#they have done everything wrong and I still love them your Honor

[acollectionofcuriousreblogs]

Okay so I know that Daniel Jacobi (Wolf 359) and Crawlings (The Mysterious Benedict Society) are two, fundamentally different characters. Like, the former is a very fleshed out antagonist with a proper redemption arc and the latter is mostly a bastard antagonist who stays that way for the whole series (and nothing against that, I love that for him). They both play different roles in their respective stories and it would probably be an unfair comparison to say the two are similar.

But…I MEAN CMON GUYS. They both just give off the same LoserTM energy. Everything they do backfires. They are so wonderfully cringy in the exact same way. Let me explain…

Daniel Jacobi once refused to let his handcuffs be taken because, as he quipped, they were “apart of his signature look”. He quickly recanted this when the Bigger Bad Guy played along and tightened them painfully.

Crawlings once was bitten by a three year old because he, a smug fool, tried to take on Constance Contraire. He spent the following moments sucking on his thumb and sulking.

Daniel Jacobi once got frustrated when his boss didn’t remember their Work-iversary (the one year mark for the day his boss recruited him to do evil shenanigans) and he spent a good 20 minute passive aggressively complaining about it.

Crawlings once laughed at his boss’s requests to exercise “Proper caution” and then got himself knocked out by one of their enemies not five minutes later.

When asked “Aren’t you a horrible person?”, Daniel Jacobi ate a fistful of Pringles and said “So what?”

When confronted by a child about the immorality of his actions, Crawlings winked and proceeded to accidentally poison himself with Super Genius Serum.

You see what I mean???

[nereidprinc3ss]

Ok so this might be an odd request but I’ve been really sad about the fact that the network vetoed bisexual Reid so I was wondering if you could write boyfriend Spencer coming out to reader and just having it be really sweet and fluffy??

this is the cutest. great minds are bisexual reid truthers. i am honored to do this for the tumblr community and the world at large

warnings/tags: potentially VERY slight internalized homophobia from spencer if u squintttt but he's just nervous that's all!! my boyfriend has never done anything wrong in his life!! fem reader

“My type is you,” you say sweetly, angling your head up to look at your boyfriend. The two of you have been laying on the couch for the better part of an evening, (more accurately, he’s on the couch, you’re on him) talking about nothing and everything. Somehow the conversation has meandered to this—him asking you what your type in men is, of all things. 

“What a convenient answer,” Spencer teases, pushing your hair away from your face. You laugh, leaning into the warmth of his touch. 

“I mean it! I don’t think I ever really got what all the excitement was about men until I met you.”

He hums, a satisfied little smile on his face. “That’s very flattering.”

“What about you?”

His brows dart up. 

“What’s my type in men?”

An inadvertent laugh bubbles from your throat—slowly going stale in the air while you watch as Spencer actually flushes. It dawns on you with a splash of anxiety and a generous helping of guilt that maybe it’s not exactly a joke to him. You attempt to play it off casually, keeping your tone even but receptive. 

“Well, I meant in women. But, if you have a type in men, by all means, tell me.”

Hazel eyes dart between yours as his hand continues carding through your hair—and then he’s looking away, studying the wall behind you like there’s more there than faded green paint. 

Silences stretches as you chew on the inside of your cheek, worried you’ve somehow said the wrong thing. You wriggle higher up his body and gently grab his wrist, interrupting what you suspect is a self-soothing motion. 

“Hey,” you murmur, pulling his hand to your lips and pressing them to his knuckles. “Come back.”

Finally he looks at you again, mildly surprised like you’d tugged him from the very depths of his thoughts. But his eyes are soft, grazing his his fingers over your lips. 

“I’m right here.”

“You know what I mean.” The words are gentle. His thumb catches on your bottom lip and you nip at it playfully, trying to lighten his suddenly heavy mood. It’s hard to tell if it works—he continues tracing your lips absentmindedly, biting his own. When he speaks, his voice is quiet and wavers ever so slightly, the way it does in the rare instance that he’s not 100% sure of himself or what he’s talking about. 

“I was thinking about your question.” You don’t dare speak for fear opening your mouth will somehow break whatever self-hypnosis is keeping him honest. “I don’t have a specific type. In women. Or… or men.”

His voice is so fragile that you have to run it back in your mind a few times to process what he’d said. Several layers of clothing do nothing to dull the rapid drumming of his heartbeat against your chest. And your poor boyfriend looks so scared during the moment of silence while you’re thinking that it breaks your heart. He needs a sign, something to reassure him that it’s okay, before he backtracks and dissociates entirely. Delicately your hand slides up the side of his neck and jaw. You crane your neck to press a long kiss to his flushed cheek. It’s okay, you’re okay. We’re okay. The world is still turning. His chest rises and falls slowly in a deep, silent sigh. 

“I love you,” you remind him once you pull away, wiping away the slight sheen of chapstick your kiss had left. He catches your hand, wrapping it in his larger one. The guarded look in his eye does a poor job of concealing how badly he wants to please you, and everyone, and how scared he is that maybe this was the wrong answer. That maybe this is just another way he is not quite right, and you’ll tell him so, just like everyone else always has. 

“You’re not—you don’t have anything to say?”

Gentle fingers brush away invisible tears under his eyes, sweeping over the skin with the utmost care. He’s not crying, but you imagine at one point or another he had, and since you weren’t there to wipe away the tears then, maybe you can make up for it by being here now. 

“Is it something you want to talk about?” you ask, fingers still skimming over the angular plane and valley of his cheek. The darting of his eyes between yours, the slight furrow of his brow, the pressed-together lips—he’s profiling you. Trying to extract your thoughts through osmosis. 

“I… I’ve never told anyone before.”

Your stomach twists. You hate that there’s any part of him he feels he has to hide—and that he’s done it for so long. 

“Well I’m glad you told me, angel.” 

His eyes are like warm honey as he looks up at you, dulling that sharp, defensive edge as the endearment slips past your lips. Usually it’s the other way around, and you hope it soothes him even half as much as it always does for you. 

A surprised laugh is expelled from your lungs when he pulls you down into a crushing hug. Immediately, gleefully, you reciprocate, pushing your arms under his waist and tangling your legs with his, holding on ferociously and for dear life. His face is buried in the hollow of your neck, so you have to assume that much like you, he’s picked this over oxygen. 

“You are the best thing that has ever happened to me,” he breathes, lips brushing your neck and hair. Muffled, because there’s no space between you. Your eyes sting and tear up almost immediately. A joke forms on the tip of your tongue; low bar? But you bite it back, unsure if you can manage persuasive sarcasm in this moment. “And, for the record, you are the most beautiful human being I have ever met in my life. Nobody else has or will ever come close.”

You laugh tearfully into his collar. “Spencer, I’m not worried about that.”

“I know you’re not,” he says, finally coming up for air. You do the same, laying on his shoulder contentedly and looking into his eyes. “But I’m telling you anyway because it’s true and I want you to hear it.”

A contemplative moment passes, and you wonder how it’s possible to be falling even more in love with him. You’d thought you already loved him as much as any human being had ever been capable of doing. You hope love has no end. You hope you keep falling deeper and deeper forever. 

“You should know something,” you say, looking down to toy with the collar of his shirt. He hums. 

“What should I know, angel girl?”

“You should know that I’m still going to fight anyone who tries to flirt with you. I don’t care if it’s a six five body builder or a seventy year old woman with a walker. You’re gonna have to hold me back.”

A bemused smile tugs at his lips. 

“You would physically fight an elderly woman?”

“Or a six five body builder,” you agree. Spencer faces the ceiling like he’s watching the scene play out. 

“Okay,” he snorts. “I don’t love that, but okay.”

“It’s what you signed up for,” you mumble, snuggling back into him. His hand finds the back of your head and tangles comfortably in your hair once more. 

“You’re right. I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

[javierpena-inatacvest]

Tired

Summary: You had spent weeks looking forward to your date night with Javi, but once the day actually arrives, it seems like everything that could go wrong, has gone wrong. Lucky for you, Javi knows just how to make your day better.

Word Count: 5.8K

Pairing: Dad!Javier Peña x Wife!reader (Reader's nickname is Osita, no use of y/n)

Warnings: SMUT (18+) unprotected p in v sex, bathtub sex (hehehe) vaginal fingering, creampie, praise kink, big ole nasty breeding kink (listen, who am I to deny this man as many children as he wants), alcohol/being tipsy, food/eating, mom guilt, Chucho being the cutest Abuelito, Javi winning the award for dad/husband/dilf of the year 😩🥵

A/N: .... Well. Here we are again 🫠 When I tell you have made a rent free residency in my head... I do not kid you AT ALL. This has been my favorite story for our sweet little family so far. It also may or may not be how Harper is conceived OOPS 🤷🏼‍♀️ I love them, your honor.

