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itskattkm · 5 months

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Day & Night

Mabel (Finestkind) x G!P Reader

Warnings: life crisis, bruises, smut, bad writing because of translation

A/N: hello my dears. Here a Mabel short story. Maybe making a part two. The requests I had got are in work :) So this is my first try of some spice in English and I could cry in pain. The translation is so bad. And I need to stop changing perspective so often. It’s getting confusing right? Hope you guys can still enjoy

Part 2, Part 3

I remembered as if it was yesterday when I kept an eye on Mabel after she was beaten up by these damn dealers. I didn't know much but what I knew was that things didn't go as they should. So before Charlie took Mabel's car to take care of some things, I got the call to watch out for Mabel until he would be back.

I leaned against the wall when I looked through the small slit in her cardboard at the window. The sun seemed to go down. I sighed softly. What situation did I find myself in again? How many times had I asked myself this when it came to Mabel. For a very long time I thought that we were friends... although I knew deep inside that we never were. I was just like a lost puppy... someone who would follow her wherever she wanted to go. Someone who would do anything to pray for her. Someone whose feelings were obviously not reciprocated. Someone... who was self-evident.

I looked over my shoulder back at her. As if frozen, she sat at the end of her bed and stared at the dark floor. I could feel her pain... her fear. What should you say to someone who was beaten up by dealers a few hours ago? Was there anything right to say?

As I knew Mabel, it was probably raging in her thoughts. Accusations. Shame. Disappointment. She hated the life she came from. I never knew anyone who had longed for a different life like me. At that time, I thought this was something that had connected us. Or did I just try to look longing for things that weren't there? For things that would connect us in any way?

I turned around and walked to the small dining table to take one of the chairs. When I now picked up one of the older wooden chairs and placed it in front of Mabel to sit im front of her, I got her attention. But I only got this because I had made noises that weren't there before.

I slowly sat down opposite her, looking down at the pack full of swabs and the alcohol bottle. I took out one of the swabs and moistened it with the alcohol.

I carefully lifted Mabel's chin with my hand. My eyes were now on her lips. The laceration on her lip had opened again. I didn't know if my attempt to take care of her injury made sense. Whether it did anything at all. But I couldn't stand here any further, wait for Charlie's return and drown in silence.

"You fumble too much on it... it opens again and again" I whispered gently before I dabbing her wound and only got a soft hiss from Mabel when she consumed herself because of the burning.

Again, a sigh escaped me. I threw the cotton wool aside. I wondered how long I would have to suffer. Would it ever be over?

"Thank you..."

The words and the me making me feel goosebumps tone in her voice brought me back. I looked with a mix of worry and sadness in her dark eyes, slightly smeared eyelashes ink emphasized her aura. Her left eye was decorated with yellow bruised spots that slowly turned purple.

I lost myself in the darkness of her eyes. Asked me if she could ever see how much was hidden in my eyes? Every time I looked at her, I had the feeling that I knew what was going on in her. How she felt.

My heart was bleeding and although I knew that my presence and the attempt to sit or just be there for her would not change anything , I couldn’t help it. I hesitantly raised my hand and fixed her bangs, with an almost trembling hand I tried to wipe a strand to the side to see her face better. I didn't want to hurt her. I was afraid of getting so close to her at all.

Now I could admire her injured face in full costume. Why is my heart bleeding all the more to see her in such a state? Why did I find her even more beautiful? Why couldn't these feelings disappear?

The burning of my eyes brought me back from a so-called trance. I didn't smell any of these feelings. Never.

"You are very strong... never forget that," I whispered because I didn't know what else to say. Her eyes pierced me. This time I didn't know what I could see in it. Gratitude? Security? Or maybe it was nothing at all?

But they seemed so gentle. So gently that I had to fight with the urge to somehow tell her my feelings.

Almost a year passed after this incident.

Mabel and Charlie have been still a couple. Charlie and Tom had now built a new bussines with the Finestkind. The crew still had hard jobs... yet they were independent and very important... not on the criminal path.

It was again one of those nights when I sat on the scaffolding of the bridge and just watched as the sea and the sky became one in the dark.

Never before had I felt so lost. So lost from my path.

It was the stormy days when I was here at the pier and watched the raging sea. It should remind me that I was alive... that there had to be a reason for all this. That there was a story for me that I didn't know anything about yet, but when would all this come? When would I feel free. When would I feel important?

"It's one of those days again?"

a voice too familiar to me spoke.

I looked to the side, Mabel slowly approached the terrain and looked out into the distance in which the lights of the Finestkind could already be seen.

Then my heart sank. I knew she was here to pick up Charlie. It wasn't a prescribed path that should lead her to me... No... but to Charlie.

I looked at the ship.

"I guess" I said because I didn't know if Mabel was really interested in how I was doing and what I was doing. Most of the time I was the one who asked and listened, I mean… I cared.

"How's it going with college?" I asked her

Mabel nodded and had this beautiful wide smile on her lips as she looked out to the ship. From the side I could she her dimples and beautiful side profile.

"It was definitely the right decision," she said.

I smiled because of her happiness. Of her her joy...

"I'm happy about that," I said and looked back at the ship. As it got more and more windy, Mabel had hooked her arm in mine and laughed slightly "you have to stop being up here in this weather. It's dangerous"

I grinned. Was this a concern? Was she really interested? This sentence warmed my heart in so many ways. The fact that she knew how many times I was here... that alone gave me hope.

"But at those times it looks the most beautiful out here!" I shouted when a stronger gust of wind hit us.

Mabel shook her head "you really have to stop falling for the things that could kill you"

I looked at her thoughtfully.

What did she mean by that?

Suddenly the horn of the finestkind sounded. Mabel grabbed my arm more firmly and pulled me with her to leave the scaffolding of the bridge together.

When we arrived downstairs and watched the boys docking, my heart began to race. As soon as Charlie had left the ship, Mabels loosened her grip around my arm and she landed in his. He put his arms around her narrow waist and kissed her for a long time.

How much I wish I could have been Charlie. How much I wanted to give her my love and everything else in the world... how much I wanted this from her. The other boys greeted me with hugs. Tom laughed dry

"Y/N if you continue like this you will become our lighthouse" a laugh escaped me and I boxed into his shoulder.

"Beauty and death at the same time... I say," Mabel joked. I grinned and gradually began to understand. "What do you think... are we still going to the bar?" Charlie asked.

More months passed after that day. It was a day like almost any other.

I didn't go to the community college like Mabel, but I had studied online. In the summer season, Mabel actually began to spent most of her time with me on the grounds of the bridge. We learned together. Waited until the boys would come back.

It became our thing. Now I knew that Mabel came here not only because of Charlie... but also because of me.

"How are things going?" I asked her because she was exceptionally quiet today. She looked into the distance and said "I'm not sure..."

I knew this look. Pain. Longing. So I counted one and one together. Things between her and Charlie seemed to have changed.

The boys haven't come back for a long time now. They were on a almost one month long "trip" if I could call it that.

I followed her gaze, a fisherman to date, I indeed imagined that difficult.

"Do you have time tonight?" Mabel asked me with this self-confident strong tone. I looked back at my laptop

"Probably why?"

"I could use some help..."

She began to pack her things and looked down at me. The wind blew slightly through her hair, she looked at me with a grin to which I could never say no.

"So?" She Hacked after I was just staring at her. I shook my head slightly to wake up.

"Yes... yes, of course. When should I come over?" I asked her

"I'll come to you... in about an hour..."

I nodded and watched her go down.

Maybe we were friends after all.

Later in the evening I was just cooking food.

One hour became two... and two almost three. It has now been 11 o'clock at night. I was tired and would still have to do some tasks.

Just when I was about to change, it suddenly knocked on my door. Confused about the late time, I went to the door and opened it. Immediately Mabel entered my apartment slightly out of breath with a wide grin.

Confused, I locked the door behind her and looked after her. She put her shoulder bag on my dining table and said

"Sorry, I'm late..."

I laughed dryly and looked at the clock

"Three hours..."

Mabel continued to grin as if she was in a “that interested me at least now mode”. She took off her leather jacket and looked at me "it's not a bad thing"

I walked past her to drink a glass of water in the kitchen "it's not like I would have liked to have done something else instead of waiting here and worrying a little".

Mabel followed every movement of Y/N with a cheeky yet gentle smile.

"You were worried?" She asked in a teasing tone. Surprised by the sound, I looked at her nervously "of course... it's dark outside and you didn't even send me a text"

Mabel laughed slightly as she walked closer to Y/N "You could have texted me too..." she whispered and looked at her urgently.

Y/N felt a heat in herself that was difficult to control. In order not to respond to Mabel's last words, I said nervously "you wanted my help... what exactly?"

Mabel came closer and held the eye contact for unusually long "did I want that?" She whispered.

Slightly confused, I looked at her and didn't quite understand. I wanted to say something, but I didn't know what.

Suddenly Mable slowly put her hand around my waist and said "I meant rather... that I need you tonight"

The place where she touched me sent a wave of goose bumps to the rest of my body. Were those signals? Did I understand the situation I was in right now?

She got closer and closer to me and I didn't even think about moving at all. Her eyes moved back and forth between my eyes and lips. Her face was only centimeters away when her lips slightly brushed mine.

"How much do you want me y/n?" She whispered.

My heart beated hard against my chest.

As if attracted by a siren, I lean in. Next, I felt her soft lips on mine.

The lips that I wanted to feel for so long. To taste.

Mabel grabbed my neck and kissed me back deeper as she slowly led us into my bedroom.

There she pushed me down on the edge of my bed before she made herself comfortable on my lap and started kissing on my neck. Her hips moved into mine. My member immediately started to get hard. This seemed to please her because she rubbed herself more and more firmly on it as she held my neck tightly and kissed me passionately.

I was breathing heavily. Held her hip that was moving back and forth in my hands when I began to breathe heavily. I kissed her back hungry. My lips brushed hers over and over again when I tried to hold back.

"Don't hold back... show me" she whispered seductive. I pressed my nails into the fabric of her hotpants before kissing her hard and then bit on her lower lip to pull it slightly. Mabel gasped slight in surprise of the intense feeling and was overwhelmed by the fact how good y/n felt.

She kept grinding on y/n lap. She felt the big and hard bump in y/n pants and wanted to feel it so bad... wanted to touch it so bad. So she opened y/n pants and observed how rapid the breathing of y/n became.

Both looked down when Mabel freed y/n hard cock. Suddenly it felt like time had stopped. Very slowly she took him in her hand became aware of the size and felt the warmth he radiated. Y/N swallowed hard when she could watch Mabel hold her hard cock in her hand. Her hand was warm and it just felt so good. Both raised their heads and their eyes met. Mable's gaze wandered between Y/N's eyes and lips.

Y/n put her hand around the back of Mabel's head and pulled her closer. She kissed her slowly, breathed heavily and groped herself slowly with her tongue. Mabel escaped a slight moan when she returned this kiss and her tongue hit y/n. She grabbed her cock more firmly and began to move her hand up and down very slowly. Y/n felt all the pleasure coming over search. These touches. That's all she had always longed for.

Mabel observes satisfied the effective she exercised on y/n when she breathed heavily into her neck and tried to hold back her moans.

But she felt and could see how harder y/n always became. She wondered if the pain was with pleasure. She looked down at the pink tip as she slowed down her firm movements and stroked her thumb over her tip. Mabel herself felt an unbearably good pulsation inside of her when she saw some white liquid coming out of y/n cock.

Her heart was racing like crazy. Oh how much her body screamed for y/n. The things she wanted to do with her. She slowly began to kiss her neck. Her tongue strokes slightly over y/n pulse. She now moved her hand a little faster. But didn't want to take y/n too far because she wanted to feel her inside of herself.

She breathed heavily against y/n neck as she started to grind on her thighs while she gave you a probably long-awaited handjob.

"Do you have condoms?" Asked Mabel with a raspy voice. Y/n held tight Mabel’s waist. She breathed heavily when she said "Night table... top... top drawer"

Mabel nodded and reached for y/n jaw before she kissed her deeply and her tongue explored her mouth. She had some condoms herself, of course, but she preferred to use y/n... especially since this was a size that was clearly not comparable to that of Charlie and that in a good sense.

When her lips loosened, she let go of her hard limb. She began to take off y/n sweatshirt and shortly afterwards y/n helped Mabel get rid of her clothes.

Mabel slowly pressed y/n into the mattress so that she was laying on her back.

Mabel leaned over her as she began to kiss her passionately and rubbed her wet middle over the erection of y/n.

Y/n moaned and turned around so that Mabel was now under her. She kissed her jaw, throat and neck before she slightly bit into it and made Mabel escape moan.

She places herself between Mabel's legs. Their naked bodies touched each other and y/n struggled with an almost painful erection. She felt Mabel's warm and moist vagina. With her tip, she brushed Mabel's clit and breathed heavily as Mabel's grip solidified around y/n shoulders.

With full passion, y/n looked into Mabel's dark eyes before she bent over her chest and began to kiss her left breast. Mabel's grip demanded herself in y/n hair when she arched her back in pleasure and moaned. Y/n took time to taste her warm and gentle skin. In a teasing way she brushed her lips above the sensitive skin of Mabel's breast before teasing her nipple.

"Y/n..."

Gasped Mabel heavy. A shiver hit down y/n spine. How long did she want to hear Mabel call her. Taste and touch her body. She slowly kissed her nipples. And moved her tongue around it in circle movements. Everything y/n did robbed Mabel of her mind.

Mabel stretched out her arm and opened the top drawer of the bedside table to look for the condom.

That was a signal for y/n that Mabel wanted more and needed it. With hot and wet kisses y/n covered Mabel's neck and whispered Husky "don't be so impatient Mabel..."

Mabel shivered and chuckled slight before locking eyes with y/n and whispered seductive "just do what I'm telling you to do...".

She caressed y/n stomach... moving her hand slowly down to your hard cock "...please"

She added.

You nodded and let her put the condom on your hard cock.

You shivered when her hands touched you again and rolled over the condom in the most sensual way you could have imagine.

You spread her legs more before burying your face in the crook of her neck. Slowly you penetrated into her. Her walls are tighter than you could ever have imagined.

Some sounds left Mabel as you continue to slowly go deeper. You had reached for the lacquer when Mabel pressed her nails into your back and moaned as you extended her further. After a few moments, you both breathed harder. Mabel put her legs around your hip and whispered "deeper".

You did her that favor and fill her completely with your length in the next moment.

A loud moan caught her and for you it was like music. You finally got what you wanted. What you had longed for. Mabel. In your arms. Connected to each other. You would never be able to let her go again. She was what kept you alive... what motivated you every day even if it was so hard.

I held her hip tightly as I began to move slowly. Mabel's breathing became more and more intense. She moaned almost evenly and called my name.

I began to bump harder, had a firm grip around her thigh when I breathed heavily against her lips. She stretched out her head. Put her arms around my neck to be able to kiss me. Her tongue brushed my lips as she whispered “...y/n”.

I felt how she became more and more tighter with excitement. I felt a soft end with every new and faster push that made her moan more. I knew... that I had found the spot... and it wouldn't be long before she would have her orgasm.

"Y/n!" She shouted, totally intoxicated. Your body was shaking. With every push, she came closer to the feeling of pure satisfaction.

I kissed her hard before I buried my face back in her neck and whispered "your mine now..."

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an-idyllic-novelist · 3 months

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Lucifer Morningstar with Violet Evergarden!reader scenario

warning: language, ooc, possible spoilers from the first season of the 2024 show.

Special thanks to @tonightwrites for helping me with this piece! Enjoy :)

All right, maybe he is moving a little bit fast in falling back in love again but…well, Lucifer will admit that he can’t help himself. That’s just who he is. He’s passionate by nature, and it shows in the super amazing ducks he has created and how he helps Charlie in rebuilding her hotel. Not to mention you were so cute!

Sure, you’re a little stoic and didn’t have a cellphone, and he did mistake for a human, but that was okay! He thought it was amazing that you were able to grow almost anything in the hotel’s greenhouse! He had to see it to believe it; wire racks of pots in different shapes and sizes, all those flowers and fruits. There were even herbs nearly bundled up and labeled on a wooden table. It was all very meticulously, and everything was well taken care of. He couldn’t find a single sign of neglect. And a single person was responsible for it all? Holy shit.

Charlie did reassure him that you were very much dead and a sinner. Why you still looked like a human and had freaky skeletal prosthetics, she had absolutely no clue.

But the cherry on the top was how respectful you were towards him. I mean, when was the last time someone saluted and referred to him as His Majesty? And that look on the Radio Demon’s face when she curtsied to him, the king of Hell? Priceless.

He did appreciate your honesty, not even holding back when you said that you weren’t sure if a rubber ducky would look all right with the new fountain in the greenhouse. But you did anyway, carefully laying it on top of the water. You looked at for a long moment, expressionless and calm before turning to him and saying that his little creation gave the greenhouse…a more peaceful ambience.

You thanked him for his contribution, and went right to work, dressed in an apron with a watering can in your gloved hands. At least until the little maid Niffty came in with a big frown on her face, scolding you for trying to skip meals again. You looked at him for help…but unfortunately, he couldn’t help this time, gently pushing out of the greenhouse while Niffty tugged you by the hand.

You might say that you are used to not eating to accomplish your tasks, though that growling tummy disagrees~!

Whenever he had a moment, he made sure you took breaks and would spend time with you in the greenhouse so you wouldn’t be lonely. He’d tell you stories, share what else he created, and how he’s been wanting to connect with Charlie for so long…yet was so scared and unsure of what he could say to her. Especially after Lilith left Hell without saying a word seven years ago.

“The important thing is that you are here with her now and support her endeavors, Your Highness. I…did not have a family when I was alive…but I had friends. Friends who supported and loved me, for all the flaws I possessed.” You looked down at your hand, clenching it slowly into a fist. “It was because of them…that I understood many things about myself…and emotions I did not know I had. Grief. Gratitude. Empathy. Guilt. I was on fire, and I did not know it. But I killed many people during the Great War. I was a weapon. That will never change. However,” You then looked at him. “If I am able to accept that I cannot change the past, and find the courage to move forward…how can a sinner not be able to find redemption even if they are dead? I believe…in Charlie. What she is doing. You do too. And I am sure…she is grateful that you finally understand her.”

If he hadn’t already been in love with you, this would definitely be the moment when he realized how felt towards you. And Charlie, his sweet, smart little girl knew too.

That was probably why she pulled him aside one afternoon to privately speak in her office. She was obviously….a little freaked out. But he waited until she finished inhaling and exhaling deep breaths, eyes closed, clenching and unclenching her fists, whatever helped her calm down. She then looked him straight in the eye.

“Look Dad, I’m…happy that you’re happy. I mean, it’s really, really obvious that you like [First Name]. Now there’s nothing wrong with that, I’m okay!” She added quickly, waving her hands up and down frantically. “It’s…it’s been a long time since you and Mom split up, and I know you haven’t even thought about anyone else until now. Look,” She took in another deep breath. “I know how…enthusiastic you can get, but as the hotel’s founder and [First Name]’s friend slash employer…tone it down. The flirting, the dad jokes, and….the romance. I know, I know you love romance! But try to be considerate of [First Name], okay? She’s finally learning how to be a human and I don’t want her to feel pressured or uncomfortable or not understand what you’re doing because you’re moving too fast! She’s really, really oblivious! She doesn’t even know Alastor likes her!”

Lucifer stared at Charlie. “Wait…ARE YOU SERIOUS?! SHE-SHE DOESN’T EVEN KNOW -”

“Dad, please!”

“IS SHE REALLY THAT CLUELESS?!”

“Yes.”

To his dismay, you were. You had absolutely no idea that the Radio Demon was besotted with you. He tried to help you around the greenhouse too, invite you to listen to his broadcasts or walks around the nicer parks in the Pride Ring, all the boring stuff an old timer would think count as trying to be romantic. Nope. Nope, nope, this is not happening. Not on his watch!

He will win you over and promise Charlie that he won’t overdo it when he courted you. But could he at least show you how to make a super cool rubber ducky in his workshop, or take you out for a flight with you in his arms? That’s not overdoing it, right?

…

Maybe? Or should he take you out for some caramel apple pancakes?

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strawberrysturniolo · 3 months

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can u do a fic where chris is w/ pregnant Reader and the reader has to tell him but chris finds out by himself. sorry if it’s so dry 😅

baby love // chris sturniolo

kinda took a different spin on this idea… hope you enjoy!!

summary: when you and your friends jokingly take some pregnancy tests, the nights becomes very serious when one of them comes up positive.

I had invited my friends over for some drinks tonight, the first time we’ve all been able to catch up with our busy work schedules and some of our studies.

I had been so busy trying to be a good host, making use of the limited room in my apartment, that my drink had sat untouched for hours.

No stupid ideas had been made until my friend Ramona opened her mouth.

“This is gonna sound super weird,” she started to say. “But I had ordered a few shitty pregnancy tests to prank my boyfriend with, and I don’t know what to do with the rest, so I brought them over and I thought we could all take one for shits and giggles.”

“That is the dumbest idea I’ve ever heard,” Lula remarked. I couldn’t keep myself from agreeing.

“We’ve all been drinking,” I remind Ramona. “If someone’s pregnant then we shouldn’t be drinking.”

“Well, none of us are gonna be pregnant,” she says in a matter of fact tone. “It’s just preparation for when we’re all pregnant at the same time, taking tests together.”

“I think it’s a cute idea, but maybe that’s the tequila talking,” Ellie adds.

I shrug, laughing at them. “Whatever, you guys go have fun peeing together.”

“Ummm,” Ramona looks at me with a devilish smile. “You’re coming with!”

Despite my arguing, here I am in the bathroom, peeing on a stick.

To make this situation worse, Ellie thought it was a great idea to scramble the tests up, so now we have no idea which test belonged to which person.

I leaned against the wall of the bathroom while my three friends stared at the sink’s counter, waiting for the results.

At the sound of a timer going off, my friends squealed as they flipped the tests over.

“Oh my god,” they say together.

It’s in that moment that I run to the sink, looking to see what they are gasping at.

Shit.

One of these is positive, and we have no clue who.

“Okay,” I say. “Let’s take some more tests. You have more, right?”

Ramona grabs her bag, scrambling for some more pregnancy tests. “I have two. So if two of us take it and they’re negative, we can get two more and try the other two girls. If one of these is positive, then we know who it was.”

“I’ll do it,” Ellie volunteers. “I hooked up with a guy a few weeks ago. My period hasn’t come around yet, but we hooked up at the end of my cycle, so I haven’t missed it yet. I’m not gonna be able to relax until I know if I’ve been drinking while I’m… you know.”

Lula stares at me from across the bathroom.

“What?” I snap, now scared of the chances of one of these belonging to me.

“You’re the one with a long term boyfriend,” she reminds me, mumbling, like she can sense that I’m about to break.

Chris and I have been dating less than a year. Everything is great, but I’m in no way in the position to have a baby right now. Neither is Chris.

“Whatever. I’ll take it,” I say, and I’m playing that same waiting game again.

This time, we keep track of the tests, mine in my hand, and Ellie’s in hers. We stand in a circle silently, until the timer interrupts our peace again.

When I flip the test over, I feel everything around me fall.

Fuck.

I’ve always wanted to be a mom. I want to be a mom more than anything, but I wanted to do this with Chris. I wanted us to plan this out. I wanted us to take the test together. I wanted us to be married, have a place together. I wanted this to be for us, not for my friends to suggest taking tests as a joke.

Thank god I didn’t have that drink.

I sit on the edge of the toilet, tears coming out of me before I can process any emotion. I cant figure out what these tears are. Happy? Sad? Confused? Scared?

I just want Chris.

—

The girls left for the night. We spent the next few hours trying to make light of the situation. They were supportive of me and wanted me to gather myself, and we practiced what I’m going to tell Chris.

I mean, there’s no doubt that this is his. It’s only ever been me and him.

As I’m finishing up my cleaning, I hear two knocks on my apartment door, followed by the creak of the hinges as the door swings open.

“Hey, baby,” Chris smiles at me.

I feel my heart drop, knowing I have this secret on the tip of my tongue, but I have no idea how to get it out.

I wave to him, I fucking wave to my boyfriend. I can’t make a sound.

“Baby?” he asks, his gaze softening. He can always sense when something is wrong.

He calls me baby all the time, but hearing it after the news I got today just makes me frown. I can’t keep this from him.

He hurries over to me when he sees my face drop. His arms wrap around me in the tightest, most secure hug, only making me more emotion. The tears start spilling out, and without realizing, I’m fucking wailing.

“Do you wanna tell me what’s wrong?” he says quietly, in a comforting tone. He sways us back and forth, trying to calm me down.

“Can I show you something?” I whisper, trying not to break down even more if I try raising my voice.

“Of course.”

I grab his hand, pulling him to my bathroom. I lead him in front of the sink and point to the two positive pregnancy tests sitting on the counter. It takes him a moment to realize what they are, but when he does, I watch the color wash from his face. He swallows nervously, making me cry even more. This isn’t how this was supposed to go. Not at all.

I let out another sob, and in that moment, Chris puts his own fears aside to comfort me again. He turns me away from the test, hiding them from my viewpoint. He holds me against his chest, keeping my grounded as he shushes me.

“Shhhh, it’s okay. Everything’s okay,” he assures me. “It’s gonna be fine.”

I shake my head against him. “You have your career. There’s so much you want to do. We had so many things we wanted to accomplish before we ever thought of a family.”

“Babe,” he says, cutting me off and grabbing my cheeks so I look at him, and only him. “This is between you and me. And I want to be with you more than anything else in the world. I have my whole life ahead of me to expand my career, but if this is a sign that this is the time we were meant to have a family, then I’m game if you are. You make the call here. I know what I want, but I don’t want you to feel like you have to make any one decision because of me.”

I love this man. So fucking much.

“I want to have babies with you,” I say. He nods, smiling softly.

“I want to have babies with you,” he says back.

“I wanted to do this together,” I tell him what I had told my friends. “I wanted this to be special.”

“It is special, because this is us. This is what was supposed to happen, don’t you think?”

I nod, letting him wipe my tears.

“All I want is for you to be happy. You can move in with me, or we can get our own place. We have a lot to figure out but trust me when I say it will get figured out. And you’re going to be the best fucking mom this world has ever seen.”

