#paragon verse

[1800titz]

I really need you to see the potential in this Paragon self duplication thing.

“Again,” Harry encourages, nudging at her sternum with a palm that lacks the gentleness of amiable coaching. Deftly, he blocks her weakened onslaught of ice with a forearm radiating deterrent and takes a step back, wriggling with his fingers in a come hither motion, “Again.” 

Arctick attempts to catch him off guard, throwing an underhand aimed for his family jewels, and white radiates from her palm — the expanse of the attack is stifled, instantly, and a pale hue of violet glows translucently ahead of his stature. Ice splinters into shards that fall in crystals. 

“Ooh,” the man dips his chin, pivoting as his brows pinch and his strawberry mouth curls, “Sneaky aim. Low blow, sweetheart. That would’ve hurt.” 

“Are you angry? Y’look angry,” the hero tells her on an open-mouthed beam, then juts at her with his chin, taking another casual step back over the mat, “That’s good — use that.” 

“Are you angry? Y’look angry,” the hero tells her on an open-mouthed beam, then juts at her with his chin, taking another casual step back over the mat, “That’s good — use that.” 

The young woman sends a flurry of chill spiraling, and as the man blocks the first onslaught, as expected, with an effortless burst of power from the tips of his fingers, a second wave erupts, this one aimed for his legs. Arctick can only grimace as Paragon smoothly bars the attempt — what a dickhead. 

“You’re weak — you’re angry because you’re weak,” he goads, irises glinting, “You’re angry because I’m calling you weak. So use that. Show me I’m wrong,” he twists away from her and stretches his arms out — an invitation, his back, and the young woman makes a last ditch effort, her pent up rage rushing out in a torrent of ice aimed to pierce. 

“Better,” Harry exclaims, enthusiasm interweaving the syllables, and he turns his chin, just a bit, over his shoulder. His forearm bends to emit a luminous glow that blocks what would have tagged flesh and muscle. She sees the corner of his mouth visibly twitch. “But not quite.” 

“This is ridiculous — it’s not a fair fight,” Harry sees Arctick buzzing when he turns, an intrigued crease over his brow bone — she stands with her hands at her sides on the opposite side of the room, but every muscle in her body is tensed, like she physically aches to freeze him. 

“No?” Harry cocks his head, venturing toward her on bare soles.

“This isn’t active combat,” she expands, letting the frustration leak into her tone, “You tell me to strike, and you expect it when I do.” 

His mouth quirks, and there’s a lull, like he’s ruminating. Finally, he asks, “You want active combat?” 

Arctick lifts her chin at him, expecting a vivid, violet current of electricity to hurl from his palm, to send her nerve endings on fire. She expects him to vanish, shard by shard, into invisibility that’ll leave her craning her neck and flitting her gaze about the room in apprehension. She expects him to twist and grapple for the weight rack, to fling it at her with superhuman strength.

“Then let’s make this—“

What she doesn’t expect is the crook of his lips, his figure stood ahead, and then the subsequent warm press of a palm over her stomach. It slinks from behind, and she feels his mirror press behind her as his original form illustrates a smirk from across the floor. 

“A fair fight,” croons the voice behind her — the same inflection as the cadence ahead. She stiffens at the touch. It’s soft, unlike his prior ministrations. Her head twists over her shoulder, and irises ogle the reflection in the broad expanse of mirrors on the wall beside her. Paragon stands ahead of her, feet away, his arms crossed, and …Paragon stands behind her, his arm rippling with muscle as it flexes over her. He’s duplicated. 

“Hm?” Harry hums against the shell of her ear. In his original form, he watches the display like a strange sort of voyeur — the whole experience is odd, and he can tell the showcase of ability has caught her off guard. It’s sort of a weird process — acting through different vessels, the coordination of it all. More than anything, it’s an interesting party trick beyond a single split. From there, he feels his powers weaken in their tether when divorced among a plethora of vessels. 

“Get your hands off of me,” Arctick grits out, her own grappling over his forearm, and Paragon’s original form just keeps his arms crossed as the touch of his copy grows sturdier. 

“Oh, but I can’t do that,” Harry says from across the floor. 

“Active combat, remember?” his copy wrangles its arms over her own flailing limbs. The original Paragon nonchalantly watches a warm, glow zap between his fingertips, across the room. The young woman manages to dig an elbow back against the warm body behind her, and the motion incites the priorly steady buzz in his hand to falter. That fucking hurt. 

“You don’t want to play nice?” the man’s head cocks from across the floor, and Arctick sees his duplication clasp over her, in the reflection, before she’s launched through the air with a grip over her wrist. The only thing that keeps her from catapulting against the back wall of brick is her own grip — she maintains it over the copy’s joint as she’s spun through the air. She lands on her feet. 

Now, the copy faces her, and behind that, stands the true Paragon, just idling by like he’s watching a show. 

“Alright,” the copy contends, mouth curling, “Then I won’t play nice.” 

[soldier-lodbrok]

[ intrude ] sender walks in on receiver treating their wounds :) Let's see those scars, Glennieboy.

He should not be here.

Glenn felt those icy blue eyes on him and stilled in his own movements. It should be a hallucination. A nightmare, maybe. But Glenn didn't even want to give Rufus ShinRa that kind of satisfaction after everything that had happened. He didn't want to grant this man even a splinter of space in his won mind... and yet-

What Rufus had done haunted his sleep still. Sometimes his waking moments. The sudden pain. The utter betrayal. The fucking cowardice.