Series Masterlist Never Too Late Masterlist

Every day for the past three weeks, you had been counting down to the 19th on your family calendar stuck to the side of your fridge, where the words “date night” had been scribbled in Javi’s messy handwriting. While you loved your girls, it had been a while since just you and Javi had a night to yourselves, so when Chuhco offered to babysit, the 4 of you couldn’t have been more thrilled- You and Javi got an evening alone, and Lucy and Elliot got to spend the night with their favorite Abuelito (Grandpa) at the ranch, getting lots of quality time with the animals, and one too many late night snacks. 

You had been looking forward to this day for weeks, and that’s why when the 19th finally arrived, you couldn’t have been more disappointed that everything that could have gone wrong that day, felt like it had. 

Lucy insisting she help with breakfast before preschool and dropping the rest of the egg carton on your kitchen floor. 

Elliot refusing to nap while Lucy was at school, leaving you with no time to get any of the things done around the house you had planned. 

The dog getting into the bathroom garbage and then throwing up 14 qtips on your carpet. 

The girls having a meltdown at the grocery store because they couldn’t bring home one of the balloons from the end of the checkout aisle. 

Going on an hour long manhunt for Flipper, Lucy’s favorite stuffed penguin she insisted had to go with her to Chucho’s, which ended up being hidden under a blanket in her bed. 

Snapping at the girls out of frustration as they chased each other through the kitchen while you were trying to finish making them dinner. 

Your pounding headache and tired body from feeling like you had been doing nothing but scrambling all day long just to stay afloat. 

And now, with Lucy teaming up with Elliot in their no-nap strike, you hadn’t even had time to shower or get ready for your date by the time Javi had gotten home, leaving you with barely under an hour  before you had to leave to make it to your dinner reservations on time. 

You wanted so desperately to just forget about the shitshow that had been your Friday, but try as you might, you couldn’t help but find yourself in an overwhelmed and grouchy mood. A mood that you did not want to be in on your long awaited date night with Javi, your internal battle of emotions only dampening your spirit further. 

As you heard the garage door open and Javi’s familiar footsteps make their way down the hallway, you fought with everything in you to try and put on the happiest face you could, as if you were going to be able to will yourself out of your funk to enjoy the night with your husband. 

“Hi, Hermosa.” Javi beamed, setting down his bag to wrap you in a hug, pressing a soft kiss onto your forehead before looking down at you in slight confusion, seeing that you were still in leggings and one of his oversized t-shirts, hair plopped up in a messy bun with very little time left before the 4 of you needed to head out to Chucho’s to make it to your dinner reservations. “Listen, baby, you know I think you look absolutely stunning in anything, but I do think the restaurant may be a touch nicer than my 20 year old t-shirt from college.” 

“I know, sorry, it’s just been- It’s been a day. The girls are in the living room playing, do you mind getting their bags and watching them until we have to go so I can shower?” You tried your best to force a smile up at Javi, who was now cradling your jaw in his large palm, tracing his thumb along your cheek. His big brown eyes stared back at you, almost as if he knew there was something off that you didn’t want to get into right now, planting another kiss in your messy hair as you let out a deeper than intended exhale. 

“Of course, Osita. Anything else I can do to help while you get ready?”” 

“No, just that. Thanks, Jav.” 

“DADDY!” Two pairs of tiny feet pattered down the hallway, Lucy and Elliot bolting towards their dad with arms outstretched, Javi now squatting down to greet them with a smile stretched across his face, almost as wide as theirs. 

“Ahhhh, there are my pollitas! C’mere mis amorcitas (my little loves).” Scooping the girls up in his arms, Javi picked up Elliot and Lucy, resting one on each hip, peppering little kisses over their faces, making them erupt in laughter. “Let’s head back to the living room so we can let Momma get ready before we leave for Abuelito’s house, sí?” 

“Okay, Daddy! Will you play horsies with us?” Lucy squealed, wrapping her little arms around Javi’s neck, giving him a hug. 

“Of course, Lucy Goosey.” Javi turned back to give you one last smile as he whisked the girls off to the living room, the sight of him carrying your daughters with such genuine joy and happiness being the first thing that had brought genuine relief today. 

The relief was short lived though, now looking up at the clock to see you were down to 45 minutes to shower and make yourself look like a halfway decent human. You frantically sped through your routine, cranking up the temperature of the water in the shower to as hot as it could go as you tried to wash away the remnants of your day. Unfortunately, the water could have been a million degrees and it wouldn’t have been enough- You forgot you were out of shampoo, having to settle for Javi’s instead, and after trying to speed shave, you realized as you were drying yourself off, you had completely forgotten to shave the bottom half of your right leg. 

You were thankful for the loud fan in your master bathroom, knowing it was enough to drown your tears as you stared yourself down in the mirror, feeling like an absolute mess. You didn’t feel excited, or pretty, or any of the things you wanted to feel before going out on your date. Truth be told, you felt like a shitty, worn down gremlin of a mom who just wanted to do nothing more than curl up in a blanket and hide away from the world for the rest of the night. Taking a long inhale, you shook your head, forcing yourself to wipe the wetness away from your cheeks to finish getting ready, and while with your hair and makeup done, and cute flowy dress wrapped around your body, you looked externally  better than you had an hour ago, internally, you still didn’t feel much better. 

You grabbed your coat and purse, making your way back into the living room to see Javi changed into navy dress pants and sport coat to match, with a white button down underneath, sitting on the couch with one daughter on each side, arms wrapped around them while they read “One Fish, Two Fish, Red Fish, Blue Fish” for what you were sure must have been the 17th time since you had gotten into the shower, considering it was the only book Lucy had wanted to read in the past week. Hearing you step through the doorway, Javi’s face lit up, biting down on his lip as he nudged the girls, pointing towards you. “Pollitas, look. Doesn’t Mommy look so pretty?” 

“You’re so beautiful, Mommy!” Lucy grinned, bolting up off the couch, wrapping her arms around your leg, squeezing it tightly. 

“So pweety, Mommy!” Elliot cooed, toddling over to join her sister, clutching around your other leg. 

You could feel the tears beginning to well behind your eyes again, seeing your little girls attached at your hip and your sweet husband staring back at you, wondering how in the world had given you 3 people who loved you so much on the days you loved yourself so little. You let out a little gulp, trying to choke back your sobs, leaning down to kiss each of the girls on the head. 

“Thank you Munchkins. Not as beautiful as my little chickens or as handsome as your Daddy, but that’s okay. You ready to go to Abuelito’s?” You mumbled through your words, your tone now making Javi’s brow scrunch in concern, giving you that look he gave you when he knew something was bothering you and you were being too stubborn to admit it. With enthusiastic squeals from the girls, they were practically running out the front door to the car, you following close behind them with their overnight bags, Javi following behind you just as closely, desperate to figure out what was on your mind. 

The drive to Chucho’s was fairly quiet besides Lucy and Elliot’s sing-along to the Lion King soundtrack that had been a permanent fixture in your car for the past few car rides. As the girls half babbled the words in the backseat, Javi reached over, resting his hand on your thigh and rubbing soft circles against your skin, giving you that look that said, “I know something’s wrong and you’re not telling me”, you exchanging back with an incredibly unconvincing, “It’s not a big deal, don’t worry about it.” 

As you pulled up to the Peña ranch, Chucho was already outside, waiting on the porch in his rocking chair, his face beaming just as sweetly as Lucy and Elliot’s as they ran out of the car to greet their grandpa. 

“Hola, nietas! (Hi, granddaughters!)” Chucho cooed, letting out a little grunt as Lucy and Elliot barreled into him, squeezing him in their grasp. “How are my favorite little ladies?” 

“Hi Abuelito!” 

The girls giggled as Chucho kissed them both on the cheek, smiling up at you and Javi as you carried the girls bags to the front door. “Oh díos mio, girls. Look at how nice your mamá and papá look tonight!” 

“Thanks Pops.” Javi laughed, setting one of the bags down on the porch. “You still okay if we come pick these two monsters up tomorrow morning?” 

“Monstruos? My sweet nietas? Never.” Chucho laughed, giving the girls a little shake as the two of them giggled at their grandpa. “Come by whenever you’d like. You know I am more than happy to have these two as long as you’ll let me.” 

“Thanks, Chucho.” You nodded, setting another bag down next to the one Javi had placed on the porch. “Do you need us to do any-” 

“Mija, I have everything I need. Don’t worry about a thing. Now go. The two of you deserve a nice night out. Me and the girls will be just fine, won’t we?” Chucho grinned down at Lucy and Elliot, bouncing in excitement. 

“Thanks, Dad. Be good for your Abuelito, sí? I told him if you’re naughty, you’re gonna have to go sleep out with the cows.” Javi teased, kneeling down to the girls level, giving them a little tickle and kiss before wrapping them in his arms. “Te amo, Pollitas. (I love you, little chickens).” 

“Bye girls, we’ll see you tomorrow, okay? We love you.” You joined Javi, crouching down to give your girls one last hug and kiss before they were already halfway through the front door, bursting into Chucho’s house with excitement.

