#i literally think that if i hadn't started writing

[thaatdigitaldiary]

you belong to somebody else

paige bueckers x fem oc

disclaimer before we get into all the pizzazz, this is my first time writing smut, i can say it better than i can write it. i tried to be as descriptive as possible but you freaky frogs prolly gon eat it up anyways. love yew🤫 | BASED ON THE SONG BY DEJ LOAF, it slaps, tune in

influencer kaia brown was constantly going through the motions with her douche of a boyfriend. as a bisexual girl, she’s dated both men and women, but none THIS BAD. kaia’s bestfriend paige can’t stand her boyfriend, and needless to say she can’t wait till she can finally treat her right.

angst, arguing, use of a homophobic slur, underage drinking, verbal abuse (tw), drinking, SMUT, strap usage, fingering, oral, aftercare, dirty talk, paige being possessive don’t we love that, happy ending yw

and with that enjoy🙂‍↕️ (paige and kaia's povs will be switching at some points!) THIS IS REALLY LONG! hope u don’t mind!

"paige get the angles right." kaia said to her sternly, as paige couldn't get the perfect picture of kaia for her instagram feed. "kai, i'm quite literally the best photographer you've ever had. quit doubting me, sit there nd' look pretty." kaia scoffs, trying to find a different pose. she dragged paige to a nearby park to take pictures on her digital camera in front of the sunset. "okay kai i see you, do a lil' twirl or sum," and kaia twirls around, paige catching every moment. they look back at the pictures and smile. "alright i guess you get the angles right sometimes." kaia trying to give her credit. "that's what she said," paige says, laughing hard as ever, making kaia shake her head of embarrassment. "quit being corny before i block you." kaia says, trying to be threatening, but paige quickly shuts that down. "please kai, you can't live without me." truth is, kaia really couldn't, paige was her everything, she cared for her, loved her, protected her, and overall made men insecure by looking down on them. it was honestly attractive. "watch me." this comment making paige roll her eyes. "sure kaia."

paige dropped kaia off back at her apartment, and kaia transfers the digital camera photos to her macbook, ready to post later. kaia's phone rings, and it's her boyfriend daniel. kaia hadn't been dating him long, he was kind of a douche. "hey beautiful, we still on for tonight?" he says to kaia, and for some reason, his voice alone makes her roll her eyes. "i guess, what time?" she says really bland, which doesn't go unnoticed, and he tries to flirt with her to "lift the spirits". "so uh, whatcha wearing tonight? i bet it's sexy." he thinks he's so fucking clever, kaia thought. "daniel, what time." she annoyingly tells him, so he can get to the damn point. "is 8 good, i get off work at 7:30 and i can co-" he starts rambling, before kaia cuts him off. "that's fine daniel, i'll talk to you later." she hangs up the phone before he can even say "goodbye", not that she cared.

most people felt bad for daniel, as kaia wasn't the nicest to him. he wasn't innocent though. the only reason kaia is staying is because they got drunk one night and hooked up, and she was worried he would out her. on the other hand, regardless of what dirt he may or may not have had on kaia, paige fucking hated him. the way he looked at kaia, nothing but lust, waiting for the moment to get her alone and use her. paige wanted kaia to end things with him, telling her she'd stay ten toes behind her if he even mentioned her name, waiting for that moment to finally tell him off. kaia was too beautiful for that man, he looked like an accessory.

it was currently 7:36 pm, and kaia started getting ready for her "date" with daniel. did she wanna go? no, but she gave in and she kept her promises. most of the time. that was until her phone rang, the contact "p babyyy 🏀👩🏼‍❤️‍👩🏽” popping up, and she answers with no hesitation. "heyyyy p," kaia says, dragging out the y's, something she did often when talking to paige. "hey pretty girl. so listen, kk nd' them were gonna go to a get together at somebodies house, she sent me the addy and i wanted you to pull up." paige really wanted kaia there with her. they went everywhere together. "p i can't, daniel asked me to go onna date with him tonight." kaia honestly wanted to ditch him, paige feeding into that idea. "man fuck him, that rando can have you another time, i miss you." speaking softer when she expresses she missed the curly haired girl, slighty changing kaia's mind. "p you just saw me a couple hours ago. but how about this, i go to this date, say i have an emergency in the middle of it, then i'll drive to wherever the party is, and i'm yours for the rest of the night." paige gave into the idea, as long as she got to see kaia. "don't take too long, he doesn't deserve allat time, and don’t drive here, i’ll come get you.” she tells kaia, before the call disconnects.

there was a knock at kaia's door, she took a big sigh and put her left foot in her heel, opening the door to see a smug look on daniel's face, and she wants to puke. "hey you," he says going in for a kiss, but kaia rejects. "just did my makeup, wouldn't wanna ruin it!" she nervously chuckles and grabs her purse, walking behind daniel. "so uh-, where are we going?" she asks, hoping there'd be an easy exit wherever the date was gonna take place at. she was in for it.

paige's pov

"az, what time was the party supposed to start? i'm tryna see when kaia needs to ditch." she says, yelling across the dorm. azzi walks into the living room where paige was, and sits down next to her. "when are you gonna admit that you like kaia? i mean ditching her boyfriend? paige isn't that y'know, kind of insane?" azzi asks her, fully concerned for the state of kaia's relationship. "he's a dick, he doesn't even like her like that az. trust, she's gonna break up with him eventually." azzi rolls her eyes. "and you know this how?" paige shows azzi the messages between her and kaia, where kaia states how she's only with him so he doesn't expose her. "okay yea he's fucked, do what you want." paige rubs her hands together, and clicks the phone icon on kaia's contact.

kaia's pov

"hello?" kaia says, happy paige finally called, meaning this escape plan was in motion. and plus, daniel was chugging beers, rambling and bragging the whole night, causing kaia to really get sick of him. "i can hear him inna background, you can go ahead and ditch him. me, az, kk, and yanna getting ready here. you ready for me to come get you?" paige says in one breath, making kaia smile at the thought of seeing her best friend again. "yeah that'll be good, he can't even hear me cause he's talking about himself. save me please." kaia says laughing. paige was always her savior, taking her away from situations she didn't wanna be in. "i just grabbed my keys and you got my location, when you see me getting close just walk out, and if he say sum i gotchu. i'm onna way." she tells kaia, happy to be that knight in shining armor for her. "thank you p, and okay." they hang up and daniel is. still. rambling.

kaia watches paige’s location the whole time daniel is talking, waiting patiently for her best friend to swoop in and save her from this disaster of a date, with a man she doesn’t even love. kaia tried to love him, seriously. but she knew that he was in this for the wrong reasons. he was a manipulator. and paige waited for the moment he’d slip up, so she could ruin him.

kaia tells daniel she has an emergency to tend to, and she gets up from the table. he immediately follows behind her, not being able to walk in a straight line from all the beers he’s inhaled, pissing kaia off more. that didn’t matter though, because either way, she was getting in paige’s car. she waits patiently and sees paige’s car pull up and park, and the 6ft blonde gets out. she’s wearing black sweats with her nike pro boxers peeking, and a white tee. her lanyard is hanging from her pants pocket, and keys in hand. “you ready?” she asks kaia, who nods her head profusely. paige saw daniel running after kaia, looking wasted. she shakes her head, and places her hand on kaia’s back, leading her to the car. “this is your so-called emergency? you’re full of shit.” daniel says, yelling across parking lot, making both girls stop in their tracks. “the fuck did you just say?” paige yells back, eyebrows furrowed from the anger caused by him yelling at her best friend. “paige leave him, he’s fucking drunk, and i don’t want him trying anything.” kaia wanted to keep the peace, until daniel uttered these few words. “i always knew you were a dyke paige. you want her all to yourself huh?” and with that kaia turns around, and starts walking towards daniel. she slaps him, causing him to stumble back a little, from the shock, and from the alcohol he consumed. “keep her name out your fuckin’ mouth daniel. you don’t know shit about paige.” he scoffs and walks away defeated, and kaia turns in her heels back towards paige’s car.

“i fucking hate him paige.” kaia starts ranting about how much of a bitch he is, wishing things were different. “you really know how to defend a lady huh?” paige says laughing, trying to lighten the mood and cheer kaia up before they arrive at the dorms. “he didn’t have the right to bring you into anything, i don’t know why he’s always so fuckin’ jealous of you.” paige shrugs, “i mean look at me and look at him, he’s like-, what 5’7? cmon kaia, you’re almost taller than him in heels.” they both laugh at paige’s comment, but kaia is still so upset.

the girls make a stop to the apartment buildings they stayed at, and paige drops kaia off at hers so she can grab clothes and any makeup she wanted to put on. after that, kaia was gonna drive over to where yanna, azzi, and kk were getting ready, and leave her car since she was riding with paige, and they'd possibly pregame and have some fun before they left.

paige’s pov

azzi noticed my plan worked, and pulled me aside to ask what happened. “az, all imma say is i fuckin’ hate the dude. he was wasted when i came to get her, and even had the nerve to call me a dyke.” azzi’s eyes widened at this information, immediately asking questions. “did kaia say anything? did you do anything to him?” she says, hoping nothing terrible went down. “ian' have to, kai went up and slapped him, and told him keep my name out his mouth. shit was attractive as fuck i can’t lie.” azzi smirked a little, nudging my shoulder. “that’s what i’m talking about, i hope she slaps him harder next time.”

“how do you feel though?” azzi asks me, knowing there’s something on my mind. “shit sucks az, you know i’ve wanted kai forever, but this dude came and fucked with my plans. i can’t wait till she finally lets go, but it’s not that easy.” i express to her. it sucked, but i was one hundred percent willing to wait on kaia. i knew she felt the same way, she didn’t even have to say it. “why is it not easy? he’s already a bitch?” azzi says, laughing. “true, but he’s got dirt on her. they were drunk one night, and they hooked up, and daniel secretly recorded the whole thing. it’s fucked az. i want him gone, it was always supposed to be me and her.” just thinking about it makes me mad, wanting him out of kaia’s life, for good. “oh my god. fuck him, we needa come up with someway to get him outta here, kaia doesn’t deserve that.”

speaking of kaia, she texted paige she was about to walk to kk’s dorm, in which all the girls who were going to the party were there. kaia was already showered and dressed, all she had left to do was her makeup, so she brought her makeup bag along with her. she knocked on the door and of course paige wanted to open it, and the sight before her made her mouth open slighty. kaia was wearing a burgundy skims dress, with gold jewelry layered and stacked everywhere. the tattoo on her shoulder was prominent, a freshly inked butterfly (ofc). her body was glistening, the smell of cocoa butter and vanilla following her around as she walked, driving paige insane. “you good p?” she asks her best friend, smiling so her dimples pop just a little bit more than usual. “i’m good kai, you just look,- really good.” paige couldn’t help herself when it came to kaia, she didn’t give a fuck about her boyfriend, kaia deserved all the compliments in the world. “thank you paigey, and lemme say you don’t look too bad yourself. this fit looks cute on you blondie.” paige had her hair slicked in a bun, a gray graphic tee with gray washed jeans, and silver and purplish-gray colored jordans. her chain sparkled around her neck, and so did the matching tennis bracelet she wore with it. paige and kaia looked fucking good.

all the girls were in the kitchen prepping to pregame, at this point, the whole team was there, and they always loved kaia. “yo kaia! are you pregaming?” kk yelled to her, echoing throughtout the shared space. “nah, i wanna be sober tonight, i can still have fun.” she yells back, going on her phone. 10 missed calls from daniel. she throws her phone on the couch, and paige starts to walk over to sit next to her. “you not drinking? are you good?” she says, knowing kaia was always quick to pregame before a party. “i’m scared he’s gonna show up tonight p. i’m tryna stay sober so i can say what i gotta say to him. i’m tired of being around him, i don’t even care about the recording anymore, he’s fuckin’ toxic.” kaia had genuine fear of what daniel was capable of, but little did she know she was in the safest hands possible. “kai, ma, listen to me. as long as i’m wherever you’re at, he’s not gonna do shit to you. he’s a fuckin’ bum, and if he wants to “confront” you tonight, he can talk to me first. got that?”

paige needed confirmation from kaia to formally go off on daniel if anything went down tonight. “got it paige, i love you, like seriously.” “i love you more kai, you know this.” she hugs kaia, taking her scent and having a chance to feel her warm body, and she loves it. “now go pregame and shit, i still don’t wanna drink tonight.” kaia tells paige, but paige is always willing to make sacrifices. “hell na, if you’re not drinking, i’m not either.” the real reason paige didn’t wanna drink was just to make sure she could see straight; just in case she had to punch daniel in his face.

by this moment, kk was already slightly tispy from her being a lightweight, making the rest of the girls laugh. paige and kaia were sitting on the couch together, play fighting. “paige get off me, you’re gonna mess my makeup up!” kaia tries to get the strength to push the 6 foot tall girl off of her, but paige is all muscle, so she doesn’t budge. “not until you promise me you’re gonna have fun tonight, and forget about him,” she says, watching kaia struggle under her, honestly enjoying it. “okay! okay! i promise,” kaia says, paige finally letting go of her, allowing her to sit back up. “atta girl, i want you to relax and let me handle the other shit, fuck him.”

“yeah, fuck him.”

it was around 10:30 pm, and the girls were all dressed and ready to leave. kaia wanted to ride with paige, with kk and ice coming along. paige played her playlist in the car, everyone knowing every single song, as paige’s playlist was the one played anytime they carpooled. paige couldn’t stop looking at kaia though, her curly hair so voluminous, bouncing everytime she moved slightly, her edges perfectly laid, and her lashes curled to perfection. kaia’s dimples really made paige fold though, the small indentations in her face driving her wild. kk was recording a video for her instagram story, with her, paige, ice, and kaia rapped along to “i like” by g herbo. in the video, paige had her hand on kaia’s thigh while they rapped to song playing, not even thinking anything of it.

they make it to the party, azzi and the others pulling up as well. they all get out the car, and paige walks over to kaia. she stands behind her with her hands ghosting around her waist, leaving goosebumps on kaia’s arms. she loved when paige touched her, even if it was as simple as this. paige guided her to the door, making azzi smirk, because deep down she knows what just might go down tonight. at least she thought so.

everyone makes it to living room, where most of the people were playing games like beer pong, making out, or getting intoxicated. one of the players from the mens team daps up paige and motions her to come talk to the rest of them, so she lets kaia know before she walks off. “kai i’m finna go talk to some of the dudes onna mens team right quick. this ain’t azzi’s typa environment either so you two stick together.” she tells kaia, and she responds with a “okay p,” and walks over to azzi. “hey kaiaboo, you having fun?” azzi asks the girl, her voice always so sweet and kind. “shi i’m tryin’. i just got this weird feeling.” kaia tells the other curly haired girl, slowly starting to confide in her. “look don’t tell paige yet, but i really fuckin’ love her. i’m only with daniel cause’ he’s blackmailing me.” azzi doesn’t even hesitate to hug the girl, already knowing the situation. “honey, don’t worry about him, we got you.” kaia and azzi talk for what seems like hours, having plenty in common.

with kaia’s back turned, azzi had a clear view of the door. kaia was talking about some celebrity following her on instagram the other day, when azzi’s eyes got wider. kaia noticed this, and stopped talking. “az, what’s wrong?” azzi points at the door, and daniel is standing there, looking around, looking for kaia. kaia starts to freak out, worried he’s gonna do something to her, so azzi grabs her hand, and they go looking for paige before he sees her.

azzi and kaia find paige, and tell her that daniel showed up, uninvited.

“what? what the fuck is he doing here? he wasn’t invited.” paige says, pissed off that he was about to ruin everything. “i don’t know p, i guess he watched kk’s story and saw you and kaia.” fuck, paige thought to herself, hating that he wouldn’t just leave kaia the fuck alone. kaia had really bad anxiety, and paige took her hand from azzi’s and brought her close, so she could whisper in your ear. “if he says absolutely anything, i’m ten toes behind you ma.” kaia is lucky to have paige, especially after what happens next.

kaia and paige try to avoid him, moving around the house and finding their group, just in case anything went down. that’s until the one time paige didn’t have kaia’s hand, a tug was felt on kaia’s wrist. “you bitch.” daniel curses at kaia, as she pulls her arm back and out of his grasp, and cursing at him back. “keep your fucking hands off me daniel.” she says, trying to remain calm, because daniel was a hothead. “what’re you gonna do huh, you gon' go get paige? you must really like her huh? are you a dyke too kaia?” kaia was furious at that point, and a crowd started forming around the two. paige had caught the rest of the team up on what the situation was, just so they know to confront daniel, if need be. ice notices the crowd, and hears daniel’s agitating voice belowing. she notices something else too, he looked pissed. paige starts to push people out of the way, to maneuver to the middle. she sees kaia and daniel arguing, and decides to step in.

“who the fuck are you talking to like that daniel? i been told you to keep paige’s name out your mouth, but you can’t quit that shit.” daniel goes to get in kaia’s face, but paige’s tall frame appears, butting into the conversation. “why the fuck are you here?” catching daniel off guard, her height alone making him take a step back from kaia’s face.

“i came here to get my girl.” paige laughs at him. “your girl? pft.” kaia doesn’t intervene, she let’s paige handle it, like she said she would. kaia is slightly standing behind paige, fidgeting with the back of her shirt to try and relax. “she doesn’t want you daniel, and she definitely doesn’t want you here. i think it’s best you just leave her alone, stop wasting your time.” paige feels kaia messing with her shirt, signaling she wants to leave. “you don’t get to tell me what to do about my girl, you dyke bitch.” and without any hesitation, paige shoves daniel, causing a loud thud.

she grabs kaia’s hand and leads her to the car, where the rest of the group follows. kaia starts tearing up from the situation, wholeheartedly believing she was doomed, and her reputation was over. “i’m gonna take her home,” paige tells her teammates while holding kaia and leading her to the passenger seat. paige gets in the car as well, and kaia immediately breaks down. “paige he’s gonna ruin my reputation, i fucking made the mistake of sleeping with him, i was drunk and i didn’t know what i was doing.” kaia says between sobs. “hey-, ma look at me. you’re gonna be okay, this is all gonna be okay.” she expresses while the car is still in park, wanting to make sure her girl her bestfriend was okay before driving off.

paige wipes kaia’s tears and embraces her. she rubs her back, something that soothed kaia. “now talk to me, how do you know he has the video?” paige asks, trying to get the whole truth. “he told me. when we hooked up i was drunk, when i got back home he texted me and told me if i didn’t date him, he’d post whatever he recorded of us.” paige’s blood boils at this, but then she tries to put two and two together. “have you ever seen the video he claims he has?” kaia responds with shaking her head no. “he never showed me, i don’t even know how he would record, his phone was broken the night we hooked up, so he was using mine, but i was drunk so i’m not sure.” kaia was trying her best to recall what happened that night. “alright let’s backtrack kai. his phone was broken, there was no possible way of him recording you, especially if he was using your phone the whole time you were together.” kaia takes in this information, putting two and two together. there was no video, daniel lied to her. kaia is pissed. fucking pissed.

paige puts the car in drive, ready to pull up on daniel and fuck him clean up. he fucked with kaia’s feelings for so long, making her feel like shit every fucking day, and paige hated seeing kaia cry. kaia was two steps ahead of paige though, dialing daniel’s number in her phone and pressing the green call button. he picks up.

“you running back to me now?” he says slyly, trying to fuck with kaia’s mental. “you’re a lying bitch daniel.” daniel acts clueless, “don’t know what you’re talking about.” he sighs, and kaia says something he wished never happened, as the act was over. “there’s no fucking video, and i know it. you took advantage of that fact that i was drunk, proving you’re a pussy daniel.” he stays quiet, and kaia decided to be petty. “you’re not even smart enough for blackmail. shit, you don’t even know how to fuck right.” daniel goes to speak again but she hangs up, leaving daniel in shock and embarrassment, and paige looks at her with a proud expression. “that’s my girl.”

paige takes kaia back to her apartment, not wanting her to be alone. they walk to paige’s door, while paige carries kaia’s purse, and keeps a tight grip on her hand. paige unlocks her door, and they both step inside. they flop on the couch and sit in silence, trying to recuperate from the whole situation. that’s until kaia breaks the silence. “p, there’s so much i need to say.” she says while looking paige in her eyes, her eye shape seductive, turning paige on. “good thing i love listening to you talk.”

“you know it was always gonna be you right?” kaia expresses to paige, something she wanted her to know from the start. “the night i got drunk was me trying to forget my feelings for you. hell, i’ve been in love with you forever paige, i just didn’t have the gut to tell you. it was obviously a stupid thing to do looking back, but i want you paige. i need you.” kaia felt vulnerable, hoping (praying), paige felt the same.

“i need you, kaia. more than anything. i’ve always been in love with you mama, i just wanted to wait for the right moment, because you deserve something special.” this statement makes kaia blush, and with that paige continues. “you’re smart, fuckin gorgeous, and most importantly you’re my whole world. i’on know what the hell i would do if you weren’t in my life.” kaia maintains eye contact with paige then pops a question.

“can i do something?” kaia asks.