He shouldn't be here. This location was remote, far off the grid to grant Glenn time to rest and heal again. It would take a longer time that he liked to admit, so he had been grateful for this. And now this blond bastard stood here. Mustering him as Glenn had just tried to change part of the bandages covering his back and chest.

Rightening himself up a little bit, Glenn tried to hide the wince of pain shooting across his face with a grin. A smirk like a wounded animal, ready to snap at the other to tear a throat out.

Because that was what Rufus deserved.

Glenn's left hand stayed over the still angry reddish wound on his chest, where the bullet had exited. Several sutures holding his skin and anything beneath together. It had been a far too close call. One that had rendered him confined to a wheelchair. Oh, it would be a glorious echo in just a few years time for Rufus' own health... sadly he didn't know about that yet.

His other hand crept to the monstrous axe at his side. Even in this state he'd fight him.

"You? Here?", he asked, baring his teeth with a grin that never reached his eyes, "What did I do to get this kind of honour?"

His fingers curled around the hilt, ever muscle in his arms tense.

"I won't turn my back on you a second time, that much I can promise... but I guess you aren't the kind to come for a fair fight anyway, huh?"

@ivory-paragon

[fierylittleniece]

//so would anyone want just a small moodboard of Roxy's battlesuit inspo?

[cyberends]

Asuka falls asleep in his lap. What does Ryo do? ⎛ unprompted ⎠ ❲ @universestreasures ❳

They'd been cuddling together after he'd come back from a rather intense but still fulfilling duel- that was the thing about being at the top of his class. Everyone wanted to duel him, and it left little time for his personal life. Not that anyone other than Asuka knew much about his personal life.

Maybe some people did, considering all of the rumors.

This time, Asuka had come to stay with him at the boy's dorms. Chronos seemed to have no issue with it- mostly because Ryo was his favorite student, so anyone Ryo liked, Chronos approved to have at the dorms. Asuka also happened to have become the Queen of the Obelisk Blues in such a short period of time- not that Ryo was surprised by that. She always had that potential.

He's certain she didn't mean to fall asleep, they had been winding down from finishing their assignments and had decided that maybe they'd try a movie night. She'd managed to fall asleep about half an hour in, seated in his lap. Neither of them had been paying attention to the movie, and clearly to the time either. Ryo noted that it was almost midnight.

He doesn't have the heart to wake her up, so he manages to awkwardly scoop her up in his arms. They'll be more comfortable sleeping on a bed than on a couch. It's late, after all, and they have class tomorrow, and everyone will come up with some new theory about the bond between the two of them. He doesn't mind, because what matters is he loves her.

Ryo settles down next to Asuka and pulls her close. He knows they'll both feel rested in the morning.

[quietborderline]

In honor of the birthday, I am again sharing my precious. 🥰

And yet again I want to say: If you now or ever have interacted in any way over the years with this little story of mine, THANK YOU. 😭❤️ I love and appreciate you more than you will ever know. This fic, and the process of actually completing it etc., literally changed my life.

Since finishing it, btw, I have made many small edits. And after way too long a break away from writing at all, there has finally been some fic work happening in the background lately! So I am hoping to continue updating the rest of the series soon. <3

[boardgametoday]

SDCC 2023: The Massive-Verse is coming to Solis Game Studio's Pocket Paragons game system

SDCC 2023: The Massive-Verse is coming to Solis Game Studio's Pocket Paragons game system #SDCC #SDCC2023 #SDCC23 #ComicCon #ComicCon2023 #tabletopgames

Solis Game Studio and the Image Comics’ Massive-Verse announced at San Diego Comic-Con International that the publisher’s most exciting superheroes – Radiant Black, Rogue Sun, Inferno Girl, and The Dead Lucky – will be brought to life in a card game utilizing Solis’ Pocket Paragons game system. The Massive-Verse Card Game release will feature individual character decks for each of the four lead…

[sevnthhart-a]

( 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭 ) ⋆ ･ﾟ * // ❛  you've been kept in the dark for far too long .  ❜ —— @ivory-paragon​​

she was not meant to be here — this was not supposed to be happening. despite all the warnings & unspoken pleas from a certain blonde soldier, she found herself sitting before him, upon request. there was no avoiding such an encounter forever, realistically speaking. the shinra building was clean — she'd be surprised to find even a single speck of dust floating about. rufus, himself, looked well off ;  there was no doubt in her mind :  this was where he belonged. in comparison, she was less than in ... every aspect. it was no wonder why cloud had a sour expression everytime she'd drag him around in the slums. he had gotten used to all of this. 

           it's almost bittersweet to take in. she felt green with envy — not towards him particularly, but anyone with the luxury of living topside  ( of living comfortably  ...  ). still, if her options were to continue life as she had or become a mouthpiece for corruption ... the answer was one she had no need to hesitate or think on. he's not your friend, she reminded herself. don't let him convince you otherwise. businessmen always had tricks up their sleeve  ( she knew  —  she was a in a similar line of work ,  after all ;  granted ,  to a much smaller scale )

the air felt tense, despite his cool demeanor  ( perhaps it was her imagination ;  what a trouble to be dealt with ). an anxious turn in her gut was felt at his words — ominous as they were. she opted to remain composed, redirecting to something more casual.   ❛  you  ...  asked me to come here ,  ❜   she began, already feeling the weight of her soon - to - be lies crushing her down.   ❛  sorry ,  but  ...  i'm not really sure why .  mind filling me in ,  a bit ?  ❜

[strywoven]

continued. // @ivory-paragon

Once in a while the question returns : do you miss who you were , do you miss your old life despite all it entailed ?  Where this might have given Verona pause – in the beginning – now , now she understands that she does n o t miss much of her old self / her old livelihood at all.  Though , being a ‘ reformed artisan and musician ’ is likely not nearly as exciting ( nor as lucrative ) as being the all-powerful matriarch of a large criminal organization.  She supposes it may well be better this way ; she can look after Rufus and he , in one way or another , can attend to her ( in only a way as a secret companion could ) .  Or rather , he can be the weary-hearted voice of reason to ensure she is maintaining her GOOD BEHAVIOR .