Some of that fear is replaced with excitement and passion at his words of encouragement, and he makes me sure of the fact that I could never imagine this with someone else.

It was always supposed to be him.

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tanoraqui · 3 months

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obviously the Historical Figure Episode(TM) of Doctor Who that I’d write would of the Noted Author subset endemic to the RTD Era; it’d be called “Spiders in the Trenches” and be set in the middle of World War One ft. one Lt. John Tolkien.

idk if the main aliens are spiders or if they're just using giant robotic spiders as soldier-minions. Either way, Tolkien is a little too defensive when he says he's not afraid of spiders.

The alien invaders want some sort of shiny mcguffin, maybe as a power source for their ship? Or for a mega-weapon? We do not want them to get it, at any rate. Race to find the Shiny Power Jewel-Thing which has been lost somewhere in this like 20-mile radius of the Western Front.

When our heroes narrowly beat the spiders to the SPJT, Tolkien realizes that the spiders only ever attack at night because light hurts them somehow, so he holds the SPJT up as it flares and shouts, "Get back, foul creatures! Back into the shadows from whence you came!"

(They're from the dark side of a tidally locked planet, and made for extremely low-light conditions? The SPJT flares because it's controlled telepathically and it connected to Tolkien's mind when he touched it?)

Ideally Tolkien's first encounter with the Doctor is that he wakes up in the trench one day (after losing some men to a mysterious monster in the darkness a couple nights ago?), and there's 2 random strangers in weird clothes idly singing and playing an instrument which they stole from someone a couple bedrolls down. (This works well with Fifteen & Ruby's established inclination to music!)

We do need an Eowyn Moment, because that's iconic, but I'd split it: for dialogue, at one point the head boss evil alien boasts, "No human can defeat the Tenebrarachnid Empire!" and the Doctor replies, "Good thing they've got me, then."...

[I don't know if this is a Fifteen line yet. I know it's a very Eleven line]

...and there's a soldier in Tolkien's unit who is revealed to be secretly a woman! Who disguised herself as a man in order to enlist for ??? reasons, and who dramatically pulls off her hat to reveal her long hair.

The third notable local character is the sort who inspired Sam Gamgee, "...the English soldier, [like] the privates and batmen I knew in the 1914 war, and recognized as so far superior to myself.”

^those two can have a romantic subplot if it fits (comrades-in-arms is also extremely good). Tolkien, however, at some point shows Ruby the picture of his wife Edith which he carries at all times, she of the black hair and bright grey eyes, and is obviously ready to monologue about how wonderful she is.

In the same scene(?), Tolkien looks up at the stars and says their brightness shining afar, clear of all the horrors on the ground, is always a source of hope and strength to him.

Maybe also in the same scene? Tolkien is shown to make up stories for fun, or to read them in his little spare time - fairy tales and mythological epics. Maybe he tells them to the men around the fire, maybe he keeps a little notebook, maybe he just admits to daydreaming... When asked why, he paraphrases his quote from later life, " Fantasy is escapist, and that is its glory. If a soldier is imprisoned by the enemy, don't we consider it his duty to escape?"

At some point (Star-watching scene? when the Doctor inevitably has to explain that aliens exist? when they're all saying goodbye in the end?) there's a line drawing attention to the Doctor's parallels with Eärendil - eternally wandering figure of hope, sailing the stars in a ship with a light on top, not quite mortal...

Tolkien DEFINITELY tries to figure out the alien language, in writing or speech.

Something the aliens are doing is making people sick. Maybe the attacking robo-spiders are venomous, maybe there's a toxic byproduct of the alien ship, maybe it's a deliberate first assault of the planned invasion... By the end of the episode, Tolkien is very ill. The Doctor has figured out an antidote and given it, but Tolkien says goodbye to him and Ruby only to stumble to a medical outpost - from where, the Doctor explains to Ruby, he'll be sent home with this bad case of what's assumed to be trench fever. Between the fever and the brief psychic entanglement, and unentanglement, with the SPJT, he won't even remember most of this, and what he does remember, he'll put down to fever dreams amidst the horrors of war.

But he'll remember some things! He'll remember an eternal wanderer of the stars, unaging and undying and ever-hopeful, heralded by light (and a vworrrp vrorrrp noise).

#doctor who #JRR Tolkien #ficlet #my fic

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bbsantc · 11 months

Text

my favorite bts fics so far (hyung!line)

hello lovely readers, i hope all of you are doing great. i've been wanting to make this post for a while now. i really want to share the amazing work and talent that many authors have on this app. as a literature fan and hopeless romantic myself, i made sure to pick out all the fics that i think are beautiful and amazing :)

disclaimers!!!!:

some of these fics contain nsfw content (minors dni), or some heavy themes, i am yoongi biased so excuse me if the fic ratio compared to the other members is waaayy bigger (like by a lot i am so so sorry), also this post is insanely long heh (once again, i am so so sorry :p), all pictures are from pinterest!

fluff- ♾️

angst- Ω

smut- ☻

crack/humor- ☼

i would sell my liver to read this again for the first time- ¶

Kim Seokjin

Turn Back Time- @raplinesmoon ♾️☼Ω☻

''pairing: baseball player!Seokjin x doctor!reader (based on the movie 13 Going On 30) genres/au/rating: fluff, humour, angst, smut, time travel au, 18+ summary: After total humiliation at his middle school baseball try outs, Kim Seokjin wants nothing more than for his awkward years to fade away until he’s thirty. Cue a magic baseball glove, and his wish is finally granted. Seokjin suddenly wakes up seventeen years later, now the star pitcher of the team he’d always dreamed of playing for. Confused and overwhelmed at the prospect of the new life waiting for him, he turns to the only person who seems to understand him — you. Will Seokjin learn what it truly means to be thirty, flirty, and thriving? Or will he find himself wishing he could turn back time?''

Every Year- @another-army-spot ♾️Ω☻

''Pairing: Jin x Reader, some implied Yoongi x reader and Namjoon x reader

Word: 15.6K

Genre: friends-to-lovers!au, richkids!au, chef!Jin, bookworm!oc, hard fluff, smut angst?

Summary: As the daughter of the Kim’s closest friends, you’ve attended their extravagant annual New Year’s party since the year you were born. No matter what you always spend time with your favorite childhood friend, Jin, who has always been there for you. Here are the highlights of you and Jin realizing just how important you two are to each other.''

Let's get married as a joke- @burningupp Ω♾️

''Genre: angst, fluff

Pairing: Kim Seokjin x reader

Wordcount: 8210 (I’m so sorry)

Summary: Your best friend Jin has always had a talent of getting you into trouble. Maybe that’s why you’re not surprised that he asks you to marry him as a joke - or that you agree.''

friends get married all the time- @hobipost♾️

''The silly promise you made ten years ago comes back to bite your asses, and you’re both too weak to pretend it never happened

pairing: seokjin x f. reader

genres/tropes: friends to lovers, fluff

words: 2k+''

Min Yoongi

series:

The Truth Between Us- @jimlingss @gukyi ♾️Ω ☼ ¶

“⇒ summary: a book deal should be the most exciting time of your life, but there seems to be a constant and omnipresent damper on your mood in the form of a certain min yoongi, who you would just cut out from your life, if he weren’t your editor. but then, the world shifts beneath your feet, and you begin to wonder if maybe you’ve always been looking at life from the wrong angle.

⇒ enemies to lovers au with various other au’s thrown in there

⇒ word count: 14k (first chapter)

⇒ genre: fluff, angst, drama”

Dating advice- @taleasnewastime ♾️Ω☻

''Summary: It’s been months – ok, it’s been years – since you last went on a date. And you’re sick of it. Sick of seeing couples kissing and holding hands in the street. Sick of your friends settling down. Sick of everyone buying houses and having families. You’re going to do something about it. You’re going to snap up a man, you’re going to tie someone down, you’re going to finally commit, you’re going to – you’re going to need a bit of advice.

Pairing: Yoongi x reader

Genre: fluff; angst; smut

Word count: 54k

Status: Complete''

unexpected lovers- @jjkeverlast ♾️Ω☻

''-> pairing artist!yoongi x female reader

-> genre fake dating!au, romantic comedy

-> summary what happens when you meet min yoongi at the club, or well accidentally use him as your pawn to not get hit on. not knowing your cousins friend overhears and suddenly your whole family knows.

-> word count 19.8k''

Only Yesterday- @borathae ♾️☻Ω ¶

'' “Your life in a small countryside village was nothing of the extraordinary, you owned a quaint little teashop, enjoyed warm evenings in your garden and liked taking walks by the river. One day a handsome stranger moves in the abandoned cottage opposite side of the river and it is not long that he becomes a source of comfort in your life.”

Pairing: Yoongi x f.Reader

Genre: s2l!AU, Neighbours!AU, Teashop!AU, Slice of Life!AU, Romance, Fluff, Smut

Warnings: This is a very feel good story, meant to comfort the soul and warm the heart. However it contains talks about car accidents and memory loss, as well as sexually explicit scenes. If you are sensitive to such topics I advise you read with care.

Wordcount: 78.620''

Signed in Black- @yoon-kooks♾️☻

''Pairing: Yoongi x Reader

Genre: Soulmate!AU, BadBoy!AU, FLUFF, Smut [in future chapters]

Summary: Min Yoongi. That was the name magically tattooed to your skin. You were told he was your lover by fate. And as cute as it would be to have a soulmate, Yoongi was the last person you ever wanted to be bound to. But thankfully, there was a way to remove the tattoo. All you had to do was convince six Bulletproof Fairies that the two of you were in love.

Word Count: 3.3k'' (first chapter)

neon signs- @pantoneyoongi ♾️¶

''title ; neon signs [ drabble series ] pairing ; campus crush!yoongi x campus crush!you

description ; namjoon doesn’t think it can get any clearer outside of yoongi building a giant neon sign saying i have the absolute biggest crush on you but apparently, book smarts don’t exactly translate when it comes to you and your massive crush on min yoongi.

(alternatively: namjoon and hoseok try for three years straight to get you and yoongi together.)''

Reflection of You- @agustdakasuga ♾️Ω ¶

''Genre: Historical!AU, Timetraveller!AU/ Different Dimension, Romance

Pairing: SUGA x Reader, Yoongi x Reader

Characters: Normal!Reader, Idol!Suga, King!Yoongi, Guard!Seokjin, Guard!Jungkook, RoyalAdvisor!Namjoon, Servant!Jimin, Servant!Hoseok, Prince!Taehyung

Summary: Confirming you were dating the famous Min Suga of BTS, you knew you were bound to make some enemies. But what you didn’t expect was to be cursed, leading you to meet a cold-hearted, arrogant king that shares the same face as your rapper lover. ''

your universe- @muniimyg ♾️☻Ω ☼

''in which min yoongi refuses to lose you

regretting rejecting oc, min yoongi goes through a circus load of gestures and tasks in attempt to be loved again

pairings:

basketball captain // tsundere yoongi + sunshine // preschool edu major oc

au/genre:

friends to lovers

uni au

one sided pining / rejection / redemption / a sad excuse of a slow burn

smut, crack, angst

social media au + written

warnings:

implied + actual smut

angst (oc is heartbroken and trying to move on from being initially rejected)

name calling, love/hate friendships, big egos, overprotective friends, childish social culture, and a burnt out era <;3

parts:

ongoing ( ongoing/25 )''

andante cantabile- @kkulfm-2 ♾️☻¶

''pairing: myg x f!reader

genre: historical / regency au, fluff, smut

wc: 30.6k + 3.8k smutty bonus

summary: You are convinced Mr. Min is nothing but a rude and gloomy man after he leaves a horrible first impression on you. His friends' attempts to convince you otherwise are met with mixed success.''

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

oneshots:

Man of The Year- @raplinesmoon ♾️¶

''pairing: single dad!Yoongi x gn!reader genre(s): pure fluff, very minor angst au(s): graduation au word count: 2.7k warnings: some swearing, Yoongi is a little nervous, Yoongi is bad at flirting, this is so cute I could cry

rating: PG

summary: For the longest time, it’s always been Yoongi and his daughter, celebrating every milestone of life together. But today, that could change.''

Shut Eye- @alpacaparkaseok ♾️

''pairing/genre: idol!Yoongi x reader, fluff

premise: In a world where every night you meet your soulmate in your dreams only to forget their face and voice when you wake up, you’re now more desperate than ever to find them.

word count: 2.6k''

gold- @aquagustd Ω♾️☻

''↣ you’re in love with Min Yoongi, yes, you are, but why do you keep thinking of the boy who broke your heart into a million pieces when you should be focusing on the one who’s mending it.

pairing: yoongi x reader (past jungkook x reader)

genre: angst, fluff, smut, bff2l

word count: 17K''

stood up. -@parkdatjimin Ω☻♾️

''Three years after dumping your toxic boyfriend, you decide it's finally time to try the dating scene again. What you don't expect is for a handsome and confident CEO to come to your rescue after being stood up.

"Just play along. My name is Yoongi and whoever stood you up is a douche."

Pairings: CEO!yoongi x fem!reader

Genre: HEAVY angst, smut, lil fluff, slice of life, mutual pining, non-idol!au''

First-Date BAIT!- @jimlingss ♾️

''Words: 11.3k

Genre: Fluff

First dates are embarrassing. First dates are awkward. I’ve been through countless ones, sitting across from people who bored the living daylights out of me. It was less exciting than watching paint dry. Some dates were so utterly rude - I think you and I both know what it’s like to be on the receiving end on that. But now we both don’t have to waste our time anymore!

With First Date Bait they went out for me! Afterwards, they informed me if it was recommended to go out on a second date. It’s amazing with a 99.99% accuracy rate! That’s how I ended up meeting my husband!

First Date Bait. Why waste your time with awkward first dates?''

DreamCatcher- @jimlingss ♾️Ω

''Words: 13k (oops)

Genre: Fluff & Angst

Summary: When your dreams are more or less nightmares, monsters inside your head that eat you alive, it seems like the only person who can help you is Min Yoongi, professional dream chaser.''

Purr-haps I like you- @taleasnewastime ♾️

''Summary: You have a no pets policy where you live, but when you find a tiny kitten in a box on the side of the road, what can you do but bring it home with you? The only problem? The landlord who made the no pets rule, also happens to be your flatmate.

Pairing: Yoongi x reader

Genre: pure fluff; Flatmates au

Word count: 11.6k''

Wild Strawberries- @yoonia ♾️☻

''➤ Character / Genre: Min Yoongi x reader/female OC (told through Yoongi’s POV) | Lucid Dream!au, fluff, smut''

first love- @jungnoir Ω♾️

''⇢ summary: yoongi meets you, seated next to him at a familiar brown piano, and he steals you away hours before your wedding day, seated next to him at a familiar brown piano + yoongi’s been in love with you since childhood and he only has the courage to tell you when you’re about to marry someone else.

⇢ relationship: min yoongi/reader.

⇢ genre: best friend!au, angst, romance.

⇢ words: 5.6k''

strike a chord- @snackhobi ♾️☻¶

''pairing: yoongi x reader // word count: 15.8k // genre: smut

summary: your idea of a good night certainly doesn't involve being stood up by yet another blind date and finding yourself alone in a fancy bar; fortunately for you, there's an attractive man playing the piano to keep you busy, instead.''

Anyone But The Groom- @yoonjinkooked ♾️Ω☻

''❅ Summary: After a meet-cute that brings all the romcoms to shame, you realize that for once in your life, the stars have finally aligned and presented you a guy that might be able to make you believe in love at first sight. Only to find out that you’re in charge of planning his Christmas Eve Wedding.

❅ Pairing: Yoongi x female reader

❅ AU: Wedding Planner reader x Arranged Marriage groom Yoongi

❅ Genre: fluff, angst, smut, slow burn, will-they-won’t-they type of relationship

❅ Word Count: 36.5k (I AM SO SORRY)''

Not Even a Mouse- @softyoongiionly ♾️☻¶

''Summary: The week before Christmas, you are tasked with delivering some paperwork to your father’s former business partner in order to secure your ownership of their legendary toy store. However, things don’t go as planned and a sudden blizzard keeps you cooped up inside the tiniest town you’ve ever seen, Snow Falls. You keep telling yourself that it’s the weather that’s keeping you here, but after a visit to Min’s Mini Mart, you aren’t so sure anymore…

Pairing: Single Dad! Yoongi x Reader

Genre: Romance, FLUFF, Smut (18+ only please)''

All I Want for Christmas (ft. Yoongi)- @hayjeon ♾️Ω

''→ singledad, CEO!yoongi x secretary!reader→ 13k words''

ceo!yoongi- @jungshookz ♾️☻☼ ¶

''→ pairing: min yoongi x reader

→ genre: ceo!au, clumsy!y/n because that’s always nice, jimin is ur best friend, floofy fluff, a touch of nsfw aka office sex

→ wordcount: 21k+ so u should probably read this using ur laptop and not ur phone''

first love | myg- @lavienjin ☻Ω

''synopsis: After an incredibly long day, Yoongi found you crying in the copy room. Though he doesn’t talk much, you’ve always found his presence comforting, and it didn’t surprise you when he stayed and listen to you vent. However, while you sought comfort in his embrace, he proposed a special offer to reduce your stress with the magic of his hands. The only catch to your arrangement? You couldn’t fall in love.

But wouldn’t you know it, just as your friendship deepens into something more, you find an old notebook sitting on his bookshelf, and in it, a collection of poems. The last entry has you reeling because it’s addressed to you. And in that page, a single line is written: Without you, I am nothing

pairing: yoongi x reader

wc: 11.3k

genre/rating/au: 18+ | fwb, coworkers, f2l au | smut, angst

warnings: unprotected sex, fingering, semi public sex, multiple smut scenes, multiple orgasms, oral (m. & f. receiving), masturbation, exhibition, lots of feelings. like a lot of feelings :(''

A Boy Like You | Yoongi- @cinnaminsvga ♾️¶

''→ summary: for whenever you are feeling low, always remember that there is a boy you know who would lift the sky for you.

{or alternatively: Min Yoongi loves you, though he never says it. He’s always been a firm believer in that actions speak louder than any words ever could.}

→ genre: coworker!au, f2l, fluff''

when the stars align- @itskimtaehyung ♾️Ω

''Pairing: Min Yoongi x Reader

Genre: FakeDating!AU with a hint of roommates (well actually more like apartment-mates but roommates is catchier), College!AU, fluff, angst

Word count: 10.5k

Content/Warnings: Mentions of heavy drinking, drug usage, strong language, but also cute things like adopting a dog together

Summary: With cuffing season approaching its end, you thought you had escaped the pressures of finding a boyfriend for the holidays. That is, until your friends set you up on a blind date that goes horribly wrong. This prompts you to enlist the help of your roommate, Yoongi, to fake a relationship so your friends will stop meddling in your love life. And it turns out Yoongi is a lot better at this romance thing than you originally thought…''

p.o.v | myg- @jtrbluv ♾️Ω

''summary: you were eight when you first met your soulmate. then you were eighteen when you realized that the boy who just got hired at the local record store next door, is also your soulmate. the issue at hand: you are the only one that knows.

pairing: yoongi x reader (fem)

genre: fluff, angst, soulmate!au, redstringoffate!au, college!au, high school!au

word count: 17.9k''

Yoongi is a Rock- @yoongsisbae ♾️Ω ¶

''rock!Yoongi x reader :D fluff a bit of angst a lot of silliness

Word Count 1.3k''

android!yoongi- @jungshookz♾️Ω☻☼ ¶

''→ pairing: min yoongi x reader

→ genre: android!au becauSe for some reason android aus are popping up everywhere, the usual heaping serving of fluff and comedy, N S F W like reALLY nsfw i poPPED OFF this time i don’t know even know what happened,,, forgive me god for i have sinned, a n g s t, i definitely teared up a little writing this because i was listening to kim bum soo’s i miss you and it made me 100x more emo

→ trigger warnings: this does get a little intense! beware!!

→ wordcount: 24k like that bruno mars song''

you’re so concerned about the ending that you don’t even know the plot- @joonsgalaxy ♾️☼

''° yoongi x reader x taehyung

° 1.9 k words ° fluff/humour

🌟 you bring your broken laptop to Tae—the IT specialist—who you have a crush on. you drag your bff Yoongi along with you, who—you’re certain—has a crush on Tae too. what a mess, right? well, the thing is, you never even considered the possibility of your assumptions being totally wrong.''

better place- @cupofteaguk ♾️

''summary: you might be in love with childhood best friend Min Yoongi, and he might be in love with you—and everyone seems to know it. except for the two of you.

pairing: yoongi x fem!reader

genre: hogwarts au, friends to lovers au | fluff

warnings: slow burn, alcohol consumption, truly lowkey an idiots to lovers au word count: 14k''

something to hold on to- @fantasybangtan ♾️Ω ¶

''❦ word count. 17.7k ❦ genre. parent fic, fluff, angst, a bit of boob action ❦ warnings. illness, mention of hospitalisation, mention of minor character death, yoongi is kind of a dick sometimes, accidental(?) flashing ❦ summary. it’s not that you don’t like your job. on the contrary, reading bedtime stories to a certified little princess is something you still can’t believe you get paid to do. it’s just that between all the school runs, snow days and secret second hot chocolates before bed, you may fallen a little too hard for those dimpled cheeks and gummy smiles…. worse still, you’ve fallen for her father too.''

the proposal- @dreamescapeswriting ♾️Ω☻

''WORD COUNT: 35K (No its not missing a decimal point)

PAIRING: CEO!Yoongi x Assistant!Reader

GENRE: Smut, enemies to lovers, CEO x Assistant, fake marriage, angst, movie inspired, slow burn''

basketballcaptain!yoongi- @jungshookz ♾️☻☼ ¶

''→ pairing: min yoongi x reader

→ genre: basketball captain x water girl, cheesy cheesy stuff, the FLUFFIEST fluff, jungoo is an idiot, humour, nSFW = smut, cocky yoongi, spoiler alert yoongi does a body shot off of u it just be like that sometimes

→ wordcount: 18.4k this will definitely make the app crash as per usual don’t come for me''

Hug-o-gram- @cinnaminsvga ♾️☼ ¶

''→ summary:

“This is probably the dumbest idea you’ve ever had,” Yoongi hisses, but it’s kind of hard for Seokjin to take him seriously when he’s wearing a cardboard sign around his neck that says ‘Huggie Wuggie Machine!’ in bubble font.

“Like, even worse than when we DIY’d your car into a convertible by sawing the top off?” Seokjin asks, genuinely curious.

“Worse,” Yoongi admits, trying his best to stay out of your line of sight. His cheeks redden, matching the gaudy pink kitten ears he was forced into wearing.

{or alternatively: Seokjin is a terrible wingman. He also runs a profitable business by sending hugs to people’s crushes for a fee. Mix them together and you have a recipe for Min Yoongi’s worst nightmare.}

→ genre: college!au, hugging booth!au,fluff, humor → warnings: yoongi is so smitten that he’s a walking disaster, so much shy!yoongi to the point where you’ll want to scream, seokjin just tryna get his homie some y/n love coochie bro ;o; → words: 13.3K''

I Wanna Hold Your Hand- @minisugakoobies ♾️

''Pairing: Yoongi x Reader (Gender Neutral)

Genre: friends to lovers, idiots to lovers, fluff, Roommates!AU

Rating: T

Warnings: pining, a lil’ smooching, Yoongi is very persuasive, reader is easily duped, it’s as fluffy as freshly fallen snow

Word Count: 1.4K

Disclaimers: None, other than obviously I don’t own BTS - they simply inspire me

Summary: It’s hand-holding season, according to your roommate.''

subtle- @joonary ♾️Ω

''↳ summary: just another memory added to the long list of drunk memories that you’ll forget but wish you’d remember, while yoongi will remember but wish he could forget.

↳ genre: fluff; light angst; friends (?) to lovers (?); min yoongi x reader

↳ rating: pg-13

↳ warnings: swearing, alcohol consumption, and yoongi’s soft spots being exposed to the light of day. yknow, just another joonary fic.

↳ word count: 3.5k''

Hobi's Girl- @jjungkookislife Ω☻

''↬ pairing: f. reader x Hoseok, f. reader x Yoongi

↬ genre: smut [18+], angst

↬ summary: Yoongi had a wonderful night with you… but you’re Hobi’s girl.

↬ wc: 4.8k''

The King Isn’t Dead- @another-army-spot ♾️Ω☻

''Pairing: Yoongi x oc (fem)

Rating: M

Word: 19.7k~ (my finger slipped?)

Genre: historical fic, smut, romance, fluff, angst, political upheaval shit

Summary: After the invasion and the King’s miraculous survival, the nation aims to secure stability and his position of power through the prospect of marriage and continuing the Min line. As a promise to your brother on the battlefield, the King promises to consider you as his potential wife - to love and to protect. Or maybe it’ll be the other way around?''

the landlord- @ppersonna ☻

''↳ summary- your air conditioner breaks right at the height of a recordbreaking heat wave. good thing your hot landlord, yoongi, knows how to attend to any needs you may have.

↳ rating- explicit / 18+

↳ word count- 4.3k

↳ pairing- yoongi x reader

↳ genre- smut, light crack, PWP''

CYBERSEX- @gimmethatagustd ♾️☻☼

''The whole point of being a phone sex hotline operator is that you’ll never have to meet your clients. So what are you supposed to do when you find out your favorite client is your brother’s best friend?

» pairing: yoongi x fem!reader

» wc/date: 14.6k | July 2022

Jung Hoseok

hot rod- @kinktae ♾️☻

''a 1950′s inspired fic where greaser Hoseok can’t keep his eyes, or hands, off the new waitress at his and his boys’ favorite diner.

pairing: greaser!hoseok x reader

word count: 10k

genre: 1950s au, smut, fluff''

Kim Namjoon

The Bodyguard- @rmnamjoons ♾️☻Ω

''➳ summary: You’re the daughter of the ambassador to a small, peaceful, barely-on-the-map country in Western Europe, working as a diplomat to help your mother with her endless meetings and politics. After a kidnapping attempt gone wrong, you and your protective bodyguard Namjoon are on the run across Europe, jumping from trains, stealing cars, and pretending to be a couple on your honeymoon to stay hidden. As the would-be kidnappers close in, Namjoon promises you that he’s going to keep you safe, no matter the cost.