“anything you want mama.”

and with that, kaia kisses paige, the kiss is passionate, and fuckin hot. paige pulls kaia in her lap, hands glued to her ass. “fuck mama, i’ve waited so fuckin' long for this.” paige says between kisses, making kaia wetter by the second. kaia begins to grind down on paige’s lap as paige squeezes every ounce of her ass. they’re breathing gets harder the more they kiss, the kisses getting heavier and sloppier, making paige crave more. she slaps kaia’s ass, causing her to moan at the sudden sting, paige loving it. “i need you paige,-“ kaia’s says so desperately, and that’s all paige needed to hear. she picks kaia up, still kissing her, as she leads them to her room.

she gently places kaia on her perfectly made bed, bound to get messed up by the end of tonight. “what all you need from me ma, you gotta talk to me, you can do that can’t you?” kaia nods, but paige shuts that down. “words baby.” kaia starts to speak, but is quickly cut off by paige inserting her knee between her legs. “fuck-, fuck, okay okay, i want you inside of me paige, please.” paige leans down and kisses her neck, figuring out shortly after doing so that this was kaia’s sensitive spot, and this act alone was getting her soaked. “you want me inside you baby, you think you can take that?” she taunts kaia, teasing her was enjoyable. “i can take it p-, shit, i promise.” kaia can’t even keep her composure, but she wanted all of paige. “take this shit off first.” paige demanded, referring to the skin tight dress kaia had on, showing off her figure, making paige wetter than ever.

kaia gets up and shimmies the dress down, the fabric pooling at her ankles. paige noticed kaia didn’t have on a bra, her tits sat perky and perfect, a sight to see. kaia grabs paige’s hand, pulling her back on top of her. “give me everything you got baby.” kaia snatches paige’s shirt off, and paige unbuttons her jeans, leaving her in her black sports bra and boxers. paige attaches her mouth to kaia’s tits, kissing and sucking on them softly, slowly working her way down to her naval. “you’re so pretty mama, whole body just beautiful.” kaia moans at this, she wants more. “p.” she says. “yea princess?”

“please fuck me.”

paige kisses lower and lower kaia’s gorgeous body, making sure to cherish every inch of it, giving it the love it needs and deserves, the love kaia deserves. paige pulls kaia’s lace thong down with her teeth, letting it fall down her legs. she kisses around kaia’s sweet spot, before she licks a stripe on kaia’s soaking cunt. this makes kaia moan loud, music to paige’s ears. the blonde then thrusts her tongue into kaia’s pussy, feeling tugs at her hair by the curly haired girl, letting paige know this was the best head she’s ever gotten. she has to make this even better, and with that paige rubs at kaia’s clit, causing an erotic moan from her mouth, “fuck! paige don’t- shit,- don’t fuckin’ stop,” she’s getting close, paige knows this. she moans in kaia’s cunt, the vibration from her mouth causing kai’s back to arch, and she grips paige’s sheets. “let go for me mama, you can do it.” those words make kaia babble, “im close p, so fuckin’ FUCK, paige please, i’m gonna cu-,” kaia can’t even get the rest of her words out before her stomach twists and turns, and she releases all over paige’s tongue. “yea baby, that’s my girl, let it all out.” kaia is shaking, but paige isn’t done with her. she kisses the distraught girl, letting her taste herself.

paige holds kaia for a second, letting her come down from the high, before she fucks her stupid. “i’m not done with you, you know that right?” paige tells kaia, eager to have her fucked out by the end of tonight.

“i’m gonna take all you give me paige.”

paige walks to her closet, grabbing a black box from the top shelf. kaia knows what it is, but she looks up at paige innocently. paige takes off her boxers and her bra, giving kaia a show, not that she minds. “you’re beautiful p.” this made paige blush, praise being something she loved. kaia watches as the girl puts the harness on, biting her lip at how fucking good paige looked with it on her hips, she wanted all of it.

“lay back for me mama.” and kaia quickly obliges. paige teases her, pushing the tip in and out of kaia’s cunt, making her whine and beg, needing paige inside of her immediately. “please p, stop teasing me. baby please?” paige couldn’t say no to kaia’s sweet voice, listening to the girl beneath beg for her dick, driving her crazy. paige pushes the purple dildo inside kaia’s pussy, inch by inch, making sure she doesn’t hurt her. “shitttt-,”. paige loves hearing kaia moan, especially knowing it was because of her. “this pussy loves me baby, look how well she’s taking me,” she states, starting to thrust slowly inside of kaia’s cunt, not speeding up until she’s ready. kaia grabs paige’s arm, needing stability, as paige’s pace sped up. “shit p, fuck me harder, please?” kaia says, digging her nails in paige’s arm, feeling her climax approaching. “i’m close baby please… please,”. paige stops and slowly pulls out, leaving kaia confused and whiny. “why’d you stop baby, i said please?” kaia looked up at her, trying to seduce her into putting it back in. “turn around and arch that shit ma, you’ll get what you want.”

kaia is in doggystyle on paige’s bed, the covers lifting and bunched up from kaia’s grip. paige teases kaia’s entrance again, leaving kaia helpless and begging. she slowly slips the tip in, and suddenly kaia pushes back on it herself. “fuck ma,- shit, you eager huh?” paige wasn’t expecting this from kaia. “tired of your teasing baby, i gotta do what i fuck-, gotta do.” paige slaps her ass, and kaia begins to throw her ass back onto the toy, hers and paige’s hips colliding with one another. “yeah mama, that’s it. throw that shit on me, fuck. gonna make me cum huh? fuckin' take this dick baby cmon,” paige encouraged her, while kaia was fucking herself dumb on paige’s strap, wanting to make paige cum so bad. “you like this p? shit-,” kaia was about let go again, speeding up to make sure they both came at the same time. “fuck ma i’m close.” paige grabs kaia’s hips and pounds into her, making both of them cum instantly.

they both collapse on paige’s bed, fucked out and out of breath. “you did so good mama,” erupting out of paige’s mouth. “i’m not done paige, lemme ride you.” kaia said, her voice alluring and sexually exciting. “well fuck then ma, come ride my shit, show me how you do it.” kaia climbs on top of paige, straddling her, hovering over the strap, inserting it in herself. kaia let’s out a pornographic moan, making paige smile. “ride that shit cmon, that's it,” she says, as kaia begins to roll her hips on the strap, causing it to bump against paige’s clit, stimulating the both of them. “you’re so big baby, fuck-. you feel good p?” kaia says, smiling at paige, trying to get herself together. “fuck yeah ma, right there. you’re fucking mines, you hear me? say it.” kaia rode faster, keeping a rhythm going until she decided she wanted to bounce on it. “i’m yours paige, all fucking yours.” paige couldn’t get enough of this girl. “FUCK kaia, don’t fuckin’ stop.” this movement caught paige off guard, and she grabs kaia’s hips and guides her to keep the pace, up and down.

kaia sat up straight and continued to ride, flipping her hair to the side, leaving paige in awe. this girl was stunning. the way her lips were slightly swollen from the makeout on the couch earlier, her curls still perfectly finger coiled, bouncing with her as she rode on paige’s dick. paige was so happy to take care of her like this. “shit p you close?” she says, reaching her limit. “yeah baby im close, let that shit go mama, i’m here i gotchu.” both paige and kaia cum again, kaia’s legs shaking uncontrollably, falling into paige. “shhh, shh, i got you mama, relax, you’re good.” they lay like this for a while, catching their breaths.

“i love you kaia. i promise you, i’ll show you real love.” paige tells the girl whos slowly drifing to sleep. she kisses her forehead, and before kaia falls asleep she tells paige,

“you always have.” paige smiles at this, and they fall asleep, leaving clean up for later. kaia and paige were meant for each other, even though it took a bad situation to realize it. they loved each other, and kaia no longer belonged to somebody else. she was all for paige.

HI BABIES! i hope you enjoyed this! it took me some time to get the courage to write smut because it’s time consuming, but this was fun! part two to open your eyes will be out soon enough, just bare with me as i’m trying to build more plot. let me know how you liked this! 🙂‍↕️ (one thing about it, i can get freaked out too amen)

tags: @rosemariiaa, @mrsarnold, @bueckerscore, @patscorner, @sierrale8ne, @wbbgetsmewetter, @juspeaks

love you guys! gif by the infamous @ohbueckers

[ecstarry]

the amount of stuff from my relationship that i projected to my fics is actually insane

[cottagecori]

hey. send the message. do it.

[airbenderedacted]

What was the beta s2 villain design? I haven’t heard or seen abt that one n im curious

,,,,Bombshell my bbygirl,.

[son1c]

i won't lie the fact that all the dialogue i write will be spoken aloud by my friend in a dramatic reading(TM) has made me better at writing dialogue i think

[redbeanjellysoul]

viktor is actually insane I just know he barely eats, showers, sleeps, while basically having leukemia and yet he still fucking invents. How. is that. actually possible?

[murdockparker]

Mr. Bridgerton and the Baker

Benedict Bridgerton x Reader

Summary: Covered in flour. It is how she usually spent her days, working hard at her family's bakery. She just hadn't expected to have met him in such a state.

Word Count: 11.8k

Warnings: pining, angst, fluff, a small assault (reader gets hit, not by Benedict!), mention of pregnancy (like, literally a line or two),

A/N: Did I write an entire fic barely based on that one scene in Camp Rock where Mitchie is covered in flour? Yes. Do I regret it? No.

With the melting of snow and the promise of new starts, the social season was nearly upon the ton, nearly upon all the potential suitors and debutantes—all waiting with bated breath to secure a match this year. Of course, those in waiting were of high status, usually tied to the aristocracy or drowning in wealth beyond compare.

The others? The ones not blessed with endless funds or pure luck of royal lineage had the privilege, nay, honor to serve those who would be so fortunate. For the many, it included servicing the estates—butlers, lady’s maids, governesses, home chefs and the like. For the patrons on Tilbury Street, it included the less sought after roles, polishers, cobblers, modistes and bakeries. One bakery in particular was the prime choice for the aristocracy, a diamond in the rough as some may say. 

—

“I just simply don’t understand why we cannot have our chefs prepare the pastries for the ball,” Eloise Bridgerton nearly groaned, her arm hooked onto her mother’s. They had been walking up and down Tilbury Street for the better part of twenty minutes, simply enjoying the fresh spring weather. “I’ve never known them to make horrid dishes.”

“It’s the first Bridgerton Ball of the season, Eloise,” the dowager viscountess murmured politely. “Along with it being the first Kate has had the pleasure of hosting, putting an order in here is a fresh foot forward, one that’ll impress our guests.”

Eloise barked back a laugh. “If it is so important, why is Kate not here to make the order herself?”

“That, dear sister, is an excellent point.” Following close behind the two Bridgerton ladies was a rather tall shadow, equally as dashing and nearly as clever—Benedict—the second eldest son of the Bridgerton brood. “Surely Anthony could spare his wife for one afternoon, I can’t imagine it being so difficult to pry them from their bedroom—”

“Benedict Bridgerton!” Violet snapped, turning hot on her heels to face her son. He could only laugh.

“Oh Mother, you must relax,” he said lovingly, patting both hands on her shoulders. “You know better than I that it could have been a far fouler thought—why, I can easily imagine three other ways I could have expressed my way of thinking.”

“Ah, ever the poet, Benedict,” Eloise smiled wryly, pushing her way to the front of their clump. No one had the heart to mention the glaring fact that it was likely she didn’t know the way in which they were headed. 

“This bakery,” Violet continued half-heartedly. “Is a prestigious supplier for the ton—you may recall their exquisite cake that we had ordered for Daphne’s wedding.”

Benedict hummed contently. “It was a good cake,” he practically nodded off at the thought. The decadent sponge nearly brought him to tears—of course, it could have very well been the relief from undue stress of Daphne’s season altogether, having nearly lost his older brother to an unnecessary duel.

“I think it was far too sweet,” Eloise said, scrunching her nose in distaste. “I had to drink nearly three cups of tea to clear out the sugar on my tongue.”

“Ah, but what’s life without a little bit of sweetness?” Benedict nearly sang.

“Perfectly fulfilling,” his younger sister quipped back.

The dowager viscountess could only sigh, her eyes reaching up to the clouds above. While she loved nothing more than being the mother of all eight of her perfect children, their endless bickering and bantering grew vexing. It merely took the Bridgerton siblings another minute of arguing before stopping in front of a quaint storefront—the sickeningly sweet aroma filling the street. “We’re here.”

“I could have told you as much,” Benedict mumbled, rubbing his temple lightly. “The scent is… overpowering.” If he were lucky, the headache that was quickly forming would dull fast.

“But Benedict,” Eloise turned hot on her heels. “What’s life without a bit of sweetness?”

Violet Bridgerton was quick to catch her second eldest's hand before it met the back of Eloise’s head. “If it’s too much for you, dear,” she released her grip. “Please feel free to wait for us out here. It should only take a moment.”

“Like a ‘moment’ at the modiste?” Benedict crossed his arms, his brow nearly touching his hairline. “If I recall, the last time I accompanied you to the dressmaker, I spent over an hour basking in the summer sun.”

“Nothing logical stopped you from coming in,” Eloise drawled. “Of course, if you wanted to managed to stay pleasant with the seamstress, one should have kept it in his trousers—”   

“We’ll only be a moment,” Violet hushed Eloise quickly, grasping the top of her arm firmly. “There seems to be little wait. We’ll be on our way shortly.”

He huffed towards the sun—while there had been little heat near the start of the English spring, the sun was warm against his skin. Benedict enjoyed being outdoors more often than not, it was usually the reason he accompanied his mother on their errands nearly every other day of the season. That, of course, and the fact it got his worrying mama off of his back to be wed. With Anthony finally securing a match, it was only fitting for Violet Bridgerton to be working her way down her list of endless children—having only two of eight married off. “It should only be a moment,” Benedict reassured himself, watching various other families and couples walk by. 

That is, until he heard a rather loud bang coming from the alley beside him. He should have known better—he was taught better—than to investigate outlandish sounds, especially in town, but Benedict Bridgerton was nothing if not curious. He peeked around the corner, holding his breath, preparing to be met with a wild animal of some kind. His view was shaky at best, hardly could see a thing around the bricks. If he wanted a better look, he’d have to take a few steps towards the unusual noise. 

A large white cloud had enveloped the small alley, it was difficult to even see a few meters ahead, let alone what could have caused the loud commotion. Benedict waved his hand through the mysterious fog, trying to clear some air. “Hello?” He heard a soft squeak. An animal, it had to have been, Benedict was sure of it now. “Is anyone there?” 

A cough rang through the alley, startling him more than rogue vermin could have. The cloud had begun to dissipate, the white settling on the stone street below. Flour, if he had to guess, given the location.

“I’m alright,” a voice murmured quietly, another soft cough following quickly after. The shape of a person came into view, the air finally clearing enough for him to make sense of the scene he came upon. It was one of a woman now covered head to toe in the white powder—she had no distinguishable features, the flour was caking every bit of her body and dress. Just striking eyes that made Benedict’s heart jump to his throat. “Just… made a mess.”

“So it seems,” Benedict hummed, stepping over a pile of powder to get closer. “Do you require any help?”

“No, no,” she laughed. “I wouldn’t want you to get dirty. I fear I’ve got quite enough of that for the both of us.”

“I don’t mind getting dirty,” Benedict said quickly, his tongue moving faster than his brain. “But… yes, I suppose it’d be for the best if I refrained from getting any flour on me. May I ask how…?”

“Clumsy,” she uttered simply, the shrug of her shoulders speaking nothing but truth. “I must have the slipperiest fingers in town—I wish I could say this was the first time…”

“Manage to cover yourself in flour often?” Benedict’s lips pulled into a jesting smirk.

“Nearly every other day,” the woman sighed. “We’ve grown accustomed to purchasing an extra sack or two just for situations like these."

“I hardly doubt you could be that clumsy,” Benedict laughed, leaning against the stone wall. “But, I am painting quite the image in my head.”

“Oh I do hope I’m decent in that image, Mr. Bridgerton,” she giggled, curtsying in a near-mocking manner.

“How do you know—”

“Everyone knows your family, Mr. Bridgerton, I’d be a fool to admit I don’t know who you are—though you and your brothers all blur together, so I am merely taking a shot in the dark in which of the four you are.”

“Oh?”

She nodded once, a flurry of powder falling from her hair. A muffled shout from the back door startled her, grabbing her attention. “Ah,” the woman waved the air in front of her face, “I suppose I should take my leave—get cleaned up.”

“Of course,” Benedict said simply. “I won’t keep you.” In nearly an instant, the mysterious dusted lady disappeared from view, diving into the back door. He was taken aback by her candidness—having addressed him so forwardly without the pleasantries of a name exchange. “Damn,” he mumbled to himself, kicking residual flour off of his polished shoe, “I never asked for her name.” Would it be too forward to knock on the back door to ask for her? Benedict Bridgerton couldn’t wrap his head around the interaction—she nearly sent him into a tizzy.

“Brother?” 

Eloise stood at the end of the alley, clutch in hand, face pinched in confusion. 

“Ah, I suppose you’re finished?”

“Hardly,” Eloise scoffed, “Mother insisted on doubling the initial order ‘just to be safe’. She’ll be out in a moment.” 

“Perhaps I should go inside to accompany her—”

“And leave your unwed sister unchaperoned in this part of town?” Eloise pressed a hand to her brother’s chest, stopping him dead in his tracks. His eyes danced quickly to the street in the distance, clearly not paying any attention to his sister. “Benedict?”

“Hm?” He glanced down. “Ah, maybe we should both go back inside—”

“You’re…” she pushed on him harder, nearly sending him backwards. “Acting strange. Not terribly long ago you wanted nothing to do with this place and now, you’re dying to jump into the building that brought you so much strife?” Eloise removed her hand from him, settling it down by her side as she glanced at him up and down. The blues of his outfit were covered slightly in a white power—not enough to really notice, but enough to give the appearance of filth. “And you’re covered in… flour?”

“I don’t wish to share every moment of my day with you, dear Sister,” Benedict said simply, sighing contently. “My business is my business.”

“Business,” Eloise parroted. “Sure.”

Violet Bridgerton had finished the order quickly, mumbling something about the higher prices this time of year—she had gotten a good deal regardless. Benedict was hardly listening, for he was already planning his next trip to this very bakery, hoping to meet the girl in flour once more. 

He never did get the chance, to go back to town. His studies took up most of his free time, any other moment he had was spent with his ever-growing family. Just recently, his sister Daphne brought over her newest addition—another daughter named Belinda—who happened to be yet another spitting image of her mother. Benedict had a theory that every new Bridgerton baby will simply just inherit all the Bridgerton features, so far he had been proven correct. 

“Damn,” Benedict mumbled, violently dabbing a paint brush into his water cup, the colors swirling from the end.

He had been in his studio for the last few hours, mixing endless pigments and oils together, trying to concoct the color in his mind’s eye. It was impossible, he theorized, to create the exact shades and hues of her eyes. It was the most striking thing he remembered about her appearance—save for the copious amount of white flour caking her form—and Benedict Bridgerton had come to the conclusion that her eyes were simply forged by God Himself, a color not meant for mortal recreation.

“Why can I not…” He sighed, slumping back in his stool, paintbrush nearly hitting his trousers. “This is impossible.”

The grand clock beside the door chimed out. It was nearly time to get ready for Anthony and Kate’s ball—an occasion he was most dreading, save for enjoying the few pastries that came from the quaint bakery down in town. Reluctantly, he began to pry himself from his studio and made his way to the washroom, preparing to soak away any remnants of her.

—

“Mother,” (Y/N) chimed out, tying the serving apron to her waist, “I don’t see the reason for my attendance this evening. Surely the hosts of the event will have their own serving staff?”

“(Y/N),” her mother exasperated, throwing a towel down. “Your brothers are ill and bedridden and have been the last few days. Your father and I are counting on you to help fulfill the order, my back isn’t what it used to be, if you recall.”  

The girl sighed, her eyes rolling right up to the cracking ceiling. “How funny, it seems your back flares up nearly in time for deliveries to be made,” the girl mumbled.

“What was that?” Her mother turned quickly towards her only daughter. “I’m sure I misheard you.”

“You must have,” (Y/N) sang. “For I said I’m willing to help with the delivery, mother.”

The older woman narrowed her brow. “Never do I hear such sass from the boys… Perhaps a bit of manual labor will refocus your priorities.” 

“I already agreed,” (Y/N) reiterated. “As if I had terribly too much of a choice…”

“No,” her mother clicked, slapping the a rather large ball of dough that resided on the floured surface. “You do not. Now come, help your mother roll this out.”

She had gotten ready for the ball in record time—seeing as how she’s never gotten ready for one. (Y/N) dug through her mother’s wardrobe, finding an old and somewhat outdated green dress to wear, but it did the trick just fine. It was far nicer than the frocks she had owned anyhow, a light embroidery laced the edges and was sure to be run over by her fingertips endlessly throughout the evening.   

“The carriage is here!” Her father couldn’t have shouted louder throughout the small flat. Their home resided above the bakery, a quaint little thing with only two bedrooms—(Y/N) had the pleasure of sleeping in a rather over-glorified closet. If she reached her arms out, she’d be able to touch two of the walls easily, but like everything in her life, she made do. Unexpected child? Unexpected room. 

“I’ll be right there,” (Y/N) said, tying the now-cleaned apron around her waist, checking herself in the reflection of her water pitcher. “Damned hair,” her fingers moved to tuck a loose ringlet back into position—she had spent the better part of the evening trying to style it. 