So he does remember— Verona wonders if it is a pleasant enough memory for him as it is for her.  She looks back on it fondly , despite how they were intended to be on opposite sides of the field ; meant to be ENEMIES in a long line of bad-blood.  Yet , here they are now , something else entirely.

❝ Not exactly blind anymore is it ? ❞  She counters , loosely crossing her arms , closing the distance of the room to stand with him by the window.  ❝ We already did that the first time , technically. ❞

The question – is the spark gone ? – catches her by surprise.  She considers it , considers the two of them , not so unlike two sides of THE SAME COIN ever in rotation , perhaps doomed to reflect each other ( this , a symptom of his father’s making ) .  Finally , Verona shakes her head , the motion tussling loose blonde curls , ❝ No , ❞ There’s little hesitation in the single word.  ❝ I believe it may have a chance to burn … If we gave it the chance. ❞  Now that they h a d the chance at all , that is ( question then being : would they take it ? ) .  ❝ And you ?  Would the spark be gone for you ? ❞

[gcldfanged]

☎ ring ring

Jae's contacts list [ACCEPTING]

NAME: 사장님 [President/CEO] RINGTONE: MONSTER (Aruvn cover) by GUMI PICTURE: 

LAST TEXT RECEIVED: Considered. I'll be expecting a thorough report when you get back. LAST TEXT SENT: [photos of a certain young blonde man, taken without his knowledge] No contact established as of yet, but I can move whenever necessary. Also, you should let me cook for you sometime, Boss- I've been thinking up a menu that might be to your liking. Only the finest ingredients and flavor profiles for you, of course.

[danbenzvi]

On The Jukebox: Steve Aoki - "Paragon"

Track listing as follows:

"Heavenly Hell" (featuring Ne-Yo)

"Clap Back" (featuring Raphaella)

"2X2" (featuring Chapter & Verse and Alika)

"Mad" (featuring Moonchild Sanelly)

"ELECTROWAVE BABY 2.0" (featuring Kid Cudi)

"Bum Bum" (featuring Sandro Silva and Natalhao)

"3 Days" (featuring Kalan.FrFr)

"Visa" (featuring Major League DJz and Mannywellz)

"Weirder Things" (featuring Xander850)

"Drive" (featuring KIDDO)

"Play The Track" featuring 22Bullets)

"Lose My Mind" (featuring K?D)

"Better Run" (featuring Just_us)

"Flashing Lights" (featuring Bassjackers)

"Voices In My Head" (featuring Bassjackers and Teddy Bee)

"Get Lower" (featuring Lil Jon)

"3 Days (Steve Aoki Hyro Energy Remix)" (featuring Kalan.FrFr)

"Paragon"

[1800titz]

RAAAHHHH PARAGON

The first one incites the rest — it’s a domino sort of effect, a chant spurred by one eager bystander, and the rest enmesh into a restless, keen band-wagon.

“Take the mask off!” someone shouts from the throng.

It’s dazzling lights, it’s warm luster, and it’s verbal riches, and praise, and she knows the hero’s ego swells and surges as he cocks his chin over his shoulder.

Just walk, Arctick wants to tell him. Walk. Get inside.

“Take it off!” someone else chimes, before a note of agreement is siphoned from the crowd.  

Paragon doesn’t keep walking. He turns, the left corner of his mouth curling crookedly, and he wordlessly shells his ear with a gloved palm, goading the onlookers. He’s a savior — their savior, the savior to all of New Prebridge. A star. Arctick nearly bumps into his arm in the process. They cheer as if he’s a luminary on a stage — and he is, in a way. New Prebridge is his stage, all of it, from tufts of grass, to sidewalks, to bustling diners, to any and all outings. Paragon is recognized because he chooses to be. Because he wants to be, because he abandons the mask to bask in the attention — in the esteem. 

Arctick doesn’t know that. She ducks her chin, and warns, “Keep walking.” 

“Take it off!” and then a different voice, “Take it off!” 

The palm that’d cradled behind his ear slips forward to his temple, and the pads of his digits wriggle beneath his eye-shroud, his smirk absolutely pompous. The crowd shrieks and cheers. The young woman balks. He holds the mask in one hand, and with the opposite blows kisses and sends them as if they’re riches to be dispersed. 

“What the fuck was that?” Arctick asks him as the automatic doors slide behind them and the audible ovations dim and muzzle. 

Harry spares her a glance, over his shoulder, entirely nonchalant, as if he hadn’t just casually destroyed the sanctity of his anonymity in career-path. The corners of his cushiony lips buckle. 

“What was what, darling?” 

“The — what do you mean? You’re not supposed to take off your mask.” 

Harry stalls and his sure pace of gait stutters to a stop. He turns then, a bemused crease between his brows, and his head cocks. Slowly, a slow sort of smile works over the muted berry of his lips. Through narrowed lashes, he ogles, for a moment, and then he makes a beeline towards a little lounge of armchairs beside the reception desk. 