➳ pairing: bodyguard!Namjoon x reader

➳ genre: bodyguard au, romance, smut, fake dating/fake marriage, road trip (kinda), very slight angst

➳ word count: 62.9k – this is a complete, VERY long oneshot''

Show Me How- @imaginationofacrazyfangirl ☻ ¶

''Summary:You swiped right on a nerd, instead you got a Greek God. Or tired of your virginity, you decide to throw caution to the wind and find a hook up on tinder.

— PAIRING: Namjoon x f!reader

— GENRE: smut. 18+ minors dni.''

I'll continue in a pt.2

(tumblr doesn't let me write more lmao)

983 notes · View notes

i-hate-accidents · 28 days

Text

i hate accidents: the beginning

femme!reader x benedict bridgerton, femme!reader & the bridgerton family, femme!reader & penelope featherington

summary: the adventures of a working class femme who befriends a fellow writer, a boisterous family, and a bewitching second eldest son

sections: I. the beginning / II. the between / III. the ball

y/n: bipoc, she/her, afab, nonbinary femme, queer, working class, of immigrant parents

content warnings: classism, mentions of financial survival, microaggressive sexism, microaggressive gender assumption, positive/supportive families, allusions to alcohol abuse in [I.viii]

word count: 13.9k (of 38.8k)

story context: everything in s1 and s2 of the tv series is canon for this story except for the s2 epilogue with the bridgertons. this story takes place leading up to and into the 1815 season.

additional notes: this story is incomplete. scenes that are not written are described in chevrons <> with third person pov or are delineated by isolated ellipses. additionally, the author has only watched s2! she has not watched any of s1 aside from clips, and they have not read the books aside from quotes used in edits. they have not yet watched queen charlotte. the author kinda knows the gist of an offer from a gentleman; they are familiar with sophie beckett (and are excited to meet her/them in the tv series!).

author’s note: this is the first time the author has written fanfic in 13-15 years. :) it is her hope that they have made some progress since her pre/teens. additionally, this fanfic has been written, on and off, over the course of two years. the author sincerely hopes you find some sort of joy in it, especially the readers who maybe hope to see themself a little more specifically in the world we so love.

reading tip: whilst the author is proud of it, she understands the intro to the first section is long. if you wish to get more straight to y/n and benedict's story, the author suggests jumping to [I.ii]. they won't be offended that you did heh.

𝄆 ⚘ ✸ I.i ✸ ⚘ 𝄇

you do not know how you got here.

well, that is not true; you quite literally walked from the markets and followed the directions that penelope had given you, but you did not think those directions would lead you here.

this is a mistake. i must have taken a wrong turn, gone up instead of down, made a left when i should’ve taken a right.

or perhaps this is a dream? yes! that has to be it! a dream! i must have lulled off and dreamt myself here, for whatever reason. once i close my eyes and open them again, surely i will be at home, or the markets, or the workshop even. surely!

so, you close your eyes shut.

you had been walking about the markets on your non-work day, some weeks ago, browsing the wares you wouldn’t (and couldn’t) buy, eavesdropping on any conversation of intrigue, observing the bustle of the crowd going about their day, mindlessly thinking of the next thing to write, daydreaming—when you had collided with someone. they had let out a squeak, their materials flying out of their hands, as you had fallen on your back, thankfully not hitting your head. in your periphery, you had seen how the person had crawled to your side and looked at you with urgency and concern.

“i am so sorry!” their voice was pretty. sweet and lovely. you lifted yourself up a bit to see the person you had collided with. they were also pretty— beautiful, red-haired, and hooded in blue.

their eyes widened.

“er, i meant,” they spoke again, but this time with an— irish accent? their voice was still sweet and lovely but very distinctly irish and distinctly different from their voice mere moments before. “are you hurt?”

“i am all right, thank you.”

“very well,” they said, still in their irish accent, “then i must be going—” and they shot themself up and turned, you assumed, to run away.

“wait! you’re a writer, yes?”

as you had hoped, the person in blue froze. they slowly turned to you again, apprehension and intrigue in their eyes.

“how do you know?” their voice was mangled between their two accents.

“unless you pluck birds for fun,” you stated as you collected the scattered materials they had dropped in the collision, “these are quills.”

you stood up, approached them, and held out their quills to take, offering a smile. the stranger took the quills and put them in their bag. they returned their eyes to you and returned your smile.

“thank you,” they responded in their english accent.

“i know how precious those are, so i am very glad to see they won’t go to waste. well, they wouldn’t have gone to waste either way; i would’ve taken them if you hadn’t turned around.”

that caused the person in blue to laugh.

“i assume you are a writer?” they inquired.

you don’t know what had overcome you; you don’t know why you had been so trusting of this stranger, especially with something such as your writing, but you had been. you reached for your then most recent, folded up quarto, kept between your bosom and your blouse, and offered it to the stranger to read. they took it, shifted their eyes from line to line, turned it to read the crossed lines, and then looked up at you, beaming.

“this is brilliant!— oh, forgive me; i did not even ask for your name.”

“y/n,” you extended your hand. “and you?”

the stranger seemed to stiffen but quickly relaxed themself, taking your hand in theirs and shaking them. they beamed still, but something of their smile had grown quietly mischievous.

“can you keep a secret?”

when you open your eyes, you huff out a breath in a poor attempt to assuage yourself from the reality of your situation: you are not dreaming. here you are—you—at grosvenor square.

you knew of your friend’s circumstances as she had shared it: she is a noble lady, a third sister of the featherington family, who has been writing scandal sheets of high society’s romps and happenings since her ‘debut,’ as she had put it (you hadn’t understood how she had used that word and became further confused upon her explanation of it), under a pseudonym called lady whistledown. penelope has been kind enough to let you read her sheets, and you find it ridiculous what these high society persons do for their lives and utterly brilliant with what wit, snark, and compassion even penelope commentates on that world.

but you did not ever, ever think that she would bring you to it, let alone into it. when penelope had said that you were to meet her most beloved friend, you had thought it would be in an obscure alley or a room hidden behind a bookcase in an unassuming shop—not the literal neighborhood in which she, and presumably her friend, lives! by your posture, by your clothes, by your very existence, it is blatant how much you do not belong here.

i should run. i am going to run.

and so you turn and start—

“y/n!”

—when you hear the sweet voice of your friend. you scrunch your eyes closed, inhaling and exhaling through your nose, and turn around and see penelope in a picturesque green dress, lifting up her skirt with gloved hands, scurrying down the pavement of her neighborhood towards you, beaming. despite the anxiety that rages within you at this very moment, your heart swells upon seeing your friend in such enthusiastic spirits, and you smile despite yourself.

“good day, pen.”

she takes hold of your bare hands in her gloved ones and gives them a squeeze. perhaps she can discern your nerves because you start to feel yourself calm ever so slightly by her gesture.

“i am so glad you are here,” she says.

“i am—— glad to see you,” you then lower your voice. you do not know why; it is not as if your lowered voice will help conceal your existence in this place. “are you certain i am permitted to be here?”

letting go of your hands, penelope swats at the question.

“the bridgertons and i care not about such things.”

“the— bridgertons?”

“yes!” she turns and gestures to the grand brick house with wisterias. “it is at their home, after all, in which we will be spending our time together.”

your jaw drops.

“we are staying inside the house? not simply meeting outside the house?”

this is not a dream. this is a nightmare.

penelope returns her eyes to yours, and it startles you with what tenderness she gazes at you.

“i understand that you are fearful, y/n. i had presumed you would not have come if you had known we would be here. but i would not have led you to bridgerton house if i did not think you would be safe here. the bridgertons are the most inviting, kindly family of the ton— of high society,” she amends upon seeing your confusion at the word ‘ton.’ their name for their world, it seems. “eloise has assured me that we shall be in her bedchamber for the entirety of our time together. and if you wish to leave, for any reason, at any point, i shall accompany you, and we shall leave together.”

with closed eyes you heave a sigh through your nose. you flutter your eyes open and offer penelope a weak, but sincere, smile.

“very well.”

penelope squeaks in excitement, taking hold of your hand once more, giving it another squeeze of encouragement, and leads you towards this bridgerton house as she so called it. she raps at the stately door thrice with great eagerness, seeming to knock in perfect tandem with your beating-too-quickly heart.

an elderly man opens the door, about to greet penelope and her guest, when a young femme shoves herself through the opening.

“thank you, giles!” she calls out as if the man is across the road and then looks at you, ferocity in her eyes. it ought to unnerve you, the whirlwind force of this stranger, but it doesn’t. you just return her gaze with a large, albeit a bit bemused, smile.

“penelope has shared so much about you,” the stranger states and takes hold of your hand. “let us get inside!” and yanks you into the house. she turns, looking straight ahead, and barrels forward, pulling you with her.

as the fiery femme seems to soliloquize excitedly to herself, you look back at penelope who merely wears an amused smile at her friend’s antics as she follows behind.

“oh!” the femme exclaims suddenly. she halts you both and sharply turns to you, still gripping your hand, grinning. “my name is eloise. eloise bridgerton.”

“y/n y/l/n.”

“excellent. now! with introductions all sorted—”

and she turns and barrels you both right, rather than heading straight ahead to the grand staircase as you had presumed she would.

“eloise—” eloise’s fervency had provided a reprieve to your anxiety, but the confusion in penelope’s voice puts you back ill at ease, “where are you—”

“it’ll take just a moment, worry not, pen!”

eloise leads you down a hall, noises and voices of all sorts coming from an entrance to a room, growing louder and louder as you approach until they reach the peaks of their volume as eloise halts you both once more, to your mortification, at the entrance of that very room.

“family, penelope, y/n, and i shall be in my bedchamber. we have much to discuss. please do not bother us,” eloise proudly announces to the entirety of the room.

silence falls. all eyes—and there are many eyes—are on you.

oh, my god.

you turn to penelope. her overall manner is calm and composed, but you can see the disquiet in her eyes. she peers into you, the apologetic look conveying, i did not know this would happen.

you turn back to the family.

a lady. a lady of older age. two gentlemen with a difference in age. a boy. a girl, the youngest amongst them.

how is it with a house this massive in the middle of the city that the entire family is present in this one room? well, the room is the size of the two floors of your home combined, if not larger, so in that sense it is sound—but your question still stands.

this has to be the entire family. surely. there are so many of them. this has to be the entire family. yes?

“no talking, no music playing, no fighting?” inquires a droll voice walking into the room, “has someone—”

you turn your head to follow the source of the voice and make contact with dumbfounded ocean eyes.

butterflies flutter in your stomach.

oh.

shit.

“y/n, this is my second eldest brother, benedict bridgerton,” eloise states. “benedict, this is my friend, y/n y/l/n. do not bother us once we are in my bedchamber.”

he stares and blinks at you but then assumes a gentlemanly posture and bows his head.

“it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, miss y/l/n.”

without any forethought you start to extend a hand to benedict until you hear penelope give a slight cough only you, she, eloise, and he can hear. receiving the hint, you retract your hand and pretend to swat at your skirt.

“err— yes. likewise.”

another cough.

“mis, ter?— brid… ger?—ton,” you articulate with complete and utter uncertainty of how this world’s introductions function.

he cocks his head and furrows his eyebrows at you, something like amusement playing at his features. he wears a lopsided smile that he is barely attempting to conceal. his expression should be infuriating. and it is. but, it is... charming, too. and welcomed.

you have never felt more embarrassed or more pleased in your life.

shit.

“before the three of you retreat to eloise’s bedchamber,” declares an authoritative voice, breaking your reverie. you turn away from ocean eyes and see the lady of the room approaching you. much to your surprise, she smiles. to an even greater surprise, her smile seems sincere. “i must insist that i introduce myself and the rest of the family to our guest.

“i am viscountess kathani sharma bridgerton, the lady of this house,” she curtsies with perfect elegance. “it is a delight to welcome you to our home, miss y/l/n.”

“thank you for having me— lady bridgerton. and you may call me ‘y/n.’ you need not use such, uh, formalities with me.”

“very well; then you may call me ‘kate.’”

you furrow your eyebrows. she had introduced herself as ‘kathani’ but now asks you to call her ‘kate.’ it makes you think of mama and papa; they shared with you once how they had chosen to go by different names upon emigrating to england. when you had asked why, they simply replied that it would be easier for others in this country to address them.

“may i call you ‘kathani’ instead?”

surprise flashes over the dignified demeanor of the viscountess. she regards you with softness in her eyes.

“yes. yes, you may.”

resuming her full composure, kathani guides you to the eldest of the gentlemen and introduces him as her husband, viscount anthony bridgerton, the lord of the house. he offers you a small smile with a bow of his head and greets you ‘good day.’ you try not to wince at his decorous use of ‘miss’ with your first name, but you suppose it is merely in these people’s natures.

kathani continues and leads you to the lady of older age, introducing her as dowager viscountess violet bridgerton. she dips into a lovely curtsy and, on her rise, gazes upon you with a gentle smile. you feel compelled to respond in kind, but it would certainly not be as graceful as hers, and worse, she may interpret your slovenly attempt as a lark. so, you refrain.

the viscountess next introduces you to mister colin bridgerton (you summon all your self-restraint to keep your countenance neutral—this is the boy who hurt penelope); then to mister gregory bridgerton (he bows so ceremoniously towards you, you cannot help but be endeared by his resolve); and lastly to miss hyacinth bridgerton.

“why are you dressed like that?” she inquires.

“hyacinth!” the dowager viscountess reprimands. she must be her mother. she sounds like a mother. it reminds you of how your mama reprimanded you and your siblings as little ones; the memory and the exchange make you hold back a laugh.

“what! what did i say wrong?”

you ought to feel self-conscious, your lower standing brought into further display to everyone in the room, but you detect neither malice nor judgment in the young girl’s voice. just genuine curiosity. so, you smile.

“my family and i have different means to clothes, amongst other things. i wear these when i work or go about my day. though,” you regard your attire and then— hyacinth?, feeling the glimmer in your eye, “it makes for running around and playing make-believe quite easy.”

“make-believe! gregory, do you hear that! miss!— miss—“ she turns to you with a cocked head.

“y/n.”

her eyes shine once again.

“miss y/n plays make-believe! we must play!” hyacinth latches onto your hand and, with remarkable strength for a child who cannot be older than two and ten, pulls and drags you towards the entrance of the room. “come along, gregory! wouldn’t want to be the last one there!”

“no fair! you cheated!” the second youngest shouts back, dropping all previous ceremonies, and scrambles towards the entrance.

“hyacinth! y/n is not your playmate! she is here with me and penelope!”

“plans do change, dear sister,” hyacinth retorts. eloise’s jaw drops, and the rest of the family bursts into laughter. the entire exchange warms your heart. in so many ways, they are so proper, so wealthy, and yet they are not all so different from your own family. they seem to really care for one another.

“when did you get so smug!” eloise shoots back.

“small wonder where she could’ve learned that from,” you hear colin, the traitor, murmur. turning your head, you see him give amused, pointed looks to eloise and kathani. the latter grins wickedly, and her husband beams at her with pride.

“there are only so many hours in a day!” hyacinth complains. you face her once more, still holding her hand.

“what about this? i will play with you and your brother for an hour, and then i will be with your sister and penelope for my remaining time here. i want to honor the wishes of each of my new friends.”

hyacinth considers this with much theatricality to her expression. she then grins.

“that is an excellent plan,” she remarks, looking to eloise for her thoughts. you follow her line of sight. eloise rolls her eyes and sighs, but a smile rests on her lips.

“very well, then.”

feeling peace restored, you smile in return and, in doing so, in your periphery, catch the ocean eyes of the second eldest brother. benedict. he is looking at you. why is that? you feel your cheeks flush and the tips of your ears heat. his gaze is somehow gentle and intense and indecipherable all at once, and the flutterings in the pit of your stomach grow, and intensify, and start to overwhelm you—

when you are tugged back to reality with a tug forward.

–

< hyacinth leads y/n through the house to the gardens with gregory by her side. y/n is both uneasy and in awe of the things she sees. eventually, they arrive in the gardens. y/n notices two swings hanging off of a large branch of an old tree and is utterly endeared by the sight; it confirms what she has been thinking: though the bridgertons are wealthy, they are warm and welcoming.

< just as hyacinth declares that she has found a suitable spot for make-believe, two male voices ask if they may join. hyacinth, gregory, and y/n turn and see benedict and colin approaching. colin shares that though y/n seems lovely, it would be unwise of the family to leave the two youngest with a stranger; though y/n agrees with his family’s caution, she refrains from wanting to strangle the person who hurt her friend.

< gregory whines and asks if they can begin before eloise complains. hyacinth agrees and says that they need to assign characters. y/n suggests that hyacinth should be a sorceress and gregory should be a knight; these proposals delight the youngest bridgertons. y/n volunteers herself as the villain and decides to be a banshee; she turns to the elder bridgertons and asks what they wish to be.

< before they have a chance to respond, hyacinth proposes that benedict should be the princess who has been captured. benedict indignantly asks why, and hyacinth simply states because he is the most sensitive of the family. sensing how the sibling argument is about to evolve, y/n intervenes and suggests that, like a sensitive princess, perhaps benedict is merely in tuned with his emotions, even amidst adversity; it is, in its own way, a compliment. benedict’s eyes become indecipherable upon the comment, but he wears a small sincere smile. gregory then proposes that colin is y/n’s changeling henchman.

< make-believe ensues, and it is very sweet and very silly. eventually, gregory is called in for latin tutoring and thanks y/n for the fun with a deep bow; hyacinth is called in for pianoforte lessons. >

hyacinth launches herself at you with a hug. pulling back from the embrace, she beams.

“we must continue when you return next!”

before you can even start to reply, she turns and skips off towards the house. you hear how gregory makes a comment about coming in first, and suddenly the youngest bridgertons are in a race against one another, shouting taunts and insults. you can’t help but smile.

“they seem to quite like you.”

your smile falls. you turn and face towards the two elder bridgertons, the traitor being the one to have spoken.

“colin bridgerton,” you begin, “yes?”

he smiles and nods. you surge forward and shove your finger into his face, his smile now wiped.

“if you ever hurt penelope again, i shall make certain that it is the last time you ever do. do i make myself clear?”

when he does not respond, you repeat yourself, and he slowly then quickly nods. satisfied, you turn towards ocean eyes and point your finger at him.

“and you look after him.”

“what did i do?”

“be a proper elder brother and serve as an example for your misguided sibling. understood?”

“i— yes. of course. understood.”

you smile again.

“wonderful. i am glad we three are in agreement. it was good speaking with you, gentlemen. good day.”

you turn away and start to walk towards the house.

“i quite like her too,” and you hear the restored smile in the third bridgerton’s voice. “what about you, brother?”

you hasten your steps towards the house. though mere moments before you had felt emboldened and brave, you fear hearing benedict’s response. you do not why.

–

< eloise, penelope, and y/n extensively discuss literature and writing; upon talking about women writers, y/n shares how she does not fully see herself as just a woman. >

“so, what are you?”

you wince. you have kept good on your promise and joined eloise and penelope in the former’s bedchamber, but you are swiftly wishing you had been able to stay with hyacinth, gregory, colin even, and benedict. you had attempted to explain an aspect of yourself to eloise but not to very much fruit, it seems. you want to hide and escape and run from this place—

“eloise.”

—when penelope comes to your defense.

“what? what is it?”

“perhaps you could have phrased your question with more tact and thoughtfulness.”

eloise looks between the two of you, concern flooding her eyes.

“did i— did i not?”

penelope turns to you.

“are you comfortable to answer?”

“i would prefer that i didn’t.”

you hope that your eyes are sufficient enough to convey the immensity of gratitude that you feel towards penelope in this very moment.

“y/n,” begins eloise, “i did not realize—”

“and what are you three gossiping about?”

you jump, penelope squeaks, and eloise growls a noise of exasperation. turning towards the voice in the doorway, you are visited, once again, by the third and second bridgerton siblings.

“and what makes you think we are gossiping?” demands eloise, “because we are w— people?”

you feel the corners of your mouth tug upward. at least she is trying. wanting to keep the attention on benedict and colin rather than yourself, however, and with genuine curiosity, you cock your head at the two gentlemen.

“do you two always come in a pair?”

“not always,” replies benedict. and he smiles at you, “today is merely a special occasion.”

stupid butterflies.

“speaking of such,” colin proceeds. “kate has requested that the three of you join the family in the drawing room.”

< the five of them make their way to the drawing room. kate shares that, on behalf of the family, she would like to invite both y/n and penelope to dinner. though at first honored to have been invited, upon hearing “dinner,” y/n realizes how late it has become and looks out the window: the sun is halfway set. she apologizes and says that she cannot stay because she resumes work the next day. her latter statement renders some of the people in the room confused, but kathani states how she understands and that y/n is welcomed to join dinner whenever she visits.

< seeing how confused y/n is, anthony shares that y/n is welcomed to visit their home whenever she is able and whenever she would like, and the rest of the family pipes in with how delighted they would be if she does. not knowing how she deserved such kindness from people who were mere strangers at the start of the day, y/n thanks the bridgertons and says that she would love to. penelope chooses to stay for dinner and says that she will see y/n next week. y/n affirms that she, and the bridgertons, will.

< kathani and benedict offer to escort y/n to the entrance. y/n walks down the steps and passes the gate but, before she goes, takes one last look at number five until next week and sees benedict still in the doorway. y/n notices, but reprimands herself for perhaps imagining it, that his smile grows when his eyes lock with hers. with flutterings in her stomach, y/n offers a wave. he gives a small wave back. she turns and goes, smiling all the way home. >

𝄆 ⚘ ✸ I.ii ✸ ⚘ 𝄇

“benedict has been making more appearances as of late,” penelope remarks.

the three of you all look up—you and pen from your writing, eloise from her reading—to see benedict entering through the doors and heading towards the other side of the drawing room. he looks over at you— at you all and offers a smile before he plops himself down onto a chaise and begins to draw.

“yes, it is strange,” eloise considers to the two of you. “for so long he had been moping about, locked away in his bedchamber aside from mealtime or the occasional visit to the drawing room. he’s even picked up his charcoal again.”

“again?” you inquire, averting your gaze from the artist to your friend. “had he stopped prior?”

“he had entirely put it down after—” eloise sighs. whatever memory she has recounted, it does not seem to be a pleasant one. you look to penelope; you sense that she shares a similar sentiment by the sad look in her eyes. you are curious but you choose not to press.

“it has been quite some time since he’s last drawn. but now, whenever i see him, whether in his bedchamber or the billiards room or some other room in the house, he’s drawing. he frequently arrives to mealtime with charcoal stained fingers—much to the chagrin of mama and anthony.”

you all laugh. benedict looks up at you three, and from here you can tell he wears a curious expression, no doubt wondering what you are laughing about. when he exaggeratedly arches an eyebrow, eloise just makes a face at him. benedict rolls his eyes, smiling, and for the briefest moment, you feel as though he is looking at you. but you’ve always had an active imagination. when you blink, he has returned to his drawing, a smile still on his lips.

“i wonder what has changed?” eloise softly says, still looking at benedict. for all her fire and spirit, you see how deeply she cares for her second eldest brother.

“perhaps he has found a muse,” penelope poses rather than queries. you shift your gaze from eloise to penelope, and you’re curious about her expression. she seems... delighted? benedict finding his passion for art again does sound delightful; you know firsthand how difficult it is to pick yourself up from a slump. but that’s not what she seems delighted by. she just looks at you. with a soft smile. why? what does benedict have anything to do with you?

you feel your cheeks and the tips of your ears flood with warmth. you don’t know why, but penelope’s expression unnerves you, in a pleasant sensational way.

you clear your throat.

“i am happy for him,” you say, returning to your quill and folded quarto, haphazardly writing down whatever words come to your mind.

ocean. charcoal. smile. flutters.

shit.

it is not until what feels like an uncharacteristically long moment later that you hear penelope resume her writing and eloise resume her reading. you try not to imagine what they could have silently exchanged with your gaze averted.

𝄆 ⚘ ✸ I.iii ✸ ⚘ 𝄇

you suck in a sharp breath and shoot out of your seat.

“you do not!” you shriek, hastening towards kathani, eloise, and the stack of books they have just settled onto the table. you had arrived early to the bridgertons’ home, at the invitation of kathani, so early that the rest of the family seems not yet to be awake.

(which is strange, you find, as it is nearing 8 o’clock. most mornings, at this time, you are already well into the bustle of work.)

kathani had prefaced, rather enigmatically, that she and eloise had a surprise they wished to share with you. you had your suspicions as to what it could be related to, and with each passing moment, you are suspecting, very excitingly!, that you are very correct.

“indeed, we do,” kathani grins and gestures to the stacks.

taking no hesitation to the offer, you grab from the top of a stack and open to the title page.

the dramatic works of william shakespeare. vol. 2: a midsummer night’s dream / the merry wives of windsor / much ado about nothing.

you shriek again, this time accompanied with hops of excitement, flipping to the final third of the book.

“much ado! this is the one i’ve read!”

dorothea, a fruit seller, had offered a copy of it to you (at a lowered price, she had emphasized) when she had learned of your liking to stories. she grandly stated that she had started to write down the dialogue during low-attendance performances at the theater and then brought her handiwork to be typed and printed at a not-to-be-named press. but if the pages’ handwritten annotations alluded to anything, you suspected that she had managed to purloin a performer’s copy of the script. you felt a bit of pity for the poor performer who misplaced it, but you respected, and still respect!, dorothea’s moonlighting.

you shoot your head up from the book and are greeted by the grins of your two friends. “which one has romeo and juliet?”

this past autumn you had overheard several candlemakers at the markets animatedly discussing the ‘incandescent’ portrayal of the titular character by an actress from ireland. a performance, described as ‘incandescent’ by candlemakers! embodied by a storyteller who has emigrated here! hearing all those wondrous things made you insatiably curious to one day read the text that made such wondrous things happen.

“i believe,” eloise says, pulling the second from the bottom of a stack, “it is this one.”

you twitch your fingers; you have to refrain yourself from snatching the book from your friend’s hand. when it is in yours, you open to the title page and feel your eyes, along with your smile, widen.

“it is, it is! oh, this is extraordinary!” you flip furiously to your desired page and, once you find it, start to read,

prologue. two households—

—when you hear kathani say, “we had thought of starting with that one.”

that makes you rip your eyes away from the words and look up at the two ladies.

“‘starting with’?”