You thanked Chucho again, making your way back to the car, pulling down the dusty, dirt driveway before making your way back on the road. “God, I’m convinced he loves those girls more than anything else on the face of this earth. I’m sure that means he won’t mind keeping them just a little longer tomorrow, huh, Hermosa?” Javi smirked, once again placing his hand on your thigh, giving it a little squeeze before realizing you had been staring out the passenger side window from the moment you had gotten in the car, trying desperately to snap yourself out of the terrible funk of your day you just couldn’t seem to shake. 

You felt the wetness beginning to pool under your eyelids, your breaths becoming shaky and weary, trying to pull yourself together from the tired, guilty and grumpy mess that you were, but it was no use. “Hermosa? You okay?” Javi asked again, confused by your silence, gripping your leg a little tighter, the sweet and gentle tone of his voice being the final straw that broke the camel’s back. You let your tears fall freely, your sobs becoming louder and heavier as you shook your head back and forth, Javi immediately pulling over the truck to the side of the dirt road, unbuckling his seatbelt and pulling you into a hug as you cried against his chest. “Baby. Baby what’s wrong? Hey, shhhh, it’s okay, Osita. I’m here, it’s okay.” 

Javi held you, letting you take your time to cry before trying to prod about the reason behind it, feeling you take long, exasperated deep breaths against him before pulling away, wiping away the tears that had been flowing down your face. “It’s been such a shitty day, Jav. I felt like such a bad mom, and I’m so tired and I’ve been looking forward to this date with you for so long and I’m just fucking exhausted. I’m so sorry. Our date hasn’t even started yet and I’m already ruining it.” It wasn’t long before you were sobbing again, leaning back into the broadness of Javi’s body as he immediately wrapped his arms around you, gently cradling the back of your head as you cried, feeling his own heart break from seeing how hard you were on yourself. 

“Hermosa…” He cooed, pressing you against his chest while he ran his fingers through your hair. “Baby… Listen to me, okay? You are not a bad mom. You are the most wonderful mother in the world to our girls. I have no fucking clue how you do what you do all day long, but there is no one else in the world I would rather have to help raise them with. You are so sweet and patient with them, God, they’re little mini versions of you and I couldn’t be happier. You are an amazing mom, you understand?” 

“It didn’t feel like it today. God, they were so tough today and it was exhausting, I yelled at them today for running in the kitchen and I felt so bad, I just- fuck- being a mom is so hard, Jav. I love it, I do, I love those girls so much, but today I felt like I was running for worst parent of the year award. And now I can’t even pull it together enough for our date that we’ve both been looking forward to. I’m so sorry, Javi.” 

“Osita, you are not ruining anything. Baby, if I get to spend time with you, I’m happy. I don’t care where we go or what we do, if I’m with you, it doesn’t matter. So, that being said,” he paused, tilting your head up towards him, gently wiping away your tears with his thumb, “we’re gonna go home, pick up pizza, open a bottle of wine, sit and soak in the tub for as long as you want to, and then I’m gonna make sweet, sweet love to my beautiful, amazing wife until she knows just how much I love and appreciate everything she does for our family. Okay?” You let out a little huff of laughter, a small smile finally appearing in the corners of your lips as you helped to wipe your tears away. 

“Are you sure? You planned dinner reservations and I-” 

“I’ve never been so sure. I love you, Osita. You are everything to me, and I promise I will spend the rest of my life trying to make sure you remember it.” 

“God, now you’re gonna make me cry even more, you dummy.” You laughed, Javi joining in as you gave him a playful nudge. “I love you too, Jav. You’re way too good to me. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” As Javi’s sweet brown eyes locked with yours, the weight in your chest began to ease, wondering how in the world you had gotten so goddamn lucky. Buckling himself back in, and shifting the car into drive, Javi turned around, changing directions back to home, resting your head against his shoulder. 

“Can we get breadsticks with the pizza, too?” 

“Whatever you want, baby, it’s yours.” 

With an extra large pizza and breadsticks in your lap, the drive back to your house was spent in a much lighter mood than your drive to drop off the girls at their grandpa’s. You switched out the Lion King disk in your CD player for Fleetwood Mac, the two of you happily singing along to “I Don’t Wanna Know” as you pulled back into the driveway of your house. 

You were greeted by your dog, Bear, wagging his tail in delight at your presence from the comfort of the couch, rolling over to show you his belly, Javi gladly obliging in giving him some scratches before Bear gladly put himself back to sleep, curled up against a throw pillow. “Old man could really give two shits about us being home, huh?” Javi laughed, giving the dog one last pat before making his way back over to you in the kitchen, already shoving a cheesy piece of pizza into your mouth. 

“I think he’s just as relieved from a night off from the gremlins as we are.” You laughed, catching a stringy piece of cheese that had fallen from your lips, making you and Javi both chuckle. “Is it bad if we eat pizza and drink wine in the tub?” You raised an eyebrow at Javi, gesturing towards your food, anxious to take a relaxing soak, your tub used more frequently by Lucy and Elliot than either of the two of you these days. 

“Of course not, Osita. Why don’t you get stuff ready upstairs and I’ll bring wine and pizza up? What wine do you want?” 

“I mean… It is date night. Should we break out the nice wine the Murphy’s got us the last time they came over? We did say we were saving it for a special occasion.” You smirked, holding up your half eaten piece of pizza to toast to your failed date night out, you and Javi both shaking your heads in laughter. Javi reached up in the cabinet above the fridge, pulling out the bottle and examining it before getting out a bottle opener and popping off the top. 

“God, the amount of shit Steve would give me to know that this got opened to be drank in our fucking bathtub…” 

“What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.” You winked, giving Javi a kiss on the cheek before taking the last bite of your pizza. “Meet you upstairs?” 

“Can’t wait.” 

After making your way up the stairs and into your master bathroom, you cranked on the water in the tub, making it hot enough for your liking, but not hot enough Javi would complain about it being the surface of the sun. You thought that you had another set of bubbles to put in the bath besides the ones that you used for the girls, but after digging around in the bathroom cabinet, you had to settle for the bright pink, birthday cake scented bottle Lucy had insisted on getting during your last shopping trip. After the tub was full and bubbles were mixed and foaming, you stripped your clothes, dropping them on the tile floor in a heap next to the bathtub before tying up your hair and stepping into the water, sinking down to your neck and letting out a deep sigh as you closed your eyes in relief. You could feel the tension beginning to ease from your body, taking a moment to sit in the sweet silence before you heard Javi’s footsteps trailing up the stairs, gently swinging open the bathroom door, pizza and wine in his hands and a soft smile on his face.  

“Give me one more second, okay?” Setting down his things on the counter, Javi exited back out of the bathroom, quickly returning with a handful of candles and lighter, placing them around the room and lighting them all before turning off the overhead lights, the light of orange and yellow flames flickering against the walls in a soft, warm glow. 

“Wow, didn’t know I was going to the spa tonight. Very romantic of you, Jav.” You grinned, crossing your arms over the edge of the tub, resting your chin overtop of them as you stared at Javi, now undressing himself of his own clothes, throwing them into the pile with yours. “And the spa has hot naked men bringing me pizza and wine? God, I should come here more often.” You giggled, looking up at him in admiration as he passed you over your plate and glass before grabbing his own and stepping in to join you, sliding down the porcelain on the opposite side of the tub. “Thank you for this, Javi. I know it’s not what we had planned, but I really needed this.” 

“Of course, mi amor (my love).” Javi smiled at you, bringing his slice of pizza halfway up to his mouth before taking an over exaggerated sniff of the bubbles below him. “Why does the bath smell like a birthday cake?” 

“I thought I had other bubbles but the only ones I could find were Lucy and Ellie’s so we have birthday cake flavored bubbles.” The two of you laughed, shaking your heads as you bit down into your pizza, knowing that there was no one else in the world you could be happier to spend a night in a tub full of birthday cake bubbles with. 

After you had finished your dinner and were a few more glasses of wine in, you had shifted in the tub so that you were settled in between Javi’s legs,  resting with your back against his chest and leaning your head back on your shoulder with his hands wrapped around your body, the two of you chatting and laughing away, not knowing or caring how much time had gone by. You had covered everything from Javi’s day at work, to vacation plans, now to Lucy’s interest in soccer, which had been a hot topic of conversation. 

“I know, I was talking to some of the other moms at the preschool about it, and they said they’d have their girls do soccer too, they just don’t have anyone to coach. They’re trying to find one of the dads to do it so they can start in the spring.” 

“Are you trying to get me to coach a soccer team?” Javi laughed, rubbing his hands up and down the length of your arms. “Baby, I know absolutely nothing about teaching 4 year olds how to play soccer, you would be better at it than I would.” 

“Well exactly, they’re 4 Jav, it can’t be rocket science. I think you would be good at it. You know Lucy would whip everyone into shape to make sure they listened to you.” 

“Honestly, she would probably be a better coach than I would.” 

“She honestly would. I’m being serious though, baby! You’re so sweet and patient with the girls. Plus, it’d be good eye candy to watch from the sidelines.” You giggled, tilting your head up towards Javi, biting down on your lip. 