“What are you—“

Arctick trails behind him. The man leans over the table, muscles rippling beneath his skin-tight suit as he fishes through and culls something. A magazine. Paragon it states, in hues of pale yellow and shadows of blue. An issue of New Prebridge — Voted Sexiest of the Year, apparently, the subtitle blares. Though, the apparently is unmentioned. And there he is, posed upon the cover with no mask, jade glinting and dimples on display. It's a candid sort of photo (with no candor). He's mid laugh, like the shot was taken when he'd least expected. The top half of his supersuit is discarded, slung over his hips, and his bare arms are crossed over his bare chest, flexed with muscle. His inky skin glows peachy against the white backdrop and bold captions.

Her pupils wend and peruse. 

“Then why the mask?” she asks, eventually, the frantic note in her cadence dulled even past exasperation. 

The hero glances from the magazine to her, then, his gaze undecipherable, but glowing with a grating sort of self-satisfaction. His tongue peeks out to swipe across pillowy pink. 

“Wouldn’t wanna scratch up my pretty face.” 

[ocdetailsofmine]

supe world explanation

before the events of the story, a meteorite hit earth and landed on a house, causing the entire population of one town in northwest england to gain superpowers. the most universal of these superhumans is the paragon. the paragon was the baby who's house was directly underneath the meteorite . This is why the public belives she gained so many powers. In the present day, The Paragon is beloved by almost all, and tries to navigate a rocky relationship between the townspeople and the authorities. Monsoon and The Paragon are the same age. Monsoon is a superpowered eco-terrorist who doesn't know how to control her powers. Luckily for her, The Paragon is the premier expert on having powers.

[chosenbythecrystal]

"Noctis, 2nd Class SOLDIER, is it?" Rufus inquired, lifting the piece of paper that held the summary of the man's career in ShinRa. An interesting bit of history. ShinRa was known to hunt and kill, though the affairs of SOLDIERs barely made it to his desk.

"I have a mission for you," he said while examining the paperclipped picture on the sheet. Most often, SOLDIERs wore their helmets within the ShinRa building. It was an act of honor and pride and had a form of solidarity that all of them held. The photo showed the young man's face and the stern expression that laced it. Proper SOLDIER material.

It was with a degree of trepidation that Noctis had made his way to the office of Rufus ShinRa, his helmet firmly in place in his attempt to make a good impression. It was rare to be called directly into the President's office. After a singular knock and an invitation to enter, Noctis stepped inside the office.

Chin up and back straight, he stood at attention before the man as he waited for him to address him.

"Yes Sir," he replied with a curt nod and a brief salute. He knew the importance of respecting authority and unlike his mentor, Noctis had no issues with viewing the other as a superior. In fact, he saw this as a chance to prove himself. Rufus wasn't his father, but that wasn't a bad thing.

A quick glance down at the man's desk informed him that Rufus had been doing his research. For better or worse, his file was on display, giving him the impression that the man had called for him specifically for a reason.

"Of course. I'm at your disposal, Sir."

@ivory-paragon

[cyberends]

verses post wip

until i make it fancy take this

main / out of darkness - post s4, ryo is beginning the rough recovery process and facing the consequences of his actions. when he's not being checked up on by friends and family or at a doctor's office, he's back in the pro dueling circuits. not as naive as he was in his school days, but he's re-learning to give his opponents and himself respect.

s1 / duelist paragon - top of his class, kaiser ryo is obelisk blue's best of the best. follows the plot of s1 of gx, fairly self explanatory.

s2 + s3 / who am i in the dark - basically ryo's fall from grace and the mess that is hell kaiser. follows s2 and sorta bleeds into s3 because honestly why not lump that together, he acts the same lmao

s4 / beyond limits - follows s4. ryo learns that he hasn't reached the end of his potential and starts to make amends with his younger brother.

5ds - pro duelist kaiser ryo continues to rank as a top duelist in the changing world. but he's also trying to balance his job and his family life, and that isn't always easy.

arc v - uhhh i think this one was duel soldier gone rogue? ryo from the fusion dimension just isn't having any of this bullshit so that's that. doesn't take sides because he's on his own side. has carded way too many people and shows no signs of stopping.

[basset-babe]

five times: the one point five.

pairing: benedict bridgerton x fem!reader

warnings: none but gossip yet again

word count: 2.9k+

a/n: please do send me a message or comment down if you would like to be added on the succeeding taglists for the five times series! here is 1.5 times with ben. enjoy! thanks loves <3! (also, pls do imagine ben holding a graft rose for this one heh)

five times series: the first. the one point five. the second. the third. the three point five. the fourth . at last. text divider from @heavenlayt and pattern banner from @cafekitsune thank you!

the one point five time.

In the hours of sunlight, callers have flooded the Y/L/N drawing room. All bringing gifts and performances in hopes to win the favourable yes of the season's paragon, Miss Y/N Y/L/N. The grand parlor, adorned with exquisite tapestries and sparkling chandeliers, buzzed with the lively hum of conversations and the tinkling laughter of society’s elite. Lavish bouquets of rare, fragrant flowers filled the room, their heady scent mingling with the aroma of freshly brewed tea and delectable pastries arrayed on silver platters.

Gentlemen, dressed in their finest attire, lined up to present their offerings to Miss Y/L/N, each one more extravagant than the last. Some brought intricate jewelry, glittering with precious stones, while others offered rare books, hoping to appeal to her reputed love of literature. Musicians performed virtuoso pieces on the grand piano, their fingers dancing over the keys in a bid to capture her attention through the power of melody. Poets recited verses composed in her honor, their words dripping with adoration and longing.