“when eloise, penelope, and i learned of your eagerness to read shakespeare,” elaborates kathani. her saying that makes you flush; you had not realized with what apparent enthusiasm you had spoken of the poet. “the three of us had discussed that the four of us could read his plays together. if you would like, of course.”

your jaw drops. you cannot help the squeal that emits from your mouth. hopping once again in your excitement, you throw yourself at your friends and wrap your arms around them both.

“if i would like! i would be delighted!”

you pull back from your hug with the two ladies and are greeted by gleaming eyes and wide grins. you feel how your expression matches theirs. it has only been a little over a month of your friendship with eloise and kathani, and the rest of the bridgertons at number five, but they each have somehow found a way to carve themselves out in your heart. and if this most recent kindness by eloise and kathani indicates anything, perhaps you have found a way to carve yourself out in each of theirs.

(and you promptly ignore the thought of what that could possibly mean for ocean eyes and charcoal-stained hands, flutterings within you be damned.)

“how shall we allocate the book?” you say aloud out of genuine inquiry and a deep desire to revert your heart, mind elsewhere. “shall we read passages aloud and then pass it on to the next reader?”

< eloise makes a remark that indicates her confusion at y/n’s question. kathani, who is more privy to the situation, shares how she has her own copy as do eloise and penelope. the stack that they’ve brought is an extra set that the bridgerton house has that y/n can use. this perplexes y/n. she cannot understand how a household can have multiple copies of a book, let alone copies of a whole anthology of many books. before y/n can doom-spiral into thinking, penelope arrives at the entrance of the drawing room. reading of romeo and juliet commences.

< just as y/n finishes reading the scene in which romeo and juliet meet for the first time at the capulet ball and then kiss, y/n notices in her periphery benedict approaching the four. kathani remarks how unusually early he is to be awake and ready for the day; y/n notes to herself how there seems to be some sort of mischief in the viscountess’s smile. >

𝄆 ⚘ ✸ I.iv ✸ ⚘ 𝄇

“i shall be y/n’s teacher,” the viscount declares.

“you were adamant on her not fencing, and now you are insistent on being her teacher?”

“it would be hardly appropriate, colin, for two young unmarried men to be in such close proximity to a young unmarried lady, as proximity of teacher and student in fencing would require.”

“are you always this— antiquated?” you inquire.

that earns a snort from kathani. anthony, looking betrayed, turns to his wife; she merely shrugs in reply, mirth shining in her eyes. he turns back to you, eyebrows deeply furrowed and mouth fully frowning.

“and what do you insinuate by that!”

“are you so distrustful of your own brothers, the ones for whom you have served, and still serve, as a model, that you think they would take advantage of me in such a situation—”

you sense how the eldest bridgerton is about to retaliate and arch a severe eyebrow at him in response; you refuse to be interrupted.

“or are you so unbelieving in persons of feminine dispositions that you think i shall be compromised by the mere closeness of a body different from my own sex?”

there is a silence, and though you cannot see them as you stare down the viscount, you can feel how the others exchange delighted glances with one another and hold back their laughter.

“you have two choices, my lord,” you offer.

“neither of them are suitable! and do not call me ‘my lord’!”

“is that not the proper way to address you?”

“it is, but you—!” he huffs out air through his nostrils, like an indignant dragon in a fairytale; it is a very silly, very amusing sight. “we have not even begun the lesson and you are already the most exasperating student i’ve ever had!”

you turn to colin and benedict, grinning.

“you two must have been saints then.”

“would you expect any less?” colin grins back.

your wide smile remains intact until your eyes fall on the expression of benedict. you are entirely uncertain of what emotion he could be possibly feeling until he seems to realize where he is, and how you are looking at him, and breaks out into a brilliant smile with matching brilliant ocean eyes. you quickly snap your head away from him, ignoring the fluttering of butterflies summoned within you upon the shift in benedict’s expression, and turn to anthony.

“shall we begin, then?”

–

it turns out that you are quite the quick learner when it comes to fencing. after putting on a fencing vest that had previously belonged to benedict—

“because you are the shortest of the three of us, brother,” remarked colin after the second son inquired why it had to be his former vest that you were to wear. benedict scrunched his nose and eyebrows in displeasure. (perhaps you should have taken offense to his opposition, but it was truly of no personal consequence to you and the reaction it created in him was truly adorable.)

“i am not!”

“you are, indeed,” anthony deadpanned.

“prove it!”

and the three eldest sons of the esteemed bridgerton family stood next to one another, comparing their heights. you turned to kathani, eloise, and penelope.

“are they always like this?”

“idiotic?” eloise deadpanned, sounding remarkably like her eldest brother.

“indeed, they are,” grinned kathani.

—over your blouse, you are immediately put to lessons. anthony explains the basic concepts of fencing and then demonstrates elementary strikes and parries, occasionally adjusting your stances to the proper forms. noting how quickly you took to the lessons, he calls for a match between the two of you to observe how you would apply your skills in combat.

“you are retaining information exceptionally well, as well as executing the techniques rather impressively,” states your teacher as you deflect his strike. you try to hide your gladness in his praise as you smirk and push his blade away with the terzo of yours.

“ah, so my sex is not a detriment to my abilities; that is good to know.”

you hear snickers and snorts from around you.

“i said nothing of the sort!”

“did you think it?”

your opponent frowns further, slightly turning his head away from you to steal a glance at his wife. he turns back to you.

“i did,” he admits defeatedly.

“it takes a true man of honor to rise up to his folly,” you remark honestly, as you strike anthony’s arm with the tip of your sabre. loud cheers burst from the onlookers and an aghast but proud look emerges on the countenance of your teacher; you grin, “and a fool to leave his defenses so easily open.”

impressed by your display of sport, and seemingly overcoming his antiquation, at least for the moment, anthony decides that you will match against colin and then benedict.

“how are you to improve if you are to face the same opponent?” claims your teacher with his usual air of annoyance, but you detect his pride in your accomplishment.

it is also decided that the matches will end when one scores a point.

and so, you face colin. it is easy to keep pace with him, not due to lack of skill on his part but complete and utter determination on yours. you tried to convince yourself, in the beginning of your match, that the remnants of your anger towards the third bridgerton brother, and how he treated your friend, did not fuel your determination to score the point— but it did and does. and successfully so, as you strike colin in his left shoulder. perhaps you do it with too much force as the strike reels him off balance (and perhaps you are delighted that it has done so), but he quickly resumes composure and flashes you a grin.

“i see more and more everyday why you and pen are friends.”

that softens your heart. you should be dubious of his charming remark, but you aren’t; it is too sincere, as is he, and you begin to see, even if minutely, why penelope cares for him.

“she has good taste in the company she keeps, i’m learning.”

that makes him laugh, as it does the others, and you look over and see how pen’s countenance shines with joy. that is enough to put your anger towards colin at ease, and turning towards your defeated foe once more, you return his smile and bow your head. bowing his head in kind, colin leaves, and in his place arrives your next and final opponent; he is smiling like a boy.

“best for last?” he remarks as he prepares his starting position. you roll your eyes, ignoring the warmth that starts to fill the center of your chest.

“this shall determine that,” and settled in your starting position, you and benedict begin your duel.

you have observed something of the eldest bridgerton brothers in your matches against them. anthony struck like fire, bombastic and ferocious. colin stood his ground like earth, his guards resolute. and benedict—

benedict moves like water. free. fluid.

as if he is dancing while dueling.

both you and he have reached a stalemate. you have managed to parry every one of his strikes, and he has managed to deflect every one of yours. you can feel how those watching are holding their breaths, waiting for someone to land the point.

you try not to startle when you hear benedict’s voice as you guard against his strike.

“it takes quite an astonishing person to earn the praise of anthony bridgerton.”

“are you so surprised that i am such a person?”

“quite the opposite, y/n,” he catches one of your strikes and grins at you. “i think you are entirely perfect in that regard.”

you roll your eyes once again but cannot help the blush that you feel spread across your cheeks as you push back his sabre with yours.

“do you honestly think charm will win you the point?”

“do you find me charming?” you ignore the heat that creeps up your neck and the voice in your head that has already answered his question far too quickly for your liking. “no, i do not think so lowly of such a formidable foe.”

and he winks at you.

and somehow, without you realizing how you got there, benedict strikes the center of your chest.

“but a little distraction does help.”

his point earns a round of groans and bleats from the crowd. instead of looking offended, benedict just laughs and approaches you, gloved hand outstretched, a boyish smile once again on his face. despite your loss, you cannot help but smile too. you place your gloved hand in his.

“it was a pleasure to duel with you.”

“yes. likewise.”

perhaps you imagine it, but you feel his thumb swipe against the side of your hand. it is featherlight, hardly felt with both your and his hands gloved, but felt nevertheless. before you can process the sensation any further, he lets go of your hand. with another smile, he bows his head at you as the crowd of people approach you both, penelope raving about your matches, eloise expressing her wish to fence now, anthony already commenting on what you could do better in your next match.

and without you realizing it, you gently swipe against the side of your gloved hand.

𝄆 ⚘ ✸ I.v ✸ ⚘ 𝄇

"mama? papa?"

it is a rare occasion when you, mama, papa, and your sibling eat together, and an even rarer occasion to do so for a second meal, but this night was such a night. the three of them halt their conversation and look over to you.

"how did you know you were in love with one another?"

there is a small silence, but then, without looking at one another, they smile in tandem.

"it was at first sight, really, for me,” your papa says as he offers his hand to mama. “as trite as that sounds."

mama takes his hand into hers.

"i as well."

"when i looked into your mama’s eyes, i knew that something was different. that my life had changed."

"for the better, dearest?"

papa laughs heartily.

"no, actually. it has been misery ever since."

you and your family laugh as mama playfully slaps at papa’s hand. it warms your soul every time they do this, when they tease one another and are light because of the other. it makes you believe in love each time.

mama and papa lace their fingers together again, smiling, still gazing at one another. as if it is just the two of them in their own world. mama, turning her smile from papa to you, speaks again.

"the flutterings in my stomach wouldn’t quiet, and they only intensified as we approached closer to one another that day and grew closer to one another with time."

she looks nostalgic until something mischievous quickly overcedes her countenance.

"why do you ask, my dear? has someone captured your eye?"

"or, better yet, your heart?" papa tags along.

ocean eyes and charcoal-stained hands flash by in your mind.

"no!" you say too hastily. "no, of course not. it’s— for one of my writings, is all."

you repeatedly poke at your bit of boiled chicken to avoid any further inquisition from your parents’ gazes.

–

sat by your window, you stare up at the night sky when the voice of your sibling infiltrates your dreaming.

“it’s one of the brothers, isn’t it?”

you whip your head over to them. they don’t even look at you; they are preparing for bed.

“pardon me?”

“is it the artist brother?”

“what!”

fluffing their pillow, they smile.

“so i am correct.”

“i didn’t even say anything!”

“that is not true. you said ‘what.’”

“that reveals nothing!”

pleased with the setting of their bed, they ruin their work by plopping their bottom onto it as they finally face you in what you realize now is a confrontation.

“of course it doesn’t, the word on its own. your reaction, however? could not be more transparent of your feelings.”

“i have no feelings!”

“is that why you asked mama and papa about being in love? because you have no feelings and you need to be told what they are?”

“i!—— i am going to bed!” you lift yourself up from your seat at the window sill, turning away from the peace of the night sky, and crash onto your bed. you lay on your side, faced towards the wall, refusing to make eye contact with your sibling. you lift up your sheet with too much force and lay it over your body and head. “good! night!”

after some silence, you hear the creak of your sibling’s bed and, a moment later, feel a featherlight touch on your upper arm. you give it a thought, and perhaps against your better judgment, you lift off your sheet, turn, and are greeted by the gentlest of expressions from your sibling.

“i think it is wonderful, y/n. whoever it is, they are very blessed to have your affections.”

your heart swells. you love your sibling.

“how did you know it was the artist brother?”

“so i am correct!” they smile with a shrug. “i deduced based on how much you’ve been writing about paint and charcoal as of late.”

you almost shoot upright from your bed.

“you’ve been reading my writing?”

“well, if they weren’t to be read, why do you leave them spread out on the table?”

“because there is no other place to store them!”

“and how good that is, or else i wouldn’t be able to read your fantastical stories or have been able to discover who your beloved is.”

“you are impossible!”

they kneel next to your bed and place their head on your shoulder.

“i love you too.”

you exhale the last of your frustrations, adjusting yourself a bit so that your sibling can rest their head more comfortably. without realizing, you stroke their hair, just as you always have.

“i quite like the story about the mushroom family,” they state after some time. “i’m happy that the middle mushroom child befriends the peony and then the hyacinths. i am happy they are happy.”

you feel your eyes start to drift.

“his name is benedict, by the way.”

you hear your sibling’s need for sleep in their reply.

“that’s a lovely name.”

“he is,” you murmur as the peace of the night falls over you.

𝄆 ⚘ ✸ I.vi ✸ ⚘ 𝄇

“good day!— robert?”

“good day, y/n!” and robert holds the door of bridgerton house open for you to pass.

“pardon the confusion in my greetings—”

“no offense taken on my part!” the late adolescence beams. you grin back. with how utterly enthusiastic robert is all the time, one would think it is part of some ruse. but it is not; he is just that genuinely delighted by life, you’ve observed.

“i am grateful. i had expected to be greeted by giles, is all.”

robert frowns. you feel the corners of your mouth tug downward in response, concern starting to swell your heart.

“he is ill at the moment.”

“ill! with what?”

“i know not. i had admitted the doctor perhaps not even a quarter of an hour ago. but worry not too much, y/n! from what the viscountess has shared with the servants earlier this day, giles shall make a quick recovery. and lady bridgerton has yet to be wrong in anything!”

relief floods your body. giles is of elderly age, so it calms you to hear that his ailment seems not to be too severe. and you can’t help but smile not only by robert’s sunny temperament but also by his rightful faith in kathani.

“that is all good to hear.”

“shall i announce you to the drawing room?”

“oh god no. i am quite all right, but thank you.”

“understood! then i must pardon myself; i must retrieve miss bridgerton and miss featherington.”

“‘retrieve’? are they not in the drawing room?”

“i was informed by dowager lady bridgerton, who was accompanied by miss bridgerton and miss featherington themselves at the time, that they would be in the gardens until your arrival and to retrieve the young misses upon your arrival.”

“i see. well, i shall be in the drawing room then. thank you again, robert.”

“it is my pleasure, y/n!” he beams once more and takes off to complete his task.

how odd, you think to yourself. this day seems rather unusual to the ones you’ve had thus far at bridgerton home. and it is hardly even noon! you become lost in your thoughts as you approach the entrance to the drawing room—

when you are greeted by benedict, and benedict alone, lounging with his legs thrown over the arm of a chair, staring sternly at the page he draws on.

“oh,” is all you say.

benedict snaps his focus from his book to you, his countenance transforming from deep concentration to frustration to genuine surprise in a mere moment. he scrambles up from his seat, book in one hand and charcoal in the other, posture now proper, and he bows his head.

“miss y/l/n.”

never before have you been alone in a room with a man. a gentleman. a gentleman with a handsome face, charcoal-stained hands, and beautiful ocean eyes.

you roll your eyes.

“blimey, it is just me. there is no need to bow. and why are you calling me miss y/l/n?”

benedict smiles.

“all right. y/n.”

shit.

perhaps that was a mistake.

“where has your family gone?” you inquire as you go to sit in the chair parallel to his, ignoring the flutterings within your stomach. “it is uncommon to enter the drawing room of bridgerton house and not be greeted by talking, or music playing, or fighting.”

smiling, benedict falls back into his seat and resumes his drawing.

“hyacinth is with her reading tutor; gregory is with his fencing instructor; colin is eating some sort of pastry, i am certain, in town; anthony and kate are likely— preoccupied—”

you snort; benedict’s smile grows broader as he smudges charcoal with his thumb, a small furrow in his eyebrows now forming.

“and mother has managed to rope eloise into learning about the flowers of the gardens, and eloise, being eloise, has roped penelope into doing the same.”

“and what of you?”

“and what of me?”

“why have you chosen the drawing room as your whereabouts?”

benedict cocks his head towards his drawing.

“it’s in the name of the room, is it not?”

“ah, a man of wit, i see.”

“i am a man of many attributes, y/n.”

ignore the butterflies.

“such as?”

“what attributes would win your favor?”

“so that you may lie to me and say you possess them?”

“of course not; the list is merely too long and i shan’t bore you with a soliloquy.”

“so, a man of thoughtfulness.”

“oh yes, a myriad of thoughts.”

“name one.”

“how much i am enjoying our conversation.”

and benedict shifts his ocean eyes from his drawing to you, a smile on his lips. he is being playful, but you detect no deceit in his expression. it infuriates you, really. how charming he is. how endearing. how sincere.

you return his smile.

“as am i, benedict.”

you sit in comfortable silence a moment more until benedict breaks the gaze, returning his oceans eyes and smile back to his drawing. his smile, however, does not last for very long.

“this sketch, on the contrary—”

and he rips out the paper from his book, crumples it in his hand, and throws it onto the carpet of the floor, giving his deed not another moment’s notice. he puts his charcoal to a new page in the moment next.

your smile falls.

“do you know how much paper costs?” you demand.

benedict looks back up at you with scrunched eyebrows and a smile having returned to his lips. he tilts his head.

“why? should i?” he inquires. nonchalantly. delight in his ocean eyes.

as if you are making a jest.

as if this is amusing. as if this is nothing.

it reminds you of a recent memory.

eloise had generously given you sheets of paper. hitting a stride in your writing and wanting to continue, you had asked, after much internal deliberation, if you could have a ripped half of a quarto upon running out of all negative space on your current one.

“have a foolscap. have a whole lot of them, actually,” she said easily, taking a good chunk of her stack and handing it off to you.

“eloise, are you certain?”

“of course. it is just paper, after all.”

“right. yes— of course. thank you.”

eloise hummed affirmatively in response, returning to her passage, as you stared at the small stack of foolscap in your hand. that amount of paper would have been eight months’ wage, perhaps even more.

a gentle touch of a hand on yours brought you out of your clouding thoughts. you looked over and saw penelope looking at you softly. understanding her unspoken thoughts, you held her hand and gave it a squeeze.

thank you, you mouthed.

"i must be going,” you say aloud. “goodbye, mr. bridgerton.”

you stand, turn, and quickly exit the drawing room.

“y/n. y/n!”

you hear him scuffling up from his lounge and start to follow you. you hasten your steps towards the entrance.

moments before you can open the doors of bridgerton house to the respite of the outside world, you feel benedict take hold of your wrist, stopping you in your steps, and it infuriates you how gently he does it. how you can pull away from his touch if you want to, how you can just go if you choose to. but you do not.

it infuriates you how much you want him to hold you.

you turn to face him.

“please— wait,” he breathes. “what did i do wrong? what have i done to upset you?”

you look at him incredulously. then it dawns on you.

“please. tell me,” benedict practically begs. with such softness in his voice.

it infuriates you.

“i know money is of no concern to you, or your family, or fair ladies and pretty gentlemen. but it is for the rest of us. for the rest of us who have to work to keep the ones we love fed, clothed, warmed, sheltered. that is a fact with which i have been concerned since the very moment i could think for myself. and for you—of the male sex, of pale skin, of inherited riches—it is something to discard onto the carpet of one of your family’s many houses. the paper you threw to the ground would have paid for a month’s worth of warmth for the entirety of my family’s home. and you ask me what you have done to upset me?”

he says nothing. he just looks at you, damned ocean eyes and all. gentle. attentive. like he could care; like he does care.

you feel your nostrils flaring, your blood pounding in every vein of your body. you finally rip your wrist away from his loose hold, already missing his touch.

“i shall take my leave. please give my regards as well as my apologies to eloise and penelope. goodbye, benedict.”

you turn away from him, yank the door open by its handle, and step outside, walking composedly at first, then quickly, then sprinting, then running. to be as far away from number five of grosvenor square as you possibly can be. to be far away from crumpled up paper, charcoal-stained hands, gentle touches, and ocean eyes.

you rub your wrists against your eyes.

stupid bloody tears.

stupid fucking heart.

why am i so afflicted by this? why am i crying? why do i hurt?

because i love—

no.

you cannot fall for him. he is someone you cannot have, cannot want, cannot— cannot…

it cannot happen, the two of you.

and most likely of all, you are not someone he wants. not someone who he would love. not the way you—

you are a fool for getting this far. but these feelings, they will pass. somehow. you will forget them. you will forget him. this is not the fairytales you read, not the fairytales you write. daydreams, hopes, love for a gentleman— there is a reason you are a writer.

you write the things you can never have, the things that will never happen.

you and benedict will never happen.

this is the prayer you tell yourself that evening before sleep takes you. you pretend not to be affected by the tears that afflict you as you do so.

𝄆 ⚘ ✸ I.vii ✸ ⚘ 𝄇

< y/n does not go to number five the next week on her non-work day as she had grown accustomed to. she had tried to write at her table in her home to preoccupy herself, but her teardrops were ruining what she had already written. she considers going to work to distract herself, but y/n knows her unexpected presence would be a detriment to her fellow workers’ established flow of day. she decides to go to the markets to try and get fresh air and a change of scenery and to do anything to interrupt her spiral of thoughts and emotions.

< while at the markets, y/n hears her name called and turns to see penelope in her blue cloak. y/n asks what penelope is doing here, and penelope gently replies that she can ask y/n the same thing. she shares with y/n how, the week prior, after she received news that y/n had left bridgerton house, she left to find y/n in the markets and at her workplace but to no avail.

< their conversation continues. penelope shares how y/n was missed last week; by her, by the family, by benedict. y/n tries to dismiss her words and how the past few months have been a mistake and that she shouldn’t be there with pen or the bridgertons, that she’s not meant to be in their world.

< with patience and empathy and grace, penelope gently encourages y/n to return to bridgerton house next week, and y/n, though her heart aching and reluctant, agrees because she misses them. >

𝄆 ⚘ ✸ I.viii ✸ ⚘ 𝄇

you sigh deeply.

have courage, y/n.

and you rap your knuckles twice against the stately door of number five. a moment later, the door opens, and you are greeted by a beloved grin.

“miss y/n! i have not seen you in weeks!”

you cannot help but smile back.

“good day, giles.”

“oh, where are my manners!” and the elderly doorman bows at you. you huff out a laugh, feeling how your face contorts with distaste.

“blimey, please don’t. i am not a lady, giles.”

“you could’ve fooled me, miss y/n.”

you shoot him a severe look; he merely continues to grin.

“you know of my feelings towards being called ‘miss.’”

“i am getting older; my memory frequently fails me, miss y/n.”

“and yet you’ve recalled how we haven’t seen each other in two weeks.”

“three.”

you grin.

“precisely.”

“well, it was quite the surprise when I fell ill the following week!” then giles frowns. “and it was an even greater surprise to have not seen you when i had returned the week following that.”

you look at the ground, unable to face the inquisition in his sad, kindly look, but when you bring your head back up, you manage a smile.

“it is no matter. i am here now. that is most important, yes?”

the elderly man smiles.

“yes, i suppose you are right, y/n,” and he holds the door open for you to pass.

“aside from bouts with ailment, how have you been, giles?”

“still standing upright, still opening and closing doors,” he beams without a bit of sarcasm. “and what of you? how have you been?”

“i’ve been—— well. and the family?” you say quickly, wanting to move the conversation away from you and your feelings.

“the same as is to be expected. though—”

concern starts to swell in your heart. what has happened in the fortnight you have not been present?

“mister benedict has been absolutely despondent.”

“oh,” is all you say. giles’ gentle joviality transforms into solemnity, and it makes your heart ache even further.

“on the rare occasions i do see him now, he is leaving for the gentleman’s club in the bright light of day and coming home at an ungodly hour, drunk as a wheelbarrow, wreaking of what smells like every available spirit in london. he had stopped dipping rather deep sometime ago, much to my relief, so it was an utter shock to return to my station and to see him back on the cut, and deeply at that,” the elderly man sighs. “i wonder what has happened for him to be so…” he unexpectedly turns to you, his countenance sanguine, “do you happen to know?”

you swallow as you ignore the sensation pooling in the pit of your stomach.

“no, i— i do not.”

“i see. well, whatever it might be, it is clear how much it deeply afflicts him,” and giles offers you a small, sad smile. “you know mister benedict; he has always been the most sensitive of the family.”

i do.

i do know benedict.

you clear your throat.

“do you happen to know where eloise and penelope are at this moment?”

giles cocks his head at you but is kind enough (you thank the heavens) not to press your change of topic.

“the last i had seen them, they had spoken of viewing the art gallery. do you know the way?”

“i am unfamiliar.”

he smiles again, and it makes you smile in return.

“then i am most glad to escort you there.”

–

giles opens the doors to the gallery, and ahead, in front of a portrait, you see the turnings of penelope, eloise, and—

“y/n,” he utters.

“benedict,” you breathe.

and he looks just as surprised as you are.

you look to giles, his eyes wide and mouth agape, and then to eloise and penelope. upon seeing their expressions, you feel your eyes narrow.

“ah, penelope!” shouts eloise. everyone else turns to stare at her. “with y/n’s arrival, i must change out of my, my art gallery viewing dress! and— and, into my... drawing room! sitting— dress...”

eloise scrunches her entire face in displeasure, confused by her own poorly concocted excuse. that does nothing to deter her, however, from clamping onto penelope’s wrist and barreling forward towards the doors of the gallery.

“come along, pen!” she calls out to the friend she is pulling right behind her. as they pass you, eloise gives you a strange and strained smile bearing all teeth, and penelope offers apologetic eyes and an encouraging smile.

giles looks to you, to benedict, and to the two escaping ladies. mouth still agape, all he manages is,

“i suppose— i shall see to that— miss bridgerton and miss featherington arrive to miss bridgerton’s bedchamber... safe—ly…?”

he mouths, i’m sorry!, at you before quickly bowing his head at benedict, fleeing the scene with remarkable speed for an elderly man who has recently recovered from illness, and leaving you at the entrance of the art gallery.

closing your eyes, you deeply inhale through your nostrils as you place your hand to the space between your eye and your temple. on your exhale, you wipe your hand hard against the side of your face and open your eyes, whipping your head to look at the second eldest bridgerton brother. it seems that he has been staring at you this entire time, stupid (stunning) ocean eyes and all.