“We need to load the carriage and make way to Bridgerton House,” her father repeated, smoothing his formalwear out. He hardly had the chance to wear it, seeing as situations like this happen only once in a while. “We must make a good impression, perhaps we’ll find more business this evening.”

“That’ll be a blessing,” her mother agreed, heading down the stairs to the bakery. “We could always use more business and the dowager viscountess is well liked around the ton, surely she’ll have pleasant things to say about our work.”

“I thought we let the pastries ‘speak for themselves’,” (Y/N) chimed in, carefully picking up a parcel. Her parents simply glared at her, allowing their daughter to silently move along with the loading process. 

The silence continued throughout the lengthy ride to Bridgerton House—the bakers not uttering a word until disembarking to unload all of the sweets. True to her original thought, the Bridgertons had their staff do the bulk of the unloading, carrying each parcel and box into the grand room that was to be the heart of the ball, all that was left to move was the elegant cake specially ordered by the dowager viscountess.

“Do you need a hand?”

“Oh, that would be—” (Y/N) turned around to the mysterious voice, only to find the same Bridgerton boy from earlier in the week standing behind her. “I—Mr. Bridgerton, I’m sure I can find my father to assist, you really don’t need to—”

“I insist,” Benedict held up his hand, effectively cutting her off. “I shouldn’t allow a lady to carry such a thing on her own, it would be most improper.”

“I’m certainly no lady,” she scoffed, readjusting her apron. “I’m not a part of your ‘season’ or whatever it is you lot do during the spring and summer months.”

Benedict barked out a laugh. “Debuted into the Marriage Mart or not, you’re still a lady and I am ever the gentleman, so please, indulge me.”

A blinding heat flushed across her cheeks—she was sure it was visible from down the street. (Y/N) stepped to the side to allow Benedict to grab ahold of one side of the tray, her hands curling around the other. “Thank you… for your help.”

“It’s no bother,” Benedict said truthfully. “I’ve been practically bored out of my skull all afternoon, this is truly the highlight of my evening.”

“Helping me carry a cake?” She asked, turning a corner carefully.

“Seeing you again,” he hummed unabashedly, noting the way her grip stiffened. “Though I must say, I think I prefer you without the flour.”

“How do you know that girl was me? I was covered head to toe.”

“Your eyes,” Benedict said simply. “They’re the most expressive and exquisite eyes I’ve had the pleasure of viewing.”

Benedict Bridgerton. The man who made her speechless.

“That, and I made a bold assumption when I saw you and the pastries arrive this evening.” He laughed lightly, afraid to drop the masterpiece. “I assumed correctly, no?”

“You,” (Y/N) tried to allow her cheeks to cool before continuing.“Would be correct. Very wise you are, Mr. Bridgerton.”

“Benedict.”

“Benedict,” she repeated softly, twisting herself to set the cake down on the table. “My apologies.”

The ballroom was grand—much nicer than any place she’d dream of residing in—delicate decorations hung from the sconces, flowers covered nearly every inch of the free space. It was, in every meaning, elegant. “This is… where you live?”

“Ah,” Benedict rubbed the back of his neck. “My brother has been kind to allow me to stay here since he married, seeing as I only have my own property in the country. But yes, this is one of the homes I grew up in.”

“One of the homes,” she repeated back to him. “And here I thought I was spoiled with my broom closet.”

He turned a vibrant shade of red. “Oh! I didn't mean to—”

Her laughter filled the ballroom, the lightness practically lifting Benedict upwards. “I was merely teasing. I’m well aware of your status and wealth, Mr. Bridgerton—” 

“Benedict.”

“Ah! Sorry,” (Y/N) felt the twinge of shame hit her chest, it was small but enough to keep her in line to avoid making the mistake again. “I meant it in jest.”

“Funny girl,” Benedict clicked, waving his finger lightly. “You’ve got quite a sense of humor.”

“Growing up with nothing more than sacks of flour and parcels of sugar allows one to get creative with her jokes,” she explained carefully, treading lightly as to not make it sound completely miserable. “Though, I think they were a better audience anyhow…”

“You wound me,” a hand grabbed his heart, knees buckling towards the ground. “Oh how the lady wounds me.”

“I believe I told you, Benedict, I certainly am no lady.”

“Well, the lady has neglected to give me her name,” he peeked up from the floor—having found quite a cozy position. “So how else should I address such a fair maiden?”

“Fair maiden,” she scoffed playfully, voice barely above a whisper. “Certainly am nothing close to a maiden… but, if you must know,” she paused, “my name is (Y/N), (Y/N) (Y/L/N).”

“(Y/N)…” Benedict repeated it, mostly to himself. He rose from the floor, eyes not leaving her own. “What a beautiful name.”

“I—thank you. I suppose you should give my parents such a compliment, though. I am simply the recipient of such a gift.”

“Well, when I ask your parents for permission to court their daughter, I’ll pass the message along.”

She froze. 

“Ah, what was that?”

“I hate to be so bold,” Benedict sighed, shoving a hand into his pocket. “But I feel the need to let you know of my intentions—my interest in you.”

“Oh you must be mistaken,” (Y/N) shook her head. “You’d want nothing to do with a girl like me. Surely there are other women in the ton who strike your fancy?”

“Nope,” he said simply. “Not a one. You, on the other hand, with your striking eyes and seemingly endless beauty, piqued my interest. If I may be honest, I haven’t stopped thinking about our encounter in the alley—it’s been on the forefront of my mind for days.”

She blinked, the gears in her head trying to keep up with the words Benedict was speaking. “But I am not from your world, Benedict. Even if I was interested in pursuing a courtship—”

“Are you not?” His eyes struck wide open. “I’m quite the catch, you see. Well-bred, scholarly and, if I might say so myself, I’m quite the talented artist. Easy on the eyes, too.”

“Benedict.” He stopped and looked at the woman. She was practically glowing in the candlelight. “While I’m not saying I’m… not interested, I can’t help but feel like you are infatuated with the idea of me and not… me.”

“How do you mean?”

She laughed humorlessly. “You don’t know me, truly. My likes, dislikes, how I take my tea, what weather I fancy—”

“See,” Benedict grabbed her hand, “I wish to know those things. Is that not the purpose of a courtship?”

“I am not from your world, Benedict. I have priorities, a duty to my family and our business—I can’t spend a moment thinking of the frivolity of a courtship with a man of your status.”

“But if I were, say, the butcher’s son it would be different?”

“Yes,” she removed her hand from his. “Of course it would be. I’m surprised you haven’t thought this through.”

“I have been thinking it through since we’ve met,” Benedict nearly spat, feeling anger bubble up in his chest. “I am not the type of man who wishes to court just anyone, you know.”

“So you wish to court me just because you can? Because how ever could I say no?”

“I—of course not!”

“We’re perfect strangers who shared a moment—albeit an endearing one—out in the middle of an alley. We both cleaned up and went about our lives,” she shook her head. “Nothing cosmic or magical about it.”

“I did not expect you to be so against the idea, unless… there’s another man of your affections?”

She groaned, pinching her nose. “No. No other man. Has a woman ever said no to you before, Mr. Bridgerton?”

He paused, clearly taken aback.

“Well,” she smoothed the tablecloth, the wrinkle in the bottom corner was annoying her, “let me be the first, then. No, I am not interested in a courtship, nor do I think I have any interest in a courtship—with you or anyone—so do not take it terribly too personally.” 

“Never? Don’t you plan to have a family of your own?”

“I already have a family,” she said simply. “I have no time for foolish ideas of having an adoring husband, three beautiful babies and a peaceful life out in the country.”

“That seems awfully specific—”

“No matter,” she waved. “Thank you for your interest, Mr. Bridgerton, I am flattered, truly.”

She walked away, hoping to hide in the carriage the rest of the night. Was she a fool? To turn down a courtship from such a sophisticated and notable man of the ton?

Benedict seemed to think so. True to her comment, he couldn’t recall a time in which a woman had rejected his advances—never in the name of a courtship, this would be his first—so to watch her walk away stung deeply, like a thorn to his heart. He was genuinely interested in the girl, he knew it. He just needed to prove it to her.

—

Days had passed since the Bridgerton ball and (Y/N) had successfully faked a stomach ache and ‘rested’ in the carriage until the night was over and done with. She was busy in the kitchen, working hard on a batch of fresh loaves for the storefront. Flour dusted her apron—the humor not lost on her—as she thought more and more about Benedict’s proposal. 

The bell to the shop rang out, her brother’s voice gave a muffled greeting, nothing out of the ordinary for a regular day at the bakery. It was calming, to work with the dough, taking virtually nothing and creating something delicious was soothing to her soul. She continued to knead the dough, working it like clay against her palms before the door to the back swung wide open.

“(Y/N), I do believe you have a visitor,” Harry, her second eldest brother smirked. He had finally recovered enough to help around the shop again, much to their mother’s delight. “One of the gentlemen variety, if you must know.”  

She stopped dead in her tracks.

“Did he give you a name?”

“Only asked for you,” Harry shrugged. “I figured you must’ve been expecting him,” he walked closer to her, taking over the kneading, “brought you flowers and looks rather fancy.”

She wiped her hands off on the already soiled apron, clapping her hands once for good measure. “Don’t over-work those, I’ll shove your face into the oven.”

Harry’s laugh rang out through the kitchen as she braved the door to the store. She knew it was inevitable, to expect him to come and try to woo her again, though she wasn’t expecting it so soon. The door felt rough against her palms, swinging wide open to the storefront. Sure enough, a one Benedict Bridgerton was standing by the counter, eyeing the various loaves on display. 

“Ah, Miss. (Y/L/N),” Benedict said, almost bowing. “I’m delighted you could join me.”

“Mr. Bridgerton,” (Y/N) smiled sickeningly sweet, forced beyond all measure. “What a… surprise.”

“A wonderful one, I presume?” He jested. Her eyes found the colorful bouquet quickly, she was trying her hardest to not make eye contact. It was ornate—fancy, just like her brother said—decked out in a healthy mix of wild blooms and expensive looking flowers. “Ah! My apologies, these are for you,” Benedict said, lifting the bouquet across the counter. 

She reluctantly took them, cradling the bunch as if it were a newborn babe. “Thank you, Mr. Bridgerton.”

He swallowed thickly at the formality of his name, but bit his tongue. “I must say, you looked exquisite at the ball, but I think your natural element suits you more favorably, why, you’re practically glowing.” Benedict pointed to her floured apron and messy frock, having been in the kitchen all morning. “Less flour than the first time.”

Her grip tightened around the bouquet. “Is there anything I can help you with? Perhaps another order for your mother?”

The man shook his head, laughing lightly. “No, no order. I just wished to see you.” The bluntness of his answer nearly shocked her, but the effect wore quickly.

“Perhaps I wished the opposite?”

“Oh, my dear,” Benedict practically mewled. “If that were true, you wouldn’t have come out here in the first place, now would you?”

Like a gaping trout, she had no reply. Perhaps he was right. She didn’t have to come out to the front of the store, the gnawing curiosity got the better of her and practically pulled her through that door. 

“If you are here to try to get me to change my mind—”

“I wish to spend the afternoon with you.”

She blinked.

“Just one afternoon, allow me to try and prove how serious I am about courting you,” Benedict said earnestly. “After that, if you are still of the same mind, I will never bother you again. You have my word.”

Hesitantly, she lowered the bouquet, her shoulders slumping. She was thinking so hard about his offer, Benedict swore he could see steam rising from her ears. “I… cannot just leave the bakery, it’s my family’s livelihood—”

“I’ll buy the lot,” Benedict said, pressing a handful of coins onto the counter top. “Sell me whatever it is you make in a day—a small price to pay for a moment of your time.”

“You cannot simply throw your money at things and expect it to always work out for you, Mr. Bridgerton,” she said sternly, eyeing the sack of coins longingly. She would be kidding herself if the offer didn’t sound appealing. “I am no woman on the corner, you cannot buy my time.”

“Then consider it a tip,” Benedict hummed, pushing the bag closer to her. “For your excellent service at the Bridgerton ball. Nothing nefarious, nothing expected of you. Just a man buying some bread.”

“Loads of bread,” (Y/N) mumbled, quickly calculating how many loaves he truly was willing to walk out with. The amount of money was unclear, but if she had to wager, he practically bought out the whole storefront. Her parents would be thrilled—they could even take a rare day off, just because their daughter spent the afternoon with a practical stranger. “Fine. One afternoon.”

The glee that washed across his body did not go unnoticed, he practically lit up the room with his joy.

“You won’t regret this,” he said seriously. “Trust that my intentions are pure and—”

“—honest and true,” she droned, finishing his thought. “Yes, yes, I understand.”

Benedict nodded. “Right. Well, shall we?”

“Will you allow me a moment to change? I do not think you wish to spend your day with a girl caked in flour.”

“Funny enough, I wouldn’t have it any other way,” he grinned. She was unamused. “But, if you insist.”

It didn’t take long for her to clean up, a change in her frock and a readjustment to her hair was all that was needed. She found herself staring in her mirror a bit longer than usual, taking in her features. Could he really be interested in her? He seemed so taken by her looks when she herself considered them… so plain. She shook her head, effectively jumping out of her haze and proceeded to head back downstairs to meet her suitor for the afternoon. 

“Perhaps you were right,” Benedict said softly. “This may be your best look to date.”

A heat warmed her cheeks and it wasn’t the summer sun. “Flattery will get you nowhere, Mr. Bridgerton—” 

“Ah!” Benedict waved a finger. “If we are to spend the afternoon together, I insist you call me by my given name.”

Her lips pressed together in protest. “If you insist—”

“Oh and I do, my darling,” Benedict nearly sang.

“Benedict,” she corrected. “What sorts of plans do you have for this afternoon? Surely you did not produce such a grand gesture only to leave our day up to chance.”

“I am feeling quite parched,” Benedict said, almost ignoring her comment. “Care for a spot of tea?” In their walk down the street, he had managed to stop right in front of a quaint little tea shop. She hardly noticed.

“And if I do not care for tea?”

“I hear they have excellent scones and biscuits,” Benedict countered. “Surely not sweeter than you, but delicious all the same.”

“Sweeter than my scones, you mean?”

Benedict raised a brow, puckering his lips lightly. She heard him correctly the first time. “So. Tea?”

They sat at a small table near the back of the shop, a hot pot of herbal tea sat between them. It looked entirely domestic, a pot of tea shared between lovers, any onlooker could have deduced as much.

“Pass the honey?” (Y/N) pointed to the small jar next to Benedict’s hand. He nodded and pushed it closer to her.

“You take your tea with honey?” He probed.

“Herbal tea, yes,” she confirmed, stirring a spoonful into her cup. “If it is black tea, a healthy amount of milk is entirely welcomed in my drink, no sugar.”

“Interesting,” Benedict said, watching her intently stir the honey until it dissolved into the hot liquid. “I prefer plain black tea myself, though occasionally my brother Colin will bring exquisite teas from his travels across the seas.”

“And Colin is which brother?” The question slipped out quickly, she hardly noticed she had asked.

“One of my two younger brothers,” Benedict smiled gently. “Not much younger than I, but I do have a few years on him, not as many as I have on Gregory, of course. He’s practically the babe of the family—save for sweet Hyacinth.”

“Eight children…” She thought aloud. “Were your parents working towards a record number?”

“I always jest that they wished to complete the entire alphabet,” Benedict mused. “But, alas, twenty six seems a bit much.” He took a sip of his tea, enjoying the lingering aroma. “So, you know there are eight of us?”

“Everyone knows your family,” she said simply. “Do not flatter yourself.”

“Of course,” he hummed into his cup, a smile brewing from his lips. “You have siblings, yes? I believe I met your brother earlier.”

“Two older brothers,” (Y/N) groaned lightly. “Jack and Harry, the latter being the one you met. They are… oh how do I put this? Exceptionally irritating.”

Benedict laughed into his drink. “Sounds quite a lot like my siblings.”

“My parents expect Jack to take over the bakery,” she explained quietly, her voice lowering. “But he has no desire to bake whatsoever. He can hardly make a sponge cake.”

“And a sponge cake is…?”

“One of the most basic cake recipes a baker can learn,” she continued. “I usually end up being the one who pulls the slack Jack creates.”

“And Harry?”

“When he isn’t galavanting across town with the ladies of the night, he is holed up in his room doing Lord knows what. Certainly nothing that helps the family business.”

“You care a lot about your family and the business,” Benedict said, stating what is clearly the obvious. “Surely your parents see it too?”

“Oh no,” she shook her head wildly. “That is the most asinine part of the ordeal! They simply do not see me as an asset to the bakery—something that should rightfully be mine should the time come.” She sighed, throwing her head into her hands. “But, I am expected to keep my head down and decorate cakes like a good girl.”

“You say that as if you are their pet,” Benedict scoffed lightly. “Do they truly expect such obedience from you?”

“I wasn’t wanted,” she said simply. “My parents merely wanted a son to take over the business—Jack, he’s the oldest. Good for nothing, as it turns out. Harry was to have an extra set of hands around the bakery, but now he’s their prodigal child. Me? I was shacked with an over glorified closet for a room because there truly was no space for me.” She sniffled. “At least they got a decorator out of it.”

Benedict tentatively put his hand on her shoulder, giving her a reassuring squeeze. “You’re more than a decorator. Surely your parents see that too?”

“They’ll see some use of me when I get home,” she said into her cup. “Seeing as you bought out our store just to spend a measly few hours with me. I’m sure that in of itself is worth having an accidental daughter.”

Benedict all but scoffed at this. “You cannot be serious.”

“Not everyone comes from loving families that wish to do nothing more than pop out babies left and right,” (Y/N) deadpanned, placing her cup back on the table. “If it were truly up to my parents, they would’ve stopped after Jack. But, much like the society you come from, an heir and a spare, I suppose.”

“And you?” Benedict almost felt afraid to ask. 

“It’s like you said,” she finished her cup of tea. “I am simply a pet.”

Benedict was never one for fights, but he suddenly had the urge to put his fist through a handful of faces in that moment. “That’s awful.” It was all he could say. 

“That’s life,” she shrugged, picking up a biscuit and examining it closely. Her nose scrunched. “If you were trying to gain my favor, perhaps you should’ve taken me somewhere with better biscuits. It’s insulting to a baker to see such poorly made ones, especially in a place like this.”

He knew she was trying to change the subject. “I shall do better next time.”

“Yes, I suppose you—” she stopped. “That was a rotten trick and you know it.”

“I am certainly no magician, (Y/N),” Benedict finished his tea, hiding the most devilish of smiles from behind the cup. “But seeing as we’re finished with our pot, perhaps we can take a turn about the park?”

“You’d risk public outcry and a scandal for being seen with a commoner in the park?” (Y/N) asked, pulling herself from her seat. “What would Lady Whistledown say?”

“You know of Lady Whistledown?”

“Everyone knows of Lady Whistledown,” she scoffs. “I may not have the pleasure to afford her column every time she publishes, but occasionally our regulars will leave their pamphlet for me once they’re finished.”

“Only read the good bits, I take it?”

“As much as I don’t understand the world you come from, Benedict, reading Whistledown helps me fill the gaps I am so obviously lacking. Truly, even if I did grow up in your society, I doubt I’d be able to understand much more than I do now anyway.”

“I reckon you’re right,” Benedict said, a laugh escaping through his nose. “I’m not one for society anyway—never cared much for it.”

“Surely news of this would cause a scandal, though?”

“News that I am simply walking in the park with a friend? Oh how the newsboys will have trouble selling that story,” Benedict mused, leaning down towards the lady. “Perhaps if we were seen doing something less proper, I suppose. Do you wish to be doing something less proper, (Y/N)?”

She didn’t dignify his question with a response, though, the rouge on her cheeks was answer enough.

—

It only took a handful of minutes to walk to the park, the tea shop was so close already. How convenient.

The other ladies in the park, the ones of a more genteel breeding, they were dressed finer than anything (Y/N) could have put on. She felt out of place. She usually did, of course, but something about her outdated frock in contrast to how striking Benedict looked and dressed? It felt rather foolish. 

Perhaps it was the notoriety of the Bridgerton walking beside her, or the self consciousness of being underdressed enough to catch the eyes of anyone walking past, but it felt like she was a spectacle—something in a museum or on display. She was holding bright light, nearly shouting at everyone that she was not enough, not worthy to be in this park, let alone with this man.

“I am tired of walking,” (Y/N) said suddenly. 

“We have only just begun,” he laughed. “But if you require a respite—”

“Let’s sit,” (Y/N) said just as quickly, practically running to the edge of the pond. Perfectly out of sight to everyone.

“How secluded,” Benedict mused. “I daresay, I never thought you’d be so agreeable—”

“Hush,” (Y/N) admonished, holding a finger up. “I am simply in need of a break—away from prying eyes.”

Benedict nodded, not daring to pry further. He watched her slump to the ground, her dress skirt billowing around her like a cloud before settling to the gravity. He continued to stand. “I rather like this park.”

“A park is a park.”

“Have you been before?”

“Here?” She shook her head. “Obviously not.”

“My family, we would come to London during the social season,” Benedict explained. “Our usual residence is out in Kent—anyhow, my father had this spectacular notion to come to the park every week as a family. Looking back, it was probably to save face and show a united Bridgerton front.”

She looked up at Benedict, who was currently plucking a few leaves off of the low hanging branches of the tree. “Sounds wise.”