Miss Y/L/N, the epitome of grace and poise, received each suitor with a warm smile and a gracious word. Her eyes, sparkling with intelligence and kindness, moved across the room, acknowledging the efforts and intentions of each visitor. Her charm was such that even a simple nod or a softly spoken thank you felt like a cherished treasure to the eager suitors.

The hour had struck past 1 in the afternoon when, hopefully, the last caller of the day had bid his farewells. The Y/L/N drawing room, which had been a whirlwind of activity, now began to settle into a quieter, more contemplative atmosphere. The sunlight streaming through the large windows cast a bright hue over the room, highlighting the opulent furnishings and the array of gifts that had been presented to Miss Y/N Y/L/N throughout the morning.

Servants moved gracefully, clearing away the remnants of the lavish spread of refreshments while ensuring that every detail of the room remained immaculate. The air was still fragrant with the scent of roses, lilies, and other exotic flowers that had been brought by admirers, creating a heady, almost intoxicating environment.

"As much as I do love botanicals, all these flowers have turned obnoxious to my senses, Grandmama," Y/N sighed, feeling the urge to slouch on the couch. Her frame was poised elegantly despite her weariness, a testament to her upbringing and the endless etiquette lessons she had endured.

Her grandmother, the Viscountess Y/L/N, reentered the room with a look of satisfaction mixed with maternal concern. "My dear," she said softly, "you have conducted yourself admirably. The attention you have garnered is truly remarkable, but alas, this be the trials of being the season's paragon," she said with jest. "A small price to pay for such adoration and the opportunities it presents."

Y/N allowed herself a small, rueful smile. "It has been a most eventful day. I do hope I have shown the proper appreciation to each caller." She gently plucked a stray petal from her gown, its soft texture a stark contrast to her current mood.

"Rest assured, my dear, that this too shall pass," her grandmother replied soothingly. "Soon, you will look back on these days with fondness, perhaps even in laughter."

Y/N nodded, though she wasn't entirely convinced. She admired her grandmother's ability to see the positive in any situation. Lady Y/L/N had once been the toast of her own social season, and her wisdom was hard-earned through years of navigating similar waters.

"Would it be terribly improper to open a window, Grandmama?" Y/N asked, her eyes drifting towards the heavy drapes that concealed the afternoon breeze. "I believe a bit of fresh air might revive my spirits."

The Viscountess chuckled softly. "Not at all, my dear. In fact, I think it would do us both good." She motioned to a nearby maid, who quickly moved to pull back the drapes and open the window, allowing a refreshing breeze to sweep into the room. The cool air carried with it the scents of the garden outside, a welcome contrast to the overwhelming floral arrangements within.

Y/N took a deep breath, feeling instantly more at ease. "Thank you, Grandmama. That is much better."

"Now, my dear," Mrs. Y/L/N said, her tone becoming more serious, "while you have a moment of peace, tell me—was there any caller today who truly caught your eye?"

Y/N considered the question carefully. There had been many suitors, each with their own merits. Some had been charming, others earnest, and a few rather boastful. But it was not that she minded all these suitors; it was who she looked forward to that truly occupied her thoughts. It had been this Bridgerton man she'd hoped would be calling on her the entire morning. Unfortunately, he had not been seen yet in this drawing room.

"Y/N, my dear, are you still with us?" Lady Y/L/N's gentle voice broke through her reverie.

"Yes, Grandmama," Y/N replied, a slight blush coloring her cheeks. "I was merely thinking."

"About anyone in particular?" her grandmother inquired with a knowing smile.

Y/N hesitated for a moment, then decided there was no point in hiding her thoughts from her perceptive grandmother. "To be quite honest, I was hoping to see Mr. Bridgerton today.. well as of this morn," she admitted. "I fear he may have been otherwise engaged."

"Ah, Mr. Bridgerton," Lady Y/L/N said thoughtfully. "A fine young man, from a respected family. It is no wonder you look forward to his call. Perhaps he will still make an appearance."

Y/N nodded, though she knew the likelihood was slim as the noon wore on. She took another deep breath of the fresh air now circulating through the room, trying to shake off her disappointment. The season was long, and there would be other opportunities to see him again.

"There was Sir Nicholas Deveraeux. He was quite charming," Y/N remarked.

"He comes from a good family as well, but I've heard his uncle," Her grandmother leaned in conspiratorially, "envies the crown."

Y/N laughed at the Viscountess' antics. "Grandmama, that's quite scandalous. Wherever did you hear such a thing?" Y/N laughed.

"Deborah told me," her grandmother said, motioning to her maid. Y/N couldn't help but laugh at the notion of her grandmama indulging in gossip. "But I must tell you, I keep my options open still," she stated matter-of-factly, regaining my composure.

"Even though you are clearly captivated by Mr. Bridgerton's smile," Her grandmother teased. "It is wise to keep your options open, my dear, so as not to appear too eager for any one gentleman's attentions."

"Indeed," Y/N thought to herself, "it is prudent not to seem desperate and helpless this early in the season. After all, the season is just beginning, and there will be many more opportunities for maybe much more meaningful encounters."

The older woman patted the young lady's hand reassuringly. "You are a clever girl, my Y/N. Your charm and grace will surely attract many suitors. Just remember to enjoy the process and not to place all your hopes on one gentleman, no matter how enchanting his smile may be."