“would you like to paint a picture?” you snark. “you are the artist in the room, and it would certainly last longer. or perhaps you have run out of paper?”

he does not respond, indecipherable expression unchanging, and it unnerves you how guilty you feel at goading him, at taunting him, and he merely takes it. you sigh again and cross the gallery to where he stands. resisting the urge to look at him again, as you feel his gaze still on you, you instead look at the painting ahead of you.

it is a portrait of a gentleman. with dark chestnut hair and mutton chops. he wears a blue jacket, a darker blue vest, a cream cravat, green breeches, and brown boots. a watch on a ribbon hangs from his vest; it looks familiar. he looks familiar. a benevolent smile rests on his lips.

you look at the plaque at the bottom of the gilded frame.

edmund bridgerton, the 8th viscount bridgerton.

you look back up at the painting, captured by a particular feature.

“you have his eyes.”

“his are gray; mine are blue.”

you roll your eyes but smile despite yourself. (you try to ignore the flutterings that bloom upon hearing his voice again.)

“yes, but that’s not what i was referring to. they peer into you— not with scrutiny, nor judgment, but with kindness, curiosity, compassion. an eagerness to learn about you. pools of welcoming. cool tones that radiate warmth.”

you cough, ripping your eyes away from the portrait to inspect the scuffs of your boots. you feel embarrassment spread throughout your entire body as heat creeps up your neck.

“the painter is excellent at their craft. it is as if i know him, your father.”

silence falls in the expansive gallery, the calm and kind eyes of viscount bridgerton looking down upon you and his second eldest.

“i’ve missed you.”

you snap your head up to look at benedict, your eyes making contact with his ocean ones. welcoming and warm. honest and... hopeful?

i’ve missed you, too.

“benedict, it has only been a fortnight since we saw each other last,” you respond aloud, your voice coming out so much softer than you had intended. you offer him a small smile, an olive branch of sorts. something of relief starts to fill his ocean eyes, but his demeanor does not change.

“i behaved arrogantly, and you did not deserve to be the recipient of such behavior. no one does, and i am so— i am so sorry, y/n.”

and you know he is. you resist the urge to touch his cheek, to comfort him with your caress, to selfishly have your skin touch his. instead, you look on at him.

“i do not ask you to grant me your forgiveness; i know i am unworthy of it. i just— i just wanted you to know how i felt, and feel still. and how i shall work on myself to be better, to do better.”

the butterflies in your stomach flutter maddeningly. you emit an exhale from your nostrils. the urge to touch him intensifies, and you feel yourself flex your hand to let go of the sensation. you huff out another breath, and smile brightly, sincerely, at benedict.

“well,” you begin, “with our friendship renewed, care to show me what other paintings you love in this gallery?”

benedict’s ocean eyes beam with relief and joy, a brilliant smile lighting up his face, and it takes all your self-control not to drop all discretion and wrap your arms around him in a crushing embrace.

“i would love nothing more, y/n,” he declares.

you try not to flutter your eyes closed at the words ‘i,’ ‘love,’ and your name in the same breath from benedict’s lips. at the pleasantness and home you feel in them. you smile on.

“where shall we begin, then?”

you and benedict walk together as he approaches a miniature in a wooden frame ornately carved with floral motifs. he admits that he has not the slightest clue which bridgerton ancestor this is, and that makes you snort. grinning, he points out how adeptly the artist portrayed the translucency and fluidity of the lady’s veil and how particularly impressive it must have been to accomplish such effects in paints during the early 1600s, if the remnant dating of the artist’s signature is correct. you remark how particularly impressive it is that a painting has endured two hundred years of existence, details still intact, and benedict responds simply that rich people have a way. that makes you snort again, and that makes benedict grin again.

he then leads you to a portrait of kathani and anthony, the viscountess sat in a chair with the viscount stood behind. you marvel at the painting—how much it looks like them, how much it captures kathani’s confidence, how much it captures anthony’s conviction, how much it captures their love. excitement coloring his voice, benedict imparts to you how he was given the opportunity to observe and assist the painter on the days the latter was commissioned to portray the viscountess and the viscount. he also shares with you how impossibly difficult they were as models, always giggling and kissing and looking away from the painter and talking to one another, being overall sickeningly saccharine. you chortle and share with him how that does not surprise you in the least bit. despite his annoyance upon recalling the memory, an incredibly fond smile rests on benedict’s lips. turning from his lips back to the painting, you remark how in love they are, and he remarks that, indeed, they very much are—and turns his fond smile from the painting to you.

coughing, you walk over and ask about the landscape of an enormous building. benedict names it as aubrey hall, the ancestral home of the bridgertons. you recall how you had heard of it early on in your friendship with the bridgertons; you had been unable to see them one week as they were preparing for kathani’s first ball as viscountess at the home. you also recall how the usually collected and confident kathani was anxious and uncertain during that time. benedict, beaming with pride, says how, of course, she absolutely excelled and how all of the ton—he rolls his eyes then and you guffaw—enjoyed themselves at the event. while kathani had done an unsurprisingly resplendent job, the ball was not very entertaining to benedict. he much more enjoyed the annual bridgerton game of pall mall leading up to the event. after announcing how kathani had won—much to the contradictory disappointment and delight of her husband—and answering your questions about what sounds, to you, like a very silly, very fun game, benedict suggests that you join them next year. you laugh, finding it impossible to imagine yourself at a home such as aubrey hall, particularly for the entirety of three days, but your heart swells at the invitation and the sincerity in his voice, and you say aloud how you would love nothing more.

your spontaneous tour eventually comes to an end, and the two of you make your way towards the entrance, still discussing the various art you had seen. as you and benedict walk out of the gallery, a thought crosses your mind.

“none of your work is on display.”

you notice how benedict stiffens. you feel your smile tug into a frown.

“ah, yes. i do not think my work is— up to snuff— with the work on display here.”

“horse shit.”

benedict’s jaw drops, his face aghast and regaled in reaction to what you assume is your choice of language. you merely shrug.

“you have not even seen my work!”

“i do not need to see your work when i can already see how harsh you are being.”

he scoffs, and it aggravates you.

“fine— i will show you, then, and prove to you my point.”

“fine, then! show me, and i will prove to you my point!”

–

“you are full of horse shit!”

you and benedict are in his bedchamber, where all his works are hidden away. he has shown you canvas after canvas, sketch after sketch, charcoal drawing after charcoal drawing, his palette of color ideas— and he still has the audacity to say that his work is not “up to snuff” for the bridgerton gallery.

benedict looks aghast again, perhaps by your language, perhaps by what you are (very rightly, very correctly) insisting. he shakes the canvas that he holds in his hand in your face.

“look at the proportions, y/n! they are entirely off!”

you roll your eyes, swatting his arm away, and begin to rummage through his other work. you pull a sheet and hold it up to benedict’s face.

“look at this sketch, then look at the canvas. there is a very clear, marked improvement, and with only a—” you look at the dates at the bottom right corners for confirmation, “—a difference of two days!”

“what does ‘improvement’ mean if the improvement is not even good!”

“it is good! and! improvement is everything, benedict! it is progress!”

“what—”

you and benedict jump back from one another by the sudden new voice. you had not realized how close the two of you were as you were shouting at one another, how close your faces were to one another, how close your lips were to—

a blazing heat creeps up your neck, at the tip of your ears, and across your cheeks as you turn from benedict’s flustered face to the scowl of the eldest bridgerton sibling in the doorway.

“—are the two of you doing?”

“brother! i— i was merely showing y/n my work.”

you vigorously nod your head. anthony’s glare remains unaffected.

“alone? together? in your bedchamber?”

your heart almost leaps out of your chest, your eyes about to bulge out of their sockets as you look around the room, suddenly aware of where you are. you are in benedict’s bedchamber. alone. together.

“i—” you start, very pathetically. “i—— we—”

anthony curtly bows his head at you.

“y/n, i would like to have a word with my brother. in private. please.”

“of— of course, right— of course!”

you hastily put the sketch on a nearby table and walk towards the door, pass anthony as he steps in, and are about to run down the hall and away from the scene when—

you turn and steal a glance at benedict, mustering up all the apologies you can convey through your eyes. despite the peril of his current predicament, his ocean eyes soften immediately, and a thousand butterflies erupt in your stomach and flutter around viciously. he offers you a slight smile, one that is sincere and unregretful. you offer one back, just as sincere, just as unregretful, before anthony gives you another bow of his head and closes the door.

–

“are you pleased by the results of your consorted trickery?” you state blandly upon seeing the young ladies that you thought were your friends sitting in the drawing room.

eloise looks up from her pamphlet, beaming at you, as penelope wears a wide and proud smile. well, at least they have answered your question.

“trickery?” eloise feigns. you roll your eyes; their expressions answer honestly, but their words continue their game. “i have no idea what you are referring to. pen and i were merely keen on viewing the art gallery today, and i thought, my blue-deviled of an elder brother ought to stop moping about; what better to get him to leave his bedchamber than by way of his favorite topic?”

“and his other favorite topic,” penelope adds. eloise chortles, and you feel the tips of your ears heat.

“what is that supposed to mean!”

eloise waves a dismissive hand at you.

“benedict knew nothing of your arrival, as i am sure you deduced by his surprise,” but the second eldest daughter grins wickedly. “though, from the sheer amount of time you have spent together thus far today, i am also sure the surprise was very welcomed, indeed.”

“by both parties, it seems.”

you promptly ignore the flush you feel on the apples of your cheeks. your friends are lucifer incarnate split into two.

“well, then you must be delighted to know that your shared plot has led to punitive action against him.”

that surprises them. (good. you are relieved to finally have some sort of an upperhand in this conversation.)

“‘punitive action’? by whom? for what?”

“by—”

the three of you hear a set of footsteps. you look to where the sounds are heard and see the two eldest bridgerton siblings enter the drawing room, the elder approaching you with conviction and the younger trailing behind him like a pet that has just been reprimanded. the sight would make you laugh, if you weren’t the one to have instigated the current conflict between the two brothers.

anthony stands before you, posture perfect and chin held up high.

“y/n, thank you for your patience. please allow me to apologize most ardently on behalf of my brother for his complete and utter lack of propriety. it will not happen again as i shall be more vigilant in tracking his every deed. i do hope this incident of my brother’s disrespect does not taint the beloved friendship between you and our family.”

and he deeply bows his head at you.

your jaw drops. benedict shuts his eyes tight and scrunches his face. penelope bops her gaze amongst the three of you. and eloise just howls, causing anthony to break the gravitas of his decorum and shoot a glare at her.

“it is no laughing matter, eloise!”

“it is harmless fun, brother! a pursuit of intellect exchanged between two creatives, who also happened to be by themselves. i have never heard of a baby being conceived from sharing some art.”

“ELOISE BRIDGERTON!”

you have now entirely hidden your face behind your hands; no one needs to witness the deep crimson that you are certain is spreading very rapidly across your countenance. an absurd hope also blooms in you that if you cannot see the others, then the others cannot see you.

“what ever is the matter in here?”

your eyes shoot open upon hearing the much needed voice of reason. removing your hands from your face, you see kathani enter the drawing room, a confused expression worn on her face.

“my dearest,” anthony begins, “i have offered my deepest apologies to y/n for benedict’s disgrace.”

“disgrace,” scoffs eloise, crossing her arms.

“disgrace!” reiterates anthony with increased fervor. kathani’s confusion does not lighten. she looks to benedict, whose eyes are scrunched closed again (his nose looks adorable this way), and then to you.

“are you all right, y/n?” she inquires gently.

“i—” you had intended to say, am well, but that would be a lie. you are utterly mortified. so, instead, you state the truth.

“benedict has been a gentleman. he has treated me with the utmost respect, and when he has done wrong by me— which! which has nothing to do with our being in his bedchamber!— he—” you steady your voice, determined to say this right, as you know and feel it with and in your heart, “he has corrected himself and bettered his words and thoughts and deeds.”

“you hear that, brother? no harm has been done.”

“eloise, you were not even there!”

“i believe what eloise means, anbe, is that you are being dramatic.”

“dramat— they were in his bedchamber, kathani! together! alone!”

kathani rolls her eyes, her attempt at diplomacy entirely gone.

“speak louder, anthony; just a bit more and the entire country shall hear you.”

the viscount pouts grumpily at his beloved, emitting a huff of air through his nostrils.

“you must trust y/n by her word,” the viscountess states.

“or do you not trust someone of feminine disposition to speak for herself?” eloise inquires.

“pen!”

you all snap your gazes to the entrance of the drawing room and see colin making his way to your friend in blue, followed by—

“y/n!” shouts gregory and hyacinth as they run towards you.

“y/n, penelope!” remarks violet and approaches you both. “how delightful it is to see you! you—” she says, reaching out for your hand, gently taking it in hers, and smiling kindly at you, “—in particular. it has been a moment, y/n.”

it melts your heart, really. the sincerity of affection that flows so easily from violet bridgerton. you recall the kind eyes and benevolent smile of her late husband. it is no wonder you so easily fell in love with this family; true, real love is woven into the very fabrics of each of their beings.

you look at them. hyacinth and gregory cling onto your slides, holding you tight. kathani and anthony are engrossed in debate, affection in their eyes despite the heat in their words. colin and penelope speak with and blush around one another as eloise, unknowingly (and, in your opinion, frustratingly, endearingly), butts into their conversation. and benedict. who, with the gaze of the entire room no longer on his so-called indiscretion, is looking at you. softly. with those damned, wondrous, bewitching ocean eyes. a smile on his lips that makes the flutterings in your stomach unbearingly, wonderfully unyielding.

you truly, really love this family.

you love the bridgertons.

“though,” the dowager viscountess starts.

shaking yourself out of your thoughts, you see how violet looks at the others in the room as half of them now pointedly avoid eye contact with the matriarch and the other half share a similar sentiment to her.

“is everything all right?” she turns to you, peering curiously into your eyes. “has something happened?”

you cannot help the laugh that bubbles out of you. violet seems taken aback by your reaction, as are the others in your periphery, but her eyes, as well as theirs, shine on.

“i think,” you say, smiling, “it is just another day with the bridgertons.”

354 notes · View notes

wiltedreamofbaldursgate · 6 months

Text

Steady Hands, Frame My Love

characters: Astarion x race/class neutral fem!Tav/reader word count: +3.2k Rating: M trigger warning: mild-ish sexual content. bad eyebrows. This hasn't been beta-read nor am I a native speaker. read on ao3 read more BG3 one shots

Entrusting you with his face isn’t easy for Astarion, which is exactly why you’re so nervous about the whole thing to begin with. You want to do your very best—make him look his very best so that Astarion can feel good about himself. You couldn’t bear anyone making a bad comment on his appearance when he trusts you to be his mirror.

“Come out, spawn. There is no use in hiding.”

You know there is trouble when you spot Lae'zel in front of Astarion’s tent. Her tiny nose is scrunched up in a way that would be cute if it didn’t mean she wants to skin someone alive. The perfectly sharpened blade twitching in her hand is just another hint that she’s out for blood. You almost can’t blame Astarion for hiding from the Githyanki warrior’s wrath—almost, because it’s within every reason to assume he’s brought her wrath upon himself.

Taking a quick look around camp, you find that everybody is suspiciously busy minding their own business for once, skillfully ignoring the one-sided commotion in front of your lover’s tent. You can’t really blame them either; it’s been a very long day, and everybody wants to get some rest before dinner. You have half the mind to do the very same when Lae'zel’s intense gaze suddenly locks with yours—an honest rookie mistake.

There’s no use pretending you haven’t noticed her now, so you put your journal aside and approach the red tent with long strides and a smile that you can only hope will have a calming effect on her. Unsurprisingly, your hopes are shattered instantly.

Lae'zel doesn’t wait for you to friendly inquire about what the fuck the matter is this time; before you can even open your mouth, she’s all the way in your face.

“The spawn does as he pleases!”

Lae'zel would need to get a great deal more specific when it comes to Astarion, but you refrain from telling her so, opting for a questioning look instead.

The young warrior shakes her head, annoyed that her explanation isn’t sufficient enough for your small istik brain to comprehend.

“It is the spawn’s turn to fetch water from the stream. Thus is his duty,” Lae'zel explains slowly, accentuating every word with a well-placed hiss to get her point across. “A duty he fails to perform.”

You think it is progress that she isn’t waving her sword at you, although she does glare at you as if you were the offending party, which—since your relationship with the pale elf has become common knowledge around camp—you somewhat are.

“Where I am from, we make sure to keep our mates in check, however pleasing they might be. You might want to do the same.”

Maybe not so much progress, after all.

“Haven't I made myself quite clear on that before, Lae'zel?”

Holding her intense glare, you stare the warrior down. You have made yourself clear on occasion—you aren’t Astarion’s keeper.

It takes a moment, but Lae'zel is the first to break eye contact, eventually taking a step back. Not lowering your gaze, you wait patiently for her to continue.

“The spawn would better honour his word, or else…” She spits, not at you, but at Astarion’s firmly closed tent flap.

“I will remind him,” you assure her, not unkindly.

Lae'zel looks you up and down before she inclines her head ever so slightly.

“I trust you will,” she drawls, glaring at the tent one last time before she stalks away.

Left to take care of the issue at hand, you frown at the closed tent flap. As much as Astarion bitches about pulling his weight in camp, it’s unlike him to not do his chores one way or the other. And now that you think about it, he’s set up his tent uncharacteristically fast earlier, too, not even trying to rope anyone in to help him do his work. The realisation that you haven’t seen him since he vanished into said tent quite a while ago settles unpleasantly in your stomach.

“Astarion?”

You step closer to the heavy fabric closing off the tent’s entrance, listening. There’s no answer, although you do hear some hurried movement from within the tent. It’s a good sign, you suppose.

“You good in there?”

The silence stretches for another moment before Astarion finally lets out an exaggerated sigh. Going by the sound of it, he, too, must be standing rather close to the entrance.

“Truth be told, darling, I have been better.”

“Are you hurt?” You ask, not bothering to hide the obvious worry lacing your voice.

When could he have even gotten hurt? Haven’t you checked up on everyone after your earlier fight with some overly pesky, giant spiders? Or is he just messing with you—trying to avoid his laborious chore after all?

It takes yet another moment for Astarion to mumble something incomprehensible in reply. With raised eyebrows, you repeat your question, which earns you another sigh from him, this time more exasperated than theatrical.

“I just so happened to get some acid in my face when we took care of those cursed spiders and—”

“And?” You press, alarmed.

“It’s nothing, darling, really; it’s just—well…”

“Astarion!”

The vampire curses, and you can hear him step even closer to the tent’s opening, closer to you. You’re almost sure that if you pressed your hand against the fabric shielding him from you, you would be able to touch him.

“They're gone,” he says, his voice so low you have to strain your ears to hear him.

Your frown deepens. “What is?”

More mumbling reaches your ear, and Astarion has to repeat himself twice before you can eventually make any sense of his words. You stare at the tent flap in disbelief. You can't have heard right.

“Your eyebrows are gone?”

Astarion inhales sharply. “Must you scream it around for everyone to hear? Come in, come in!”

Not knowing what to expect, you enter the tent.

Astarion has retreated to the shadows; his hand is firmly pressed against his forehead. You stare up at him, trying to assess the situation. He looks pained alright, although you have an inkling it’s more from wounded vanity than actual injury. As you step closer to him, you give him a reassuring smile.

“So, acid, huh? I’m sure it’s not that bad.”

He is not convinced. At all. Wordlessly, he’s staring back at you, his jaw set. Your smile fades.

“Let me take a look?” You try again, feeling your already shaky optimism dwindle further.

He thinks it over for a couple of heartbeats before he slowly drags his hand to his hairline, pushing up the stands of white hair that usually fall so gracefully in his face…

Astarion must’ve drunk a healing potion because the presumably once-angry burns on his skin have already faded into pale red blotches sprinkled all over his forehead. By morning, nobody would even be able to tell the acid burns were ever there—were it not for Astarion’s eyebrows, or what’s left of them, that is.

You instantly force your face into a mask of neutrality. You have to approach this very delicately.

“It’s… salvageable. Really,” is all you can blurt out, though.

Astarion’s crimson eyes grow comically round, accentuated by the lack of eyebrows; he doesn’t believe a word you say, which you can’t really hold against him. You’re talking shit. It’s bad, and you wonder how in the nine hells you haven’t noticed this before.

“You can redraw them here and…there,” you go on for lack of anything better to say—Gods, you really should shut up. “Fill them back in, you know…?”

Astarion wets his lips while you're evading his piercing gaze.

“Why, what a grand idea,” he breathes, shakily. “I never would’ve thought of that myself. If only there wasn’t this one peculiar little thing. What was it again, my dear?”

You cringe. Of course. Of course… How could you forget?

“Ah, right…” You only notice the delicate hand mirror Astarion was holding when it flies across the tent, shattering somewhere on the bare ground farthest from you. “I can’t fucking see my face!”

As if all strength has left his body, Astarion sinks to the ground, where he lets himself fall back into his pile of blankets, arms draped over his eyes. It’s all rather dramatic, but you guess you can’t have one without the other.

Grimacing, because you’re sorry for him, you sink to your knees next to him, gently tugging at his sleeve.

“Do you want me to do it? Redraw them, I mean.”

You can tell by the way Astarion sits up as if struck by lightning that he was only waiting for your offer. Suddenly very close, he considers you with narrowed eyes.

“I suppose you could,” he muses, tracing the shape of your left eyebrow with his index finger. “You usually look presentable enough.”

You let the comment slide, but not without rolling your eyes at him. It’s just show, though, a way to suppress a smile. Astarion thinks he’s sly about it, but you catch him often enough looking at you as if you were the sun at dawn.

Of course, you would never dare mention that to him.

“Give me a minute,” you say instead, already rising to your feet, were it not for the cold fingers curling around your wrist.

Astarion gives you a stern look as he's holding you in place, his nose nearly brushing against yours. “Not a word to anyone about this.”

You give him a solemn look in return as you comb your fingers through his hair, gently guiding some stray locks back into place. “I’ll take your secret to the grave.”

Your hand is trembling just a little—enough for Astarion to notice. Enough for that damn smirk to find its way to his lips. You hold your breath.

“Nervous, love?”

Yes, and it’s stupid because you’ve done this often enough—daily, even. It’s just easier to apply cosmetics on yourself, sitting in front of a mirror and not kneeling in front of him, trying to evade his piercing gaze.

“Why would I be?” You scowl, readjusting the hold on your charred willow stick that has yet to make contact with Astarion’s skin. “Aren’t my eyebrows, are they?”

You shift closer to him, brushing against his leg with your knee, which doesn’t help your case at all. You can’t help feeling a little shaky when he’s this close—and he knows it.

“No need to tremble like a virgin, then, my sweet.”

Giving him a sharp look, you draw back a little, although you don’t make it far.

“Maybe you just need to come a little closer still,” he purrs as his hand takes hold of the back of your knee, pulling you onto his lap in one swift motion. “Might be less distracting for you…”

For someone close to having a meltdown less than fifteen minutes ago, he’s surely having lots of fun now. Biting your lower lip, you adjust your weight, straddling Astarion properly. Trying to ignore the hard body pressing against yours, you assess the natural growth of his eyebrows again, eventually setting the tip of the charred willow stick down on his skin, only to remove it again. This won’t work like this.

“Honestly, can you please just close your eyes?”

Astarion scoffs. “Should I blow out the candles, too, while I’m at it? Leave the nightdress on?”

“Shut up, or you’ll end up looking like a clown.”

That eventually does the trick. He gives you one last look that is somewhere between peeved and wary before he closes his eyes.

Entrusting you with his face isn’t easy for Astarion, which is exactly why you’re so nervous about the whole thing, to begin with. You want to do your very best—make him look his very best so that Astarion can feel good about himself. You couldn’t bear anyone making a bad comment on his appearance when he trusts you to be his mirror. The thought alone makes you shudder.

Astarion’s hand wanders up from your knee to your hip, giving it a gentle squeeze; this time, his touch is more encouragement than teasing.

After taking a deep breath, you lean back in.

With steady hands, you begin to redraw the missing parts of his eyebrows. Taking your time, you make sure to follow the natural shape of them; to blend out the colour where the charcoal comes off as too stark a contrast to his white hair.

While you’re working, Astarion doesn’t move one bit, eager—for once—to not fluster you. It’s not until you lean back to consider the fruits of your labour that he opens his eyes again.

“And?”

“Well,” you muse, “you look presentable enough.”

He scowls as you throw his own words back at him; you suppress a laugh before you take his face between your hands.

“If I could see the stars right now, I could not tell them apart from you,” you proclaim, mimicking his dramatics once again. It’s not as funny when you do it, so you’re quick to add, “You’re as beautiful as ever.”

You mean it, and Astarion knows it; trusts that you do. He leans forward to brush a kiss against your lips, hugging you to him, which is as much thanks as you expected to receive.

“Will you do it again tomorrow? And the day after,” he mumbles into the crook of your neck, “please?”

“Of course,” you assure him, deepening the embrace, “until they’ve grown back.”

Astarion hums in agreement and you remain like this for a moment before you pull back to look into his eyes, which are once again framed by a pair of sharp eyebrows accentuating his perfect features.

“I should’ve noticed earlier,” you say, at last. “I’m sorry. I’m not a very good mirror, it seems.”

Astarion frowns at you, the intensity of his gaze taking you aback as it is wont to do.

“Don’t be,” he urges, gently taking your dominant hand in his. He runs his fingers along the back of it, careful not to put too much pressure on your still-raw skin. His touch stings nonetheless, reminding you of your own acid burns that have yet to heal—those spiders really are a menace. “You should be more careful, too, you know? You’re the only working mirror I have.”

You’re lying flat on your back before you can even gasp in surprise. To your embarrassment, your legs have already wrapped around Astarion’s waist; all you can see is that damn smirk on his lips as he’s towering over you, his face barely a finger width away from yours. Your breath hitches as you take him in; nobody has any right to be this beautiful.

“It would be a shame if I lost it, my precious little mirror,” he sighs before pressing his lips to yours.

It’s a far cry from his earlier kiss—heated, needy. Knowing you don’t stand a chance against his tongue gliding over your lower lip, you open your mouth to him, slowly losing yourself in him. There’s really nothing easier than that.

Your hand moves to the back of his neck, pulling him even closer as your fingers dig through his locks, eliciting a low moan from him. This is a lot more thanks for your service than you’ve expected, but you find yourself unable to complain. Your mouth is far too occupied for that anyway.

