped away, her eyes twinkling with mischief.

Caterina’s expression tightened as she whipped around to face her sister, her eyes widening in alarm. “No, you will not,” she said firmly, her tone bordering on panic. “Tess, don’t you dare say anything compromising tonight. Please.”

Teresa merely smirked, her eyes still fixed on her reflection as her maid fixed her hair. “Why not? You two have been practically eyeing each other every chance you get. And I’m sure the entire ballroom noticed last time.”

“Teresa Medici!” Caterina hissed, her voice rising in exasperation. She rose from the vanity and turned to face her sister fully. “I mean it. Don’t say anything compromising.”

Teresa just chuckled, her smug grin never fading. ��Oh, Kitty. You know I won’t embarrass you… much.”

Caterina huffed, knowing her sister well enough to realize that once she had a plan, there was little hope of stopping her.

She turned back to the mirror, carefully smoothing down her gown and trying to push aside her growing apprehension. “Tess, please,” she said in a softer tone, hoping her sincerity would make an impact. “I don’t want to make a fool of myself tonight.”

Teresa stepped closer, placing a gentle hand on her sister’s shoulder. “You won’t. Trust me. But it wouldn’t hurt for him to know you’re interested too, you know.”

Caterina let out a frustrated sigh, unable to suppress the nervous flutter in her chest at the mention of Benedict. “It’s not that simple,” she muttered, more to herself than to Teresa.

“Of course, it is,” Teresa replied lightly, giving her sister a quick kiss on the cheek. “You’ll see tonight.”

─────────

The dining room of Bridgerton’s house was alive with laughter and conversation, the room filled with the glow of candlelight as the Bridgertons and the Medici ladies gathered around the grand table. The warmth of the evening seemed to mirror the ease of the company, though Caterina couldn’t help the twinge of unease in her chest every time her eyes met Benedict’s from across the table.

She sat next to her sister, who was seated across from Benedict. The conversation flowed easily between the families, with Lady Bridgerton, Lady Ducker, and their mother sharing pleasantries about the evening's festivities.

The discussion naturally shifted as Lord Ducker leaned in and said to Teresa “…but he is not nearly as talented as my cousin Benedict. He truly excels in drawing and painting. A natural artist, you could say.”

Teresa’s eyes gleamed, and Caterina immediately tensed, sensing what was about to come. “You do, Mr. Bridgerton?” Teresa asked, her tone dripping with curiosity.

Benedict smiled humbly, casting a quick glance toward Caterina before replying. “I dabble, but it’s nothing serious. Just a recreation, really.”

Caterina froze, her fingers tightening around her fork. She hoped Teresa would drop it, but her sister wasn’t one to let an opportunity slip by.

“You know,” Teresa continued, grinning broadly, “My sister also draws. In fact, she’s rather good, isn’t that right, Kitty?”

Caterina’s head snapped up, her face flushing at the mention of her art. She could feel Benedict’s gaze on her, amused and curious. She swallowed hard, wishing for a moment that the ground would open up beneath her. Under the table, she shot a discreet but firm kick to Teresa’s shin, but her sister simply smiled.

“You do, Miss Medici?” Benedict asked, his voice rich with interest. His eyes never left hers, and the slight curve of his lips told her he was enjoying her discomfort.

Caterina forced a small smile. “Not anymore,” she said quickly, trying to downplay it. “It was just a childhood pastime. Times have changed… and so have I.”

“That’s not true,” Teresa interjected, clearly ignoring the daggers Caterina was glaring at her. “My sister is incredibly talented. You should see her work back in Italy, it’s stunning.”

“Teresa, that’s enough,” Caterina snapped, her voice cutting through the lively hum of the table. Everyone paused mid-conversation, their attention now turned toward her. The sudden silence was palpable, even the children stopped their chatter to stare.

Lady Medici, ever composed, sent both her daughters a reproachful glance. “Ladies,” she said firmly, though her tone remained quiet. “This is neither the time nor the place for bickering.”

Caterina swallowed her embarrassment and mumbled an apology. “Sorry, Mother,” she said, glancing down at her plate, feeling the weight of everyone's gaze on her.

Teresa chimed in, still looking amused, though slightly chastened. “Sorry, Mother,” she echoed, her voice light and carefree, though she shot a playful look at Caterina.

The rest of the dinner passed in relative calm, though Caterina couldn’t shake the lingering embarrassment. She could feel Benedict’s gaze flick toward her several times throughout the evening, and each time, her heart raced. But no more was said about art or her talent.

─────────

Later, after returning home, Caterina stormed into her bedroom, her cheeks still flushed with irritation. Teresa followed closely behind, closing the door behind her.

“Why did you bring that up at dinner?” Caterina demanded, whirling around to face her sister. Her voice was sharp, and she glared at Teresa with all the frustration she had been holding in throughout the evening.

Teresa shrugged, entirely unbothered by her sister’s anger. “I didn’t do anything wrong! It was Lord Ducker who mentioned Mr. Bridgerton’s art, and I just thought it was the perfect opportunity for you two to connect.”

Caterina let out a frustrated groan, pacing back and forth. “I told you I didn’t want to be involved in that conversation. It was irritating!”

“Irritating?” Teresa raised an eyebrow, her tone softening. “Kitty, it wasn’t irritating at all. Mr Bridgerton was clearly interested. He couldn’t take his eyes off you.”

Caterina scoffed, shaking her head. “That’s not the point, Tess. I didn’t want my art to be a subject of discussion, especially not in front of him.”

Teresa stepped forward, her expression softening as she placed a hand on Caterina’s hand. “I’m sorry, Kitty, truly. But I just want you to see how interested he is. You’re so closed off sometimes… Let him in.”

Caterina’s anger wavered slightly at her sister’s words, but she remained resolute. “Goodnight, Tess.” Her voice was final as she opened her bedroom door, signaling the end of the conversation.

Teresa sighed, knowing better than to push her sister further. “Goodnight, Kitty,” she whispered before stepping out into the hallway.

As the door closed behind her, Caterina leaned against it, her mind still swirling with thoughts of Benedict’s lingering gaze.

#bridgerton #benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton fanfiction #benedict bridgerton fluff #benedict bridgerton x reader #bridgerton fanfic #bridgerton fandom #bridgerton fic #bridgerton fanfiction #benedict bridgerton angst #fanfiction #fanfic #benedict bridgerton x oc

3 notes · View notes