“He was the wisest,” Benedict agreed. “Keeping the ever-growing number of Bridgerton children entertained became a sport. Anthony, Colin and I were always squabbling, drove my mother rightfully insane, so, my father had a bright idea.”

“Paste your lips together?” She offered. 

Benedict knelt down, close to the edge of the water. “No, but I do not doubt that idea crossed their minds,” he laughed, bringing the leaves in his hands to view, “my father suggested racing.”

“Horse racing?”

He shook his head. “We’d each pick a leaf and follow it to the other edge of the pond—kept us entertained for hours, running back and forth to reset our leaves and chase them down.”

“Smart man,” she hummed, genuinely impressed by the late viscount’s cleverness.

“So, pick your contender,” Benedict said softly, displaying the spare leaves like cards in a deck. 

“You are serious?”

“Dead serious, I’m afraid,” Benedict clicked, pushing his hand a bit closer to her. “Come on, humor me.”

She looked down at the leaves and back up at Benedict, his blue eyes rivaling the color of the pond. Taking an interest in the middle leaf—it was the longest and skinniest—she plucked it from his fingers. “This one.”

“Excellent choice,” Benedict said cheerily, dropping the other leaves. “I am more inclined to a smaller one—seems they move faster down the shore.”

“Size isn’t everything, Mr. Bridgerton,” (Y/N) crossed her arms, resting them on her knees. She would never dare to admit it out loud, but she was having a bit of fun.

“Ah, perhaps not,” Benedict jested with her, her jab not even shocking him in the slightest. “But, I reckon it will be a close match regardless.”

After insuring that the lovely lady in his company was watching his movements closely, he set the leaves down on the surface of the water. “Finish line is by that tree over there,” he pointed, finally letting go with his other hand.

“May the best leaf win,” she giggled. Giggled? Good Lord. A crooked grin cracked on his face, focused too intently at the company rather than the match at hand. “Are you not going to chase them?”

“And leave you?” He scoffed. “Perish the thought.”

“I just thought,” her gaze was caught on the leaves, still floating down the edge of the pond—slower than she anticipated, “well, I suppose I wanted to get the whole picture of your family tradition.”

“Shall I run along the coast, then?” Benedict asked playfully, rising back to his feet, thumb pushed towards the water. 

“Only to humor me,” she shrugged, not even fighting the smile on her face. 

“Well, in that case,” Benedict began to remove his jacket, throwing it beside her. With a light jog he caught up to the leaves, they hadn’t gone very far anyway, perhaps if it were a windier day he’d have a faster time to keep up with. “You are in the lead!” He called out. 

“Brilliant!” Her hands were clasped around her mouth, a cone to help amplify her shout. His smile was like the sun, warm and inviting—she wished she could spend the day in such a warmth. Benedict practically jumped for joy when the leaves made it to the final stretch, crossing to the rocks on the shore. Nearly falling into the water, he managed to scoop the leaves up and jog back to the woman in the grass. “Well?”

“Well, what?” He asked, nearly out of breath, smile still pulling his lips upward. 

“The winner?”

“Ah,” he fell to the ground, sitting comfortably next to the baker’s daughter, pocketing the leaves. “A secret.”

“So you lost?”

“Oh, I assure you, if you won I would be celebrating you until the end of our time together,” Benedict sang. “However…”

“I lost?” She scoffed. 

“A gentleman is humble in his successes,” he explained carefully. “We could go again?”

“No,” she said, humor in her voice. “I think that was more than enough excitement for one afternoon.”

“For once, we agree,” he said. “May I…? Could I ask you a question?”

“If you are proposing marriage, I am afraid I’ll have to decline—”

“No, no,” he laughed heartily. “Nothing of that sort.”

“I suppose I could find it in myself to answer a different question, then.”

“You were cold to me this morning,” Benedict noted, twirling a blade of grass between his fingers. “But not on the day we met. What changed?”

She sighed, pulling her knees to her chest, gaze locked out on the now setting sun. “I… am not entirely sure.”

“Surely it was not the leaves—”

“The leaves may have helped,” she admitted. “Humanized you, in a way.”

“Was I inhuman before?”

“Naturally,” she retorted. “I mean, is it not obvious?”

“You were protecting your feelings,” Benedict finally realized. “All this time. You did not wish to be hurt—truly afraid I was merely stringing you along as an elaborate prank or ruse? Is that right?”

“How could someone like you ever have an interest in a pauper like me? The baker’s daughter and the son of a viscount?” Tears dotted her eyes, threatening to fall. How she came so close to crying was beyond her. “It seems implausible.”

Benedict dropped the grass, fully looking at the lady beside him. She had made herself nearly as small as she felt. He had hit the nail on the head. A gust of wind blew by, bringing leaves down from the tree above. 

“I do not think less of you because of whose daughter you are,” Benedict said softly, removing a stray leaf from her hair. His fingers guided her head towards him, begging for her to look his way. “I care only about you. Getting to know you. Frankly, your father seems like a mostly alright man, but I do not wish to know him the way I wish to know you.”

“You may wish for that,” she sniffled. “But what would the rest of your world think? You, trying to court a woman below your status—”

“The only people who should be caring so deeply about my potential courtship are my intended and me,” Benedict said sharply. “The rest of the ton can frankly kiss my rear end.”

This raised a laugh out of her. It was bubbly and pure, almost like the one of a child. “You truly don’t care what people think about you?”

“No,” he shook his head. “I do not.”

“How freeing that must be,” she said. 

“Being the second son has its perks,” Benedict looked at her, really looked at her. “No one expects me to be proper all the time. I am given the freedom—financially and otherwise—to do as I please. I do not have to worry about inheriting a title, siring heirs, that is my brother’s responsibility.”

“Why me?”

His head quirked. “I do not understand?”

“You could court any girl of the ton,” she said. “And I am sure more than half of them would never turn down a chance to be courted by a Bridgerton—”

“They wished for the title,” Benedict sighed. “To be Viscountess Bridgerton, to marry my older brother and have the notoriety. That ship has already sailed, I'm afraid. You are kind in thinking that many women would be after me though.”

“You are not ugly,” she listed, “you have a great humor about you, a pleasant demeanor and a kindness in your eyes. The women of the ton must be foolish, then.”

“Perhaps the foolish one is you?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“You truly think those things about me?” He asked, awaiting a response. Her jaw was slack, clearly not about to give him any sort of confirmation to his question. “I believe your words, I do. But perhaps you should look at yourself with such eyes?”

“I-I don’t understand—”

“Our class differences aside,” Benedict said, as if it was easy to just ignore that, “while I was taken by your beauty at first—your eyes are something the Gods themselves forged in the fires, stars rivaling their shine—it was your continuous personality that kept my attention. Granted, it helped you were once covered head-to-toe in flour, it really brought out your features.”

Her cheeks flared at the recollection of their first meeting. “It was not my finest moment.”

“And you were vulnerable all the same,” he continued. “You cared not for who I was, yet, you showed an interest in me anyway. You may not agree with that statement, but you and I know it to be true in some shape or form. The only thing that holds you back is this notion on our classes—”

“Perhaps I am interested in you,” (Y/N) cut him off. “Perhaps I wish to be courted by you, attend balls and dress in pretty gowns, drinking expensive drinks and whispering sweet nothings. But that is all that it is—a wish. I know my place in this world, it is a right shame you have such a fantasy about yours.”

“(Y/N)…”

“No,” she stood up, brushing the blades of grass and leaves off of her skirt. “I hoped that you would understand, Benedict. I agreed to this afternoon because it felt like I had no choice in the matter—you practically bought my time, after all. What I did not expect,” she hiccuped, “I did not expect that I would enjoy such an afternoon.”

“You enjoyed yourself,” Benedict rose to his feet, desperate to match her gaze head on. “Why can you not allow yourself to have that joy? Allow your heart to follow its call?”

“I do not have such liberties to listen to my heart,” (Y/N) said softly. “I must use my head for every choice I make. An afternoon with you allowed my family to have enough money to make it through the end of the season without going hungry—”

“And an afternoon with me has brought such happiness to fill your soul for much longer—”

“Happiness has little importance,” she scoffed. “I would rather see my family healthy and surviving than even think about a notion like happiness or joy.”

“You have said yourself that your family treats you like a pet,” Benedict took a deep breath, trying to regain his composure. He needn’t explode in the park. “Why do you care so much about them if they care so little for you?”

“Because it is all that I know!” The candle had finally reached its end, burning out with a sizzle. “All I have ever known is my life in the bakery, rising early to make the dough, peddling samples to those walking by and hoping—praying—that they step in our store and purchase something. Because a sale of a few loaves of bread or cakes meant we could afford to buy vegetables for a soup, something to eat with our days old bread.”

“If you were with me, you wouldn’t ever need to think about things like that again,” Benedict said, his voice wavering on a whisper. “I could support you, support your family.”

“And that is precisely why I do not wish to continue this,” she raised her finger. “I do not need an affluent man to come and save me—”

“But I could help—”

“I do not need your help!”

“You obviously do!”

She took a step back, the tears from before finally reappearing in her eyes. “O-obviously? Because I am of a lower class you believe, in that giant and empty head of yours, that you can simply win my favor by saving me? Offering riches and experiences that I should be grateful and thanking every God that will listen that you are even willing to give me?”

“You know that is not what I meant—” 

“You believe that because you are who you are, and I am who I am, that I couldn’t possibly say no to you,” her gaze flicked with anger, a fire looming. “While the ladies of the ton have their choices, I do not, so it makes it easy for you to pine over someone who simply has no choice in the matter.”

“No—(Y/N)—”  

“This afternoon has been lovely,” (Y/N) spat, looking to the skyline—the sun had finally set, “but I am afraid that the afternoon is over. I shall be taking my leave.”

“Please reconsider,” Benedict begged, willing to try anything to get her to stay. “I wish to know you.”

“A shame, then,” (Y/N) said, turning around. “Wishing for something so foolish.”

—

“Her head is in the clouds,” Jack whispered.

“No, I reckon her head is in the dough,” Harry mumbled back to his brother. 

“I can hear you, you know,” (Y/N) ground out, working hard on a rather unruly clump of dough that simply would not cooperate. “And if I can hear you, you are close enough to be helping.”

“But that is so exhausting," Harry groaned, leaning against the countertop. “Besides, how are you ever going to impress your betrothed if you do not keep such toned arms?”

She threw the dough against the counter—hard. “He is not my betrothed.”

“But you wish for him to be, no?” Jack giggled, playing with a few burnt buns—a mishap of his own creation.

“I say, Sister,” Harry said. “Why do you not pursue that Bridgerton? He clearly is interested in you, or, have you forgotten all of the flowers he has sent?”

The front of the shop was practically a florist’s dream—covering every free inch of counter space with beautiful bouquets. Her mother simply refused to throw out such lovely blooms, even going so far as to fish the first one out of the trash after her daughter made quick work to dispose of it. “How could I possibly forget about the man who continuously flaunts his wealth to get what he wants?”

“He wants you, surely that is not lost on you?”

“Of course not,” she continued to knead, a few hairs falling into her face. “But he is so insistent on getting me to agree to his whims simply because—”

“He has money, (Y/N),” Jack scoffed. “Good money. Christ, you spent half of a day with him a few weeks ago and we were able to finally purchase meat for dinner. Imagine if you married him—”

“So you want your sister to be married off for your own financial gain?”

“What else would you marry for?” Harry laughed. “Love?”

She stopped kneading. “Why do you not go and try to marry a wealthy lady, then? Hm? Surely a woman of genteel breeding would be much taken by the idea of a rugged baker—”

“That Bridgerton is already interested,” Harry shrugged. “At the very least, if you end up with child he would provide enough funds—”

“First you wish to marry me off, now you wish for me to have his bastard?” She couldn’t help but laugh, ignoring her hard work on the counter. “Why can I not make my own choice? I do not wish to be with Mr. Bridgerton, I wish to stay here at the bakery.”

“Fucking stupid,” Jack scoffed. “If I were in your shoes, I would let the gentleman pay for anything my heart desires—forget about this wretched place and move on with my life.”

“And abandon our legacy?”

“You mean my legacy,” Jack corrected. “I am to inherit the bakery, it is my birthright. You? I suppose I will allow you to continue your grunt work here—” 

“Who else will do the baking?” Her voice rang throughout the kitchen. “Mother and Father are nearing the end of their career, both becoming too frail to continue with the rigorous task of this place. I am the only one—the only competent member of this family who can keep this shit afloat! And you want me to just… give that up?”

Jack stood a little straighter. “It was never your place.”

“Harry is set to inherit the bakery now, you know it. Yet someone had to fill the shoes of the family fuck-up instead, no?” 

It was a sharp pain, suddenly and all at once against her cheek. It took her only half a second later to realize what had happened, her other brother’s face was only a confirmation on the fact.

“Jack, what the hell?!” Harry practically screamed. “You hit her?”

“She insulted me!”

“You deserved it,” Harry said, pushing his older brother back. “She only spoke the truth—”

“So I am allowed to be walked over by my baby sister?” Jack scoffed, pushing Harry back. “A woman? No fucking chance, mate.”

Her hand had covered her cheek, already feeling warm to the touch. Everything was too much, too loud, too bright. She had to get out of there, had to forget all about the dough on the counter, forgetting all about the brother who had just smacked her silly. The back door wasn’t locked—no surprise as Jack was the last one to use it—making it easy for her to push into the alleyway and into the rain. 

Rain. 

Pelting like bullets, the wet drenched her clothing in a mere instant, making it harder to escape. Where had she planned to run anyway? She had nowhere to go, her entire world was contained to the four walls of the bakery, never daring to explore the rest of it, not when her world was already so encompassing, so inviting. 

In theory, anyway, it seemed.

So, she ran. A mix of running and walking, she kept moving forward. By the time she left her part of town, she knew her brothers would not bother coming for her. The rain alone was a deterrent, even Harry, the one who loved her more, wouldn’t dare to brave the elements just to reel his sister’s whims in. 

A splotch of purple entered her vision. How long had she been moving? Did she even expect to come here? Did her subconscious send her in this direction for a reason?

She knocked on the bright door before she could find out.

“Good evening, ma’am,” a butter said politely. “What business do you have?”

“I am here to call upon Benedict Bridgerton.”

—

His quill had soaked the parchment below with ink, having left the tip upon it for far too long. He had been lost in thought, contemplative, especially the last few weeks. Benedict knew he had hurt her, had insulted her very being, yet he still tried. Every other day he’d send a fresh bouquet to the bakery, a new poem attached to the stems. Perhaps she read them? He knew it was more likely that she burned them, in the ovens or otherwise. 

At the very least, he knew that the blooms were being displayed at the shop. Hope. That is what it had given him.

“Mr. Bridgerton, you have a caller,” a butler knocked, opening his door a crack wider.

“A caller? In this weather?”

“She seemed rather insistent,” the butler shrugged. “She is waiting in the drawing room—I already sent for tea and towels for the lady.”

“A lady is here to see me?” Benedict quirked his brow.

“A Miss. (Y/L/N),” the butler said. “No calling card, soaked to the bone and she seemed a bit… out of sorts.”

Benedict had already risen from his desk, practically pushing past the staff member to reach the stairs. Missing a step or two, he made it to the drawing room and shoved the door open. In the center of the blue room was (Y/N), dripping onto the wooden floor, shaking like a leaf.

“(Y/N)…” 

“I-I had nowhere else to go,” she began to explain. “I did not even realize I was here until I knocked on the door. It was foolish—”

“No,” Benedict shook his head, reaching to take her hand in his own. “It is quite alright. You are more than welcome to be here.”

His hands were warm, or perhaps she was just that cold, making them feel like a fire. “I am so sorry, Benedict.”

“For what?” He asked genuinely. 

“Everything?” She offered. “I-I am not sure of what, exactly, but I feel that I need to apologize.”

“You needn’t apologize for anything,” he said. “Not with me, not ever.”

She looked up at the ceiling, afraid to make contact with his blue stare. “I needed to get away. My brother he—Jack hit me.”

Benedict froze, his entire body went rigid. “I’ll kill him.”

“I suppose I deserved it,” she shrugged, now looking at the ground. “Talking back to him, assuming things that could never be—” 

“A man has assaulted you,” Benedict squeezed her hand tighter. “Brother or not, he put his hands on you. You did nothing of the sort to deserve such a thing.”

“I don’t think I can go back there,” (Y/N) said softly. “Perhaps this was just the moment that gave me clarity. Opened my eyes, so to speak.”

Benedict took a good look at her face, red and splotchy, whether it was from the smack or the tears, he could not tell. “Tea is on the way, I shall request a cold compress for your cheek—”

“I do not wish to impose.”

“You shall wish for nothing here,” Benedict said quietly, firmly. “You will stay until the rain lets up, or, you provide me with a suggestible plan for your next steps.”

“I cannot go back,” she finally looked up at Benedict. “As much as I would like to, I simply cannot.”

“If you do not want to go back, I will support you. If you want to leave town, the country even, I will support you,” he said seriously. “Please allow me to support you.”

“I could never ask you for that—”

“You are not asking, I am offering,” he clarified. 

“Benedict…”

The rain seemed to lessen, if the pelting against the window had anything to say about it. The noise had dimmed, not as violent as before. “To know that you are safe, that you are cared for, that is all I care about.”

So, in the center of the blue Bridgerton drawing room, soaked to the bone and dripping all over the floor, she kissed him. It was a sudden thing, pulling him down towards her lips, the contact much quicker than she had expected. He returned the favor in kind, wrapping his arms around her and holding her tight, kissing her in a way he had yet to truly experience. 

If his hands were like a fire, his lips were an inferno. Fighting for dominance, it was all encompassing. How had she gone so long without a feeling such as this? The burn was coming from inside, not a superficial one atop her skin as she was quite used to, but this burn, this feeling, she could find herself craving this. 

“I-I am sorry—” she pulled away.

“Never be sorry,” Benedict shook his head. “Not for that, not ever.”

“I should not have done that…”

“No,” he agreed, a chuckle leaving his lips, “but how exhilarating it felt, regardless.”

His thumb ran lazy circles on her jaw. She leaned into the touch. “I do not know what to do, where to go…”

“But you cannot stay here…?”

She smiled sadly. “You know me scarily well, Benedict.”

He thought for a moment. “So… leave.”

“Excuse me?”

“Leave town, leave the country—”

“I do not have the means to do such a silly thing.”

“I will pay your way.”

She scoffed, trying to pull out of his embrace. He wouldn’t release his grip. “Benedict…”

“I told you, I wish to support you. Emotionally, financially, I want to be there for you,” Benedict said. “Even if we are not—if you do not want to be together romantically, I want to ensure your safety and your health, your well-being. A friend.”

She tried to find the lie in his eyes, in his tone. Coming up empty, she had no excuse to not believe him. 

“France,” he said, as if struck by lightning.

“France?”

“I hear only the expert bakers study in France—I have no doubts you could go to learn,” he explained. “I could pay for your travel, housing, you name it. Ask for it, and it is yours.”

“I doubt anyone would want to teach a woman, no matter how lovely a thought it might be.”

“I have a cousin,” Benedict explained. “Her and her husband own a café—I am quite certain that they would love to hire an expert baker to add to their inventory and menu. You could earn your own income, make your own way. A fresh start.”

“A fresh start…” she repeated. “That sounds too good to be true.”

“I shall write to her in the morning,” Benedict said, holding her hands again. 

“And you…?”

“I will only come with you if you want me to join,” Benedict said slowly. “I will not trap you. I want your happiness, your freedom.”

She nodded, understanding.

“I think France sounds nice,” she smiled. “Will you write to me?”

“Every chance I get.”

“Even if you are vexed with me?”

“Especially if I am vexed with you.”

She kissed his lips again, sweeter and softer than the first time.

“Sounds perfect.”

—

A year. An entire year had passed and she couldn’t recall a happier time in her life. The only time that something could have rivaled it was a visit to a tea shop followed by a respite by a pond—in handsome company all the while. 

They kept correspondence, just like they promised. Every week came a new letter, a new story to be told by the poetic Benedict Bridgerton. She tried to rival his words, explaining every detail about France, about her new life, but something was nagging. She missed him. They had grown close over the correspondence, leaving her heart wanting more. But, she knew when she left for France it was to fulfill her dreams, leaving a foolish notion like love on the back burner.

“(Y/N),” Marie, the Bridgerton cousin, called out behind her. “We are in need of more buns.”

“I just restocked the buns,” (Y/N) giggled, turning to the blonde. “What? Has someone mysteriously bought the lot?”

“Oui,” Marie said with a jest, heading into the storage room, “perhaps you should go bring more out?”

“You are in luck, the last batch just finished resting from the oven,” she said, carrying a tray on her shoulder, “I will bring them out with haste.”

“I am sure he will appreciate it.”

(Y/N) faltered, hand already pressed to the door leading to the front shop. A tingle ran through her spine, her heart picking up to a freeing flutter. 

Could it be?

“You know, I would buy your entire stock,” the man hummed, looking thoughtfully into the display case, “but I fear I would be recreating a rather taxing memory for the both of us.”

“Benedict,” she gasped, nearly dropping her tray. 

“You look radiant,” he mused, that wicked grin of his breaking on his face. “Much like the first time I saw you—covered in flour.”

“I am in my element,” (Y/N) said sweetly, “just as you would expect.” She had noticed that Marie and her husband were not in the café, the sign flipped to close. “You planned this.”