It’s almost obscene how easily Astarion can undo your stays and by the time his hand finds its way underneath your thin shirt, your mind is long clouded by lust. Leaving goosebumps in its wake, his hand glides over your belly up to your sternum before it firmly cups your breast. The lazy pace of his thumb drawing circles around your hardened nipple has you aching your back, trying to ease the wet heat gathering between your legs.

Wet.

Somewhere very far in the back of your mind, you remember that you had a reason for coming to him earlier—way before you ended up on his lap, let alone underneath him. Let alone this damn wet. What was it again?

You break loose from Astarion to take a quick breath. Not wasting any time away from you, his lips begin to trace along your jaw, your throat, your collarbone; his wicked grin is painfully obvious against your skin. By the time you realise Astarion is scheming something, he’s already pushing his knee under your ass, repositioning you so that you can feel his hardness pressing against your core. You hiss at the sudden contact.

Ah, right—hiss! Lae'zel.

You throw your head back with a sigh as Astarion begins to grind his hips against you, making any thought of the Githyanki warrior evaporate quickly. Fuck Lae'zel and her sense of duty and honour. You can just sit out her wrath with Astarion right here, right now, however long it may take. It doesn’t really matter that you’re not sitting much, either.

But then again, maybe this is why your companions take offence at you the moment Astarion is stepping out of line, although you’re sure they would be biassed, too, if they knew how positively divine he feels—especially when he’s teasing the waistband of your trousers with his long fingers as he does now. Your hips move in answer to his touch, and yet…Fuck.

You groan. Not with pleasure but from your own sense of duty. The others trust you as much as Astarion does; that’s why they somehow thought it wise to make you their leader. Almost annoyed with yourself, you prop yourself up on one elbow, pressing your hand against Astarion’s chest, telling him to stop before you’re way past the point of no return.

He raises an eyebrow at you. His hair is messy and his lips are red and swollen from your kisses and by the Gods you want him to fuck you. It takes you a very long moment to gather yourself.

“Now that we took care of your issue,” you pant, tracing the shape of his left eyebrow with your index finger, “you might wanna go fetch water if you don’t want Lae'zel to wipe them off right away.”

Tilting his head, Astarion gives you a long look. His fingers keep digging into your thigh which has you grinding your teeth to suppress another sigh. He doesn’t buy your attempt at keeping order and peace, not when he can undoubtedly feel you trembling with need for him. You’re not even protesting when he leans back over you, one arm next to your head to support his weight.

“So, what?” he breathes against your shoulder before planting a hot kiss against your skin. And another. And another, as he is slowly kissing his way down your body. “You said you would redo them over and over and over again, didn’t you, darling?”

Holding your breath, you watch your shirt being pushed up the lower he’s moving down on you, gasping only when the crisp evening air caresses your exposed chest.

Astarion’s trail of kisses comes to a halt right below your belly button. His crimson eyes are looking at you expectantly but you’re too preoccupied with his fingers slowly undoing your trousers to make any sense of his wordless question. You swallow.

“You did say that, didn’t you?” He repeats, the amusement evident in his voice.

“Yes,” you nod rather enthusiastically. “No problem. Not at all.”

“That’s what I thought,” Astarion grins, finally freeing you of your trousers to see how pathetically ready you already are for him.

Duty can wait a little longer, you decide as you give yourself over to the pale elf. You only promised Lae'zel to remind Astarion of his chores, not that you would make him do them, you reason.

You’re not his keeper, after all.

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even-disco-baby · 1 year

Text

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — “Hello again, gendarme.” He smiles at you— not from his usual post, but from one of the cafeteria tables. A small sketchbook is laid out in front of him, along with some odd gray sticks.

ENCYCLOPEDIA — Compressed graphite. Not quite as bold or blendable as charcoal, but certainly less messy.

EMPATHY — Garte will appreciate it.

“I’d like to talk about the case again.”

“You moved! I didn’t know you could do that.”

“What are you drawing?”

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — “That’s the question, isn’t it?” His smile turns a little rueful. “I found one of my old sketchbooks and thought I’d like to fill the last few empty pages, but I’m finding myself a little… uninspired.”

CONCEPTUALIZATION — The accursed artist’s block. Staring down an empty page only for it to stare back, mocking you.

EMPATHY — He is unsure of himself. He said this was an old sketchbook. Maybe he’s afraid of drawing something new beside his old work and seeing that nothing has changed.

“Ah, yes. Artist’s block. I know it well. In fact, I don’t know when the last time that I actually *made* any art was.”

“You could draw the cafeteria.”

“You could draw one of the other diners.”

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — “A life drawing exercise, huh? And who would you pick as a subject, gendarme?”

“I don’t know. You’re the artist.”

“Maybe Garte? The skua could be a fun challenge.”

“You should draw the guy with the wig and sunglasses over there. He looks pretty funny.”

“Lena! She’d probably love to model for you. It would take her mind off things.”

“Kim, how about you pose for him?”

[Suggestion - Medium 10] “Why not me?”

KIM KITSURAGI — “No.”

He has nothing more to say on the matter.

“Aw, why not? You’d make a great model!”

Let it go.

KIM KITSURAGI — “I do not get paid to model for portraits. I get paid to solve murders. Such as the one we came here to investigate. Several days ago. Which has not been solved yet, for some mysterious reason.”

ESPIRIT DE CORPS — In case you couldn’t tell, that was sarcasm.

“Come on, Kim. You’re the perfect subject! A true man of the people. And there’s this sort of radiance about you… I can see the portrait already, just looking at you. Really clearly, actually.”

Maybe don’t say that. He’s just not gonna get it.

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — He shrugs. “Sorry, gendarme. It’s not right to use someone’s image without permission, you know? Maybe some other time.”

KIM KITSURAGI — “No.” And then, a little awkwardly, “But thank you.”

“I don’t know. You’re the artist.”

“How about Garte? Though, you’d have to draw the skua, too…”

“You should draw the guy with the wig and sunglasses over there. He looks pretty funny.”

“Lena! She’d probably love to model for you. It would take her mind off things.”

“Kim, how about you pose for him?”

[Suggestion - Medium 10] “Why not me?”

CHECK SUCCESS

YOU — “Why not me?”

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — He considers you with some amusement, but still, he does consider. “You’re not too busy?”

“On second thought, you’re right, I have some work to do right now. Another time, maybe?”

“Nope. Not at all.”

KIM KITSURAGI — The lieutenant sighs audibly.

ESPIRIT DE CORPS — What did I *just* say?

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — He chuckles to himself, apparently quite tickled by the little comedy act you two are making of yourselves. “Beautiful. Why not? Have a seat. I’ll try not to keep you too long.”

KIM KITSURAGI — “Much appreciated,” he says drily.

YOU — [Take a seat.]

SAVOIR FAIRE — Time to strike a pose. Let’s go with something cool. Something that really captures what you’re all about.

ENDURANCE — But make sure it’s something that you’ll be able to hold comfortably.

Wink and shoot him your signature finger guns.

Look at him with big sad eyes like a shamed puppy.

Look thoughtfully into the middle distance, as if contemplating your own future masterpiece.

Stare straight at him with eyes that have seen how this world will end.

Hold your head up high. With *honor.*

Just sit and act natural. No need to put on airs.

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — He looks you up and down, thumbing his bottom lip. His eyes look brighter and more alert than you have ever seen them. And then, he picks up his graphite and begins to work.

His eyes dart between you and the page, his hand sweeping across the page in bold, practiced strokes. All traces of his earlier hesitation have vanished.

VOLITION — Sometimes, a little push is all we need.

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — Every now and then, he pauses to look up at you, and it’s almost unnerving to be the subject of whatever calculations are going on behind his eyes. He holds out his graphite, squinting just slightly.

VISUAL CALCULUS — This is called sighting. He’s roughly measuring the relative proportions of your figure and checking them against his sketch.

KIM KITSURAGI — Even the lieutenant is watching now, interested in spite of himself.

“Are portraits your specialty?”

“Have you been drawing anything for school lately?”

Better not distract him.

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — “Hmm…” He ponders this for a moment, not looking up from his work. “Not exactly. I’m more interested in the graphic arts than this sort of thing. But it’s best to build a strong foundation before branching out, you know?”

YOU — “Graphic arts? Like what?”

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — “Printmaking.” A small smile tugs at the corner of his mouth as he speaks, seemingly without him even noticing. “Monotype, especially.”

ENCYCLOPEDIA — Monotype is a printmaking technique that is singular from other techniques, in that it produces only *one* unique print, rather than an edition of multiple prints.

YOU — What, really? What’s the point of printing it, then?

ENCYCLOPEDIA — I don’t know. I didn’t invent it.

“Why monotype? Wouldn’t a different technique be more… practical?”

“I see.” [Drop the subject.]

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — He shrugs slightly, smudging a bit of graphite with a bare finger. “Depends on how you define practical, I suppose. If I had my own studio, and I was selling my prints, then maybe. But we make do with what we have, gendarme.”

EMPATHY — And what he has is very little.

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — “Besides, I think monotype has its charms.”

The young man does not elaborate, instead focusing on the work at hand. He picks up an eraser that has been shaved down to a point for fine detail work, and begins on what are likely the finishing touches.

EMPATHY — He has already talked at uncharacteristic length about this. It’s making him a little uncomfortable.

SAVOIR FAIRE — He doesn’t like to share too much about himself because it makes him feel *uncool.* He prefers to maintain an air of mystery.

RHETORIC — It’s safer, too, that way. He’s learned that passion exists to be exploited. False promises and admiration are the offerings of Sunday friends.

“If you say so.” [Back off.]

“What kind of charms?” [Press on.]

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — His eyes flit back to you, sizing you up now in a different way. And then he looks back down at the page with a quiet bre ath.

“Well, it doesn’t take as much time or labor as other methods. Or expensive tools, or dangerous chemicals. Just paper, a plate, ink, and something to apply it with. And I can use the same plate over and over again, even use it to create different layers for the same print.”

RHETORIC — In other words, it’s cheap and can be done from home. An attractive option.

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — “And with monotype, it’s not so hard to go back and change your mind. You can start over as many times as you’d like, right up until the moment you lay the page on the plate.”

INLAND EMPIRE — That really does sound attractive. To be able to wipe the slate clean, over and over again…

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — “There aren’t as many limits on what kind of textures you can create, too. Brushstrokes and fingerprints… They can really come out beautiful.”

His brow creases a little, and he picks his graphite back up to rework a particular area.

DRAMA — He’s still holding out on you, sire. Too self-conscious to admit what he really likes about the medium.

YOU — Which is what?

EMPATHY — Fragility.

CONCEPTUALIZATION — An image which is only complete after being mirrored and translated, never to be recreated except as a ghostly afterimage. An exercise in surrendering to chance. What will be, will be. And then the moment will pass, and it will be time to start the next piece.

VOLITION — This man knows disappointment intimately. It is his closest companion. He has learned to make peace with it. He passes the time with his Sunday friends, lays his paper on the plate and hopes, despite himself, for the best.

YOU — Is that… a good thing?

VOLITION — …It’s hard to say. But we make do with what we have.

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — “There.” The young man sits up straight, and it’s only now that you realize just how close he brought himself to his work.

DRAMA — His face may not betray him, but the body does not lie. He was having *fun,* my liege.

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — “All done.” He tears the page from his book and holds it out to you with a small smile.

ITEM GAINED: Portrait of a Disco Holdover

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — “Hope I didn’t keep you too long.”

KIM KITSURAGI — “Don’t worry about it,” Kim says, rather resignedly.

ESPIRIT DE CORPS — If you’d declined, the lieutenant thinks, my partner would have just found some other way to get sidetracked.

KIM KITSURAGI — Still, he cannot stop himself from glancing at the portrait over your shoulder.

PORTRAIT OF A DISCO HOLDOVER — It’s you! Unfortunately. Not even the most masterful hand could make the Expression less unsettling to look at. Your posture is poor, your face is swollen and blotchy, your hair is thinning, your clothes are shabby and out of place… I could go on.

Oh god, you could?

Please don’t.

PORTRAIT OF A DISCO HOLDOVER — But, you know… it’s nice. The smoker’s technique is bold and rather lovely, broad strokes of graphite intersecting in just the right places to create surprising depths. Somehow, even though it’s you… it’s not hideous.

EMPATHY — Because you’re seeing yourself through another person’s eyes.

CONCEPTUALIZATION — There is an odd tenderness to the portrait. Something amusing in your grimace, a touch of sympathy in your hunched shoulders. With the eraser, he has lifted small spots of pigment from your face, as if it were illuminated by flecks of light from the karaoke disco ball.

There are no disco lights tonight, but still, he sees them when he looks at you. Your moment has passed, but it left quite the impression. A ghost print, superimposed over you.

“Not bad, but the bicep girth is off. Right, Kim?”

“Oh god, is that really what I look like?”

“Hmm. It’s okay, but you should consider a backup career plan.”

“Whoa, you’re amazing! Can you draw me again, but this time in the costume from the cover of Man from Hjelmdall and the Devil Woman? And like, with a really cool warhammer? And Queen Lydiaana standing in the background, all like, ‘boohoo, where will I ever find another man like Ha— I mean, the Man from Hjelmdall?’”

“Beautiful.”

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — His smile climbs up into the corners of his eyes, warming his entire countenance.

CONCEPTUALIZATION — If you were to capture a portrait of him in this moment, it would be beautiful, too.

#disco elysium #harry du bois #the smoker on the balcony #kim kitsuragi #this one is. so self indulgent. i like the smoker i like to think abt him #and assign him my art student interests #anyway. oh the joy of making art and showing ppl what they rlly look like in your eyes #and oh the beauty of monotypes and printmaking and hoping for the best #GODDAMMIT I FUCKED UP THE FORMATTING AGAIN AND DIDNT CATCH IT UNTIL LIKE 12 HOURS LATER.#if you saw that. no you didn’t.

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suuuupernovaaa · 1 year

Text

asap si

‘ASAP SI [English] to be shocked, be startled

Adult Neteyam returns home to find you’ve grown into a beautiful woman, and you’ve been keeping a secret from him all these years.

18+ | 1,177 words

My hands had begun growing tired, the joints in my fingers aching, but I still had a little time before my parents were expecting me home, and I could finish just a little bit more here at the mother loom.

Li’ei and Zoavey had been generous to allow me not only to use the mother loom, but to teach me. Between them, they possessed over 100 years of experience creating tapestries and cloths for our clan, and they were both held in very high regard for what they provided to our people.

“Y/N,” Li’ei chastised the next time I sighed under my breath, “go home. We must all rest.”

I sighed once more, feeling the thick, coarse fabric between my fingers. “I feel as though the job will never be done.”

Zoavey tsk’d at me. “It does not matter how long it takes - only that you do the job properly.”

Standing up, I nodded at the two elders. “Thank you for your time today. May I return tomorrow?”

Li’ei smiled. “Yes, darling.” I felt compelled to ask every day, even though they had made it clear they were training me so that I could take their place when the day came.

Touching my forehead and lowering my hand, I signed my respect to my elders, who had so graciously taken me under their wing, and quickly turned on my heel to make my way through our village back to my parents’ home.

The closer I got to the center of our village, to my home, the louder things seemed to be. It’s was always quite busy at this time of day, but this seemed to be something else; a commotion, almost.

As I neared the epicenter of home tree, my parents rushed to me, almost out of nowhere.

“Y/N!” my mother gasped, wide eyed. “Jakesully and his family have returned.”

The tools I was carrying fell from my hands, clattering on the ground. I should have bent and grabbed them, pay them the respect they deserve, but I am frozen to the ground.

Neteyam is home.

Suddenly, I am transported to five years ago. Once again, I felt Neteyam gripping my arms too tightly as he told me his family was leaving, and he didn’t know if they would return. He left, with so much left unsaid between us.

Tears pricked at the back of my eyes, and I forced them away.

“Where are they?” I asked finally, after a long pause that I knew my mother noticed.

She gestured to the fires, around which we cooked and ate our meals. I saw it then, the large crowd gathering, almost too large to push my way through - but I knew I had to try.

“Sorry, excuse me, sorry,” I repeated over and over as I wormed my way through the throng of bodies here to see Taruk Maktow and his family.

It’s was hard to believe it had been 5 years. After the Sky People left and Jakesully and his family didn’t return, we weren’t sure what to think - maybe they had died in battle, or found another clan they wanted to stay with instead.

I never gave up hope... but it was hard some days, especially with Ueku nearly relentlessly pursuing me the last two years to be his mate.

Ueku was one of the most desired of The People, our strongest hunter, and everyone was staring to look at me as if I had two tails - they could not figure out why I would not agree to be his.

And it felt so dumb to explain that it was because of a crush I’d had when I was fifteen, on someone I hadn’t seen since then.

It took much effort, but I finally made it to the front of the crowd, and saw them standing there.

Oh, they looked so different. All four children were taller, the boys had much broader chests and Kiri and Tuk had grown into lovely young women. I wanted to cry and rush forward to greet them, but they were being bombarded with welcome greetings.

I stood back, staring, and finally allowed myself to really look at Neteyam. His hair was longer now, halfway down his back and braided intricately, woven through with many beads and fine weaves. He was taller, as tall as his father, with strong shoulders and a wide, firm chest.

The sight of him made me feel light headed. I closed my eyes, and took a steadying, deep breathing.

“Y/N!”

Tuk called her name, and Neteyam snapped his head to see where his youngest sister was looking. Since the moment they’d arrived, his only thought was to find Y/N, his oldest and best friend.

Tuk took off from next to him, rushing towards a woman in the crowd who was almost unrecognizable. This beautiful woman lifted Tuk up in her arms effortlessly and hugged her tightly.

She was an angel. Her hair was impossibly long, and she wore a woven crown around her face to keep it out of her eyes. Her leggings were green, and he could tell the care and effort that went into making them. Tucked into them were various tools for use on the loom.

She looked tired, but her amber eyes were wide and full of joy. His eyes trailed down to her smile, ear to ear as she excitedly talked to his sister, her full lips spread across white teeth.

Ewya, was this Y/N?

Tuk was pulling her towards him now. He lifted his foot to take a step forward, but before he even moved an inch, Lo’ak had her in his arms.

“Y/N!” he shouted excitedly.

“Oh, Lo’ak!” she exclaimed, returning his hug enthusiastically. It made a quiet rage bloom in Neteyam’s chest, and he shoved it down quickly.

“Wow!” Lo’ak exclaimed, taking a step back, and Neteyam stepped up beside him. Lo’ak threw his elbow forcefully into Neteyam’s side.

Neteyam winced and grabbed his ribs as Lo’ak said, “Y/N sure grew up, didn’t she?”

“Well, we all did, Lo’ak. It’s been five years!” Y/N replied with a soft smile. Even though she was speaking, the beauty of her voice sounded like a song to Neteyam’s ears.

Neteyam raised his hand to his head, touching his fingers to his forehead, and lowered it as he took a step towards Y/N. “Y/N...” he said, but after all these years, words failed him.

He had spent countless nights thinking of Y/N, but never had he imagined her to have such an effect on him when he was finally able to stand in front of her. His mouth felt dry, and his heart was beating out of his chest.

“Neteyam,” Y/N said, returning the gesture. “I’ve missed you.”

She threw her arms around his shoulders, and after only a moment, he wrapped his around her waist. She even smelled lovely, like fresh tapestry and earth, and he took a deep breath.

He would savor this moment forever.

It was a while before I could get Neteyam alone, but I was determined. Something about the look of shock on his face when he first saw me gave me hope.

Had he been missing me too?

After we ate and the excitement began to die down a little as the singing began, I grabbed Neteyam and pulled him from the crowd, into the jungle.

We walked in silence for a while, until I found a familiar spot to sit. It was a large fallen tree next to a small pool of water. We could sit and dangle our legs, our toes just dipping in to the small pool.

“I missed you, Neteyam,” I said finally. Though I had been shy when Neteyam left, five years had made me bold. It felt as if I had to tell him how I felt, or I might stop breathing. “I thought of you often.”

Neteyam smiled, and though much about him had changed, his smile had not. “I missed you as well, Y/N. Lo’ak had to tell me I was not allowed to speak of you anymore... but I still did.”

I glanced away for a moment. “It’s been a long time. You might have... you might have found yourself a woman, while you were gone. I, uh, Ueku has asked me to be his woman, but I-”

Neteyam cut me off. “Ueku! Bah!”

I grabbed his arm, trying not to laugh at the disgusted look on his face. “I told him I would not. Well, that I could not. Neteyam, I have been yours since you left. I wanted to tell you, but you left so fast, I could not.”

His look of anger softened, and his eyes widened in surprise. “You would be my woman, Y/N?”

My lips spread into a wide smile. “I would.” My heart felt as if it might leap out of my chest, and my fingers trembled. I clasped my hands together to steady them.

Neteyam reached over and took my hands into his.

“I have thought of almost nothing but returning and claiming you for my own, since we left. Y/N, you have become more beautiful that I ever could have imagined, and one of our people’s most prized women. I would be honored to have you as my mate.”

The stars swam in front of my eyes, and I reached up and pulled Neteyam’s face to mine, capturing him in a kiss I had waited five years for.

He wasted no time, and lifted me up into his lap so that I was straddling him as he deepened the kiss.

“Teyam,” I moaned into his mouth.

“Paskalin,” he replied in a breathy voice, pulling me even closer to him. His hands roamed my body, up and down my back, and I pushed down onto him, creating friction between us that made him groan into my mouth.

He was kissing me desperately, feverishly, as if we would have to part for another five years after this.

I was equally as desperate as I pushed him back onto the mossy tree, and lay on top of him, stopping to look at him for just a moment.

“I should have come back sooner,” he said with a sly grin, and I laughed.

Leaning down, I pressed my head to his chest to hear his heartbeat - it was quick, to match mine.

“We have all the time we need now,” I whispered, and he wrapped me in a tight hug.

“I will never let you go again,” he whispered, his voice full of determination and reverence.

I believed him.

#avatar #avatar 2 #neteyam #Neteyam x reader #neteyam fic #avatar way of the water

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thesirencult · 7 months

Text

A LETTER FROM YOUR FUTURE SELF

Sometimes the golden threads of the past, the present and the future get entangled. We get to look out of the window and witness what lies ahead or, in reverse, we can look from above to the present and past time and re-evaluate the situation we used to be at. May this letter serve as a reminder that there is a version of you down the line which has escaped on the other side of the veil and they are ready to share their wisdom.

You can book your tarot or astrology reading with me by directly messaging me ❤️ Till then, enjoy this general message waiting to find you 🌙

PILE 1

"I was going through albums full of photos, hugs, love, tears and sadness. I know that we've come a long way now. Sometimes I want to forget and other times to remember. There is always this book that I reread over and over again whenever I want to meet you again. It feels so long ago yet it was what? 5 years? 7? Certainly not that long ago. Yet so many things have changed. That book holds so many memories of us. I love you. You are my little teddy bear. I can not comprehend how we made it or how badly people treated you in the past. There is a place in my heart I keep hiding you in. I talk to you constantly in hopes that you will hear me at some point and realize that we are meant for so much more and we will get that. We just have to wake up and break free from the chains and constraints of others. I love you, for all the beautiful moments we spent together and all the times we cried alone on a cold pillow. I love you. I love you. I love you.

Yours forever and ever and ever,

U 🌧️

PILE 2

"When I try to find the words to talk to you I struggle. I don't feel that much of a connection to you. I've changed a lot and I see my timeline as fragmented. I don't feel proud for you but that doesn't mean I resent you. How could I? You brought me here. You were the one who transformed and broke from the pain, but it was a rough time for me and I try to distance myself from addictions and betrayalz.

Anyways, I wanted to let you know that it's done. We are safe. You wake up in the morning feeling calm and rejuvenated. We don't need it anymore. We don't need them anymore. We take joy in the mundane. Don't roll your eyes! Boring is safe and learning to be still in a world that's always moving will help you ground. Stay safe love ❤️

Yours, faithfully.

(I don't even know why this name came out but maybe it resonates with someone, so I will mention it. Ashley.)

PILE 3

"We are free. We found a lover that let's us breathe and we no longer fear our power and beauty.

We no longer feel threatened by others and we don't have to hide our true selves.

I passed by our old house today and I saw mom and pops. They are doing fine. I went by the doghouse of our old pet and I still cry after 10 years without them, but it's okay, we've loved and we kept a piece of them in our hearts. They still visit us in our dreams you know. A friend like that never leaves you.

Our lover is sweet and safe. They are disciplined and a rock for us. We are still tumultuous and unorganized and they can withstand the dark clouds same as they do the sunny days out. They are a champion and they don't find us difficult to love. They marvel in our strength.

You will grow old together and built a few different houses but the home will always be in your hearts.

I remember you all the time. You would be grateful if you stayed. Don't go, we'll get there. Don't leave me please, I don't want to miss my lover and our home. No matter the weather stay.

Yours now and forever.

#astrology #tarot reading #tarot #pick a card #pick a pile #pac reading #pick a photo #pick a picture #soulmate #future spouse #channeled message #intuitive messages #intuitive readings #tarotblr

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chaoticbardlady99 · 6 months

Note

Could you please do some comforting fic? Like, Tav is crying because of stress (or maybe a painful memory) and Astarion has to console her being an absolute emotional support vampire?

Dying Star (Astarion x GN! Reader)

Your wish is my command!

Synopsis: While exploring the Shadowlands, you run into Arabella and she asks you to find her parents. Unfortunately, you don’t have good news to deliver and Astarion tries to navigate your feelings with tips from Karlach.

Character Class- Cleric of Lliira

(I’m really obsessed with this concept because I’m a Social Worker and I refer to myself as the “positivity police” so this is a character type I have grown fond of)

TW: Grief, Trauma, Parental loss, PTSD, Panic Attacks, mentions of violence and gore.

*I really like the nickname Little Love (I know it’s for Ascended only but…..) so I will be using it as a pet name that Astarion uses for the reader.

Companion song: Dying Star by Ashnikko (feat. Ethel Cain)

It was supposed to be easy. You had an extra skip to your step as you headed in the direction Arabella told you her parents went.

Finally, you had thought, I can do something good for someone. I can reunite a family. No morally gray bullshit to navigate.

You were grinning the whole way there despite your argument with Astarion before sending him with Arabella.

“We don’t have time to go parent hunting.”

“There is always time to go parent hunting.”