“Good eye candy, huh?” Javi smirked back down at you, sliding his hand down your arm to your thigh, giving it a gentle squeeze. 

“Mmmmhhmmm. I could get to show off my hot, handsome husband and what a great dad he is for his girls. Make all the other moms jealous.” You cooed, shifting your body to face towards him, straddling over his lap, running your hands through the dark curls at the nape of his neck. You could feel Javi’s hands beginning to shift with you, now wrapping his arms around the small of your back, grabbing a fistfull of your ass, kneading the soft flesh in his hands. You tilted your head, letting your lips land tenderly on his before his tongue was swiping in the opening of mouth, the tenderness transforming into a passionate electricity. You let your hands roam down his neck towards his chest, sliding down under the water over his stomach, palming at his dick, already half hard in your hands. “Such a good Daddy, that maybe…” You moaned in between kisses, “Maybe it’s time for you to give me another baby.” 

Javi paused, his eyes going wide at your comment, his jaw almost hanging open as he let out a little gulp, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat. “Hermosa… Baby, are you serious?” He couldn't help but let a boyish grin escape from his lips, his face lighting up brighter than a little kid on Christmas. 

You and Javi had agreed you had both wanted a third, but decided to hold off until Elliot was past the 18 month mark before trying again. Javi had been dying for another kid, and had been using as much self restraint as he could to keep from asking you every day if the two of you could start trying for your third child after Elliot had turned a year and a half. It felt ironic that the circumstances you found yourself in to ask him if he wanted to have another baby were because of how exhausted you were from the two you already had, but God, after thinking about him coaching that soccer team, there was something about the thought of your sweet, loving husband with another baby attached to his hip that made any ounce of willpower you had left absolutely dissipate. If Javi wasn’t hard enough from your touch, the thought alone of getting you pregnant again was more than plenty. 

“You wanna put another baby in me, Jav?” You smirked, wrapping your hand around his cock, gently stroking it as he groaned, letting his head fall to your shoulder, quietly laughing to himself, almost as if he couldn’t believe his ears. 

“Fuck me…”  Javi hissed, tugging you closer towards him, the sudden movement making water splash over the sides of the tub. One of the hands grabbing your ass snaked around to your front, grazing over your hip and inner thigh before making its way between your legs and circling against your clit. “Fuck, I want to so badly. It’s all I’ve been thinking about these past few weeks, how much I wanna grow our family, give the girls another sibling, see you all beautiful and pregnant carrying our perfect baby again. Will you let me, Osita? Let me fuck another baby into you, Momma?” The pressure of his fingers on your sensitive bundle of nerves had you moaning, letting out a soft whimper as his two fingers pressed deep into your heat, slowly rocking his fingers along the soft spongy spot inside you that he knew made you crumble. 

“Oh my God, yes. Fuck- fuck, I need you to, Javi, please.” You whined, Javi’s mouth now working its way down to your breasts, sucking and flicking at your pebbled nipples as his fingers fucked into you deeper and harder, burying your head in the crook of his neck, the sensation of his tongue and hands making your pussy begin to flutter. The heel of his palm dug deeper into your clit, pressure building in your belly as your hips rocked against his hand, each roll making more and more water overflow onto the floor as you braced yourself, digging your fingers into the skin of Javi’s broad back as that sweet and familiar tingle built at the base of your spine. 

“That’s it, sweet girl, I know you’re close. Give me one on my fingers and then I swear, I’m gonna fuck you so full of me, I’ll get you pregnant tonight.” Javi grunted through gritted teeth, feeling your cunt begin to clench around his fingers, your breathing becoming heavy and shaky as you moaned. Suddenly, you felt the coil in your belly snap, making you cry out as your orgasm ripped through your body, flooding every inch of you with euphoria and pleasure as you reached your peak. 

Javi placed languid kisses and nips down your neck and collarbone as you slumped into him, coming down from your high with labored breaths, finally composing yourself enough to sit up to see the satisfied grin spread across his cheeks, a lustful and mischievous look pooling in the dark brown of his eyes as he stared at your blissed out face. “How much you wanna bet?” You smirked, biting down on your lip before leaning in to tug at Javi’s earlobe with your teeth as you scooted closer over his lap, shifting your body up in the water of the tub to hover over his cock, carefully guiding it to line up with your entrance. 

“Bet what, Osita?” 

“Bet that you get me pregnant tonight?” You mewled, slowly sinking yourself down onto Javi’s length, savoring the sweet sting and stretch of him inside you until you had bottomed out, feeling his tip brush against your cervix. “That 9 months from now, we’ll have one more baby that gets to fill another room in our house?” Gently, you began swirling your hips, letting Javi’s cock stay buried deep inside you, splitting you open in the best way possible, almost making you speechless. 

“Jesus Christ, Hermosa…” Javi sighed, digging his fingertips into your sides, guiding your bottom half as it rolled in his lap. “I’d bet anything, because I’m gonna fuck myself so deep inside you, it’ll take. You want another baby? I’ll give you another baby, Osita. I’ll give you anything you want. My beautiful wife, amazing mom to our girls, fuck- you deserve everything.” 

Moans escaped from both your parted lips as you began to raise yourself up and down along Javi’s length, now punching along the spot inside you that had your mind going numb. His fingers circled against your already sensitive clit as he thrust up into you, the feeling of him all consuming, even as the lukewarm water of the bath swirled between you. You draped your arms around his neck as his free one wrapped around the small of your back, your bodies melting together as one as you pushed and pulled with each stroke. 

You could feel your cunt beginning to clench again, heat blooming in your belly with each swirl of your hips, tugging at the damp curls of Javi’s hair at the nape of his neck as his thrusts became more frantic and sloppy, telling he was just as close to reaching his own high as you were. “Fuck, Javi, fuck- I’m so close baby, oh shit- don’t stop.” You whined into the crook of his neck, pulling yourself even tighter against his body. 

“I’m not gonna stop, Osita. Not gonna stop until fuck you full of me and fuck another baby into you. That what you want, Hermosa?” Javi grunted through gritted teeth, pounding deeper and faster into you with each word, the water from the tub sloshing and spilling onto the tile floor below you. 

“Yes, fuck- oh my god, yes, fuck Javi, oh shit- fuck baby, I’m gonna-ahhhhhhhh.” Once again, your orgasm radiated through every inch of your body, making your legs shake and mind go blank as you cried out Javi’s name, practically melting into him as he continued to thrust into you with a desperate ferocity, close to his own end. Javi’s arms wrapped around your back, caging you against his chest, fingertips gripping in the soft skin of your shoulder blades as he fucked into you, babbling incoherently. 

“That’s it, sweet girl. Fuck, I’m close too, Hermosa. Oh fuck- God, I can’t wait to see you pregnant again. So fucking beautiful carrying our baby. You’re such a- fuck- good mom to our girls, my fucking perfect wife, I’m so luck-ahhhhhhh.” With one final thrust inside you, you could feel Javi painting your walls in his spend, milking himself of every last drop, his breath ragged and heavy as he leaned into you, your chests rising and falling in sync as you came to. 

“Well…” You laughed to yourself, shaking your head against Javi’s shoulder where it had been resting, now lifting up to grin at his blissed out face, “Safe to say we should probably clean this tub out before we let the girls use it again.” 

Javi joined in your laugher, the two of you giggling to yourselves over your antics, peeking over the side of the tub to see the giant puddles pooling on your bathroom floor. “I mean, the water had soap in it, so at least the floor is clean.” Javi smirked, cupping his hand around your jaw, pressing his smiling lips to yours. 

“Clean, really? Not like we need any extra towels or anything to wipe up all the water we spilled all over the floor because now it’s just magically clean, huh Jav?” You teased, giving him a playful nudge, Javi rolling your eyes at your heavy dose of sarcasm. “We probably should get out and wipe all of this up. Any longer in here and I think our future kid is gonna come out just as pruney as we are.” 

“Dork. I’ll clean everything up. Why don’t you go put on pajamas and I’ll meet you in bed, okay?” 

“Javi, I was just teasing. I am half the reason for this mess, I can help clean it up and-” 

Javi silenced the rest of your sentence with his lips, capturing the rest of your words in his mouth. “I know you can, Osita. I want to. Let me clean up. Can’t have you working too hard, Momma. Gotta make sure you stay nice and rested so you can grow baby number 3.” 

“You are ridiculous, you know that? You just gonna magically will me to be pregnant after tonight?” You sighed, laughing as the two of you made your way out of the tub, wrapping yourselves up in the fluffy towels you had left out on the bathroom counter, Javi draping his towel around the both of you as he leaned down to press a soft kiss into your messy hair. 

“I told you, I’d bet you anything. 5 bucks.” 

“5 bucks what, smartass?” 

“5 bucks says you don’t get your period and we find out you're pregnant by the end of the month.” 

“I’ll tell you one thing, if you are anything, Javier Jesús Peña…” You smirked, pressing up on your tiptoes to peck another kiss on his lips, “it’s confident. I hope you’re right, but I’ll take your bet.” 