“Do you insinuate that I bribed my distant cousin to close her café to give you the day off, travel all the way to France, hoping I could spend the day with you?” Benedict scoffed playfully. “You truly do not know me at all.”

“I do not think Marie would take a bribe,” (Y/N) said slyly, knowing how much of a champion the cousin had been for the baker and viscount’s son to get together.

“She refused payment,” he admitted, agreeing with her notion. “But, was ever eager to see you get out of the kitchen and enjoy yourself.”

“You hadn’t written to me in two weeks,” (Y/N) said, walking around the counter. “I was worried.”

“I needed to refrain from our correspondence, I fear I would have let the surprise slip otherwise.”

“Smart man,” she hummed.

“I am known to be smart occasionally,” he shrugged.

“What are you doing here?” She finally asked. “N-not that I am not happy to see you, of course, but as you had said, this is a surprise.”

“I came to study art,” Benedict said, a hand in his coat pocket. “I felt that if I truly wanted to learn the craft, I needed to learn from the masters—many of their works are housed here in France. I even began to rent a little home in town, finding the need to stay a while.”

“That is the only reason?”

Benedict’s gaze softened. “Of course it is not the only reason.”

Her heart fluttered again.

“It is only fair that I try this again, correctly and without the prying eyes of society, this time,” Benedict said, clearing his throat and spinning around.

“Correctly?” She giggled, watching him twirl to face the door.

“Ah, good morning miss!” Benedict said, turning back to face (Y/N). “I must say, you look ever-so-pretty—tell me, do all bakers have a beauty such as your own?”

“I would wager no,” she said, trying to keep serious. “Most of the bakers around here are men.”

“Shame. Might I learn your name? It seems only fair—I fear I might just die if I do not know the sweet sound of it.”

“(Y/N),” she sang. “My name is (Y/N) (Y/L/N).”

“Benedict Bridgerton,” he stretched out his hand, reaching for her own. She allowed him to take it, a soft kiss was placed on the back of her cracked hand—a working hand, one that she was proud to have. 

“You are very charming, Mr. Bridgerton,” she hummed, looking deeply into his blue eyes. “Pleased to make your company.”

“I assure you, I am more pleased to be in yours,” Benedict insisted, kissing her hand again. “Tell me, do you have plans this afternoon?”

“It seems my schedule has cleared up,” she looked to the sign on the door and sighed. “Why? Do you have any suggestions on how I should spend it?”

“Might we take a turn around the park? A friend of mine has written to me about just how lovely one nearby is, I reckon I would like to see it for myself.”

She smiled brightly at him, as if he held the world in his hands. Instead, he held two leaves between his fingers—brown and cracked, but clearly treated with such care. They had been the same ones from their time at the park the first go around, she was nearly certain. Why else would he bring dead leaves with him?

"Leaves?"

"You see, my family, we have this tradition of racing with leaves—I would very much like to share it with you. These two in particular seem to be very lucky, thought it would be best to bring them along."

His smile melted her heart, endearing and thoughtful in the same breath. She could get used to a smile like that.

“Well… what are we waiting for, Mr. Bridgerton?”

[vivwritesfics]

Hii!! Could you please write a Max verstappen x soulmate reader. Like they can speak in each other's minds and how they first met. Like fluff or angst or whatever you want . You make the call. Please 🥺🥺

LMAOOOO IM LITERALLY WRITING THIS FOR RHETT ABBOTT

Nothing, just an inchident. Fucking asshole.

Those were the first words her soulmate ever said to her, the first time she heard his voice in her head. She stopped what she was doing, looking around with wide eyes.

What the fuck?

What the fuck?

And that was how it started. The two had be so fucking surprised, buy recovered quickly. They gave awkward introductions, without actually telling each other anything about themselves.

It took the two of them a moment to realise that, whatever they thought, the other person could hear.

It seemed the two of them hadn't shut up since.

She learnt pretty quickly that he loved to talk, that he loved explaining things. He was a nerd, he loved gaming. She could have listened to him go on about gaming for hours (and she often did).

She couldn't remember what she had told him. Definitely everything but her name. God, how long had it been since his voice first entered her head.

Hey, she said as she woke up.

There was usually no response as she waited for him to wake up. She'd tried to use this to work out where in the world he was, but he was always moving, always on different time zones.

A few hours later, there he was. Hello, schat, he said in her mind. A small smile crossed her face. Are you doing anything nice today?

He rarely spoke about his own day, she noticed. But it wasn't a problem. If he wanted to her know, she'd know. My dad got me tickets to see my local race with him, she replied, pausing her makeup to concentrate on talking to him.

There was a beat before he responded. You still there? She asked, pausing on her eye liner.

What race? Cars or horses?

Cars, she responded.

Again, there was a moment of silence. But then, Not the Formula One, right?

She thought back to what her father had told her. Yeah, the Formula One.

Her soulmate when quiet after that. There was a good few hours where she finished getting ready and went with her father to the race track. All that time she'd been trying to talk to her soulmate, and all that time she'd been getting nothing in return.

It was a little disheartening, thinking her soulmate didn't want to talk to her.

No, it was really disheartening.

As she and her father sat in the stands, she couldn't help but sulk. What had she done to upset him so bad he didn't want to hear from her? Of course he could hear everything she was thinking, but she didn't much care if he wasn't going to reply.

But then all twenty cars were on the track and the lights were flashing red, ready to go green.

I'm going to win this one for you.

It had been so unexpected, it nearly had her jumping out of her seat. What? Are you here?

As soon as I'm standing on that podium, you'll know it's me.

She must have realised it then, that her soulmate was down in the number on Red Bull car. She didn't take her eyes off of it for the entirety of the race (unless she was forced to). Holy shit, that was her soulmate down there.

And he did win it. Won it for her. She watched it all, him finishing first, the podium celebrations.

How do I get to you? She asked as she hopelessly looked around. Max Verstappen was her freaking soulmate!

Stay right where you are, schat. I'll come to you.

She told him where she was, apparently able to do that now she knew for sure who her soulmate was. And there she waited as he finished a debrief with the team and got changed.

But then he was striding towards her, cap pulled low. For so many years he'd been just a voice in her head. And now he was in front of her. Smiling down at her with surprise in his eyes.

"You're beautiful." Those were the first words he said to her, the first words that weren't echoing around her head.

"So are you." Wiping her hands on her jeans, she held one out and gave him her name.

Max took her hand and shook. "I'm Max," he said, wearing his usual pretty smile.

Holy fuck, Max Verstappen really was her soulmate.

[lunamugetsu]

Danny is an ao3 writer

Hear me out!

Y'know how there's a running joke that ao3 authors/writers will put in the author's notes that they're sorry that they took so long to update and their reason is because of either they got into a horrible accident/ life threatening health issue/serious personal issues/ their life went up in flames figuratively or literally, or somehow a combination of all of those scenarios. And they're all like "Well enjoy the chapter! tee-hee!" and everybody who's reading it all collectively go "are you okay?!" (aka the ao3 writers curse)

So I want to take this, and add Danny

Danny begins taking a liking to the classic literature that Mr. Lancer talks about during class and decides to writes a fanfic about it along those lines. It all starts for when he writes a Pride and Prejudice fic where Charlotte gets a better life where she's both happy and comfortable. And when he gets pretty supportive comments about it. He starts writing fics for other books as well (and it never stops)

During that time, who else but the Jane Austen fan, Jason Todd reads this fic. Yes he reads fanfic (do not ask him about his ao3 history), he yearns for more Jane Austen, but unfortunately she's not exactly able to write more books for him to read. So he turns to ao3 where there are some people who have incredible talent for writing pretty good regency era romance.

So what happens when he finds a couple of Pride and Prejudice stories written by " HalfDeadHalfAliveWriter

And when reading through the stories and looking at the author's notes.

All with very weird scenarios happening to the writer that he can't be sure that if it's a joke or if it's an actual thing he should be very worried about.

Author's notes such as:

Sorry it took so long for me to update this I was being shot at by my parents and ended up getting a burn on my hand and couldn't use my computer for awhile.

Sorry the chapter's so short, all the people in my town are being possessed by a hoard of angry ghosts because somebody had a bright idea to steal an artifact that belongs to an ancient civilization. So I had to get this out quick before they ruin my wifi connection

Sorry I haven't updated in awhile, I had to fight off a crazy guy that is obsessed with killing my father so he could marry my mother and become my new stepfather.

Sorry for the wait I got sent back to Ancient Egypt by my mentor to hunt down a runaway ghost that was messing with time.

But honestly the most recent author's note on a fic that hadn't been updated in week is what makes Jason really worried.

Sorry for not updating for a couple months guys, I was taken by a government agency that started vivisecting and torturing me. Thankfully my sister and friends busted me out and now I'm working on healing up. Anyway here's the Great Gatsby fic where Nick and Gatsby kiss.

After reading that author's note, Jason just sits there thinking only one thing.

What the fuck?

[daisymbin]

do you still love me? (I still love you) - choi seungcheol

warnings: mentions of insecurity, slight use of profanities, car accident, hospital, mentions of a needle (IV drip) & mention of anxiety attack.

pairing: choi seungcheol x female reader (use of she)

genre: exes to lovers, angst-ish, happy ending

word count: 2.3k

a/n: wanted to write for wonwoo but lollapalooza choi seungcheol won't let me, he is stuck and imprinted on my brain fr. I will do anything for that man....also this fic is loosely inspired by seventeen's happy ending.

requests open!

check out my masterlist!

“what? no! don't call him! are you crazy?” your hands frantically reached out to grab seungkwan at his hand that was holding his phone. “crazy? who's the one being crazy here? I can't believe this happened and you didn't even think to call me, if i hadn't call and asked to hang out I wouldn't even have known you'd gotten into an accident. are YOU crazy?? you just plan on lying on this hospital bed waiting to recover alone??” seungkwan whisper-shouted at you. “seungkwan please we already broke up, I don't want to bother him or give him any more burdens. besides, I don't even know if he will still care and to be honest, I don't want to know. I don't want to find out that he doesn't anymore so just let me live with my what ifs.” it's true, you'd rather not find out that he's moved on and doesn't care anymore than to know for sure that he doesn't care anymore. you don't think you have it in you to bare another heartbreak.

“you do know that he is still madly in love with you and that he asks me about you everyday still right? he is literally going to cuss me out if he finds out you're hurt and I didn't tell him. I don't even know why you broke up with him in the first place, you were both so good together!” seungkwan's words only filled your heart with more regret. you had broken up with seungcheol a little over 2 months ago but you both decided to stay friends for the sake of the boys. you had all been friends for too long, too many years to let them all go. seungkwan has been your best friend for over a decade and so was he with the boys, it was inevitable that you'd run into each other even if you tried to avoid him or them so this was your compromise.

it wasn't decided easily of course. when you first broke up, you had tried your hardest to avoid seungcheol at all costs, if he was going to be at a hangout, dinner or lunch, you would stop yourself from going bu seungcheol was persistent; begging that you'd at least be friends for the sake of the friend group & for his own sake as well, he couldn't stand not being able to see you or hear from you for too long. why the break up? to put it simply: you were insecure but that was just an understatement. every date you went on with him, every time you went out in public with him, pictures would inevitably find its way online. the comments were sweet, well most of them. for the rest? they were not so good & they started to eat at you everyday. you started to feel like you weren't good enough for him & that he could choose anyone and I mean anyone other than you, you just can't help but feel like he was settling for less with you. & slowly, this small insecurity grew so big that you started to distant yourself from him, avoid his hugs, his touches. when seungcheol finally had enough & asked you what was going on, you had decided on a whim to simply lie to him & told him you fell out of love with him.

you still remember the look of hurt that he had on his face that day and it haunts you every night before you close your eyes. almost immediately, you had wanted to take back what you had said, tell him whats really going on, you had so badly wanted to hug him so tight and to kiss the hurt away and yet, you didnt have it in you to continue being less for him when he deserved so much more.

“seungkwan you know why, just stop please just don't call him. it's just a small accident, I'll be fine once my leg heals.” you tried your absolute hardest to assure him, to convince and persuade seungkwan, but he's your best friend afterall. he knows you're not okay. “it's not just a small accident! you literally fractured your foot in a car accident and you have 3 stitches on your arm! you can't walk that's for damn sure, what, are you just going to not let any of our friends visit you for i don't know a few months? and not come to dinner and not expect anyone to ask about you? you know i can't lie for shit.”

“just… just tell them I left the country for a bit. for travelling or something I dont know just make something believable up. Just don't call him, I don't want him to see me like this. god, I look and sound like a loser. I don't want seungcheol to-”

the door to your ward swang open so hard a loud thud rang from the wall. “don't want me to what?” seungcheol asked as he panted; trying to catch his breath. your eyes widen at the sound of his voice, “cheol…what…” it seems for a minute, your brain had shut down., nothing was coming out of your mouth. “h-hyung,” seungkwan who was as shocked as you are, stuttered. “what are you doing here?” seungkwan had voiced his question for you. “y/n's hurt. you're hurt.” seungcheol answers as he looks back at you. seungkwan watched your face, clearly still shocked and struggling, “y/n is fine, she's just-”

“she doesn't look fine with a fucking needle up her arm. why didn't you call me?” you couldn't tell if seungcheol's question was for you or for seungkwan but you decided to speak anyway, “cheol-ah I'm fine, i-i just fell down the stairs.” what a stupid fucking excuse seungkwan thought to himself. what happened to making up something believable??? seungkwan tried to hide his face of unamusement. “you fell down the stairs?” this time seungcheol fixed his squinted eyes on you scrutinisingly. his right eyebrow raised in disbelief and he started walking closer to your hospital bed. while you tried to hide your casted foot out of sight as much as possible. “yeah I just, I tripped over my foot and fell down the stairs, just had a few cuts here and there and some stitches. no biggie.” you tried to sound as lighthearted and careful as much as you could while trying your best to hide the pain from having to move your foot out of sight.

“don't move, god, the hospital called and said you've gotten into a car accident, you still have me as your emergency contact.” oh. oh. well fuck. seungkwan sensed the already existing tension rising rapidly and decided it's best to go, “okaaay I should probably go and let you have some rest-” seungkwan almost feels invisible in the way seungcheol keeps disregarding his words and interrupting him, “why'd you not tell me? is this fun to you? the same way you fell out of love with me and just didn't tell me until I asked? why do I always have to find out things in the worst way possible?” seungcheol knows he's being harsh but he doesnt mean to, he's just so angry and hurt. so much anger in him towards himself for not being better for you. how bad must he have been, how much was he lacking for you to fall out of love with him? is it work? but he did try to make time for you, bringing you out for dates but you would reject those dates, movie dates at home were also always getting cut short, you no longer wanted to fall asleep on him shoulder or lap, you just went your way to the bedroom after announcing you're tired even before the halfway mark of the movie. was he doing something wrong? there's so much he still hasn't gotten the chance to ask you before you walked out on him.

and now seungkwan, seungkwan was a lot of things but patience? that man has very limited patience and he definitely doesn't have patience for the way seungcheol is speaking to you now. he has had enough of you running away from seungcheol when you still clearly have feelings for him. “hyung,” seungkwan reached for seungcheol's wrist, trying to get his attention. “come with me.” he started tugging and pulling at seungcheol's arm, dragging him out the ward. “she got into a car accident because she was having an anxiety attack because our song was playing on the car radio…your voice.. anyway…she's still in love with you.” seungkwan let out a deep breath he didnt know he was holding, he watches as seungcheol's eyes widen and dilate in shock, “im not trying to butt in your relationship with her or take her side but…just go easy on her. she's- just talk to her, give her some time, she'll open up to you again. you know what she's like when she wants to be stubborn. I'm going to get going, tell her bye for me.”

for the next 5 minutes, seungcheol stood by the door with his back slumped against the wall, replaying the words seungkwan had said to him. you still love him? you're still in love with him? how? but didn't you… didn't you tell him you don't anymore? if you still love him, why did you say that? he gently opened the door to your ward this time, making his way to you. he pulled the vacant chair closer to your bed before taking a seat, “cheol-ah, you don't have to stay here, i was just about to get some sleep anyway, im good on my own. I know you're busy-” “do you still love me?” the room turned so silent you swear you could hear if a pin were to drop on the floor. when you said nothing, he continued, “I have so many questions but i-i just need to know if you still love me... do you know how much I missed you?” tears you were so badly trying to hold back only cascaded down your cheeks, betraying you. both his hands come up to cup your delicate face inbetween his hands, both his thumbs working to wipe your tears away, “don't cry, pretty. you're breaking my heart.” his own voice cracks and his own tears starts showing themself around his brown orbs but you watch as he blinks them away. “tell me you love me." he whispered so quietly, your head now facing down, eyes closed as you start sobbing. “i can't cheol…if I tell you, if I tell you I love you I don't think I can let you go again.” the room fills itself with the sound of your sniffing and crying.

“you don't have to let me go, just tell me you love me and I won't let go of you, not again.” he placed a gentle kiss at the top of your head, bringing your face to his chest as he hugs you silently. “but cheol,” seungcheol doesn't think he can take it anymore if he hears you call him cheol one more time, he's growing putty and puttier in your presence. “yes, sweetheart?” he asked as he started stroking your hair. “im nobody and you're…you. we’re so different and we’re of two different worlds. you're doing so good in life and you're so handsome and im just…” his heart only breaks further at your words, “you're beautiful. you're the most beautiful person my eyes has ever laid on. you have always been beautiful to me and you still are. & we’re not that different, my love, even if we are, isn't that what we both love about us? so different yet so similar. you have qualities I lack and we compliment each other so well, no?” seungcheol pulled away slightly only to look into the eyes he had missed so much. “if there's somewhere or something im lacking at, tell me so I can be better for you.” he assured you again. “you're not lacking at anything at all cheol.” seungcheol notes how this is the loudest and clearest you've spoken since he's gotten here and he doesn't miss a beat when he says “you're not lacking either, you're doing so good my love. I wouldn't change anything about you, you know that? I love you just as you are, everything about you, I love you at your best and I love you just the same at your worst times. you just need to let me in when you have bad thoughts, let me love and reassure you hm? can you do that for me?” he asked as he patted at your head gently again. you had merely nodded lightly & said “im sorry cheol.” with more tears running down your cheeks before he spoke again, “it's not your fault, princess. I'm sorry I didn't notice it back then, it's my fault. I'm sorry.” a light peck of a chaste kiss placed on your cheek as you shook your head in disagreement, “it’s not your fault cheol.” cheol cheol cheol he couldn't take it anymore; bringing your face closer to his, he looks into your eyes again, asking for permission, at the small nod of your head, you fluttered your eyes close and he wasted no time in bringing his lips to yours gently, afraid of hurting you. his heart overwhelms in love for you, lips and tongue exploring each other in lost familiarity, oh how much you both missed each other.

“you still haven't answered me, princess.” another kiss to your forehead this time, “do you still love me?” his eyes searched yours again, looking for a hint of anything. you caught him by surprise when you pulled him in for another kiss, “I still love you. I love you, cheol, so much."

[toruro]

— ✧ the cake in the back

pairing. choi seungcheol x reader

description. cheol is a regular at your bakery, and it's all because his son loves the banana bread you make—at least that's what he tells himself. it also doesn't hurt that you're cute. and polite. and totally someone he'd like to fuck.

genre. smut, fluff

tags. rich dilf cheol, bakery owner reader, or4l (f receiving), car s3x, kitchen s3x, pet names (angel), cr3ampi3, aprons ... hehe

w/c. 3.8k+

a/n. IGNORE THE TITLE OKAY I THOUGHT IT WAS FUNNY. look i know it's corny and i literally am writing this on a whim but happy father's day

"soobin's not with you today?" your voice is cheery and gentle when you greet your regular.

mr. choi smiles and shakes his head. "shocking, i know," he laughs in that deep and velvety tone that has you bouncing up and down on the balls of your feet out of pure giddiness.

"a pleasant surprise," you reply, putting on some gloves as mr. choi approaches the counter. it's near closing, and it's around that time of day where people usually don't come in as much, so you've been alone and just cleaning up the space yourself. "what can i get you, mr. choi?"

the handsome man chuckles, flicking his wrist as he pushes some hair back, the reflective surface of his wrist watch (that you definitely don't want to know the price of because it might just make you pass out) glinting under your bakery's warm lights. "thought i told you to stop calling me that. seungcheol is much better considering ..." he searches for the words for a moment. "... we see each other so regularly," he concludes.

"i've got to maintain some level of professionalism, don't you agree, mr. choi?" you tease. "the regular, i'm assuming? two banana breads?"

"you already know it."

grinning, you nod and pull up a box. "how's soobin? i haven't seen him or you in a while. i'm starting to miss my favorite customer."

"i'm sure soobin would be flattered to hear that. he's doing well, i couldn't bring him today since he's got a swimming class this evening," seungcheol explains, pulling out his wallet that's donned in some brand name that looks so expensive you don't even know how to pronounce it. you move down the counter grab some of the bread which is on your far left, and he walks down on the other side to match you, keeping up the conversation.