He had expressed his disdain about finding Arabella’s parents. He told you it’s a waste of time- they were probably dead anyway. Arabella had whimpered and teared up. That was enough for you to lose your patience and you ripped into him for saying "something so awful and in front of a CHILD, nonetheless!"

You sent him back with Arabella and Wyll, telling him that if he had no desire to search and rescue, he didn’t have to. He had looked hurt and insisted he go, that he needed to be there, but you were fed up and a little girl was crying.

Dejected, Astarion had gone back to camp. The guilt sat heavily at the bottom of your stomach, but you had a personal mission to complete and nothing was going to stop you.

You were orphaned as a young child. The nightmares had gone away (for the most part), but you still remember your father dragging you away from your mother’s cold body as Loth Drows ambushed Silverymoon. They had had a whole army and their druids had control over giant creatures from the Underdark. You remember losing your father in the haze, an arrow to your back, running and slipping into a river. Then nothing. Until a nearby Cleric of Lliira (Leer-uh) had saved you, taking you to Selgaunt (SELL-GAUNT) on the coast of the Sea of Stars. Lliira had healed your heart and saved you- you hoped to pay that debt forward and help Arabella have a better outcome than you did.

No one in your party knew your past and you hadn’t brought it up to Astarion. It feels so long ago and it was a topic you preferred to bring up in a more hospitable place than the Shadowlands and after you help Astarion kill Cazador. You wanted to prioritize his joy and help him finally be free, so why would you burden him with your past while he is suffering far more from his?

It didn’t take you and your party long to locate Arabella’s parents. You found them in the House of Healing- dead. Along with your hope and joy.

You had erupted in a tearful rage and you stabbed the Sister who killed them over and over.

You didn’t care what the Joybringer would do if she saw how senselessly you mutilated the sisters and Malus. You had made them suffer as you saw fit. Mutilating them, using more painful methods of killing (stabbing in painful, but not lethal spots), and your crying came out as painful, angry screams.

Gale, Karlach, and Shadowheart eyed you with concern as you walked back to the camp. Usually you were singing or whistling a tune, cracking jokes to relieve the tension.

Instead, you were focusing on how you would break the news to Arabella that her parents are dead and she is all alone.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Astarion paces around his tent, trying to distract himself from the pit of fear in his stomach. You had never snapped at him that way- usually you just roll your eyes at him and give him a chaste kiss with a soft, “I understand if you don’t want to go, but I would appreciate it if you would come along.”

He wasn’t sure why Arabella and her parents had been a sensitive subject or why you had insisted on looking for them when they were likely already dead. No one survives the Shadow Cursed Lands without a light source and mediocre tactical skills.

That didn’t stop him from rooting for you though- he hopes he is wrong and that you come back victorious. He wants you to be happy. Astarion enjoys seeing you succeed because that’s when you flash that brilliant grin that he has (silently) adored since the moment he met you. The reason he protested in the first place is because he knows how destroyed you would be if Arabella’s parents are dead. He doesn’t want you to hurt- for your heart to lose it’s optimism.

He hears you, Karlach, Shadowheart, and Gale come into camp. He steps out of the tent- hoping that you were able to achieve the outcome you wanted, that you would come parading into camp victorious.

He sees you talking to Arabella in a quiet whisper and he watches as your face contorts to hold back your own feelings as Arabella screams at you. He watches you take it- as she punches you in the stomach over and over. You just let her before she runs off. Withers says something to you quietly before you walk into your tent, closing yourself off from everyone.

Astarion feels stuck in the entryway of his tent. He doesn’t know what to do.

“Hey fangs,” Karlach says, offering a sad smile as she walks up to him, “you should probably know- they went over the rails after seeing Arabella’s parents.”

A look of confusion spreads across his face. What does that even mean? You were barely capable of hurting a fly!

“Like they became upset?”

Karlach nods with weary eyes,“They became upset and… well very, very, very violent.”

The tadpole behind his eyes begins to squirm as he allows Karlach to show him the scene.

He didn’t think you were capable of that much destruction. He saw angry tears slide down your face as you destroyed everything in your path. His gentle, joyful Cleric had broken in the House of Healing.

How ironic, he thinks bitterly.

He feels his own tears begin to prick his eyes as he watches you suffer through the battle- screaming and crying. He should have been there for you. He should have gone and let you be mad at him for disobeying. He hangs his head and pinches the bridge of his nose.

“She really needs you Fangs,” Karlach says to him, interrupting his train of thought.

Of course Karlach would say that as if it was the easiest thing in the world- like he hadn't been tortured and unloved for the past two centuries.

“I don’t know how to be what she needs right now,” he says in a soft voice.

It was true. He had only just expressed his feelings for you and he barely felt confident doing that to begin with. He spent two centuries seducing and manipulating whoever he could to survive. How could he be what you need right now? When he is just as much of a monster as the individuals that killed Arabella’s parents?

Karlach contemplates this, searching Astarion’s face as if the answer to all his problems would be there.

“You don’t need to do anything other than being there- tell them you are sorry. Tell them you were rooting for them because I saw it in your head. Tell them that they aren't alone,” Karlach pauses before saying, “And remind them that they are a good person- that Lliira wouldn’t abandon her in her suffering.”

Despite his fear and reluctance, he thanks Karlach for the advice and walks towards your tent.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Your body is shaking violently as your chest tightens and painful, silent sobs come out of your mouth. You are trying (and failing) to use your hand as a sound barrier.

It’s not about you, it’s about Arabella, you remind yourself, stop being so selfish.

Except the images are back, you are small again, helpless again, alone, and afraid. Despite your effort, Arabella has been given the same fate and in the same breath, you turned away from your Goddess. You lost yourself in the fight, you were aware of this while it was happening. You just didn’t have it in you to care anymore.

You hear footsteps approach your tent- you do the best to rub away the tears and snot.

It’s not about you.

You hear Astarion’s voice on the other side of the tent flap.

“Little love,” he says softly, “can I please come in?”

You laugh, your voice hoarse, “Come to tell me ‘I told you so?’ To gloat and laugh? If that is your intention, then no. You will need to wait one to five business days before you can do that.”

You don’t hear him laugh at your humorous response as he usually does. He enters the tent and you feel him sit down behind you, his legs on either side of yours. He’s tense as he puts his arms around you from behind, pulling you in between his legs. He slowly relaxes against your body, putting his face in the crook of your neck.

“I’m sorry Little Love. I wanted to be wrong. I just knew how much it would… hurt you if the outcome wasn’t… well.”

You sniff, choking back a sob as he begins drawing shapes on the back of your shaking hands.

“It’s okay my love. You can let it out. I’m here for you. You aren’t alone.”

Despite how clumsy and awkward it was said, that sentence alone broke whatever composure you still had. You cry and scream into your hand as Astarion holds onto you as if you are about to fly away and he is your anchor. Your breath is shallow and it’s hard to breathe as you suffocate on your grief and panic. You feel him ask for access to your mind, wanting to know how to help. So, you show him and you let all your grief pour into your cries. You feel his own tear mix with yours as he cries into your neck as he endures how you feel with you- as he watches your whole life fall apart because of one ambush over and over again.

He continues to trace patterns on your hands, asking you to focus on him and what he is doing, reminding you to breathe as you do for him when he is distressed.

You begin to calm as you focus on his voice, focus on his delicate fingers tracing your skin, and for once, you don’t feel so alone. You scoot forward, gently removing his arms , and turn around to face him, your tearful eyes meeting his.

He grabs your face gently and kisses your forehead as silent tears roll down both of your faces. You look down at your hands before speaking.

“I thought… I thought I could help Arabella be reunited with her family,” you say in a gravely whisper, “I had hoped she wouldn’t be alone like I was, but now…”

You suck in a harsh breath and look at your hands, “Gods, I am naive and stupid.”

“No- you do not get to talk about my favorite person that way,” Astarion says sharply.

You look up in surprise at the intensity of his words. He matches your eyes with a look of adoration, guilt, and a ferocity you have never seen before.

“Little Love, you are not naive and you are not stupid,” He pauses, to kiss one of your hands and intertwines your fingers together, “you are so good without trying because that is who you are. You experienced hardship and you didn’t let it destroy you. You didn’t become a monster.”

He looks at your face to gauge your reaction. You sit quietly, letting him continue to speak if he chooses so he does.

“You… you are amazing and a bright light in the darkness. You are my moon, my compass, and you have shown me parts of myself I didn’t know existed,” he clears his throat before continuing.

“ I hate to see you hurt, but I promise I will be here to help you through your suffering,” He stares into your eyes intensely, “for as long as you will have me.”

You pause, taking in everything he has just said to you. You felt like a star dying, exploding in the cosmos. You feel evil and wrong for the violence you inflicted on the Sisters and Malus in your need for revenge. Your actions were not of Lliira's will.

“I don’t know if that’s who I am anymore, Star. I engaged in senseless violence… I don’t think Lliira will forgive me- and if she does, it won’t be easy to obtain her forgiveness,” you say glumly.

He grabs your other hand in his and offers a soft smile.

“Then we will work together to get you back into favor with your Goddess and I will remind you everyday who you are until you believe in yourself again,” he says before leaving a chaste kiss on your lips.

You smile despite yourself, your chest glowing with warmth as you stare into his eyes. You know Astarion detests the Gods, but the fact that he was willing to help you made your eyes tear up again. You are horribly desperately in love with him and as much as you want to tell him that, you practice restraint. There is a time and place- that time is not now, not when the relationship just began.

“And what if I need it everyday for the rest of your Immortal life?” You say half-joking and half-afraid of his answer.

A wide, genuine grin spreads across Astarion’s face as your words register in his mind.

They want me to stay. They want me to be by their side-even when this is all done.

Astarion pulls you into his lap, your legs straddling his hips as he pulls you into him and presses a soft kiss against your neck before laying his head on your shoulder.

“Then I will stay by your side. Forever.”

#astarion x reader #astarion #baldurs gate 3 #baldurs gate astarion #astarion x you #astarion x gender neutral reader #bg3 #bg3 spoilers #bg3 astarion #bg3 tav #karlach

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justasimpleton-26 · 11 days

Text

A complicated night

(Part 2 of a simple date, which you can find the first part here)

MDNI

Jason wondered if having that date had been a mistake.

As he sat in his chair in the dining room, you across from him, and Dick, and Tim on either side of him, he could feel a lump form in his throat as he thought about what to tell you.

To your credit, you’d calm down some, and didn’t call the cops on Greyson when he had popped up in the bedroom with no warning.

But right now, as you gazed at his brothers with a guarded gaze, Jason felt like someone had kicked his heart when he realized that you were also looking at him like that. Like you were unsure of who Jason really was, because if you thought about it, you didn’t really know Jason.

Jason scrubbed his face with his hand, wanting this day to be over with. Or at least reverting back time to where he would have taken you to the movies or had a picnic by the beach.

Anything but to go to the town fair where everything was uncovered in just a second.

This situation also didn’t help Jason’s urge to hunt down that guy from the fair and pummel him into the ground.

“So…are we just going to wait in silence or is there something we’re waiting on.” You asked, and that made Jason look up to see your expression.

You seemed a bit calmer, but still he could tell that your guard was up, and Jason exhaled.

“I-“

“Please excuse my brother, he isn’t one to talk so much.” Dick interrupted, still wearing his mask and suit.

Jason felt something clench his heart. A feeling he hadn’t felt in two years.

The familiar spice of rage that he thought he had outgrown of.

“I can speak for myself, Greyson.” Jason spat out, and your gaze went between both brothers, somehow the tension growing in the room.

“Oh, come on now, Jason. Don’t you remember when we were young, and you used to be shy to talk to anyone outside of the family. That stuck with you for a while too- “

“Can we focus?” Tim interrupted, looking impatient as he texted on his phone.

“Right, right, we’re actually here to take you back home, Jason.” Dick replied, taking a sip of his hot chocolate that Jason had made him.

“Yeah, no thanks.” Jason replied, swiping a cookie from Tim. “I’m good right here.”

“Jason come on; we miss you. Damian misses you, Cass, Duke, and Steph. And…Bruce has been beside himself thinking that you died again.” Tim pleaded, making Jason freeze in his seat.

“Again?” you repeated, looking from Tim to Dick to finally Jason. “What do you mean by that? Jason died?”

Jason was internally swearing and cursing and maybe punching Timothy a little bit on the mouth.

“Look, Y/N-“Jason tried to say before he was cut off again by Dick.

“It was a long time ago, and thankfully, it didn’t stick. So, Jay, you want to pack a bag, and head back to Gotham?” Dick said, turning to Jason.

“For the last time Dick, I’m not going back with you or Timothy. I’m perfectly fine right here. And please, please stop answering for me! I have a voice that I can use too. I’ve grown since we’ve parted ways, and ya’ll want to pull me back in?!” Jason said, incredulous, making Tim take a step back, and leaving Dick slack jawed.

You felt very awkward watching this before your very eyes, and tried to make as little sound as possible so the attention didn’t divert to you. You could understand his frustration though; Jason had changed a lot since she first met him. He was more vocal and though he claimed to have a problem with his temper, you’d never seen it to this extent.

Until he was surrounded by his brothers, and they were probably dragging up memories Jason wanted to forget.

“There’s that anger that Jason always wielded.” Tim commented, taking a bite of that cookie. “You’ve probably gotten use to this, huh Y/N?”

“Actually, I’ve never seen him get this angry until now.” You say, before Jason can reply, and they both look surprised at that comment.

“No way, are you sure? Jason Todd? Former Robin, sidekick to Batman, and former Red Hood?” Dick said, sounding confused.

Jason slammed his palm on the table, causing everyone to jump. All three gazes were on him, and there was an expression that you’d never seen on his face before.

Even the time when Jason almost fought the guy at the fair, he didn’t look this angry.

“I’ve heard enough out of the both of you; get the fuck out. You brought me nothing but problems, and I’m over here trying to live my life peacefully.” Jason said, in a voice so low, and threatening, you got goosebumps scattered all over your arm.

“But-“

“Now Dick. I’ve heard enough and I don’t want to hear anymore. Tell Bruce I said he can go fuck himself, I’m so tired of all of you.” Jason replied harshly, getting up from the table, and heading off to his bedroom.

The door slams, and you watch as Tim deflates, shoving his phone back in his pocket, Dick getting back up from his seat.

“I’m so sorry, I can have him reach out to you when he’s calmed down.” You say, and Dick waves off the offer, giving her a strained smile.

“No worries. It was a bit too much coming down here with no warning and expecting…anyways, thank you for your hospitality. My brother and I will take our leave.” Dick replied, and Tim nodded in agreement, clenching and unclenching his hands.

You walk both out, watching as they disappeared into the night, and headed back inside.

Jason hadn’t come out of the room, and your worry for him grew. You slipped into the shared bedroom and slid into the bed next to him. He was facing away from you, but when her felt the bed move, he turned and pressed his face against your chest, wrapping his strong arms around your waist.

You held him, not saying anything, and that’s when he broke down and cried, and told you everything.

Someone steps out from behind a tree, gazing at the front of the house where it’s been confirmed that Jason Todd lives at.

Pressing on the comm in their ear, the person gives their boss a status update.

“This is the right one. Jason Todd is residing here.”

To be continued…?

#my writing #simple thoughts #jason todd x you #jason todd x reader #fanfic

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blessedwithabadomen · 25 days

Text

in love with the mess - day twelve

summary : Aubrey is going on tour and, for once, she's decided to focus on having as much fun as possible. Oli can be a little shit but he does nothing short of adore Audrey and... well, maybe Noah a little, too. Noah likes the flirting, as long as no one gets too close, emotionally. But what will happen when the three of them take it too far?

content : smut (p in v, oral (f receiving), dirty talk, some degradation), angst, fluff, Yungblug appearance lol

length : 8.3k

tags (let me know if you want to be tagged!) : @veronicaphoenix @cookiesupplier @lma1986 @jilliemiw86 @bngurngheart @lacktoesandtoddlerants @narcissisticbehavior81 @flowery-mess @shilohrosechicken @justeli6 @starvingarsyn @floatinglikeaswan @blacksoul-27 @somebodyels3 @kageyasma @spikeisdaddy @broken0mens @sunsshinesunny

a/n : time to find out what you've been craving to know for a week! enjoy and leave a comment 💕💕

•••

day twelve

Spending the whole night talking after an exhausting show, knowing fully well we had an early bus call, a four-hour drive to London, soundcheck and another show, wasn’t the wisest decision Oli and I had ever made, but it was a completely necessary one.

It started with a lot of confusion and reassurances that I’d heard correctly.

“Say that again,” I whispered. I didn’t care that he was still inside of me or that our sweaty bodies were sticking together or that my thighs were in danger of cramping as they wrapped around him that little bit tighter. Right now, it was just Oli, his eyes, more beautiful than I’d ever seen them, and those words hanging between us. “Please.”

“I love you, Aubrey,” he repeated. Something in his face changed. Like a weight being lifted. Like there was a new lightness in his being from having said those words out loud. He was earnest. Everything about him screamed honesty. But believing it was another thing. After pining for him for so long. After wondering whether I should let him know about my feelings just this morning.

“You mean that?” I asked, unable to keep the worry to myself. I needed to know. If not now, I’d question it forever. “You’re not just saying that because you just came in me, right?”

“Fucking hell, Aubrey,” Oli laughed. Taking hold of my thighs, he removed them from his waist, then pulled out slowly, discarding the condom. He didn’t hand me a tissue or a wipe but I couldn’t care less about possibly leaking on his sheets. There were more important things. When he lied down next to me, his hands found my body again, holding me close, bringing our foreheads together once more. “I didn’t mean to tell you that way, yeah? But I mean it. I might as well admit it now. I love you.”

I was convinced I was going to wake up from this dream any minute now. Things like these didn’t happen. Wishes didn’t come true like this. But Oli felt nothing short of real in my arms.

“Again,” I demanded.

“I love you.”

I had to bask in the delight for a while. Giggles and smiles and soft kisses peppered all over his face followed. Then, more questions.

“How long have you known?” I whispered, still, as if we were discussing a secret that was just ours, just for now, before the rest of the world was allowed to listen in. Now that the seal on his secret was broken though, I wanted to learn every single thing about it.

“Well, once upon a time, many, many years ago, I entered my tour bus and the first thing I laid my eyes across was the greatest ass in the world in the tiniest pair of hot pants sticking out from my bunk because someone had gotten mixed up on where they were supposed to sleep-”

Oli avoided the playful slap coming his way, catching onto my wrist and pressing a kiss on it before letting go again. I could feel him smile on my skin.

“You absolutely did not fall in love with me from seeing my ass before you saw my face.”

He sighed in mock annoyance. “You’re really going to make me go all sappy here, aren’t you.”

“I’m not letting you out of this bed until you do.”

“That’s not as much of a threat as you think it is.”

I allowed him to press a kiss to my forehead but pulled back quickly. He wasn’t going to get away with not answering, not now. I was desperate for every tiny sliver of truth I could get from him.

“I happened gradually, you know?” Oli explained and I couldn’t help but wonder if I’d ever seen him this serious, this sincere. “I think it’s been in the making for a while. But when we didn’t see each other for, like, a year, it just hit me differently. So me inviting you on this tour might just have been a tad selfish.”

I couldn’t even blame him. Not for this. I knew he hadn’t expected anything of me when he offered to get me a job on this tour. And realistically, none of us could have seen coming what had transpired in the past days. But suddenly I was more thankful than ever for that fateful phonecall just a few months back.

“I’ve been in love for you for a while,” he admitted. “But now I also know that I love you.”

He got buried under a plethora of kisses for that alone.

The kissing distracted us for a while. Every time I looked at him and those eyes that suddenly shone so clearly with love, I couldn’t stop myself from grabbing his face and pulling him close again. It was like a drug whose dosage had just increased tenfold and I wanted more and more and more. Only when he finally separated from me for a moment, his eyes not quite shining the way mine did, did I realise.

“You don’t need to say it back,” he mumbled, stroking my hair in such a delicate manner that I wished I could purr to convey just how perfectly comfortable I was. He was trying to be brave. As if it was okay for him that he’d just bared his soul and I’d simply taken it all with open arms and a smile. As if he didn’t need to hear those words just as badly. That he could accept if I didn’t feel the same.

In reality, I’d simply been so caught up in this utopia that had just opened up for me that I’d not even noticed I hadn’t said it. Those three words that had been swimming in my brain for longer than I’d consciously been aware of.

“Oli,” I whispered, laying both of my hands on his cheeks so I could direct his face back toward me. I needed to make sure he was looking at me, really looking at me. I knew he would have trouble believing it otherwise. “Oliver. I love you.”

“Are you-”

“Yes. I love you. And I’ll tell you a thousand times if you let me. I’ve been thinking about telling you I’m in love with you so many times, you have no idea. Just going over it in my head again and again. I was so scared to say it and ruin everything. But if I’m being honest with myself, I couldn’t have held it in for much longer. You simply had the guts to say it first.”

“Aubrey-”

“No. Shush. I love you.”

I couldn’t tell how many times we repeated those words to each other. Neither of us seemed to be quite able to grasp the novelty of the situation. How everything between us had changed now, officially. No more backing away. No pretending that we were just having fun, no strange friends-with-benefits situation that kept crossing lines. It was terrifying as much as it was absolutely exhilarating.

When night slowly started giving way to morning though, our ridiculous happiness experienced a bit of a damper. It wasn’t just the fact that a new day was starting, throwing us into new chaos and questions on how to navigate whatever we now were. It was also the knowledge that this mess didn’t just include the two of us.

“What about Noah?” I unhelpfully threw in. I didn’t even know where to start that discussion. I didn’t even know what needed to be discussed after all.

“I don’t… I don’t want to stop. Whatever we’re doing with him. It’s just…”

“Me neither.”

A sigh rattled through Oli’s chest, so deep and full of worries that I couldn’t help pulling him a little closer, as if that would alleviate his stress or somehow make the situation better.

“I’m not sure what I want. In the long term.”

I let the silence fall for a moment. He was so deep in thoughts I almost felt bad about pulling him back to reality. But he was in danger of going into overthinking territory again.

“Do you know what you feel for him?”

Maybe it was the darkness embracing us that made it a little easier for Oli to talk about it. Maybe it was the euphoria still coursing through his veins. Maybe we’d managed to elevate outselves to a new level of trust between us.

“I think…” He paused for a moment. I didn’t say anything. I simply allowed him to take the time to sort his thoughts as much as he was able to. “I think I know. Somehow. I’m just not sure if I can put it in words yet. And Noah…”

“Yeah,” I agreed. Even if he hadn’t said it out loud, I had an idea of where his train of thought was taking him. “He’s… I think he needs some more time.”

“Do we tell him?”

“Tell him what? That we said ‘I love you’ to each other?”

“That you’re my girlfriend.”

The blush came so abruptly and with such heat, even before I’d fully registered his words. Suddenly, my heart was beating with the insane intensity of being in love once again. I didn’t know if I wanted to throw up or laugh until my body gave up, just to alleviate the feeling.

“Am I?” I giggled, much more high-pitched than I usually sounded, but my voice was beyond control. “Is that what we are now? Girlfriend and boyfriend?”

“Fuck off,” he exclaimed, but he was sporting a smile so big I could see his sharp canines. In an instant, his hands moved, suddenly tickling my stomach and all I could do was cry out attempts of ‘no’ and ‘stop’ while gasping for air and struggling to get away. “This is not funny.”

He was laughing out loud anyway. When he stopped, fingers still hovering in dangerous places, my breathing quick and hectic, he stared down at me with a grin.

“Say you’ll be my girl or I’ll keep this up until bus call.”

I had no fight in me and no energy to survive another attack.

“I already am. I’m your girl, Oli.”

I could have stayed in our little bubble of love forever, doing nothing but staring at Oli and reminding myself that this was real. That he loved me. That he wanted me. Even with the nagging feeling in both of our beings that we hadn’t quite figured it out yet. Not with the third puzzle piece missing.

I wondered how Noah’s night had been. If the guys had managed to talk to him. How he felt. If his bed had seemed as empty as ours.

The ever-increasing alarm on my phone, still somewhere in a bag in Oli’s living room but rising in crescendo to the point where we easily heard it still, reminded me that I was waiting for some sort of information from Nicky. It was enough motivation to get up and get ready for the day. Just about.

Kicking Oli out of bed with me (under loud protest about his lack of sleep which I really couldn’t undo), I quickly made my way to my phone, caring much less about being completely naked than the sound that was starting to grind my gears. Two messages were waiting for me. I swiped away the one from my roommate, who unfortunately now possessed my number after I’d called her, deciding that her question about when I’d pick up my stuff could wait another day. The other one was more interesting anyway.

Unknown number Barely got anything out of Noah last night but I think he’s open to talk to you if you have some time. Maybe hop on our bus for the ride to London? I’d made sure the two of you get some space. Let me know so we don’t drive off without you. Nicholas Ruffilo

I chuckled at the way he signed the goddamn text with his whole name as if this was a business transaction, then added his number to my phone.

“Oli!” I shouted for him. His head poked around the corner almost immediately. “Mind if I drive to London with Bad Omens? Nicholas said Noah might talk.”

“You’re my girl for, what, four hours and you already leave me for another band!” He exclaimed, approaching me with long strides, hands immediately on my bare ass. He had only just managed to put on a pair of clean boxershorts and I repaid the gesture by letting my fingers trail down his chest. “Unbelievable.”

“I’ll make sure to make it up to you when we get there.” My fingers ghosted over his bulge, just for a second, before I pulled away completely. As much as I wanted to play him, I knew we had no time and several people waiting for us. “You can decide how.”

“That’ll do,” he chuckled, pulling me in for a kiss so bruising and passionate it almost knocked me off my feet. “I kind of need to run an errand before bus call anyway.”

“An errand?”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll call you a cab to drop you off there and then I’ll see you in London, yeah?”

I worried about it immensely but there was no chance he was going to tell me anything so I nodded instead. I needed to get dressed and leave soon anyway if I was going to make it on time. Oli had already pressed his phone to his ear, the ringing loud enough for me to hear, but even with the other person picking up any minute, he couldn’t seem to help himself as he started at me and mouthed another I love you.

I couldn’t blame him. I wanted to tell him the same words for the rest of my life.