If Javi was also anything, it wasn’t wrong. Because 4 weeks later, after a missed period and 3 sets of double pink lines on your pregnancy tests, baby Peña number 3 was on their way. So when you handed Javi 5 dollars and a little white box with one of your tests, you couldn’t help but laugh to know that even though your future daughter was the product of a date night gone wrong, it couldn't have felt more right knowing you were lucky enough to grow your family by one more with the man you loved more than anything else in the world.

Taglist:

@cool-iguana @rhoorl @whyjuliaaa @bbiophiliaa @pertinentpostmortem @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @pedrobaby @fatima-marisa @beboldbebravethings @poodlebae @kittenlittle24 @3sriracha @jungchloee @perennialdoll247 @prettyinpunk85 @partyofone3413 @harriedandharassed @pedrohoe04 @theorganasolo @endlessthxxghts @beware-my-thorns @missladym1981 @messinadress @milly-louise @jay-zzle @the-one-with-the-grey-color @persephone-girl @bitchesuntitled @pedropascallvr @millennial-teenybopper

[mcyt-trios]

PROPAGANDA:

Eclipse Federation:

i dont like them. they ruined my life. Subz and Vitalasy had already partnered in previous seasons but this one, Vitalasy ended up leaving for a few months, leaving Subz alone, and Zam ended up getting close to him after immense trauma at the hands of his former teammates. Zam has done SO many wrongs, including to Subz himself and Subz STILL took him in and made him join Eclipse Federation after Zam died 14 times in a row and got banned then revived by the same player who's been killing him all this time. And it could've been perfect but no, Zam had betrayed his previous team due to them using dupes via exploits, and now Eclipse Federation ALSO has exploits! And he decided that yeah his morals were more important than being loved! And so he murders Vitalasy when he's at his most vulnerable point, lets everyone gaslight him into thinking Vitalasy is an irredeemable evil monster who will never change, even as Vitalasy SAID he was ready to change before the betrayal even happened, Eclipse threw out their whole revenge plans because of Zam's positive influence and he just broke everything. Subz couldn't be with Zam but also couldn't see himself at Vitalasy's side, leaving him alone. Vitalasy hated Zam and yet never killed him or hunted him down, despite Zam acting like he did. And when Vitalasy left, banning himself off from the server, Zam had some time alone to think and realized he fucked up SOOOO bad. And Subz revived Vitalasy and told him to kill him. And ban him. His last wish. His Deliverance. And to make up with Zam. And Vitalasy tried, and they kind of did make up over Subz's death, but then Zam was like "actually im going to kill everyone and destroy the server now. because i want subz back and also because i always do extremely drastic things when i don't need to because i have unchecked mental illnesses i refuse to get help for". And surprisingly when Subz came back he didn't like that! And they ended in tragedy! Eclipse is fucked up. It's a trio that's always about the absence of one person, it's a team that could only happen in one timeline and it was doomed from the very start. But the love was there. It made everything worse, truthfully. But it was there. And that matters. Also as a fun fact Zam himself on twitter has referred to eclipse as a throuple, which is not canon but that's pretty funny. he also stated on stream he didn't want to get therapy because it'd ruin his lifesteal character. and there was a saga where they would "marry" (challenge lost kinda shenanigans) and zam was the only one happy about it. he's not normal. there's something wrong with him. love that for him though sorry for the block of text. I really dislike them. They're my beloveds :3

L'mantrio:

brothers in arms. nothing much to say here I'm bad at propaganda sorey

They're brothers your honor, they're the original 3 members of l'manburg, they're so underrated, they're literally my favorite ever trio

[i-hate-accidents]

i hate accidents: the ball

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, intersectional low self-image of y/n, positive/supportive families, nondescript mention of gagging (not related to self-image) in [III.iii], sexually charged 18+ interactions in middle to end of [III.iv]—minors dni, please stop at the end of the paragraph that begins "you repeat his words with sped up mockery"; you may resume at "you jut out your hip"

word count:  15.7k (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.

tagged: @omgsuperstarg @stvrdustalexx @bedobeeeee @crazymar15 @kahhorri @mayalopes @benedictbridgertonss @athensflower @02wrldz @queerlavalier @merlslrem @pillsbury-doughgirl @lamourdure3ans and all who have read either/both sections one and two—thank you. <3

𝄆 ⚘ ✸ III.i ✸ ⚘ 𝄇

“you look like a princess, y/n!” hyacinth squeals in delight.

“i regret not being of age yet to attend balls,” gregory sighs.  “i would have been honored to ask you for your first dance.”

you beam at the youngest bridgertons with all the fondness in your heart.  judith, an elderly maid of number five, had attempted to dispel hyacinth and gregory from the room as your hair was done, but you had asked her to please allow them to stay.  the two kept you at ease throughout the foreign process, and their sweet sincerity kept you grounded amidst the anxiety that still floods your veins.

“you are both too kind.  and fear not; tomorrow morning we will have a ball all of our own,” you lean in for a whisper, them following suit to listen.  “and perhaps we will need the talents, and bravery, of a young sorceress and a young knight to save the guests from the intrusion of an unruly wyvern.”

“you promise?!” hyacinth and gregory yell at the same time.  you hold out your pinky finger, just as you used to do with your siblings, and the two young ones wrap their pinkies around yours.

“i promise.”

“you are all done, miss y/l/n,” says alice, placing the last pin into your hair.  she steps back and curtsies.  her formality towards you renders you uneasy; she treats you as above her but you are of the same world.  you school your facial features from showing your unease; you do not want to upset her or have her wrongly think that she has done something wrong.

“no need to call me ‘miss.’  i am simply y/n!”  you grin at alice.  “a friend.”

she smiles, albeit a bit sheepishly. 

“of course, y/n.  are you ready to see yourself?”

you shudder in a breath.  you had asked not to be prepared in front of a mirror.  to have seen your transformation so readily reflected at you at every point of this process—

you exhale frantically.  the maids and genevieve had graciously accommodated your wishes, both going so far as rearranging this room and her fitting room to avoid any lines of your sight with a potential reflection; you were, and are, utterly grateful.  

but i am unable to delay the inevitable any longer.

standing up and squaring your shoulders, you give alice a feeble nod.  she bows her head in response, a small, encouraging smile on her lips, and leads you to the mirror as hyacinth and gregory turn in their seats to watch you cross the room.  

it is just a dress.  it is just a tiara, and just some jewelry, and just some gloves, and just some shoes, and just a bit of makeup.  it is just you.  it is still you.  be the courageous person you are, y/n.

or—

just before you see even a miniscule bit of your reflection in that accursed mirror, you shut your eyes tight.

—be a coward.

you continue step by agonizing step, approximating where the mirror is, and shudder in another breath.

perhaps i am being too dramatic.  perhaps i can faint and feign illness.  perhaps i shall run away by way of the nearest window.  perhaps i—

“the mirror is to your left, y/n; whenever you are ready,” coaxes alice.

you exhale once more.

or perhaps, i should open my eyes.

and so you do.

oh.

“oh,” you say aloud.

the person you see in the gilded full-length mirror is, somehow, a complete stranger and entirely you.

the one time you’ve worn makeup before was for your elder sister’s wedding:  a bit of your mother’s rouge on your cheeks and lips to have some color to your otherwise dull face.  now, your cheekbones glow with a blush much more complimentary to your complexion than a mere red as your lips shine with a gossamer of a similar shade.  entirely new to you are the glimmering minerals on your eyelids that magically bring attention to your eyes and make them shine like starlight.

your eyebrows have been plucked (much to your initial pain but your current appreciation), maintaining their shape and fullness but now without strays.  

soft tendrils of curls frame your face, and your hair—normally worn down when not working—has been pulled back into a loose coiffure and styled with sprigs and small blooms, the crown of your head graced with a silver tiara.

“this,” violet smiled fondly when she first set the tiara on top of your head, “is the tiara i wore to my first ball after my presentation.  i had insisted on keeping it, thinking i could pass it on to my daughter when her first ball had come.  but daphne was resolute on having her own tiara, and eloise was resolute on not wearing any,” violet laughed, her eyes shining when they connected with yours, “i see now, though, perhaps it was always meant to be yours.”

“violet, i— i cannot wear this.  it is too— it’s too—”

sumptuous?  opulent?  regal?  

no.

well, yes, the tiara is all those things.  but those were not what had concerned you then.  it’s too—

“beautiful,” you admitted quietly.

something as beautiful as that surely does not belong on the head of someone like you.

“well,” violet smiled, “then you are merely proving my point, my dear.  it perfectly suits you.”

you hold out your hands, flare out your fingers, and stretch out your arms, examining the dark forest green of your long satin gloves, mesmerized that a muted color with such depth and richness could be achieved through dyes.

moving your hand, you touch one of the small rosewhite pearls adorning your earlobes and, with your other hand, touch the inky oblong pearl that shimmers violet, indigo, and green as it hangs from the thin, black velvet choker around your neck.