"ah yes. he seems to be around that age to start learning. better now than never, honestly. my younger brother didn't learn until he was older and it did not seem easy," you say with a giggle, bringing out the tongs to grab two small loaves.

seungcheol nods in agreement. "that, and i'm planning on taking the two of us on a vacation spot in a few months ... not sure where yet, but soobin's been wanting to go to a beach location for ages," he tells you, and your heart swells.

the image of soobin and seungcheol, goofing around on a beach send a warm feeling through your body. it's also maybe an added plus that there's a flicker in your mind of what seungcheol would look like in nothing but swim trunks, skin shining from the water under the beaming sun, dark hair splayed across his forehead.

you wonder what he's hiding beneath that plain, beige t-shirt of his. his arms are somewhat exposed, and from just the little bit of muscle that peeks out and flexes when he moves around, you think you can safely assume he's got much more going on in the places where your eyes can't reach.

realizing he's still right in front of you, you blink down hard as an attempt to pull yourself back into reality, eyes flickering up at the handsome man in front of you.

"s-sounds fun," you say honestly, packing the bread and handing it to him over the counter. in this moment, seungcheol catches sight of the apron you've got on. it's light pink and hugs your figure so nicely, he can't help but comment on it.

"new apron, huh?"

shyly, you look down and nod. you hadn't expected him to notice. "uh, yeah. my employees got it for me as a birthday gift, actually."

seungcheol furrows his brows as he hands you his card so you can charge him. "it's cute. was your birthday, um, recent?"

you nod casually, tapping at your machine for a second before handing back his card, trying to ignore the way his comment first comment has your stomach flipping and flopping around. "yeah, it was a few days ago."

"i'm sorry, i didn't know," he says sincerely, causing you to frown.

"hey, don't worry about it. it's not something i expect my customers to know and—"

"let me treat you to something," seungcheol says abruptly, cutting you off mid-sentence. he realizes after that it's a bit rude, but something about the way you brush him off as just a customer makes him feel the need to prove you wrong.

"i—i'm sorry?" you ask, and for a moment seungcheol almost mistakes your confusion for apprehension, but then he drinks in the way you look up at him curiously, lips slightly parted, and he relaxes.

"you're closing soon, right? let me ... treat you to something," he repeats. "a coffee or something, if you don't mind."

"oh, i can't possibly impose like that, especially when you've got to pick up soobin and—"

"i wouldn't be offering if you were imposing. he's getting picked up by my friend anyways—his son and soobin are going to have a play date and stuff and—" he's rambling, seungcheol knows that, but he can't seem to care. "basically what i'm saying is you don't have to worry about that. seriously. wait—not that i'm forcing you. you can totally say no, i just ..." he sighs, "don't want you to say no because you think you'll be imposing. 'cause you won't be."

when you smile brightly up at him, eyes glittering and laugh cheery, a wave of relief washes over seungcheol. "i—thank you for the reassurance. i'd love to get coffee, but i do have around twenty more minutes before closing and i still have some stuff i need to clean up and i'm not sure if you—"

"i'll wait." he pauses, then adds, "and help."

you're a bit apprehensive at first—a customer helping you out with closing? but you're quick to learn that once cheol has his mind set on something, it isn't the easiest to pull him away from it—and right now cheol is determined to treat you, as he put it.

the next forty-five minutes is spent with you directing seungcheol around your bakery. he's a surprisingly fast learner and before you know it, all the pastries are loaded in the back, the dishes are cleaned, your floors are swept, and suddenly you find yourself outside of your shop with the doors locked, standing next to seungcheol who watches with you a clouded expression.

"thank you so much for the help," you say bashfully. "you're already taking me—" is it too soon to say he's taking you out? oh well, what's done is done. "—taking me out. isn't this a little too much?" you joke, wiggling your brows.

seungcheol chuckles and shakes his head, pulling his eyes out of his pocket and twirling around the chain around his fingers. fuck, he has really nice fingers—

seungcheol's voice interrupts your thoughts "do you have a car or—"

"i usually take the bus home," you explain, rocking back and forth on your feet. cheol frowns, but doesn't say anything. maybe he can fix that, but that's an thought for another time as he points at his suv, all black from top to bottom, with tinted windows and full black wheels.

there's a silence that envelopes the two of you when you slip into the passenger seat, placing your work bag on the floor. seungcheol is already in the driver's seat, key stuck in but not turning on the engine just yet.

you glance between the sight of your bakery out the window, and back at seungcheol who already has his gaze on you.

"you're going to have to be transparent with me for a second," seungcheol says seriously, locking eyes with you as you shift your body to face him. "and i want to make sure we're on the same page about ..." about whatever is going to go down.

you bite down on your lip, and even though cheol knows you're doing it absentmindedly, he can't help but feel his pants grow tighter at the way it puffs up when your teeth release it.

"i ... i think you know we're on the same page," you reply shyly, shifting a little in your seat to try and make up for the silence.

"you want this?" cheol clarifies, one eyebrow cocked up.

a feeling of pride swelters in his chest when you reply without hesitation, "i do." and then a bit more quietly, you add, "i, uh, have for a while."

now cheol usually likes to tread lightly; he doesn't want to mess around and is great at keeping his dick in his pants but there's just something about the way you look at him so cutely.

you look at him like you know all the nasty things he wants to do to you, and you bat your eyelashes like you don't care—like you'd let him. like you'd take every damn thing he gives you without a single word of complaint, and it's driving him crazy.

again, cheol is great at keeping his foot on the brake, but then you swipe your tongue over your bottom lip and suddenly he's slamming his feet on the accelerator.

wrapping one hand around your neck, he pulls you to smash his lips onto yours. it's a gentle kiss—tentative, as if you're both testing the waters. pressing against each other as your faces tilt, your hands find purchase in his hair when cheol laps at your bottom lip. that's where it all takes off.

the kiss turns from innocent and sweet to sloppy and fast within a matter of moments and suddenly you're grappling at his arms, his hands are searching for your tits, gripping at the flesh and before you know it, you're being thrown to the back.

seungcheol nearly slams your back down onto the seats, your loose shirt riding up your stomach in the process to reveal the lower half of your bra. "fuck," he mutters, low and under his breath in that raspy sort of way that has your clothes feeling too hot and your cunt too empty.

"seungcheol," you moan, unbuttoning your work pants and shoving them off your legs, along with your panties in one go, leaving your wet cunt open and bare. he doesn't take a moment to shuffle back and bring his face down to be level with your core, eyes looking up at you with some kind of mischievous glint that has your stomach churning.

with a bit of hesitance, he places a soft kiss over your clit, watching you carefully to see how you react. when you whine and arch your back against the leather seats, he figures that that reaction is good enough, and this time lets his tongue out, swiping it against the throbbing bad.

"sweet," he murmurs, lips moving down against your folds. the movement and vibrations send sparks through your core and up your spine, and you shudder at the feeling as one hand flies down to grip at his dark hair. "so fuckin' sweet," he repeats before diving his tongue back, swiping it up and down between your folds.

"ah-h-h, seungcheol—fuck," you whimper when he presses the wet muscle flat against your drooling hole, continue to circle around and tease you. fervently, cheol—to put it bluntly—makes out with your cunt. digging his face in between your legs, his nose brushes against your clit when he adjusts his neck to lap and suck against unexplored areas, leaving you mewling into your arm as you try and sit still for him.

there isn't much room in the back, and to be frank, your limbs are in an uncomfy position, and you can only imagine the strain cheol is feeling, bent over and legs in an awkward position when he holds your hips and pulls you closer so he can smother himself in your pussy. he doesn't seem to mind though, lifting his head every few moments to grin up at you with hazy eyes, glossy lips, and a drenched chin, off-handedly commenting something dirty about how nice you taste, how he could live between your legs, how you're driving him fucking insane.

it's the meticulous flicks of his tongue, the deep and guttural words that escape his honeyed lips, and the girth of his fingers when he finally plunges them into your warm cunt that bring you to your edge. it only takes a few rubs and curls against your aching walls before your shaking, crying out his name as you thrust upwards, holding his face down so you can grind against him.

and he whispers the words, "cum angel," so sweetly—a complete contrast to the way his tongue is scooping up all your arousal—and so you cum like you never have before.

fuck my life, you think to yourself as the waves of your orgasm finally hit you. cheol rides you through the high, and he does it good. so good, you're left breathless when he pulls away from your cunt with a dopey smile and feather light kisses all up your thigh and stomach, and then finally your lips.

"my place?" he asks, stroking your cheek gingerly as you blink up at him. and when you nod hazily, he pats you lightly, helping you back to the passenger seat before helping you slip on your panties and pants back on. this time, when cheol gets back into the driver's seat, he places one hand on the steering wheel, the other secure over your still quivering thigh. "relax angel," he murmurs, and you can't help but burn at the gentle words. this can't be the same man who ate you out like you were damn piece of cake just moments earlier.

the drive is quiet, but not uncomfortable. if anything, you're fucking enthralled. when he stops at a red light, cheol looks over at you and when your eyes meet you can't help but giggle together until you're cheeky, grinning mess by the time you pull up to his house.

parking in the lavish drive way, cheol tells you to hold on for a second, getting out of the car and making his way to your side, to open the door for you.

"i didn't know that this what you meant by coffee," you giggle, stumbling out next to him and letting him wrap an arm around your waist to help you up the steps to his house. it's a beautiful estate, really, but you aren't too focused on admiring the luxury right now—you're much more interested in what's to come between you and cheol.

and you're about to find out soon enough because as soon as he opens the door, lets you in, and closes it behind you, cheol's hands are all over you. with your eyes closed as you two engage in a hot mess of tongue and teeth and lips, your rocking back and forth in his arms, his legs leading to you to some place you're not really aware of until you feel something hard and cool press against your lower back.

"wear the apron," cheol tells you firmly when he pulls away, pressing you against his cold stone counter. you knit your eyebrows together in confusion, but let your bag that's still on your shoulder drop onto the counter, taking out your apron without hesitation.

it's now that you realize you're in his kitchen. if you weren't in such a ... intimate setting, you would have admired the design, the appliances—all of it. perhaps you'd even wonder what it's like to bake in here, cooking up soobin's favorite banana bread with cheol by your side and—you save those thoughts for another time.

"w-why?" you murmur in response to cheol's request, as you pull the apron out, pulling the pink strap over your head, tying it behind your back as the ache between your legs begins to creep up on you again. cheol's big hands find purchase on your hips again, holding down you down with a firm grip as he turns you around and pushes your back down.

"'cause," he grunts out, and you nearly moan when you hear the sound of his belt unbuckling and fabric rustling as he shoves his pants and boxers down. it hardly takes a second before his hands are at the hem of your own pants, yanking them down and giving you a moment so you can step out of them.

you wiggle your ass around for a second, turning to look back at cheol with pleading eyes and ask him to just fuck you already, but then he locks a hand under your jaw, cupping the underside of your face and pulling it up so your back arches into his touch. you can feel the angry, hard head of his cock prodding against the plush of your ass and the feeling of him brush against you has you whining.

"patience, angel," he coos, pressing his face next to the shell of your ear and placing a soft kiss on the crown of your head before easing his way through your folds. you can't even see him but you just know he's big—fat length rubbing up and down your folds as he coats himself in your arousal as you whisper incoherent pleas for more.

"cheolie ..." the nickname slips from your lips with out as much as a brainless thought but it has cheol's head rewiring.

"fuck, say that again," he demands, snaking the hand that's not holding your face down your back until it's gripping the cute little bow of your apron.

you hum as you feel him tugging at the fabric, jerking your body backwards and pushing your cunt harder against him, the fat tip brushing against your sensitive clit. "cheolie!" you mewl again, and you're really not expecting the way he jams his cock into you in one go. not that you're complaining of course.

'cause how could you complain when he's stretching you out so nicely? when his cock is so long it's already hitting kissing your cervix and hitting spots inside of you that you didn't even think were possible to reach? when he's so deep that his balls are pressed against your burning core and his pelvis is flush against your ass?

"you feel so good," cheol moans, and you squeeze around him even tighter when you hear the low, gruff words escape his lips. "this pussy was made for me, huh?" he breathes out with a chuckle, as he pulls out halfway before pulling the strings of the apron so your core meets him halfway, slamming his cock back into you.

"oh god," you moan loudly, eyes rolling to the back of your head as you try and swivel your hips against his for some added stimulation.

"gonna think abt this every time you wear this, won't you?" cheol grunts, twisting his fingers around the bow in the back so he hold onto it tighter.

the thought runs through your fucked out mind for a moment; you're gonna have to walk into work tomorrow, and if you're wearing the apron, you'll have to sit through the day knowing that you had cheol's cock buried inside of you under this same fabric—if you aren't wearing it, you'll have to come up with an excuse for your lovely employees as to why you're not wearing their precious gift.

which option you're going to go with, though, is swept from your mind when cheol sticks a finger into your mouth and presses down on your tongue as he fucks into you harder.

what a moment, you think. getting railed on the counter of a man who you always thought was out of reach. your insides feel like jelly as his fat cock runs against your walls, veins and curves pressing and dragging through you as heat envelopes you.

and as his thrusts increase in force, you start to realize that cheol is nothing if he is not relentless. just when you think you've whimpered his name so much you think you might lose your voice, he's ramming into you harder, punching the air right out of your lungs as broken moans and squeaks that have him losing his damn mind.

"what a fuckin' angel, creaming me cock so well," he praises, yanking you back and forth at an unforgiving pace to match his calculated thrusts. you feel like you're being thrown around in the best way possible, body throttling every time his hips crash against your ass and cause you to lurch forward and arch your back even more.

and as he goes on, the rub of his cock against you, the press of his balls against your clit, his hand in your mouth and pressing against your jaw—it's all so much and so fast and so good until you're shaking and thrashing in his hold.

"mmf—cheolie, wan' cum," you choke out when you feel his cock twitch inside of you.

"yeah? my pretty angel's gon' cum on my cock?"

"yeah-huh," you answer dazedly, body jerking back and forth as his hips snap more haphazardly now, but still hitting that one sweet spot that has your vision going bleary. "can i cum, cheolie?"

and you ask him so fucking sweetly, he can't hold it in anymore, dazedly grunting out something along the lines of, "yeah, angel, cum f'me," before he spills his hot seed inside of you. the sensation of his cum painting your walls white is the final thing you need before joining cheol with your own orgasm, clenching around him so tightly that it has him gripping down on your hips in a way that you know you'll have bruises tomorrow. not that you mind.

how could you, when you just had the most mind blowing orgasm of your life with the hottest guy you've ever met. as you twitch against him, cheol finally pulls himself out and you whimper lowly at the feeling of being empty even though you know you'd probably pass out if you had his dick in you any longer.

gently, cheol strokes your back and caresses the taught muscles, untying the apron that quite literally had you in a chokehold, letting it fall from your figure. "'m sorry," he murmurs into your neck, placing a soft kiss on your shoulder, "was i too rough?"

"n-no," you say, face burning when you realize just how croaky and fucked your voice has become. cheol only laughs at you as you dig your face into your hands as you mumble bashfully, "it was ... great." you're slightly embarrassed, yes, but when you catch the look of endearment on cheol's face, you start to think twice.

as you both attempt to even out your breaths, cheol looks down at you panting against the counter, cum spilling out of your fluttering folds. vaguely, he wonders what you'll look like in a bikini in the bahamas. huh, he thinks, maybe he'll have to ask soobin if it's okay to bring an extra certain someone with them on their vacation this summer.

a/n. how i managed to get this out in one day i don't know. the cheol effect i guess. anyways, hope u enjoyed!

tags. @xcynthiaaa @synthetickitsune @leejihoonownsmyheart @dahliatopia @gyuswhore @hoeforcheol @5xiang @hajimelvr @miriamxsworld @blinkjunhui @lixiel0ver @josefines-things @mimisxs @kawennote09 @bbyjjunie @rubyreduji @marzmeltdown @todorokiskitten (strikethrough could not be tagged)

[genericpuff]

Lore Olympus just pulled off the biggest whiff in webtoon history.

I promised I would choose one of two headlines and of course, this is the one we wound up with. But should we really be surprised? Rachel herself seemed to be telling on herself down to the minutes leading up to the finale, fully confirming to us that yes, she's been writing this comic at the last minute, by the seat of her pants, for ages now.

(that second one was literally posted TWENTY FUCKING MINUTES BEFORE THE COMIC UPDATED.)

Welp, let's get into it. Possibly the last essay I'll ever write about this dumpster fire of a comic (but probably not, let's be real LOL)

CONTENT WARNING: DISCUSSION OF SEXUAL ASSAULT AND FASTPASS SPOILERS FOR THE SERIES FINALE AHEAD!

Holy crap, where to even start with this. I knew it was going to be bad. I knew it was going to be rushed. I knew it wasn't ever going to live up to what I had hoped it would be years ago when I was still a diehard fan.

But I didn't think it was going to fall quite this hard. Despite bracing myself for the worst, Rachel has once again let my expectations down through a final display of explosive mediocrity and disappointment.

Yes, the episode is called "You're Welcome", and yes, that instant "ick" you're feeling is the exact same as what we're all feeling. This title plays into the dialogue later, but what a shitty, lowkey mean-spirited title for the series finale.

Now, before we get into the actual episode, the WT ads for this are just... so desperate and misleading.

They are trying SO HARD to hype up something that isn't there, and at the last minute to boot, because Rachel definitely hadn't written any of this ahead of time.

First off, the bit about the gods being in "eternal chaos" of course isn't a stake worth worrying over because Gaia literally does away with Ouranos in the first 5 panels.

Did you really think I was joking about that 5 panels thing?

That's it. That's the death of Ouranos. As mysteriously and quickly as he arrived, he was gone, after Gaia ripped out of him what appeared to be some purple sunny side up - but it's actually, in fact, Apollo.

And that's when we start to get some of the worst dialogue I've ever seen throughout LO. Remember when I said LO's dialogue was like Shenmue 3? Welp, the finale decided to continue that tradition and further fuel the suspicion that this entire thing was written by ChatGPT.

Oh, by the way, that "thank you, ma'am" was Artemis' first and last line of the episode. So once again, just like in Episode 248, we're completely robbed of her reaction to Apollo being a rapist piece of shit and the character development she could have had as a supporting character. The women in this "feminist retelling" really couldn't be more half-baked.

Gaia stumbles upon Persephone, and I'm not even gonna fucking bother showing the panels where Gaia says it's time to "make things right" because they literally don't matter. Why don't they matter? Because Rachel just had to get in one more pointless time skip.

We're shown a sequence of pointless images that I'm not gonna show as I don't want to waste my image limit on them, depicting Hades having a sad day because his small wife isn't with him and oh nooo what could have happened?? Did Persephone finally divorce him ??

Nah, we couldn't possibly have an actually happy ending in this comic. Instead we get a completely pointless phone conversation between Hades and Hecate-

Not only is the grammar particularly bad in this episode, but the actual script-writing is atrocious. We literally did not need this phone conversation to happen because-

-we're cutting BACK TO THE PRESENT THAT WE JUST CUT AWAY FROM FOR A 3 MONTH TIME SKIP. FOR NO REASON BESIDES SHOWING HADES BE SAD OVER SOMETHING THAT ACTUALLY ISN'T THAT BIG A DEAL, AS YOU'RE ABOUT TO SEE.

I- I LITERALLY HAVE NO WORDS. I HAVE NO WORDS TO DESCRIBE WHAT THE FUCK THIS IS. ALL I CAN HEAR IN MY BRAIN IS THE LEGEND OF ZELDA ITEM GET MUSIC-

-BECAUSE THIS WHOLE THING SUDDENLY SOUNDS LIKE SOME CONTRIVED FETCH QUEST. WHAT DO YOU MEAN HADES AND PERSEPHONE HAVE PROVEN 'TRUE LOVE' IS REAL? WHAT DO YOU MEAN THEY HAVEN'T USED 'LOVE' AS A FORCE FOR DESTRUCTION?? ARE WE FORGETTING THAT HADES MUTILATED A GUY IN THE NAME OF 'LOVE'? THAT PERSEPHONE LITERALLY INVADED THE HOME OF HADES' CANONICAL FIRST WIFE BECAUSE SHE FELT MILDLY THREATENED BY HER?

This whole concept of "true love" that Rachel is trying to convey feels so juvenile especially for a series that has sold itself as being mature and thought-provoking and progressive.

HAHAHA SO FUNNYYYYYYY why does Rachel write like this. this is, at best, the writing of a 13 year old on fanfiction.net, which I SHOULD KNOW, because I WAS ONE OF THEM. BUT I'M 28 NOW AND RACHEL HAS ANOTHER 10 YEARS ON ME.

Okay, this is the part where I'm CONVINCED Rachel either just mashed this into the episode in the MINUTES leading up to its release, or she used ChatGPT or something. Because NONE of this dialogue makes any sense. Beyond how stilted and lifeless it is (seriously, this dialogue reads like something from Empress Theresa) Gaia is clearly meant to 'replace' Erebus here which I SHOULDN'T HAVE TO EVEN EXPLAIN IS SO FUCKING DUMB, but ALSO what is even Persephone trying to communicate here? "That is true, but it was a deal I was willing to make and ties me to the Underworld. Please don't change me." What? Gaia hasn't even insinuated that she's going to do anything to Persephone, why is Persephone immediately jumping to this conclusion? What does 'changing' her mean? Is she asking Gaia not to force her to sacrifice something (which she never did)? Or is she asking Gaia not to strip her of her Underworld status? Because again, why is that even something Gaia would do?