•••

Nick greeted me with a hug when I found him in the car park which felt new but not entirely unwelcome. He looked pretty fresh and awake which I took as a good sign. I hoped it would mean no one got terribly drunk last night. And that it ended on a good note, without any fights or insane stress to either party of the band.

“How was last night then? And this is not a small-talk question.”

Nick chuckled as he let me through the parked cars and busses. “Not terrible, which seems like a win. We let him know we were worried about him and he basically apologised which was unnecessary. There’s… a lot going on in his brain I think. But toward the end of the night he kept babbling about how he just wanted to talk to you, again and again.”

Nick caught my worried look immediately as we came to a half in front of the bus.

“He wasn’t drunk, don’t worry. He had like, two beers. I think he was just overly tired and… well, stressed. We got him into bed as early as possible but he’s a bit beat with the early start.”

“I think we all are,” I laughed, more to myself than anything else. I’d not gotten a single minute of sleep after Oli’s confession and neither had he. Which was why he was under strict instructions to spend the drive sleeping to at least have some sort of energy for tonight. I didn’t need to be responsible for him falling asleep on stage.

Nick agreed with a smile, unlocking the door. I was halfway to entering the bus when his hand on my arm stopped me.

“I think you could be good for him, you know. Both of you.”

I willed the blush to keep at bay. “Even Oli?”

Nick laughed, loudly bur earnestly. “Even Oli.”

•••

I found Noah in the lounge at the back, on his own, playing with his phone. He seemed surprised to see me there for a split second but then opened up his arms in a silent plea for comfort. Who was I to deny him. Leaving my bag right where I stood, I walked up to him, dropping down on the couch and pulling him into my arms. If they were anywhere close to being a safe place for him as his and Oli’s arms were for me, it was truly the least I could do.

He was so warm and comfortable against me that I silently hoped we would stay like this all the way until London. The motor of the bus had started, rumbling through the whole vehicle as we exited the car park, and I had to fight against the monotone lull that threatened to make me fall asleep. I wanted to talk to Noah first. Even if my eyelids were heavily protesting.

“Did you have fun with the guys last night?” I carefully asked.

Noah didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he proceeded to sink lower and lower, shuffle in his seat until he was basically horizontal, and then put his head in my lap. I slid a little further as well, trying to make my thighs a comfortable pillow for him, and started combing through his hair with my fingers. I figured he was a little bit like Oli - even if he was ready to talk, sometimes it was simply easier to do so without having to look at the other person.

“I missed you,” he mumbled. “And Oli.”

“That’s very sweet, but not answering my question,” I chuckled, enjoying the softness of his strands on my palm. “I hope they didn’t stress you out too much?”

“No.” A sigh. “If anything I’ve been stressing them out. I’ve been a little irate with them for no good reason.”

“Disregarding your judgement of it, there was a reason for it though, right?”

“I guess so.”

I poked his shoulder, unsatisfied with the answer, which took him by surprise because he twitched so heavily that he almost rolled off my lap and the couch. I slung one of my arms around his middle, keeping him in position.

“I’ve just been thinking about what we’re doing, a lot,” he admitted. “And every time the guys teased me about some shit regarding you or Oli, it just hit a nerve because I wasn’t figuring it out and it reminded me of the fact that I had no idea where this was going. I shouldn’t have taken my moods out on them.”

“I think they understand.”

“I think they can’t risk losing their frontman,” Noah commented, but even he couldn’t stay serious at the idea, a light and airy giggle erupting his throat that I couldn’t help but join. “I apologized to them. And I’ll make sure to… talk to people instead of figuring it out on my own. And tell them if they’re crossing my boundaries.”

“Well done, Noah.” I grabbed one of his hands, briefly bringing it up to my mouth to press a kiss on it before dropping it again, then resumed to comb through his hair. “Have you… have your figured out some stuff, though? About… about what you want? I know we had that talk in the pub a while ago where we agreed on just fun but…”

I let the question linger in the air. Truth be told, I was terrified of being any more direct. Of asking him straight out. I had literally just figured some things out with Oli mere hours before, now I was in the eye of the storm of another deeply emotional conversation and it left me exhausted and on edge. The idea of being the first one to speak up about what I was feeling proved to be a little too much right now.

“I lied.”

The short statement caught me off guard. I didn’t realise the hand in his hair had stilled until he patted at it with his own, trying to get me to continue. Only when I did, did he resume speaking.

“I lied when I said that. I… I never really wanted to just have fun. But the idea of anything more than that terrifies me.”

I wanted to ask him if it wasn’t a bit late for that. If he thought going out on dates, spending day and night with us, learning all about each other, sharing so much more than kisses still meant he was in safe territory. If he believed that he could be in the middle of this without catching feelings. But I didn’t.

“What is it about it that terrifies you?” I asked instead.

“What doesn’t.”

The urgency to prod further, force him to explain was burning inside of me, but I knew it wasn’t fair. Noah was already being more honest with me than he had been in days. The least I could do was have some more patience.

“I think I need some more time,” he finally said. “I want- I want to figure this out. Can you give me some time? All these new things in my head at the moment. I’d never even kissed a man before and now-”

“Now what, Noah? You can say it, you know. I won’t judge.”

“Now I can’t stop thinking about being on my knees for him all the time and letting him do whatever he wants with me.”

The heat between my legs erupted as suddenly as it did forcefully. Whatever I had expected, it wasn’t a confession of this sort. Of this level of honesty. And now that the idea was planted in my head, I knew I’d have the utmost trouble thinking about anything else.

But this wasn’t about me and my arousal, not right now.

“I’m pretty sure Oli would love to do that for you, darling. All you have to do is ask.”

“Maybe you could tell him,” he replied, so quietly I was barely sure I’d heard it at all. “And… and I’d like you to be there too.”

“Yeah? Is that what you want? For me to tell Oli to do you however he pleases? That you… want to be a good boy for him? Be told what to do? And you’d let me watch, too? Maybe get a little involved?”

He squirmed a little underneath my hands, but ultimately nodded.

“I’ll let him know, love. We have a lot of time tomorrow before the show. A lot of time to explore whatever you want, okay? Maybe…” I took a deep breath. “Maybe it’ll help you figure out what you want a little more.”

I could only pray it would.

•••

“Do you know if Dom’s here yet?”

Oli was walking half next to me, half behind me as I made my way onto the floor of the arena, awkwardly trying to rub my sore neck that had been through hell after accidentally falling asleep on the bus with Noah for… a while. I shook him off when Becky waved me in to the sound booth, feeling strangely awkward about his public display of affection when we hadn’t quite told anyone about this new development in our relationship.

It was weird, really. Just yesterday, I wouldn’t have minded, knowing that people would talk and gossip if they wanted either way. Now that I knew he loved me, wanted me to be his and that we hadn’t let Noah, who was fumbling around with his mic on stage, know anything about it yet, I felt a lot more nervous about how everything could be interpreted.

“Who’s Dom?”

“Dominic Harrison. Yungblud.”

“Right,” I sighed. Apparently my brain was so full of questions about my bloody love life that I’d completely forgotten about the fact that Oli was going to perform Obey with him today. I attempted to visualise the agenda I’d double-checked just before, knowing Oli would have to fend for himself a little more now that I was helping Becky out. “No, not as far as I know. He’s scheduled to come in for soundcheck.”

“Ah, boring,” Oli complained. “Well, I’ll leave you to… whatever you two need to be doing here then.”

“Wait,” I called after him after he had already turned away. “What was that errand about? Everything go alright?”

“Everything went perfectly. You’ll find out later.”

He left me with a smug look on his face and an undefinable feeling in my stomach. Asshole. He knew very well I was going to be thinking about this for the foreseeable future.

At least work actually distracted me sufficiently enough that it wasn’t quite as torturous. Becky did her best to dumb down everything she was explaining to me to a level that my brain could at least somewhat process and I was very thankful for it. I could tell she wanted to throw all the technical jargon at me, but that would have simply ended up in even more chaos. It didn’t mean I wasn’t willing to learn - anytime we had a small break in between things that actually needed immediate attention, she explained every single step, every decision, every reasoning behind it in as much detail as she could and I soaked it all up like a sponge.

We successfully made it through Bad Omens’ soundcheck with minimal problems. Bring Me The Horizon went almost as perfectly, minus the fact that we now had to adjust Dom’s mic as well and Dom was so bloody excited about everything that he kept ignoring our questions and orders alike. Him and Oli were an explosive combination, but Oli looked so ridiculously happy that I couldn’t even be mad at them for slacking off.

“Alright, we’re done here for now,” Becky announced after we’d finally, somehow, managed to get both Dom and Oli in check enough to make sure they’d sound perfect on stage later. “You can take the next two hours off and then I’ll meet you back here?”

“Sounds perfect. Actually, I could very much do with a nap, maybe-”

“Aubrey!” Oli’s voice cut through the whole arena now that it was mostly quiet again. “Dinner with Dom and Noah! Come!”

I turned back to Becky with a sigh.

“No rest for the wicked, I guess.”

•••

If I’d thought having dinner at our hotel right next to the arena meant that we might finish quickly enough and give me time for some shut eye, I was solely mistaken. Noah and Oli were quite chaotic as it was - but with Dom added into the mix, I was surprised we didn’t get kicked out for the ruckus caused. Every now and then, Dom and Oli would get into ridiculously specific anecdotes from their respective hometowns, their accents growing thicker and thicker until all Noah could do was stare at them in utter confusion and amazement.

“So, who here is fucking because I’m getting mad sexual energy from all of you guys.”

On top of it, he seriously lacked a filter. I watched Noah closely, waiting for the awkward blush to appear on his face, but it didn’t happen. He looked mildly uncomfortable at worst and he was definitely not going to be the one to speak up, but it was a world’s different to the last time someone had insinuated the three of us were more than friends.

Oli, on the other hand, was more comfortable than ever. Maybe it was that Dom was a close friend and he simply didn’t mind sharing with him. Maybe it was down to the fact that at least he and I had gotten closer to officially defining our relationship. I embraced it either way.

“Can you blame me? Look at these two!”

Now it was my turn to blush, caused entirely by the way Dom was eyeing me up and down, one eyebrow raised suggestively, the look in his eyes unmistakable. He gave Noah the same treatment which simply ended up with him fixating very hard on what was left on his plate, randomly shuffling some food around, just to avoid the stare. Apparently, Oli treating him like eye candy was one thing, an essential stranger a very different one.

“It’s pretty hard to escape Oli’s charms,” I mused, playfully kicking him under the table.

“Is that what you call his dick?”

Oli erupted in laughter as Noah sank deeper into his plate, but even that didn’t fully hide the grin emerging on his face. “Fucking hell, Dom, I’m gonna have to pay off the waitress to keep quiet if you don’t stop shouting through the place.”

“What, you didn’t do that before I came? Bad planning on your part, pal,” Dom chuckled, heavily hitting Oli’s shoulder. “Right, gimme the details though. You three hooking up or are we talking something more? Because you know I love me a good threesome. For sex and anything else. From experience.”

“Wait, you’ve been in poly relationships?” I couldn’t help but ask. I’d never personally had the chance to meet Dom, so most of my knowledge came from interviews or social media or whatever escapade Oli decided to tell me about. This was new.

“Sure! The more the merrier, I say! Well, up to a point, after that you just kinda lose track, ya know?”

“Was jealousy ever a problem?” Noah spoke up out of nowhere. He’d been so quiet I’d almost forgotten he was part of this conversation at all. And now he wasn’t just joining it but posing relevant questions. It was hard to keep my mind at bay when it came to the possible implications of it.

“In which way?” Dom asked, suddenly more serious than he had been all day. As if knew how badly Noah might need some answers. Some clarifications. Some reassurance. I didn’t want to be too hopeful, but it seemed like a good sign.

“What if…” He swallowed, hard, as if on the edge of pulling back, making a stupid joke, get his shield back up so we wouldn’t see his vulnerable side. So we wouldn’t know. But, to my utmost surprise, he didn’t. “What if there’s just a different familiarity between two of them because… because they’ve known each other longer and they live closer together and… yeah.”

Oli really didn’t need to kick me but he still did, as if there was any chance in hell I’d not understood what exactly Noah was referring to. I tried desperately to make sense of it before Dom would start speaking again. Did this mean he actually wanted this? Us? Were the insecurities holding him back? Did he think he wouldn’t be a full part of this relationship if he agreed to it? That Oli and I, somehow, had something between us he’d never get to the level of? I had a million things to say but I knew it wasn’t my turn.

“Nah mate, you gotta let go of that kinda thinking,” Dom said. He had pushed his plate away and was now leaning on his elbows, on the table, staring at Noah so intently that the latter had no choice but to listen. “History doesn’t matter like that when you get into a relationship and neither does distance. So what if they’ve known each other for years? Unless you’re joining an existent romantic relationship, this is new for all of you and you gotta figure out how the three of you work together.”

Noah nodded, gravely, before going back to playing with the scraps on his plate, as Oli and I exchanged worried looks. Or were they hopeful? It was hard to differentiate all the emotions coursing through me. I wanted to know more, figure out what else had been plaguing Noah’s mind, but it was clear his moment of bravery had run out.

“Any more tips for the newly polyamorous then?” Oli asked with a giggle in his voice. Noah briefly looked back up at him with something akin to shock but hid it quickly enough that I wasn’t sure if anyone but me had noticed at all.

“Get to know each other as much as you can and never take anyone for granted. Make the distance work for you. Get everyone as involved as you can, but remember that when someone feels left out because of things like being far away, it’s not a matter of the other two loving them any less.”

“I think that’s the wisest thing I’ve ever heard you say, mate,” Oli laughed, causing a ripple of chuckles around the table as the tension fell off.

“And it’s gonna stay the wisest thing I’ll say tonight because as soon as I’m off that stage, I’ll get myself drunk, watch me.”

“Dom, you’ve already had two drinks,” I remarked, pointing at the empty glasses on the table.

“I never said I was staying sober until then.”

•••

The show went more than well. I had less time than ever to actually watch what the bands were doing on stage and just get myself lost in it, but now it felt like being involved, being part of it, in a whole different way. I was trying hard to keep up with Becky and her orders, but she kept enough of an eye on me that any mistakes were quickly spotted and fixed. It felt exhilarating. Even more so when I got showered in praise about how well I’d done for essentially my first ever life show afterwards.

Understandably, I was riding a high when I was picking up my stuff backstage, trying to figure out where everyone was. My phone quickly answered the question.

Oli You got a key to my room? Come round Got a surprise

Suspicious. Suspicious as hell, actually. Still, I did have that keycard and I couldn’t resist a good surprise. And with Oli behind it, there was no doubt I was going to like it. The walk to the hotel was quick, as was the ride up to the correct floor. I wasn’t sure what exactly I was expecting. Right now, it could truly be anything from Oli lying naked on his bed with whipped cream all over himself to a cosy movie night with my favourite hot chocolate.

Apparently, the surprise wasn’t a visual one though, because the only thing I saw when I opened the door to his room was Oli and Noah on the couch kissing so softly that it almost made my heart ache. They were fully intertwined, limbs entangled and all over each other and it gave me hope like nothing before ever had. That wasn’t making out or fucking for the fun of it. This was both of them pouring the emotions they couldn’t vocalise just yet into every single movement.

I briefly contemplated leaving, giving them some space and time, but I knew Oli had specifically asked for me and it simply felt too good to be alone with both of them once again. So, instead, I let the door fall back into the frame very, very gently, locking it for good measure. It was enough to get their attention. When they looked in my direction, both of them had glazed eyes and lips they’d kissed red and all I could think about was taking a picture to keep this image in my mind forever.

“Aubrey!” Oli called out, sounding as ecstatic to see me as ever. I was relieved to see Noah send a serene smile my way too. “First things first, your surprise.”

He was on his feet in an instant, rummaging through his bag. I shot Noah a look, but he simply shrugged his shoulders.

When Oli turned around again, his hands were behind his back, hiding whatever he had just located in his luggage.

“I know you’re not a fan of handouts, so I want you to know that this isn’t one, yeah?” Oli explained. “But I wanted to help out and I could, so I did.”

“Oli,” I whined. “Just tell me.”

“Just- before I give it to you, one more thing: This is completely on your terms and you decide how we do this, but… yeah.”

I didn’t immediately realise what I was seeing when Oli opened up his hand to me and revealed the item in his palm. In fact, I spotted the keychain first - the missing, beloved Powerpuff keychain I’d already assumed I would never see again, but here it was being offered back to me, now attached to-

Keys.

A pair of keys.

“Is that-”

“The keys to my place. Again, we can handle this any way you like, we can be roommates, I have a spare room I can empty out or you can just… stay with me. In my bed. And all. Up to you. But you have a place to stay, always. Temporarily until you find something new or… permanently. Okay?”

I wasn’t sure how I managed to let him finish his awkward and slightly jumbled speech before I all but jumped on him, arms wrapped around his neck, hanging on for dear life as I willed the tears to disappear. I buried my face in his shirt, hoping I wouldn’t leave a stain and I whispered words of gratefulness.

It didn’t feel like a handout. Not with him. Not when I knew he wouldn’t do this out of anything but love for me, never pity. And with the words we’d exchanged just that morning, it meant even more.

“Is that the errand you needed to run this morning?”

“Yeah,” he chuckled, almost as if a little embarrassed. “I’d been planning to get copies made for you for a while but that was the only time I could fit it in.”

“I can’t believe you had the fucking keychain all along and I almost cried on Lee’s shoulder.”

The kiss I pressed to his lips through my giggles, with so much force that I almost toppled both of us over, said more than I could in words. It was only when I let go of him and caught sight of Noah out of the corner of my eye that I realised how awfully quiet he was. He smiled up at us from where he still sat on the couch, but it wasn’t the honest kind of smile he’d graced us with earlier. It was stilted and forced and I knew exactly why.

Luckily, so did Oli.

“And now, for the sad-looking doe eyes over there.” Oli made a little spectacle out of pulling another pair of keys from his luggage, dangling them in the air like a prized possession. “I really tried to steal your keychain too but it was fucking impossible because I couldn’t figure out where you had it, but you get a set too. If you want. I know you have a place and all that but… You’re welcome at mine any time, no asking or prior notifications needed. It’s yours to turn up to anytime.”

If anything, Noah now looked a little embarrassed, possibly at Oli so easily realising what he was battling with and fixing it so brilliantly. I could just imagine Noah’s head spinning thinking Oli wouldn’t care for him like that, only for him to turn it around completely and proving he had, in fact, thought about this situation long before Noah had even known it would exist.

Noah sheepishly took the keys, letting himself be pulled into another kiss by Oli.

“So pretty when you blush like that,” Oli mused, which only deepend the colour on Noah’s cheeks, but even he had to chuckle then. Another kiss ended up on Noah’s nose, then on mine, and it was so unexpected and unfamiliar that it had all of us erupting in giggles.

It continued like that. There was no need to discuss what we were doing as clothes started dropping on the floor, all of us overly tired but needy and touch-starved and willing to push sleeping just a little further back to finally be reunited as the three of us. The atmosphere was lighter than it had been in a while and even though we all knew that there were things left to figure out and things left to say, just for the moment we let ourselves fall into the idea that this could be easy.

The clumsiness that came with it only spurred on the mood, Oli stumbling as he got stuck in his trousers, Noah throwing his own away and then immediately retrieving it to get the condoms from his wallet, neither of them succeeding in unhooking my bra until I swatted their hands away and did it myself.

I kicked my panties off without any further help, fearing we’d risk injury if we continued having any garments at all around us, and crawled up the bed, leaning back on my elbows, watching as Oli pushed Noah down next to me to kiss him again, their growing erections touching and letting moans erupt between them. I silently reminded myself to talk to Oli about what Noah had said earlier. Just seeing them together now manifested my wish to be there when they took their next step, if they let me.

“How about we get our girl here ready for us?” I heard Oli whisper against Noah's lips. “I get her nice and wet on my dick and then you finish her off.”

My breath audibly hitched, much to the amusement of both men next to me. In an instant, Oli moved from Noah to me, hovering over my body but denying me the kiss I was hoping for. Instead, his lips found my neck, leaving little love bites all the way down until they settled on my breast, eagerly lapping at my nipple until I was arching my back toward him, a hand tangled in his hair, quietly gasping for more. I didn't realise Noah was moving until I felt his mouth on my other breast. The pleasure was intense, shooting straight down my body as I wriggle under Oli. Both of them kept switching between sweet licks and kisses and teasing bites until I was sure I could feel the wetness drip from between my legs.

“One day, we'll make you come just from this, but tonight we've got other plans,” Oli grinned, pinching my nipple so hard that I cried out in surprise, briefly taken aback by how much I enjoyed the roughness of it.

I didn't have enough time to think about it when Oli and Noah removed their mouths from me, only for the former to descend on my pussy, leaving long, teasing licks on it before plunging it inside me. My hands immediately flew back to his head, but he only needed to look up and shoot a stare at Noah for the other man to understand. Immediately, my hands were removed, a tight grip on my wrists as Noah lifted them above my head, heavily pressing them into the mattress without any wriggle room.

“Come on, Aubrey, be a good girl for Oli. He's prepping you so nicely for our cocks. Doesn't have to do that, you know? We could just fuck you like this, see how much you stretch around us, how well you take us without any help.” I moaned so loudly at Noah's words that even Oli briefly lifted his head. “You want that, don't you? You want us to push your limits.”

Oli didn't give me a chance to confirm or deny as his strong arms flipped my body over on my front without any effort at all. Noah threw a condom at him, so perfectly in sync that I wondered just how much they had discussed beforehand. Oli pulled my hips up to meet his, his hard cock pressing against my arse while Noah grabbed onto my chin.

“How about you give me that mouth again while Oli fucks you good, hm? And don't you dare come until it's my turn.”

I complied willingly. Oli entered me slowly but in one single stroke until he was fully buried in me and my head dropped at the welcome intrusion, sweat prickling on my skin as I tried to accommodate his size. Noah didn't have any pity on me though as he sat down in front of my face, easily leading my mouth to his dick, forcing me to take it straight away. I moaned around his length as Oli started finding his rhythm.

“Fuck,” Noah moaned as he pushed my down a little further. “I've made some bad decisions but thank fuck they led me right here.”

“Yeah?” Oli piped up from behind me, briefly slowly down. “Some bad, bad decisions, Noah?”

The laugh ripped from my throat so harshly that I accidentally choked on Noah's cock before I freed my mouth, sputtering with giggles.

“Oh, come on,” Noah groaned, absentmindedly petting my head as he shot daggers at Oli.

“I'm just saying, you have a lot more sexy lyrics to choose from. Like the way you fuck, the way you taste and all that.”

I felt another bout of laughter rise up, but Noah obviously thought it was time to stuff my mouth again and pushed me back onto him.

“Why don't you stick to your own lyrics,” he mumbled, already getting distracted again by my tongue running along his length as I willed myself to take a little more every time.

“You know I might,” Oli remarked, resuming a hard rhythm that left me completely at his mercy. “I'm quite partial to I love the way you choke.”

The next thrust was even harsher, forcing me to indeed choke on Noah as Oli was now fully in charge of the way my body moved. Every time he almost pulled out, he dragged me back with him to the point where I barely managed to keep my lips on Noah's tip, then he pushed back in so doing that I came close to deepthroating him.

I loved it.

I loved being brainless, losing all my agency, being treated as nothing more than a little toy for them to play with. It had never been so incredibly obvious to me but I already knew I'd be begging on my knees asking for more soon.

Now, however, Oli was getting close, his moans getting louder and his movements a little sloppier and much too soon he was pulling out, wrecking me away from Noah and pushing me onto my back again. I watched, utterly restless and impatient and empty, as he shed the condom and started stroking himself. I'd expected him to ask to come on me, my tits, maybe my face but instead he was looking at Noah.

With a small nod, their communication completely silent, Noah moved toward him, slowly palming his own erection and within moments, Oli's eyes never leaving his, Oli came, covering Noah's chest and abdomen in beautiful streaks.

Oli fell onto the bed, utterly spent and showcasing a satisfied smile, but Noah was more hungry than ever. Fumbling with the night stand, he made quick work of putting on a condom, hissing at every touch as his thick cock immediately bounced against his stomach as he let go, before roughly spreading my legs and without any further warning pushed into me.

He was rougher than Oli, hovering over me as his arms caged me in, pressing his forehead to mine as he pounded into me so hard that I knew I'd feel sore tomorrow, but I welcomed it with open arms. I could feel the remains of Oli dripping on me, coating us both in it further. I let him push my legs backward, bent at the knees, almost folding me in half and the change of angle almost brought tears to my eyes. He felt even larger like this, moving against every single spot I craved with every thrust.

“Such a good little whore for us, letting both of us fuck you and just taking it all,” Noah groaned roughly. I was close to unravelling. “Can't fucking get enough, can you? Perfect little pussy that's just made for us. Come on, touch yourself, squeeze around me, I wanna feel you.”

It barely took a moment when I touched my clit, and when he gave me particularly hard thrust I all but screamed, grinding into him and against my hard, the whole world quieting down for a moment as my orgasm took me, prolonged by the way he sounded when he came too, nothing but bliss left in my body.

Oli welcomed me with open arms as Noah pulled out carefully, kissing my hair and whispering words of praise. A bottle of water was handed to me, then Noah appeared with a towel to clean me up. I hissed when he reached down between my legs, his rough treatment still tingling.

“Did I go too hard on you?” he immediately asked, halting his movements, worry in his eyes.

“No!” I immediately rejected his fears. “No, I loved it, honestly. Just a little sore now.”

He pressed a loving kiss to the inside of my thigh, then cleaned me up as quickly as possible. When he came back from the bathroom, he slid into bed next to us and I couldn't back bite a smile at the realisation that he'd chosen to lie down on Oli's other side instead of mine. He didn't hesitate as he moulded himself to Oli's back, looking so relaxed and comfortable. I crawled into Oli's arms too, noting that he looked just as happy about Noah's affections.

There were a million things running through my mind still. Questions about our relationship, about Oli’s and Noah's feelings for each other. A reminder I needed to speak to Oli about Noah's wish. A nagging desire to tell them I was realising just how roughly I liked it with them. But none of them made their way out of my brain as sleep took over all three of us, letting us fall asleep in a puddle of post-orgasmic haze and at least temporary happiness.

#Noah Sebastian fic #Noah Sebastian #Oli Sykes fic #Oli Sykes #Noah Sebastian x reader #Oli Sykes x reader #in love with the mess

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