“my dear,” mama appeared in your doorway one evening as you wrote at your table, “do you require jewelry for your occasion?”

“oh.  i suppose i do?  i hadn’t given it much thought.”  jewelry had been the last thing on your mind of things that terrified you of the impending ball.

“well, if you have not been offered anything by the bridgerton family yet, i thought— i thought perhaps you might like these.”

she approached you, a small wooden box in her hand, and placed it on your table.  taking the box into your hands, you looked at it and then up at mama.  she smiled at you but something of her countenance seemed strained.  nervous.  you offered her a smile in an attempt to assuage whatever concerns preoccupied her mind and, turning back to the box, unclasped it open.

“these are the earrings and necklace i wore when i married your papa.  they were gifts from your grandmama that were gifts from her mama.  i had tried giving them to your sister when she was to be married, but she thought…  they are plain, nothing like what those fashionable people wear, i am certain; but if you have nothing else, i—”

you shot up from your seat, throwing your arms around your mama, feeling how she reeled from the ferocity of your sudden embrace, as you clutched onto the box of her wedding jewelry.

“they are beautiful, mama,” you said quietly but emphatically as the vehemence of your emotions tried to trap your words in your throat.  “they are the most beautiful things i have ever seen, and i am so— i am so honored to be bestowed with the blessing of wearing them, and of wearing them proudly.  thank you.”

you heard how mama sniffed her nose, and how she tried to hide it, as she gently rubbed your back, as she always had in your moments of vulnerability.

“i love you, my child.”

“i love you, mama.”

you then touch your exposed shoulders.  the neckline of your dress, nowhere near your neck, follows the curved peaks of your breasts to meet and form a small v-shape in the crevice of your bosom.  

“where is the chemise?” was the first thing you had said when you first tried on the gown at the modiste.

genevieve grinned.

“there is none.”

your jaw dropped.

“then what of a stay?  what sort of stay would be worn with this?”

turning slightly, and noting your rather bare upper arms in the process, you angle your exposed back towards the mirror.  another v-shape, its furthest point down a third of your bare spine.  

“my dear, both you and i know that you already know the answer to your inquiry.”

“oh, my good g—”

never, in your life, has the expanse of your upper body been so naked and on display than in this ball gown.

“i do not mean to doubt your artistry, genevieve; truly!, the dress is magnificent, but—” you turned to kathani, who had exclaimed and clapped with immense delight upon seeing you in the gown, “is this—— permissible?”

the viscountess had arched an eyebrow at you then.

“y/n y/l/n, concerned with the rules of society?  and of high society, at that?”

“no— no!” you yelled all too loudly as genevieve chortled and placed pins for final alterations into the dress.  “i just, i just do not want to embarrass you and your family, is all.”

you had not meant for your voice to come out so quiet and small.  the older women’s faces softened immediately.

“you could never embarrass us, y/n,” kathani stated with such tenderness.  then she smiled.  “you look beautiful.”

the off-white base layer of the dress feels luxurious against your skin, the fabric hugging your upper body, puffing out at the sleeves, and, from the underbust, flowing and falling into a cone silhouette for the skirt—but what truly awes you is the artistry of the outermost layer.  a cream translucent silk, the piña seda (you recall genevieve proudly naming it as) of the outermost layer glistens while you sway and turn your body, light shifting and transforming the ever beauty of the dress, the swish of the skirt moving like how waves are described in the passages of your books and in the reminiscing of your parents’ memories.  lined at the underbust begins the intricate thicket of embroidered foliage, painstakingly threaded with innumerable shades of greens and blues, a shimmering teal threaded throughout to gleam in tandem with the sheen of the fabric.  the embroidery of foliage then grows and thickens as it cascades down the middle of the dress and comes to an encircling end a few inches above and around the floor-length hem.  in the negative space of the piña seda are spread out, small ivory embroideries of floral motifs.  

it is a dress deserving of someone most beloved in titania’s garden court. 

“indeed,” genevieve affirmed, a smile on her lips akin to kathani’s.  “those in attendance will not be prepared.  you will look the most beautiful of all.”

and perhaps…

perhaps you should be unnerved by how different your dress will be from the others’ of the ton.  perhaps you should be unnerved by how easily you will stand out from the crowds.  perhaps you should be unnerved by the attention, the whispers, the stares you will inevitably receive with your dress, with your appearance, with your presence, with your very existence.  but, instead— 

“i do look like a princess,” you say finally.  quietly. 

you do look beautiful.

like you could belong amidst the ton.  

like you could belong with the bridgertons.  

like you could belong with him.

𝄆 ⚘ ✸ III.ii ✸ ⚘ 𝄇

“are you anxious, y/n?”

you turn to gregory at your side and see the swell of worry in his eyes.

“what gives you that impression?”

“you are shaking terribly,” hyacinth comments from your other side, replacing her usual pluck and wit with a worry akin to her brother’s.  

the two had volunteered to escort you from the dressing room that you had been prepared in to the grand staircase of number five.  with their arms hooked around yours, gregory on your left and hyacinth on your right, the youngest bridgertons have been walking you down the corridor.  your heart aches with anguish:  you know you have failed when the children are the ones to care for the adult.

“i am sorry to have concerned you both.  yes, i— i am anxious.”

“it is reasonable to be anxious.  but there are a great many cakes at these balls, or so i’ve heard, so you can eat one, and then another, to help ease your nerves!”

“how is that of any help, gregory.”

“it is plenty of help!”

“to eat and eat when she is already uneasy?  the last time you were uneasy, you nearly—”

“do not recount that in front of y/n!”

“why not!”

“it is not— it is not proper!”  gregory’s voice jumps in pitch, causing a swift blush to form on the apples of his cheeks.  hyacinth snorts.

“why does your voice do that?”

“i do not know!  kate said it is natural for bo— for young men to experience such a thing!”

“aren’t young men meant to be tall?”

“i am an inch taller than you now!”

“you are not!”

“i am too!”

you laugh.  the youngest bridgertons halt their dispute and look at you. 

“i must say, your usual squabbling is keeping me much at ease,” and you offer a sympathetic smile to gregory.  “i am sorry that it seems to be at your expense, however.”

his eyes shine.

“you need not worry about me!  i am glad to see you smile.”

“i as well,” hyacinth adds.  you turn to her and see how her eyes shine too. 

“i am most grateful to you both for being at my side on such a night.”

“we are most grateful for you, y/n.”

“that is something, and probably the singular thing, hyacinth and i can agree upon.”

you plant soft kisses on the tops of their heads, just as mama and papa and your elder sister had done when you were their ages.  gregory and hyacinth nestle their heads into your upper arms and only part from you when the three of you reach the top of the first set of steps.  

“are you ready?” 

though you wish to say ‘no,’ you brace yourself with a deep inhale and nod.

your heart quickens with each step as time around you slows.  your mouth has gone dry, and your body feels entirely numb, sensation only returning to you when you feel hyacinth and gregory unhook their arms from yours.  turning your head, you see them stepping backwards, away from you, leaving you at the center of the landing to the rest of the grand staircase.  you face forward once more, and ahead, below, you see the gentlemen and ladies of bridgerton house, waiting for you, looking at you.  

you swallow. 

for the very first time, in your dress, by yourself, you take a step forward.

breathe, y/n.  shoulders back; tilt your chin up, but not too much; just as kathani had taught you.  and just, breathe.

but it is hard to breathe with all eyes on you.  with—

i must control myself.   i must not seek him out.  i must not seek out his face.  i must not seek out those o—

you step on the hem of your dress and feel yourself start to fall forward.  thankfully, god, for whatever reason, has blessed you with enough dexterity in this very moment, and you manage to catch yourself from tumbling down the steps as you hear gasps from above and below you.  you mumble an apology (you don’t know why; it is not nearly loud enough for anyone to hear) and offer everyone a smile.  upon seeing their relaxed shoulders and reassured expressions, you continue to descend the staircase.

stupid benedict.  distracting me in remembering how to walk, and how to breathe, and how to— 

oh.  

i am doing it again.

shit.

goddamnit, stupid benedict!

somehow, you reach the landing of number five’s entrance hall without any additional accidents and, approaching the bridgertons, immediately look to the viscountess.  as if knowing you seek her approval, kathani nods her head; a beam illuminates her countenance.  you feel yourself ease, your shoulders relaxing (that you promptly square again; you are, after all, pretending to be a lady for the night), your heart racing less, if only minutely, and manage a smile.  you feel someone take hold of your gloved hand and, turning to face the source, see violet gazing at you. 

“beautiful.”

it is all she says, but with such tenderness in her voice, it makes your heart swell.

“the importance of appearance,” rasps eloise, causing you to turn to her, “and the lengths gone to achieve so-called perfection of such, especially for those of feminine disposition, is an entirely antiquated, offensive concept that must be eradicated from our, and all, societies—— but you do, look, beautiful, y/n.”

you grin. 