Maybe this is harsh but I'm pretty sure even Empress Theresa is more coherent than this, what in the flying fuck is Gaia talking about?

"I can just see the potential for conflict! To relieve you from the burden of the whats, the hows, and wheres." Like... okay, first of all, that second sentence isn't even a complete sentence, it's a dependent clause left hanging, but also what the fuck does this MEAN. Is she EXCITED for the conflict but then contradicting herself by saying she wants to relieve Persephone of that conflict? Or is she saying she can see the conflict it would cause for Persephone to have to perform duties in both realms and trying to insinuate that she's going to relieve her of those complications?

Here's what I think happened - I think that second 'sentence' wasn't supposed to be a sentence, but the start of the sentence to the next panel-

So with that theory in mind, the sentence becomes, "To relieve you from the burden of the whats, the hows, and wheres, you are to spend three months in the Mortal Realm to do spring and the rest of the year in the Underworld. That seems fair to me."

It's still a very poorly written line of dialogue, but at least with that fix in mind it makes sense. But man, you can really fucking tell this episode was submitted at the last minute because that's a serious syntax error that should NOT have happened in this two-time-Eisner-winning comic.

Errors aside, it's clear that Rachel is following through on having Persephone spend only three months in the Mortal Realm, rather than the traditional six. There ARE other translations that have that number closer to four, but those four are the time she spends in the UNDERWORLD, meaning she's always spending either equal or MORE time in the Mortal Realm. Of course, Rachel doesn't want her self-insert small wife power fantasy to actually have to be separated from Hades despite this being a retelling of The Abduction of Persephone, so instead of her spending three months in the Underworld, she's now spending them in the Mortal Realm, literally doubling the MINIMUM amount of time (four months) she was originally meant to reside in the Underworld.

But oh no, apparently those three months are STILL NOT SHORT ENOUGH FOR PERSEPHONE-

Of course, Rachel "Retcon" Smythe had to have her cake and eat it too. I always worried something like this was a possibility, but I never thought she would actually prove me right - not only is Persephone only separated from Hades for three months out of the year, but actually he can visit her any time he wants to, so really, they're not separating at all.

I think Rachel needs to look up "reunion" in the dictionary, because if you can visit each other any time, then that means the 'reunions' are no longer special occasions. This completely removes any semblance of depth or meaning from all of the storytelling leading up to this, all of it with the expectation that this was a retelling of the Abduction of Persephone, because that's what Rachel said it was going to be. At this point it's safe to say that Rachel has zero business attempting to "retell" mythological stories, because she doesn't even seem to grasp the concept of why they were written the way they were to begin with. Either that, or she really just doesn't care, and the only reason for making LO a Greek myth comic at all was to propel her career.

This also brings me back to those promotional ads, the other one that posed the question, "Will sacrifice be enough to bring these two back together?"

This is stating the obvious, but I need to make it perfectly clear - Hades and Persephone have never sacrificed a single thing. The only thing they could POSSIBLY quantify as a "sacrifice" is "not being tied at the hip for a few hours", because even Persephone going on the equivalent of a work trip next door is apparently enough to make Hades sad as we saw in the 3 month time skip panels. Why is Hades so sad and lonely if he can visit her any time? Why is he acting like he hasn't seen her in years when he's actually on his way to reunite with her? Why is Hecate calling to ask him if he's "okay" as if he JUST got separated from her, but actually he's about to literally go to the Mortal Realm to reunite with her?

Hades hasn't 'sacrificed' a damn thing, neither has Persephone. They've both always gotten exactly what they wanted, even at the cost of breaking the story's own established rules. Their 'sacrifice' is equivalent to what billionaires think are 'sacrifices' when they can't buy another yacht or go on that third overseas vacation for the month.

And even outside of this episode, when have these two ever sacrificed anything?

I've tried so hard to think of what sacrifices have been made by the characters within LO, and I genuinely can only think of one - and that was when Artemis chose to go to the Mortal Realm with Persephone instead of staying with her family in Olympus. That was a genuine, selfless sacrifice, made by a character who has been shelved in favor of focusing on the self-centered pink and blue airheads.

Being forced to be apart for a couple days to do the equivalent of a day job and whining about it the whole time is not a 'sacrifice'. Neither of these characters have ever sacrificed anything, they just feel like sacrifices because they have the integrity and empathy of soggy cardboard.

sigh Anyways, we're back in the present and Hades and Persephone immediately decide they're gonna have sex because ofc, and then we get this gem of a panel-

MMMMMM

FUNNYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY JOKE

For some reason it's just a common thing for people to just be in Hades' home, and they can't seem to get any privacy as a result of this, but I digress. Turns out they still need to have that coronation for Persephone.

There is... so much wrong in these three panels.

First, to state the immediate issues - why the fuck are they mentioning Apollo at Persephone's coronation? Like first of all, no shit Apollo isn't gonna be there, but also, if this is supposed to be an event for and about Persephone becoming Queen of the Underworld, then why in the WORLD is Apollo even being mentioned? This is supposed to be a "feminist retelling" where the victims are empowered and heal from their trauma, but LO once again can't try to show any sort of positive growth for the victims without bringing up the assaulters and giving them screen time. It just goes to show that Rachel's idea of "healing" is purely rooted in the revenge, and not the growth. It's a very high schooler approach to this subject, hellbent on showcasing how all the meanies from the past are losers now and life just sucked for them forever, but inadvertently proving its own point that the victims haven't and can't move on because the narrative is spending so much time on caring what's going on with the abusers. It's the "I don't care! Look at how little I care! I'll prove it to you by putting in the effort of showing you how little I care!" approach, it doesn't really feel like moving on.

It's not about how Persephone and his other victims could have grown and healed, no, Rachel always needs to highlight just how much worse the bullies and haters and abusers are doing to make the victims seem like they've healed by comparison. Don't get me wrong, I can understand wanting to showcase the downfall of a character like Apollo, but this just... isn't the right context for that? Because it's once again taking attention away from the victim to focus on the abuser. It's once again spending screentime on the voices of the oppressors rather than the oppressed.

And speaking of, what the fuck is this punishment even? I knew Rachel wasn't gonna be able to resolve this plotline properly, she never had the capability to, but ... community service? Are you fucking for real? What is this even a punishment for even? Was this EXCLUSIVELY the SA, or does this ALSO include his attempts to overthrow Zeus by poisoning him, nearly killing Daphne, Eris, Eros and Psyche, trapping Eros and Psyche in an enchanted basement, and framing his father's 'death' on his half-sister? Because if so, how in the world is anyone content with community service? He hasn't even been turned into a mortal, HE'S STILL A GOD, so what's to stop him from going "WE'LL MEET AGAIN, SPIDERMAN" and trying something else? How is this a reasonable resolution in ANY context?

This is why I talked at length about what an issue it was to hide what Apollo really admitted to. Because now we really don't know what exactly he confessed to, and thus we can never really see the point of views of the victims outside of just Persephone - and we still don't even get Persephone's, because she just walks away from him and then he gets eaten by Ouranos and next we see of him is him doing community service! Once again, any emotional development that could be given to Persephone and the other victims is stripped away to make room for the point of views of the oppressive men. In this, the two-time-Eisner-winning "feminist comic" that is LO.

And that brings us to the "where are they now" segment. Yes, as we all feared, there's a "where are they now" segment, and it's as rushed and underwhelming as we ought to have expected it to be.

There is just... so much to unpack here, and yes, all of it is delivered in the dumbest way possible that only raises more questions than answers.

So Rhea and Metis are just back and we're not gonna talk about the implications of them being alive again?

Dionysus is a 3 month year old in the body of a teenager / young adult, and his mom is just alive now because Hades conveniently got his hands on more ambrosia and brought her back to life offscreen? But somehow Triptomelus and Hedone are still child-sized relative to their ages?

How did they 'heal Zeus'? And why is he so content with losing his power as King and Apollo being sentenced to community service after making an attempt on his life? How does he feel about the letter that Hera gave him? Did he even read it?

Where the fuck is Hebe in all of this? Is she okay? Do people still think it was her who put Zeus in a coma? Or did Apollo confess to that, too?

You're telling me Hera and Echo are just in a relationship now despite the fact that Hera is literally racist towards nymphs and there is ZERO reason for them to have a relationship in the comic beyond the fans making gratuitous headcanons out of it? How is Rachel, a bisexual woman, so bad at writing actual lesbian relationships and giving them the same amount of attention as the heterocis ones without shoving them into the background as props for insincere queer rep? And what about Hera herself? How did she overcome her role as the Goddess of Marriage to finally divorce Zeus?

"Ares is still a dog!" Haha! Ares is still a Persephone simp! Happy end!

Why is Eros just standing there smiling at the camera struggling to be seen past Hedone who's just floating right in front of him? You're telling me there wasn't a better place to put her out of that entire panel?

"Hades and Thanatos have been making more time for each other. Sometimes they even have a conversation." I'm sorry, is this supposed to be funny? The man abused Thanatos for years, treated him as just a lowly employee when he was literally his adopted son, and now you're trying to play it off as a joke that they're "making more time for each other"? What the fuck is this?

TGOEM disbanded? Why? What about the women who were genuinely a part of it?

Also, Artemis and Selene are just good friends now because reasons? Because they're both affiliated with the moon, I guess? Why is Selene even in this comic-

"They are still looking for Kassandra". Who? And why? This feels like such a last minute addition to acknowledge a character that the comic spent WEEKS foreshadowing only to have her finally appear as a pointless McGuffin, but it's so last minute that it does nothing. I'm assuming it's Eros and Psyche looking for her, but like... why can't they find her? They're gods, tracking down one mortal shouldn't be that difficult LOL ???

And also, where the fuck is Leto?? You're telling me she was an accessory - maybe manipulating Apollo, maybe not - but we don't see what happened to her? Is she just back to being a social outcast then? jesus christ this comic isn't finished-

Kassandra is where the "where are they now" sequence ends, and we're treated to one final horribly written dialogue scene between Hades and Persephone, where they tell each other how much they love each other in a desperate attempt to convince the audience that this is, in fact, a romance.

There's this thing in romances called chemistry, and if you're good at writing it, you shouldn't have to write dialogue like this. You should be able to see how much the characters love each other through their actions, through their small behaviors around each other. It's not always about what they say out loud, it's about what they don't have to say, because when two people really share that close of a bond based on love and trust and chemistry, words often aren't necessary.

Hades and Persephone do not have that chemistry. It has been apparent for years now, but this final exchange really is the nail in the coffin. There are no microexpressions or subtle emotions, no subtlety in their word choice, and nothing unique setting their voices apart. It's all just "wow thank you for being such a wonderful amazing partner, you are amazing and I love you" word salad that has to do all the heavy lifting for the completely non-existent chemistry that's been at its absolute worst throughout this entire season.

And worst of all, despite this story trying so hard to be focused around Persephone, around her story, her trauma and her healing, her voice... it's still all just about Hades. In the end, she's thanking Hades, and forcing him to say "you're welcome". All of it is trying so hard to convince us that Hades has been a positive addition to her life, that she 'owes' so much to him, but we've obviously seen plenty throughout the comic that begs to differ. And even if he were a better person than he is, it still doesn't change the fact that once again, the men are being held up above the women, with the women being grateful to the men who choose them. LO can try its hardest to convince people that it's feminist, but it is, at best, reinforcing the very same structures of the patriarchal system that it claims to despise and rebel against.

We do get one line from Hades acknowledging Persephone's part in the relationship-

-and it falls so fucking flat because it's still about him and what she does for him, and because nothing about their relationship was built on any sort of organic chemistry. There was a lot more chemistry back in S1, but it was still predicated on Hades lusting after a vulnerable 19 year old girl.

Yep, and that's it. That's the end.

Except it isn't because Rachel wanted to try and be smart by including an 'epilogue' that's really just stretching the episode out pointlessly for another few panels. And of course, we had to get another time skip, just a final dose of salt in the wound, this time to years ahead when we inevitably had to reconnect with Persephone and Hades in the future after Melinoe was born.

To recap, Melinoe doesn't remember... because Hades had Morpheus erase her memories.

This plotline has really started to give me the ick because it actually feels very familiar. Bear with me here, because I'm gonna go on a bit of a tangent about my own original work, but it's because I wrote a plotline exactly like this years ago.

There's this... turning point, in Time Gate: Reaper, when the main character Uzuki is kidnapped by a Reaper (see: undead) who wants to experiment on her in the hopes that he can somehow gain her abilities to bond her soul with others (which later allows her to literally possess people after she becomes a Reaper herself). Mitsuhiro, the male deuteragonist who kickstarts the plot by telling Uzuki she's got a limited amount of time left to live (which he knows thanks to his magical death timers that mark themselves on his skin), feels an immense amount of guilt after finding out she was kidnapped by the Reapers (at this point she's been gone for three months), as they were originally after him; he worries that she was made a target simply due to him associating himself with her, and vows to rescue her.

With the help of some other spunky teenagers and anime trope characters, Mitsuhiro does eventually rescue Uzuki - but for the three months she had been gone, she had been tortured, abused, and experimented on, causing her mind to split and for her to lose any sense of awareness of who Mitsuhiro or her other friends were. She was no longer herself after the hell she had been through.

Mitsuhiro's solution to this is to have Springlock - another Reaper with motivations that are not yet clear to the cast - erase her memory. This is not a light decision that comes without consequences - for the remaining duration of the story, Uzuki is plagued by night terrors and panic attacks, unable to really remember what happened to her aside from whatever brief flashbacks her brain recalls in its haze of memory loss. She is traumatized, both physically and mentally. She has lost three months of her life and memories, and doesn't know how to explain why she's covered in scars that are still healing, why she's missing organs, why she's now blind in one eye, and why the sound of scraping metal and ticking clocks gives her panic attacks. Mitsuhiro has convinced her friends that she's suffering from memory loss due to trauma, but only he knows the truth that he forcefully took her memories away from her, without her consent. This was not the right choice to make. It was not noble of him, it was not a grand gesture of love, he made a decision on her behalf without her consent that has now resulted in her becoming a nervous wreck. Sure, she still would have had PTSD if she remembered what happened, but at least she would know why and could then seek adequate help. Without those memories, she has nowhere to begin to heal. And so we see the consequences of this throughout [AFTERBIRTH] and even the upcoming Thread of Fate. It is a long-term problem that is not going to be solved overnight, especially not with Mitsuhiro withholding information from her.

Reading about Melinoe having dreams about her experiences trapped in Tartarus with Kronos ... it felt familiar enough that I had to talk about why the insinuations of this are so fucked up. I know there are people who are gonna handwave it away as "she's just a kid", "these are gods so what does it matter", etc. but ... it just feels like such an oversight to have Hades effectively erase her memory of her trauma and then hint at them still being present in her mind through her dreams. She did not ask for that. And the fact that she's now dreaming about it all does not bode well. But we're supposed to think Hades made the correct choice, regardless.

But none of this is effectively expanded on or explained, because we get one final scene of Melinoe and Demeter visiting Persephone, who has just given birth to... Makaria?

So it turns out Persephone and Hades are just able to have biological children now. Don't know why, but of course they both look exactly like Hades.

What I was really confused by though is the fact that it's Makaria and not Brimos. Do you remember Brimos? The child that was foreshadowed in Hades' original fantasy dream sequence about his future children about Persephone?

Either Rachel completely forgot about him, or she saw all the criticism over the fact that Brimos isn't a confirmed child of Hades and Persephone (rather, an epithet that can apply to basically any Underworld god including Persephone and Hades) and that her "research" was dependent on a book she read when she was 13 and decided to axe that. But she went to the effort of establishing that all the dreams Hades had were , in fact, canon visions of the future, so good job Rachel, you created yet another plothole on top of the hundreds of others.

And that's where the series ends, on a final nuclear-family-photo of Persephone, Hades, Melinoe, and Makaria. Of course, Dionysus and Thanatos aren't present in this shot because this is Lore Olympus and only biological children count /hj

Why Rachel couldn't move the "the end" portion to THIS part, I don't know, but I'm also expecting way too much of the person who finished this 20 minutes before it was due.

So that's it. Six years and that's what we get. I didn't expect much, but I was still incredibly disappointed, as were many others who walked away from this dazed and confused. Maybe it's all the "haters" deserve at this point. But what of the fans? While many of them are celebrating this ending at best and tolerating it at worst, I can't help but think of the fans of this comic who hung on for so long in the hopes it would "pay off", just for it to go out as gloriously as a wet fart.

As for me, I have such mixed feelings about Lore Olympus ending, but none of them pertain to the comic itself. Most of what I'll miss from this comic isn't the comic itself, but the people who have made reading it every week so fun, the artists and writers who have enriched the content with their own interpretations of what could have been, and the experiences of being part of such an amazing community made up of people who are as long-term-obsessed about this piece of media as I am.

I get people who ask me a lot if it's "worth it" to be so engrossed in the LO slander, who assume that I'm going to "regret" ever being a part of it all... but from where I'm standing right now, I couldn't ask for a better view.

Even if I didn't love every minute of it, everything I have here I owe to this comic. This stupid, wonderful, boring, amazing, pile of shit comic.

[libraryraccoon]

A Penguin And The Angel Of Death

Gift for : @deadghosy

Gender : Penguin

Pronouns : They/Them

Message of Raccoon : I just really wanted to write Azrael with Penguin!Reader, so I try.

TW : bad english, english isn't my first language.

How you met Azrael is a mystery for everyone.

Azrael had heard about Heaven and Hell fighting over a penguin, and he decided to go check it out.

"So you're the famous Penguin." -Azrael, seeing you for the first time.

Friendship. Instantly.

He was your platonic soulmate.

I can see Azrael taking you flying with him. Imagine being a normal angel or demon, looking up and seeing the angel of death flying, holding a penguin in his arms.

The day of the trial, you and Azrael were watching everything from the sidelines, eating popcorn.

“Do you think they know you’re going to stay with me ?” -Azrael, watching the scene while eating popcorn, amused.

You made a penguin noise that can be translates as "Sshh, this is starting to get interesting." -Penguin!Reader, watching the scene like a TV novela.

Azrael speaks penguin. Don't ask how, he just do it.

"Guardship returns to.." Sera paused, either in disbelief or to be dramatic. “Azrael ?!” Certainly the first.

“Yo bitch.”

They looked at him as if they were seeing him for the first time- they hadn't even noticed him.

"WHAT ?! BUT HE DON'T EVEN KNOW THEM !" -Lute.

You worried for a second for Azrael's safety before remembering that he was the Angel of Death and that he was in no danger.

Lucifer looks at his brother, feeling betrayed that he is taking one of his children away from him.

Azrael walked out of the room with you in his arms, happy of the trial he saw today.

Azrael is like your cool dad who takes you everywhere with him and takes you wherever you want.

Azrael can go to Heaven, Hell or even Earth just with a snap of his fingers, say your destination and he'll take you there with no problem.

You often go to Hell and Heaven because you are attached to the people that are there.

Azrael only leaves you alone with Lucifer or Emily.

Lucifer is basically your uncle who babysits you all the time.

You have met Big G and the other archangels. I don't make the rules, as soon as Azrael won your guardship, he introduced you to the rest of the family.

You are the archangels' favorite nephew and Big G's favorite grandchild.

I just know that you and Big G spent hours on grandpa-grandchild outings. You go to the beach, get ice cream, play jokes on others... until Azrael comes to pick you up.

I headcanon that you help Gabriel in his work as a messenger.

It was you who passed the message of Sir Pentious being in Heaven to Charlie, telling her that redemption was possible.

It was your first message, Gabriel and Azrael were very proud of you after you managed to successfully transmit it.

They had a party to celebrate it.

No one can fuck with you.

Literally, you have Azrael, Big G and all the archangels on your side. Upsetting you/being on your bad side is a death sentence.

Lute and Adam are so disgusted that Azrael stole you - like you can feel their jealousy at 3000km/h.

Azrael just smiled at them before calling you “his son/daughter/child” in front of them just to piss them off.

And it works.

I can see Alastor trying to make a deal with Azrael for you to stay at the Hotel, Azrael just looks at him like "Really now ?"

Needless to say, it never worked and if it wasn't for you, he would have already killed the deer demon.

The angels find it adorable that the fearsome angel of death is walking around with a little Penguin, it's just too cute for them.

Family dinners are ✨️beautiful✨️

Beautiful in the sense that it's chaotic and it's never bored.

Usually family dinners are you, Big G, Azrael, Lucifer, Charlie, and the other archangels.

But one day you invited Emily, Sera, Adam and Lute to join you..

Let's say you weren't bored during all the dinner.

The best moments are those of hugs.

Hugs with Azrael are the best because he wraps his wings around you while carrying you. It's so quiet and peaceful that it puts you to sleep, which is very useful especially when you can't fall asleep.

Hugs with the whole family are... interesting ?

I mean, from the outside it looked like a mess of nameless feathers-

You are always in the middle of family hugs.

Azrael almost executed all the exterminators after learning about the extermination that was directed against the hotel when you were in it..

LET ME CANONIZE PROTECTIVE!DAD!AZRAEL.

[gildeddlily]

absolutely losing my mind because of these two!!!

so.

are these two actually toxic, or are they just kids who don't know how to communicate? easy, they're just kids! (this was fast)

reading the manga will not make you understand that (or im just stupid), and this is why I'm thanking the author on.my.knees for the spin-off!

so.

after watching the anime I fled to ao3, of course. read some works about Rin and Isagi, managed to not spoil myself anything.

then i read the U20 arc. after reading every ryusae I could find (writing one myself rn, doing god's work) I finished to read the manga cause, yk, I wanted to know what would happen with my babies and then boom! Reo and Nagi!!!