Y/N nodded, feeling a renewed sense of determination. The season was an adventure, and she was ready to embrace it with an open heart and mind. As her grandmama said, there would be many chances to find the right match, and she intends to savor every moment.

Just as she was about to resign herself to the wait, a soft knock sounded at the drawing room door. Both Y/N and her grandmother turned their heads in surprise as the butler entered.

"Forgive the interruption, ma'am," he said with a slight bow. "But there is one more caller who has just arrived."

Y/N's heart skipped a beat as the butler stepped aside, revealing none other than Mr. Bridgerton himself. He stood at the threshold, his confident demeanor softened by a warm, sincere smile.

"Good afternoon, Lady Y/L/N, Miss Y/L/N," he greeted them, bowing respectfully. "I apologize for my tardiness. I hope I am not intruding."

Lady Y/L/N's eyes twinkled with amusement as she replied, "Not at all, Mr. Bridgerton. We are delighted to see you."

Y/N felt her spirits lift instantly, her earlier fatigue forgotten. "Indeed, Mr. Bridgerton," she said, her smile reflecting the genuine pleasure she felt. "Your timing is impeccable."

Mr. Bridgerton's eyes met hers, and for a moment, it felt as though they were the only two people in the room. "I am glad to hear that, Miss Y/L/N," he said. "I have been looking forward to our meeting."

As he stepped further into the room, bringing with him an air of warmth and possibility, Y/N knew that this visit was just the beginning. The season held many uncertainties, but in that moment, with Mr. Bridgerton's presence brightening the drawing room, she felt a renewed sense of hope and excitement for what was to come.

He walked closer, offering his wrapped gift with a warm smile. "I know of your love of botanicals. Although, I wasn't sure what to get, but I opted for a grafted Rosa Falstaff from our estate's own gardens."

Y/N's eyes widened with surprise and delight as she reached out to accept the potted rose. "A Rosa Falstaff? From your family's gardens?" she exclaimed, her fingers gently tracing the leaves and delicate blooms.

"Yes," Benedict nodded, his gaze softening as he watched her reaction. "I thought it would be a fitting addition to your collection, considering your fondness for floriculture."

"Thank you, Mr. Bridgerton. This is truly truly thoughtful of you." Y/N's eyes lit up as she accepted the graft, appreciating the gesture.

Mr. Bridgerton smiled, a hint of relief and pleasure in his eyes. "I'm glad you like them, Miss Y/L/N. I thought something from home might be more personal and meaningful than the usual offerings."

Mrs. Y/L/N, observing the interaction with a pleased expression, decided to give the young couple some space. "If you'll excuse me, I have some correspondence to attend to," she said, rising gracefully. "Please, Mr. Bridgerton, make yourself comfortable."

As her grandmother left the room, Y/N gestured for Mr. Bridgerton to sit beside her on the elegant settee. "It's so refreshing to receive something so genuine," she said, placing the graft gently on the table beside them. "Tell me more about your estate's gardens. They must be quite beautiful."

Mr. Bridgerton settled into the seat, his expression brightening as he began to speak. "Our gardens are indeed a sight to behold, especially in the spring. We have a variety of flowers, from different roses to lavender, and even some more exotic species like that which my mother is particularly fond of. Each section of the garden has its own unique charm and character."

Y/N listened intently, her interest piqued not just by the subject but by the way he spoke with such genuine affection for his home. "It sounds enchanting," she said. "I would love to see it someday."

He smiled, clearly pleased by her response. "I would be honored to show you around Aubrey Hall, Miss Y/L/N. Perhaps you could offer some advice on expanding our collection of botanicals."

"I would be delighted," Y/N replied, her smile matching his. "There are always new species to discover and cultivate. It would be a pleasure to share that with someone who appreciates it as much as I do."

As they continued to talk, the conversation flowed effortlessly, touching on various topics of mutual interest. The room seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of them engrossed in their exchange. The connection they felt was palpable, a promising hint of what could be a deep and meaningful relationship.

The noon sun cast a golden glow through the open window, bathing them in warm light. It was as if the world outside had conspired to create the perfect moment, one that Y/N would cherish as the beginning of something truly special.

"Why not a change of scenery, Miss Y/N? May I enchant you to a walk with me this afternoon?" Mr. Bridgerton asked, his eyes sparkling with anticipation.

Y/N felt a flutter of excitement at his proposal, though very different from norm indeed. The thought of a leisurely walk, away from the confines of the drawing room and amidst the fresh air and beauty of the outdoors, was undeniably appealing. She glanced at her grandmother, who had discreetly lingered near the doorway.

Mrs. Y/L/N, catching her granddaughter's hopeful expression, gave a subtle nod of approval. "I think that sounds like a splendid idea, Mr. Bridgerton," she said. "A bit of fresh air through my garden will do you both good."

"Thank you, Grandmama," Y/N replied, her smile widening. She turned back to Mr. Bridgerton, her eyes meeting his with a mix of excitement and gratitude. "I would be delighted to join you for a walk."

Mr. Bridgerton offered his arm, which Y/N took with a graceful nod. Together, they made their way out of the drawing room and through the grand halls of the Y/L/N residence. The household staff, now accustomed to the comings and goings of numerous callers, discreetly stepped aside, offering polite smiles as the pair passed.

As they stepped out into the sunlight, the warmth of the afternoon embraced them. The gardens of the Y/L/N estate stretched out before them, a riot of color and fragrance that promised a delightful stroll. Birds chirped melodiously, adding a charming soundtrack to their walk.