“we’ll eradicate it together; and with help along the way, i am certain.”

when she responds in kind, you turn to the gentlemen, and, to your mortification, colin and anthony bow at you.  the high society etiquette directed towards you from your friends overwhelms you with an embarrassment that you cannot even begin to fathom; they haven’t performed such formalities towards you since your first meeting all those months ago.  but, in spite of your horror, the sincerity of their intentions, as well as their countenances, touches you deeply.

“madame delacroix and the maids have outdone themselves,” remarks anthony.  “as mother and eloise have said, you look beautiful, y/n.”

“indeed,” colin beams.  when he turns to benedict, however, his smile transforms into an expression befitting of a fairytale creature; one with mischievous intentions.  “what say you, brother?”

you follow his line of sight and connect with ocean eyes.  the flood of self-consciousness and the tempo of your heartbeats magnify hundredfold under his gaze, the butterflies within you fluttering the most violently they ever have, and you feel as though your entire body has been set ablaze.

anthony, with what looks like a smirk, nudges his brother with his elbow.  as if suddenly aware of where he is, benedict hastily bows at you and, returning his ocean eyes to yours, says,

“you look— well.”

you hear eloise snort.  turning your head towards her, you see she has completely sucked in her lips.  to her left, kathani smiles massively.  to kathani’s left, violet remains ever poised but with wide, sparkling eyes.  you still feel self-conscious but are infinitely amused by whatever is happening to the bridgertons and, with a playful smile on your lips, return your gaze to benedict.

“thank you, mr. bridgerton.  i had felt uneasy with an unnerved stomach earlier, but i am glad to know that my health appears to be in proper order.”

and you deeply curtsy at him. 

from above you hear the sweet giggles of the youngest bridgertons.  ahead, in your periphery, you see how anthony closes his eyes as he sucks in air through his nostrils and how colin, with an unabashed laugh, clasps his hand onto benedict’s shoulder.

“well!” anthony booms, attempting to control his smile on what ought to be an authoritative expression. “i believe we have a ball to commence.  shall you lead the way, viscountess?”

and with an expression both equal in authority and warmth, kathani declares,

“i shall.”

𝄆 ⚘ ✸ III.iii ✸ ⚘ 𝄇

you had grown ease of mind knowing that you would not be asked to dance.  not only were you a stranger to everyone in the ton aside from the bridgertons and penelope, you were also not handsome like the debutantes flitting about the room, swishing prettily in their gowns, strategically but delicately fluttering their eyes at a gentleman with which they wished to dance.  with anonymity and a plain face, you enjoyed the haven of people observing, snickering at the artifice and smiling at the sincerity.  kathani chatting with her guests.  anthony standing by her side.  penelope dancing with colin.  eloise hiding behind a plant.  violet beaming at her family.  (you tried to convince yourself that you had not noticed the absence of a particular person.)  your nerves have finally begun to calm, finding content in your station at the margins of the dance floor.

when colin bridgerton approaches you, hand outstretched in your direction, with a twinkle in his eyes.

“miss y/l/n, may you do me the honor?”

“i’m sorry, what?”

he laughs.

“will you dance with me?”

you gape at him.

“you’re mad.”

“my mind is perfectly intact.”

“this is unwise.”

“this is the best decision i have made this night.”

“i shall surely step on your toes.”

“i have worn my sturdiest shoes for the occasion.”

the corners of your mouth tug down into a moue at the third bridgerton’s stubborn charm.  his grin merely widens as your eyes narrow to slits at him.  penelope approaches from behind the beguiling imp and smiles warmly at you.

“it will be fun,” she encourages. “i promise.”

penelope!  no!

“et tu, brute?” you bemoan.

she shrugs.

“what is a ball without dancing?” penelope offers.  sweet innocence colors her voice, but the delighted glint in her eyes reveals her true duplicitous nature.  she knew exactly how to play the game of this conversation, no doubt a devious plot concocted between her and her beau.

you sigh.

“fine,” you huff, slapping your hand into colin’s palm.  “i would be honored, mr. bridgerton.”

the diabolical duo laughs at the sarcasm that drips from your words as colin leads you to the lineup on the dance floor.  

–

“how is the dance treating you, miss y/l/n?” 

“i hate you.” 

colin guffaws.  (you see in your periphery how heads shift towards him and how eyes narrow at you.  the partner you had just left looks at you with particular scrutiny.)

“if your hatred towards me is the cost of you enjoying the ball, then it is a burden i shall carry, and happily so.” 

“has anyone ever told you how infuriating you bridgertons are?” 

“no, but we very well know that we are,” he grins, “and we take immense pride in it.”

you groan, throwing your head back.  (you hear murmurs around you.  not ladylike.)

“are you truly not having fun?”  the gentleness in his voice makes you look back at him.  his expression is soft.  sad.  guilty.  “we can leave the lineup, if that is what you would like.” 

you consider his words and his offer.

“i am having fun,” you reply truthfully.  his eyes light up at that and your heart warms at the sight.  “it is just— being in a circumstance so wholly unfamiliar— it’s overwhelming, is all, i think.  but…” you feel a smile form on your lips, “knowing that you all—as infuriating as you bridgertons are—are here with me, by my side, wanting me to enjoy myself, wanting me to be happy, it makes all the overwhelming feeling worthwhile.  i am happy.  you all make me happy.”

colin doesn’t say anything.  he just stares at you as the two of you dance still.  you are about to inquire—

“i am grateful to call you my friend, y/n.  becoming your friend has been one of the greatest blessings to have been bestowed upon me and my family.”

you suck in a breath. 

as is becoming yours has been one of mine.

but another thought also lives in your mind.  so, on the exhale of your breath, you smirk.

“only second to falling in love with penelope, yes?”

he laughs, an uncharacteristic shy smile forming on his lips as he looks at his feet and then back at you, eyes shining incandescently.

“i hope you do not take offense to being second.”

“being second to penelope is truly, sincerely, still a victory in of itself.  you are very blessed, indeed, to be her premier.”

you did not think colin’s eyes could shine brighter than they had mere moments prior, but you suppose— no, you are certain that this is the effect that the love of penelope featherington has on the third eldest bridgerton:  the light in colin’s eyes is absolute radiance.

“‘very blessed’ is to put it very lightly.”

with unabashed grins, you and colin continue to dance.  you have to walk most of the steps, often keeping good on your promise and stepping on his toes, but your partner is deterred neither by your incompetence nor by his injuries.  the two of you laugh (drawing leers from the other guests, you notice but brush off) and end your dance with exaggerated flourishes of a curtsy and a bow to one another.

“you underestimate your dancing skills, miss y/l/n,” colin remarks with a beam.

“see if you feel the same after tending to your bruises, mr. bridgerton,” you beam back.

“colin bridgerton!”

you both whip your gazes to the call of colin’s name and see a man fastly, eagerly approaching.

“hastings!” 

hastings?  why does that sound familiar? 

colin and the absurdly handsome man embrace, smiles broad and sincere. 

“i was uncertain you would be joining us on this occasion.”

“we would have seen to arriving early, as we had intended, but augie is proving to be quite unpredictable with his tantrums as of late.”

“he must take after his uncles,” colin smirks with odd pride.  that makes the other man chuckle.

“unfortunately, it seems to be so.”

he then shifts his gaze onto you.  his expression is curious and— sweet?  kindly.  you feel yourself become rather self-conscious as you notice, in your periphery, colin assuming a posture of gentlemanliness.

“my apologies for my dreadful manners.  simon, this is miss y/n y/l/n.  y/n, this is simon basset.”

simon bows most graciously at you.

“good evening, miss y/l/n.  it is a true pleasure to finally meet you.  i am simon basset, daphne’s husband.”

daphne?  

as in daphne bridgerton?

you recall the day you and benedict toured the art gallery:  a portrait, a fairly recent one, it seemed, of a beautiful young woman and a beautiful young man—the duchess and the duke of hastings, the plaque read.

your jaw drops.

“you are the duke!”  you remember the etiquette kathani taught you.  “your grace!”  and you sloppily curtsy.

simon laughs.

“that is hardly necessary.  please, if you feel comfortable in doing so, call me simon.”

“yes— of course!, your— simon,” you compose yourself.  “and you may call me y/n; i would prefer it, actually.”

simon grins.

“then, y/n, may i have the honor of having your next dance?”

your jaw drops again, your composure completely falling away.  you look at simon, who is utterly amused by your reaction, and then to colin, who is utterly delighted by the turn of events, and back to simon.

“that is a mistake.”

that earns guffaws from both of the men.  (you feel stares falling upon them and, once again, scowls falling upon you.)  

“i am more than willing to make that discovery for myself, if you will allow it.”

you throw back your head (ignoring the additional glares shot your way) and, with a sigh, whip it back to look at simon with a fatigued, but earnest, smile.

“i shall allow it.”

colin bows his head at you, his grin having never left his countenance since the end of your dance together, and steps to the side as you place your hand into simon’s outstretched one and are led to the next lineup by the duke.

–

“has the duchess accompanied you to the ball this evening?”

“while it is poor courtesy to speak on behalf of my wife when she can speak for herself, i can say, with confidence, that she would much rather you call her daphne.”