I didn't particularly care about them at first: Nagi was strong ofc, but kind of boring? he's not my favourite archetype, and while I loved Reo I hated their fight and wanted nothing to do with them. key word(s), at first.

then, then! I randomly read some fics about them cause they'd started to grow on me, and boom, tons of fics about their breakup/makeup. stunning works, ofc, but I started to see so many "Reo's fault" "Nagi's fault" "toxic relationship" that I kind of started to get uncomfortable (sometimes people throw around the word toxic when it's nothing like that), so what's to do? read the spin off ofc.

that I did, and now not only I love them both with all of my heart, but I'm Reo's number one fan (and kinnie)!

and I developed a deep hatred for those "toxic x" theories and takes. SO. let me blabber and rant.

they love each other so much!!

this is Nagi.

he thinks "damn, soccer/football is a pain, I hate sweating and running, but I don't hate Reo" even though most of the time he spends with Reo is spent playing soccer/football (I won't choose one english is so confusing- in italian it's literally called kick).

he doesn't feel forced to be Reo's friend, he likes it.

because Reo loves him, it's as simple as that.

he wants to be Nagi's friend "despite" Nagi's personality: this is something he currently says through the spin-off, which made me cry- Reo truly is the first person who ever accepted Nagi as someone who is lazy and unmotivated, who complains a lot, who doesn't put any effort in what he does, who doesn't offer much.

Or at least he thinks that he doesn't have anything special to offer, until Reo arrives.

he still has those terribly self-deprecating thoughts, but now he has something to offer, his talent.

(and after a period of happiness, their honeymoon phase one could call it, he starts to doubt the sincerity of Reo's care. from thinking "i'm not his slave, i'm his partner" he starts to doubt Reo's honesty: "maybe he only wanted to be my friend because of my talent, a talent he knows how to use"- since he still thinks that he's got nothing to offer! but we will talk about this later.)

this is Reo!

he thinks "I wanted to be the one who could make you love soccer/football, the one able to light up something in you" but he also thinks "seeing you like that, even if it wasn't me who'd done that, made me happy".

he's so jealous he's almost funny, and isn't that the most teenager thing ever?

who wouldn't be jealous after working so hard to be special to someone, just for someone else to take the place you're working so hard for?

it's terrible, but still, it doesn't stop Reo from being happy that Nagi found something exciting.

something that made Nagi as happy as the combo Nagi-soccer/football made Reo happy.

the thing is, Nagi thinks he's Reo's friend because of his talent, which maybe it's true. maybe, hadn't Nagi been a genius, they wouldn't have become friends, but his talent was the sparkle that made him become Reo's treasure.

Reo is someone who has everything, who gets everything he wants, or as he says everything except what he really wants.

for that, he has to work.

so, what he wants is to play soccer/football, and to play it with Nagi.

(in order to be Nagi's friend, he needs to work hard, because he needs to be honest and gain Nagi's trust- this is how friendship works: even when it seems flawless and easy, there's so much work behind it, and knowing it is important. most of the times we only realise it once we lost that bond- for example, Nagi. Reo already knew it, and this is why he tried so hard to not leave Nagi's side)

at one point, the two things became linked to one another, and his dream turns into "winning with Nagi, my partner". Because Nagi is talented, is special, and Reo saw his talent, and how Nagi was unable to do the same. He wants to show Nagi that soccer/football is fun, that his talent isn't a pain, that he is special, because Nagi doesn't know it, and for Reo a star that doesn't see his its own light? is just preposterous.

He cares for Nagi and loves everything about him, even all the "bad" things, and he doesn't think that Nagi has to change, and this is what, for me, makes their break-up way more serious and relatable for a lot of people.

it triggers a "I'll change to be better" "for me you never had to change" "I need to change for myself" dynamic.

2. changing and longing is way more fun when you're doing it together!!!

so they split up.

Nagi doesn't do it because he likes Isagi more, or because his style of play is more interesting, he does it because Isagi was stronger than Nagi and Reo: entering Blue Lock, Nagi had trust in Reo's ability to use his talent to win, he didn't even think about failing, and while Barou came close to making him feel like he could loose, Nagi overpowered him at the end- but then Isagi beats Nagi, and Reo with him.

Nagi understands that Reo's dream can't become reality if they aren't the strongest, and if being together doesn't work, maybe they should split up, part ways, become stronger and then join forces again, and win everything. win the world cup.

while his friendship with Isagi is sweet and I love them, for Nagi Isagi is like a cyclette.

he'll use the cyclette to get get fit and make his bf swoon over his legs, he won't stay with the cyclette once he doesn't need the training anymore. and even if he will, it will always be just the cyclette he uses to get fit "for" his bf.

(metaphor isn't metaphoring)

Reo doesn't know that.

he knows he's strong, but he knows that Isagi and Nagi are on a whole other level and he feels threatened. he fears that Nagi will choose Isagi instead of him, and he tries desperately to not loose Nagi.

Nagi is his dream. Slowly, day after day, Nagi became part of his dream, and now he's losing not only his best friend but the dream that made him free.

Reo says it himself- he knows that Nagi did the smartest thing by leaving, but he's young and scared and sees it as Nagi leaving him.

He feels abandoned, and he thinks that Nagi is abandoning his dream to go with the bigger fish, the apex predator, in order to become the best striker, by forgetting the promises they made at the start of Blue Lock, to stay together til the end.

Neither of them forgets the other.

Nagi leaves, and all he thinks about it "I need Reo to see this" "I can't wait to let him see how much I've improved", and he misses Reo, just as much as Reo misses him.

the only difference?

Reo is oblivious about Nagi's real feelings and thought process, and his thinking of Nagi turns into spiraling into depression and self-hatred.

so Nagi changes.

he starts to see the beauty in soccer/football, he finally sees what Reo had tried to make him see for months, and he's thrilled. he's having fun. he's grateful that Reo convinced him to not discard Blue Lock immediately. he's different.

different why? because Isagi beat him? because Blue Lock happened?

he changed not when Isagi beat them, but the moment he became Reo's friend, and found a reason to do something.

because Reo was the first person to ever tell him that his laziness, boredom, his oh so troublesome antics were alright, that he was what he was, and he was enough not only for Reo, but for the whole world.

Reo accepted him even when he was set on being static, made him want to change, and now that he's changing he feels worthy of being loved so much.

"you saw something in me back then, you forced to me work hard, and now thanks to you I ('m on my way to) realised my own worth, now I found something exciting"

he changes.

Reo sees him after what, a few days, and he's already improved so much.

and he thinks that he was Nagi's cage, his personal dead weight, that Nagi may have been his treasure but he wasn't Nagi's. that Nagi doesn't need him anymore. if Nagi doesn't need him, what will be of his dream?

(we could start a long-ass post ab mental health and recovering but I won't for my own sanity)

what's his worth then, since he got into Blue Lock just to stay with Nagi till the end- especially when he can't even be number two, with Isagi there- and Nagi won't be with him anymore?

he needs to change too.

3. destroying yourself in order to change (no fun)

Reo says that he isn't brave enough to destroy himself like the others do.

Isagi, Barou, Nagi, Chigiri, they all destroy themselves in order to become stronger and change, evolve, but Reo can't. he's scared, he's confused, the whole arc is just him looking like that. then what does he do?

he lets Nagi destroy him. "If I can't do it, Nagi will" don't you understand you're doing exactly what you say you're unable to do? the fact that you're not the one pulling the trigger doesn't mean that you're not killing yourself

he pushes Nagi until he snaps and tells Reo to fuck off, that he's a pain, that he's weak and someone Nagi doesn't want anything to do with, because that's what Reo thinks.

He thinks Nagi doesn't want to be with him anymore, he's feeling guilty for what he thought (later later), he's insecure- and instead of being reasonable, he founds a way to confirm his "irrational" fears.

"I'm not being insecure since Nagi confirmed it"

he sabotages himself. that's the nail in the coffin.

instead of destroying himself with football/soccer, by learning from a lost match, he destroys himself with life, by putting on the line his relationship with the person he (not exaggerating) loves most in the world.

he's unable to distinguish life from soccer/football (and this will be the aspect that makes him so different from most of the other characters), because since meeting Nagi they've become one thing. soccer/football is his life, Nagi is his life, because they're his only chance at being happy.

(Nagi is able to distinguish between the court and Reo: this way, Reo is just as special as Isagi is, since Isagi may have made him see the fun in soccer/football, but Reo made him get angry. Nagi who thinks that his strong quality is the fact he never gets angry, that he's a pacifist. Isagi is his soccer/football revolution, Reo is his life revolution.

Reo can't. they all insult each other on the field, but they're all friends afterwards. not Reo. not yet)

now he's lost Nagi, and his dream, and he has to pick himself up from the ground.

this is how Reo changes.

4. miscommunication is a beast

As I said before, Nagi starts to think that Reo only cared about him because of his talent. he's angry at Reo. he doesn't understand why Reo said those things, why he was so stupid, why he didn't understand Nagi.

he says "I'm not his toy" and he isn't, but really, try to get into his shoes.

he thinks his partner, his best friend, doesn't believe in them as a duo anymore, doesn't want to believe in them like he used to now that Nagi has changed, now that he's more "independent" from Reo.

"what, now that I know how to fight alone, he doesn't want me anymore?" that would be anyone's first thought.

and he doubts Reo's trust in their dream.

when did Reo start to have so little faith in them, in Nagi? when did he give up on them? he thinks that, after spending weeks trying to improve just to make Reo's dream true.

and he's angry, but he still hopes to play with Reo again.

he still want to, because him and Reo are partners and Nagi still believes in their dream. because he remembers Reo's passion, and he believes in him.

+) 5. being relatable as fuck

(what kid with absent/abusive parents never thought back on their action and went anxiously all "Am I just like them?")

Reo begs Nagi to stop being so strong, stop improving so quickly, stop running towards a place Reo can't reach yet, and isn't this a human thing to do? He desperately wants to be with Nagi, and thinks that he'd rather stop him from improving rather than lose him. He thinks "Please, give up on your dream, your ego"- and isn't that familiar?

he just thought the same thing his father, a man he hates and despises and who doesn't believe in Reo, told him. and he said that to Nagi. Nagi who gave him a ticket to the top by being at his side, who let him see hope.

he panics. am I just like him? Am I cruel enough to wish for someone to give up on their dreams, just to get something out of their failure?

he's different from his father, because he's seventeen, he's scared to lose his best friend, and we can be irrational in situations like this one. does he know it? no, the same way he doesn't understand that Nagi didn't left because of him.

so yes, he's in the worst head-space ever.

isn't he relatable? this is what that made reo my favourite character in a second, probably. he's so human and he makes so many mistakes and he's so stupid sometimes, but I can see myself in him very clearly.

and now.

in what way is their relationship not balanced? their love and care not mutual? in what way one used or manipulated the other?

I think they're flawed, and they made mistakes, and they hurt each other, but I also think that we throw in the word "toxic" the moment a relationship isn't perfect.

they're friends and they're teens, they will make mistakes and they will hurt each other, and their friendship (and they were roommates) won't be perfect- this doesn't make it less genuine or beautiful.

don't get me started on what happens in the manga (really don't do it) (all of this was just nagi's spin off!!!)

[yameoto]

Bro.. i haven’t even watched challengers yet, and i think you infected me with a chronic case of challengers brainrot.. but i saw your reply to anon’s ask. suggestions? ‘aight, bet 🫡

so i used your art donaldson bot and oh my god.. i got bored and decided to tug on his hair. and it leaded to him LITERALLY humping a pillow for me and he was begging me to touch him and shit. he even started calling me daddy (and mommy at the same time 😭) i even broke the filter too.. 🧍‍♂️

im not sure if this is specific enough, but maybe this would be a great subby!art (x gn reader maybe? not sure if you write for gn!r but you get the point <3 ) fanfic. he’s just so needy for you that he’ll do anything for you (even if it means humping a pillow for you.. OKAY HEAR ME OUT—)

he makes himself out to be sooo tough on court. but when he’s in your hands? he’s literally reduced to a sobbing, whimpering mess… HEJSHSJS art brainrot is so real..

i have many other ideas but i don’t wanna be too rude to dump all of my brainrot onto you.. (sorry not sorry !!)

love your bots and writing by the way !! can’t wait to see more of it in the future 🙂‍↕️

anon you're so sweet GOD! but yes absolutely can do. art bot in question!

ART DONALDSON. NEEDY BABY.

✗ warnings ; gn!reader, sub!art, like sub!art. dom!reader, pillow humping, hair tugging, overt puppy imagery. wc ; 1k

ART had always been a patient person. he excelled at playing the long game. slow and steady won the race—won him you, after all.

but he hadn't seen you all day, and now you were home and he was sprawled out on your bed and— how much longer would you make him wait?

"hey." he reaches out, fingers intertwining with the hem of your shirt. when you don't immediately face him, he tugs, gentle.

"i played good, didn't i?"

"yes, baby. you played good.” you pat his cheek without so much as looking at him, and while the contact is nice—your palm cool and tender against the warm flush of his cheeks—its fleeting. you don’t even linger long enough for him to lean into it.

a subtle frown twists his lips. he sits up, feeling unsteady. the weight of the mattress sinks underneath him as he slowly, cautiously crawls over to you. his arms slide around your waist, body wrapping itself around your back. 

"hi." "hi." you answer, vaguely amused. he buries his nose into your nape and breathes in. the smell of you is intoxicating. "can we go to bed?" he murmurs, and the phrasing is so polite, so courteously horny that you have to laugh. "when i'm done." he makes a little, unhappy noise. it rumbles against your back. "but i need you now."

you raise a brow. "don't be gross, art." that effectively cows him. though he still remains, chin propped up on your chin and legs on either side of you, tucking you in. you can feel it when he begins to grind slowly against you, thick length of his cock twitching tentatively against your ass. "ah-ah." you tut. he freezes. you don't even turn to face him. "did i say you could do that?"

he groans, drags himself off of you (with great effort) and slides off the bed. it's almost petulant. "when?" "when i say so." the noise that rips from him is positively mournful. he slumps, head in your lap—hands clenching and unclenching uselessly into the mattress.

you're still not even looking at him, fingers wordlessly threading into his hair and moving along in these elegant, tenderly gratifying movements that leave his cheeks burning impossibly hot, the patch in his boxers growing impossibly wet.

at a loss, he begins to slowly rub up against the corner of the mattress, hips rolling in steadied, carefully monitored waves. it's imperceptible, its perfect. he just needs a little release. just a little, to hold him out until you finally glance up from your laptop and give him something, anything— fuck. his groin finds that sweet spot the same moment your nails dig just right, and he can't bite back the moan slips from his lips. it's damnably loud in the silence of the room.

art meets your eyes, keening at the unimpressed stare you level him with, the knowing twitch of your lips. he has to swallow the instinctive plea that swells up in his throat. no, no. don't stop don't stop—

"oh, sweetie." like clockwork, your hand untwines from his locks, and he crumples.

"please—can’t fucking take it.” he moans miserably into your thigh, slumped over. he's grinding brazenly now, all pretences lost; rutting hopelessly against the edge of the mattress with his cheek pressed against your thigh. "baby." you sigh, closing the lid of your laptop. he just shakes his head, hands wringing into the sheets as if he were clinging to the edge of a cliff.

it's so pathetic, you have to take pity on him. "up. on the bed." art perks up, hope ballooning in his chest. he scrambles up on the mattress, so eager—lips parted, on all fours. god, he looks so pretty like this; dick cradled by the fabric of his soaked boxers, straining so you were almost sure they’d tear a hole. he looks ready to jump you. you snort, running a hand through his hair indulgently. "not so fast, pretty boy. use the pillow, if it'll stop you from whining." he doesn't even protest. he's burning too hot. as soon as you give him permission, art scrambles on top of the pillow like it's god-given gift to the world. the moment it makes contact, his breath hitches—eyes flittering up with the feeling of goddamn heaven—

"wait." "what?" art hisses, though he freezes anyway, a dog on your leash. his eyes are sparkling as he looks up at you. "boxers. off." "okay." he agrees breathlessly. his mind is so fuzzy you could tell him to cum and he simply, would. he yanks his boxers down and his dick springs up like a jack-in-the-box. he lets out a low moan, limbs almost folding in on themselves when his bare, swollen tip slides slick against fabric. ah, jeez.

if he closed his eyes, he could almost imagine it was your thigh. "n-now?" his legs are quivering. his dick hurts. you look entirely too amused. "mhm." the noise he makes is guttural. he's so sensitive—each thrust elicits another pant, hips rolling in a frenzied rhythm. he wishes it was you. fuck, your warmth wrapping around his cock—your hands cradling his balls. the veins on his underside bulge, the coil in his sack drawing tighter and tighter. shit, shit. he's gonna cum now. he's gonna cum in record-time to the tender loving care of your pillow. his moans twist into cries, bed-frame shaking under the force of his weight. "you gonna cum now, angel?"art nods, jerky and furious. it's that word that gets him. angel. angel. a shudder rips through his body and thick, ropy streams of cum are splattering against the pillow. painting it, stained and sticky. he's hovers there for a moment; crammed between his legs, frame quivering, thighs wet as his mind blanks. it'd be in disbelief, if he had the pride—but he doesn't—so it's simple, utter pleasure. god, his life is perfect. he crumbles into your lap like the colosseum. the corners of his mind are still fuzzy. the warmth of your thigh against his cheek is the only thing he's ever needed, only thing he's ever craved. god, he didn't even realise his cheeks were wet—doesn't think he cares. "good boy." you murmur, and he can hear the smile in your voice. your hand finds his hair, and he can't stop his hips from rolling against nothing.

[marycorcaroli]

sanji & usopp as a pussy drunk boyfriends ♡

req: Those pussy drunk Zoro/Luffy blurbs were so fucking good omg!!! Could you do one with Sanj pleasei? He's PEAK character for this scenario!!

mary♡: thank you for sending me a request and thank you for the lovely words! 🍡💛 i decided to write this right away and not wait any longer, i also decided to include usopp here, hope you like it! also i apologize for my mistakes, english is not my first language 💌

sanji

sanji is so neat but too impatient when it comes to licking you. from the first time you met him he only dreamed of spreading your legs and doing everything he could to your clit, sanji imagined it night after night until the moment he could finally show you he would show you the most real orgasm with his tongue. he will start with something small, he will slowly kiss your wet folds while unbuckling his belt to touch his cock, sanji is so pathetic, you just let him lick you and he is ready to cum. when he does pull his cock out - you're dead. my boy, he grabs you firmly by the hips and literally glues you to his face, he burrows into you like he hasn't drank water in months, greedily kissing your cunnie, he starts whimpering from you and your moans, you're making him really pathetic. he tries to burrow as deep into you as he can to taste all of your flavor, his fingers rubbing your nipples as he waits for the moment of your squirt. he will speed up his tongue with every second, he won't let time just pass, sanji will make sure it's just him and his tongue in your head at the end.

"sanji, please, i-i'm-i'm coming now," blows his mind. he has waited so long for those words tears run down his cheeks, you are the most beautiful girl to him and now he is licking you. his legs start shaking and his whimpering doesn't stop until the next moment you scream "sanji!" squirting on his face. you blessed him with it, he felt like he hadn't felt yet n when thinking about it, sanji didn't notice how he was cumming all over your bed and you at the same time, you caught him in the most interesting role, without even touching him he cum from you and will do it again and again. he doesn't care how much you're trembling and your legs are woozy, he just can't get away from you, sanji swallows all your juices and smears the rest on his face and looks in the mirror to realize he's found paradise between your legs and won't leave until he faints.

usopp.

my sweet boy and my sunshine loves your cunnie so much. his tongue is so soft and nice, he will do the naughtiest things to you that you could never dream of. usopp is like a man who will dream about someone's pussy all the time, he won't hear conversations, he wants to lick you now and here. he will cry with happiness as soon as you let him get on his knees and lick you completely, he will be so happy that he will completely forget about tenderness and decency, he suddenly doesn't care, now, he only thinks about you, your moans and your already swollen clit. usopp has lost all other thoughts, he starts licking you in a second, you haven't had time to undress yet, but that's even better for him, he'll wet your panties with his drool and pornographic moans, and sniff the residue like he's sniffed something forbidden, something that will take him to the most obscene place in this universe. there is so much lust in him, usopp can't hear your moans anymore, he can hear your wet cunnie responding to him, the way your clit pulses when he touches it with his nose and the way your body twitches when he finds all your hot spots again. it's like usopp is in heat, he can't live without your juices and the opportunity to lick you anywhere, he'll get so cranky and beg you "no, please let me...i-i'll make you feel good, i beg you", it'll go on and on until you say yes and he'll stop. swallowing everything you give him and he still can't get enough, he literally wants to eat you to savor the taste of your cunt. his tongue won't stop surprising you with its skill, and his nose won't stop hitting you in the points where you need it. usopp is waiting for you to cum all over his face, the juices are running down his body and the lustful phrases keep coming out of his filthy mouth, he's covered in your cum, his body lost in the moment you cum and now he's waiting for you to get on all fours and let him eat your ass.