"Your gardens are truly beautiful, Miss Y/L/N," Mr. Bridgerton remarked as they began their promenade. "It's easy to see where your love for botanicals comes from."

"Thank you, Mr. Bridgerton," Y/N replied, her gaze sweeping over the well-tended flower beds and neatly trimmed hedges. "I find great joy in spending time here. There's something so peaceful about being surrounded by nature."

They walked in comfortable silence for a few moments, taking in the beauty around them. Y/N's lady's maid chaperoning behind. The gravel path crunched softly underfoot, and a gentle breeze rustled the leaves overhead.

"I must admit," Mr. Bridgerton said, breaking the silence, "I was quite nervous about coming here today. I wasn't sure if my gift would be well-received."

Y/N looked up at him, surprised. "You needn't have worried," she assured him. "Your gift was one of the most endearing ones I have received. It speaks volumes about your character and your genuine interest. Quite a change in the morn's most fragrant bouquets. All exquisite but a tad bit too much on my senses." I gestured towards my nose.

He smiled, clearly relieved. "I'm glad to hear that, Miss Y/L/N. I hoped to make a meaningful impression."

"You certainly have," she replied warmly. "And now, here we are, enjoying a lovely walk together. It seems your efforts have been rewarded."

As they continued their walk, their conversation flowed effortlessly, touching on topics both serious and lighthearted. They shared stories, laughed together, and discovered common interests. The connection between them grew stronger with each passing moment, the bond of friendship and potential courtship becoming more tangible.

"So, do tell me more about you, Mr. Bridgerton."

"Do call me Benedict, if you please. Provided, of course, that you feel comfortable and we are beyond the earshot of your lady's maid." his eyebrows raise in suggestive jest.

Y/N chuckled, a twinkle of amusement in her eyes. "Very well, Benedict. You may address me by Y/N as well."

Benedict smiled, clearly pleased by her informal, now more familiar, address. "My days are usually spent at home, but sometimes, I spend my time in my art studio at the academy."

"Yes, you've mentioned of yourself an artist, I remember." Y/N remarked, intrigued. "That is fascinating. What sort of art do you create?"

Benedict's face lit up with enthusiasm as he began to describe his passion. "I work primarily with oils on canvas, though I do enjoy sketching as well. There's something incredibly satisfying about capturing a moment or a feeling in a piece of art. It’s a way to express myself that words sometimes fail to achieve."

Y/N listened intently, her admiration growing. "I would love to see your work someday. It must be wonderful to have such a creative outlet."

"It is," Benedict agreed, a note of pride in his voice. "And I would be honored to show you my studio and some of my pieces. Perhaps I could even paint your portrait, if you would allow me."

Y/N blushed at the thought, a mixture of shyness and excitement. "I would be delighted, Benedict. Though I must warn you, I may not be the most patient of sitters."

Benedict laughed, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "I’m sure we would manage just fine. And who knows, you might find the experience enjoyable."

"I look forward to it," Y/N said, her smile reflecting her genuine interest. "But tell me more about your family. I have heard much about the Bridgertons, but I would love to hear it from your perspective."

Benedict's expression softened as he spoke of his family. "We are a large, close-knit group. There are eight of us siblings, and we were all raised with a strong sense of duty and love seeing my late father and mother attend to our household. My mother, Violet, is the heart of our family. She has always encouraged us to pursue our passions and support each other."

"That sounds wonderful," Y/N said, touched by his words. "Family is so important. I imagine it must be lively with so many siblings."

"It certainly is," Benedict replied with a grin. "There is never a dull moment at Bridgerton House. We have our share of disagreements, of course, but we always come together in the end. All the laughter and camaraderie make it worthwhile."

Y/N felt a warm connection forming between them, their shared values and interests creating a bond that felt both natural and exciting. "I would love to meet them all someday, even so now that your brother has found himself a wife. Such exciting things!" she said.

"And they would be delighted to meet you," Benedict assured her. "I can already tell that you would fit right in."

"He thinks of me as someone who would fit with his family? I could feel my heart flutter," Y/N thought, the realization sending a warm, thrilling sensation through her.

As they continued their conversation, the afternoon sun began to dip lower in the sky, casting a golden glow over the garden. The hours had slipped away unnoticed, a testament to the ease and enjoyment they found in each other's company.

Eventually the day had struck shy of 3 at afternoon and they made their way back to the main house, the promise of future meetings and shared experiences hanging in the air. As they reached the steps, Benedict turned to Y/N, his expression earnest and hopeful.

"Thank you for a wonderful afternoon, Y/N," he said. "I look forward to our next meeting."

"As do I, Benedict," Y/N replied, her heart full of anticipation. "Until then."

With a final, warm smile, Benedict took his leave, leaving Y/N with a sense of happiness and a fluttering hope for the future. The day had been more than she could have imagined, and she felt a deep sense of gratitude for the connection they had begun to forge.

taglist: @novausstuff @pussyslayerhd @amoosarte

[hyvyinjie]

hi! Can I ask for a headcannon about Minamoto teru x childhood friend reader? Where teru is really over protective and gentle towards the reader. Reader is a lazy person, and often sleepy, the things he likes are reading comics and playing game in their phone. They also refuses teru's invitation to join the student council. Thank you! :)

why of course! it’d be an honor to grant such an ask. apologies for taking quite a while to do so—though i hope my work meets your expectations, wonderful nonie!<3

—LOST IN THE HAZE OF YOUR DREAMSCAPE.

featuring ; minamoto teru & you as our star.

+ small akane & aoi mentions.

ah, minamoto teru; the very embodiment of perfection—as he was hailed and as he carried himself with utter conviction.

a master of powers, a paragon of academic prowess, and a maestro in all things extraordinary. could there be anything he did not conquer?

yet, his persona, a labyrinth of complexities, as if harboring a multitude of souls within his very being.

now, here you arrive in his peculiar life—meeting with the intricacies of his existence.

when your paths converged, it ignited a tempestuous collision, a clash of peculiar forces.

initially, your mere presence held no sway over him. in truth, he perceived you as an encumbrance, burdened by your languid nature. for he, a relentless pursuer of flawlessness, demanded nothing less.

but lo and behold. fate—that cunning trickster—wove its intricate threads, meticulously mending the frayed tapestry of your connection.

through the passage of time, a tapestry of happenstance encounters and the subsequent flourishing of interactions—a nascent camaraderie took root. he slowly, but surely grew attuned to your idiosyncrasies, harmonizing with your rhythm. while the power to surmount every obstacle at your side eludes him still, he persists, striving to offer his utmost.

oh please have mercy on this young man—forever enmeshed in the whirlwind of his exorcist duties. and yet, even amidst the chaos, his devotion knows no bounds when it comes to those he holds dear.

one might assume that quality time would be sacrificed for the trivial, but fear not, for you found yourself on the fortunate side—the one he’d willingly carved out moments to be with.

initially, your encounters were fleeting, brief snippets of time. however, as the sands of time trickled down, these fragments transformed into meticulously planned sleepovers. he meticulously orchestrated these occasions, ensuring they did not encroach upon his demanding schedule.

your bond thrived during these cozy gatherings, or tranquil rendezvous, where he wholeheartedly immersed himself in your passions—comics and video games.

though not extensively versed in these realms, one might imagine that you—with your infectious enthusiasm to the field—was the catalyst for his exploration and understanding of the realm of entertainment. this was evidenced by the gradual increase in invitations to game nights and his newfound willingness to engage in discussions about captivating narratives. perhaps, you both even exchanged recommendations for comics, as kindred spirits often do.

as the both of you and the world grew older—it became evident that he honed his social skills; presenting himself as a complete package. every aspect of his being held an irresistible allure, captivating the hearts of women, and even some fellow men. many yearned and openly expressed their desire to be the chosen one by his side.

however, even amidst the clamoring crowd, his gaze remained steadfastly fixed upon you.

of course, as the old adage goes; with great power comes great responsibility—the price of his popularity gradually revealed itself.

certain students, teetering on the edge of obsession, noticed the distinct tenderness he displayed towards you, surpassing his general kindness towards all. seizing upon this perceived vulnerability, they occasionally resorted to devious methods, seeking to eliminate you from the equation, taking advantage of moments when slumber claimed you.

naturally, he swiftly uncovered their plot, intervening before they could execute their nefarious intentions.

needless to say, the number of such audacious attempts dwindled significantly. what exactly he did to deter them remains a mystery known only to him and his would-be victims.

still, worried that the possibility of a recurrence and his absence to intervene, he took it upon himself to practically implore—some might even say beg—you to join the student council. this would ensure that he, or even akane if needed, could keep a watchful eye over you with greater ease.

however, true to your nature, you steadfastly rebuffed each futile attempt to persuade you. despite his persistent efforts, you remained resolute in your refusal.

eventually, your golden boy relented, recognizing that his endeavors were in vain…but that was just because he found an alternative solution.

he encouraged—forced—akane to be the one to look after you discreetly whenever he couldn’t. only choosing to partially reveal his intentions to avoid alarming you at the time, as you were unfamiliar with akane’s existence.

or so it had been until he observed that you and the school’s vice president shared a rather unique bond.

although akane would occasionally scold you for being so excessively somnolent, mistaking it for you being irresponsible, hence, occasionally comparing you to the greatness of his lady aoi—teru—ever vigilant and mindful of akane’s every interaction with you, ensured that his usual brutal tendencies were significantly tempered. still—it remained a part of the deputy’s essence, defining his very being, just albeit subdued in your presence.

it could be surmised that akane once attempted to tease—or rather, foolishly inquire, about teru’s subtle yet perceptible shifts in behavior whenever you were involved.

“it’s almost as if you like them.”

in an almost immediate reaction—the president paused, slowly turning his head to gaze at akane, a shadow casting a smile that concealed the upper portion of his closed eyes.

the ginger-haired vice executive, feeling an ominous presence despite the absence of visible eyes, found himself sweating profusely as he cautiously added,

“—to the point where anyone could mistake you for family!"

sensing the gravity of his words, akane mentally vowed to never broach the subject again. he restrained himself from ever mentioning it whenever he witnessed the two of you together.

curiosity gnawed at you as you noticed his all-knowing gaze transform into one of horror whenever you turned your head, as if peering behind you; at none other than the pretty blonde himself, who seemed to be doing nothing wrong, merely proven to have been innocently smiling the whole time, or so he put up whenever you looked back at him.

oblivious to the truth, you always dismissed it as ‘akane’s peculiar moments of ptsd flashbacks’ whenever he saw teru.

however, let me share a little secret with you.

did you know the true reason behind teru’s death stare? no? well, do you wanna know?

then do allow me to spill it for you.

it was simply because akane, using the keyword; "like," insinuated that teru had a ‘liking-only level’ romantic feeling for you. the misconception provoked such a reaction from teru, for he wanted to correct that statement because he loved you, not just liked you.

seriously, can’t people let him finish what he’s saying?