“kathani had taught me your society’s etiquette in preparation for the ball, in the event it would be necessary,” you roll your eyes.  “while i find it all utterly ridiculous, and entirely unnecessary for me in particular, i want to honor the knowledge that my teacher has bestowed upon me as a way to honor her.”

simon grins.

“you are a dedicated student.  indeed, she is in attendance.  the last i had seen her, she was tending to benedict.”

your heart sinks.

oh no.

“tending to benedict?  is he unwell?  did something happen?  is he all right?”

you hear how your voice rises in pitch and grows louder and more frantic with each word.  (you try not to care for the stares that you feel on you.  they are not of importance right now——or ever.)

is that why i have not seen him all night?  because he is in poor condition?  shall i leave the ball?  shall i see where he is being tended to?  shall i—

“y/n?”

oh.  yes.  you were having a conversation with simon.

“sorry, what did you say?”

“i had said that i did not mean to worry you,” simon says sincerely, but there is something in his smile.  not suspicious, neither mocking nor teasing.  it is as if he is withholding the full expression of his emotion.  “i simply mean that she is speaking with him and— encouraging him, is all.”

you feel the entirety of your body, mind, heart, and soul ease; but now, you are perplexed.

“encouraging him?  whatever for?”

“i had not stayed with them long enough to hear the details of their conversation; i had sought you out rather immediately.”

“me!”

the dance had timed perfectly that upon receiving such information, you are forced to turn to another partner (who is unnerved to have you as a temporary companion).  when you reunite with simon, his chuckling has mostly subsided.

“indeed.  the viscount had encouraged me to ask you for a dance.  the viscountess then stated that you required the practice.”

“i—— am utterly lacking in words in how to respond to that.”

“if it is of any comfort to you, it was something i had already intended on doing.”

“that is, rather strange?”

he grins.

“i can see how that is so from your perspective, yes.  but from mine,” and it surprises you how suddenly simon’s countenance softens, “i had to find out for myself how wonderful this y/n y/l/n is to have so easily won the affections of all the bridgertons at number five.  daff and i, as well as francesca, were becoming quite jealous that we did not have the good fortune to spend time with you as the rest of the family has had.”

“the family has… spoken of me?”

“in these past months of knowing you, you have become their most beloved topic of conversation.  hyacinth and gregory idolize how resplendent of a storyteller you are.  eloise adores being challenged by your intellect.  colin aspires to your ferocity of quick wit.  kate cherishes every discussion you share together.  anthony reveres your unwavering resolve.  violet becomes overcome with delight at every recounting of a memory in which you are involved.  and benedict…”

you swallow.

“yes?” 

you hear how feeble and quiet your voice has become.  

“never stops speaking of you; so much so that it would be impossible to abridge what he loves in you.”

you shut your eyes closed at the words “he loves” and attempt to control the tears that threaten to flow at the word “you.”  

the love he has for you is not the love you have for him.

“i— i did not know that they held me in such high regard,” you whisper.

you flutter your eyes open, grateful that no tears have fallen, and are greeted by the gentlest of smiles from simon.  it assuages your soul.

“the highest of regards.  they care very deeply for you.”

“and i care very deeply for them,” you declare softly.  you then feel yourself break out into a smile.  “i cannot say the same for you, yet, but i can see it forthcoming.”

simon throws his head back with a loud laugh, your smile transforming into a large grin (as you ignore the scowls that fall upon you).  simon whips his head back to you, and he too wears a large grin.

“i am honored that you see the potential within me.”

with a final spin, you and simon release the other’s hand, ending the dance in a curtsy and a bow, both of your grins non-faltering.

“thank you for bestowing me the honor of dancing with you.”

you snort.  (you hear scoffs and other suppressed noises of disapproval.)

“i fail to see how much of an honor it is to have someone incessantly knock into you, but if such is your feeling,” you curtsy with much theatricality and, upon your rise, let out a sigh of relief.  “now, i shall retire to the margins once more.”

simon, once again, looks as if he is withholding the full expression of his emotions, but in it you detect— delight?  you narrow your eyes.

“what?”

“you are not meant for the margins, y/n; please forgive me,” and with that, simon bows, his smile still non-faltering, and turns to leave you in the middle of the dance floor.

you are about to call out his name, curious and agitated by his vagueness—

“y/n?”

you turn around to the familiar voice and are greeted by a smiling anthony.

“oh no.  are you going to ask me for the honor of having my next dance?”

the viscount looks as if he is about to howl with laughter and attempts to mask it, poorly, with his absurdly elated smile.

“is the idea of dancing with me truly so appalling?”

“the idea of dancing more is what i find so appalling.”

“i shan’t force you to do anything you do not want to do.”

“but how will your pride take it?”

this time anthony fully howls (earning looks of confusion at the host and their looks, predictably, turning to glares when they trace the impropriety back to you).

“i am always working on humbling myself,” he says, his expression softening.  “i assure you that i, as well as my pride, can manage your rejection if it means that you are happy.  you need not worry about my well-being.”

these damned bridgertons, and their damned charm, and their damned sincerity.

despite your internal accusations, you smile.  you offer your hand (hearing a gasp or a few around you), and beaming, anthony takes it.

–

“you look like a princess, y/n!”

the saccharine words of hyacinth echo in your mind.  with the transmutative magics of your fairy godmothers in mama, violet, kathani, genevieve, judith, alice, and the maids of bridgerton house, the impossible was made possible:  you look like a princess.  but it is not until this very moment, after descending a regal staircase, after entering this enchanting ball, after dancing with two dashing gentlemen and now a third, that you feel like a princess.  you recall how you and your siblings played imagination; how you often asked to be the princess; how you did it so often that mama sewed you a dress from scraps of fabric and papa crafted you a crown out of discarded branches and your elder sister announced you as princess y/n whenever you played and your younger sibling waltzed with you around the first floor of your home.  it makes you elated with childlike wonder how fortunate you are to be here and how lovely it is to be here, how strange and wonderful it is that imagination has become real life; as if it is all a wish for which you did not know you had wished, a wish that you did not know you had wanted to come true until it came true.

but—

“is there something on your mind, y/n?” you hear anthony ask, sometime after returning to him as your partner.  “you seem pensive.”

“ah, yes.  despite my gripes with you, and your brother, and your brother-in-law insisting on dancing with me—”

“i gave you an option not to do so!”

“i am not finished speaking!”

he huffs out air through his nostrils, waiting with what seems to be a morsel of patience for you to continue.

“despite my gripes with you, your brother, and your brother-in-law insisting on dancing with me—” anthony gives you a tired look that of an older sibling; you grin, “i am enjoying myself.  i just wish, i just wish my family could be here with me, to enjoy it too.”

anthony’s expression softens immediately, and it makes your heart tighten.  you know with what gravity, duty, and love he looks after the entirety of his family; you have witnessed it at every given second since becoming his friend.  if someone were to be with you as you navigate this pain, you are glad that it is anthony.

“we shall invite them to the next ball we host,” he declares.  your jaw drops.  “it was a lack of foresight on my part for not doing so for this occasion, and i shan’t make that error again.”

you try to do rough estimations of what costs that would entail for the bridgertons— dresses and coats and shoes and four to six sets of two abstained days of work at least.

“anthony, i cannot possibly ask you to—”

“you did not ask,” he grins.  “i offered.  and i do so wholeheartedly.  it shall not be a trouble for us, just strategic planning as kathani and i work the books.  and before you protest—” you frown, both disappointed and flattered that anthony could sense your retaliation, “it is something i—as well as the rest of the family, i am certain—wish to do.  if you won’t consider it for yourself and your family, then perhaps consider it as a gift to us selfish bridgertons.” 

that makes you laugh loudly as you feel tears form in your eyes (whispers of you be damned).  expression turning gentle once more, anthony continues,

“it would be an honor to finally meet your family.  if they are even an inkling like you, then they must be truly wonderful, indeed.”

with a small sniffle of your nose and all the gratitude in your heart, you smile.

“they are.  they are truly wonderful.  i love them so much.”

anthony smiles in return with a nod of his head.

“then it is settled.”

“you are a good brother, anthony.”

you have wondered often if that is something anthony knows.  while the bridgertons’ love for one another is apparent in all that they do and say and breathe, you haven’t heard them say very complimentary things to one another, particularly to the eldest.  it is typical of families to tease and to jest, you know that intimately, but you also know how important, then, it is to tell your family what you truly think of them, how you truly feel of them.  they ought to know just how much they are loved.

though his overall demeanor is composed and dignified, the softness in anthony’s eyes reveals his true emotion.

“and you are a good sibling, y/n.”

< their dance eventually comes to an end.  someone approaches them. >

“good evening, brother,” benedict turns his ocean eyes to you.  “good evening, y/n.”

“good evening, benedict.”

you vaguely hear something in your periphery.  you turn to it and see a brilliant grin lighting up the viscount’s countenance.

“huh?”

“i had said that the viscountess is calling me over to her.  i must pardon myself.”

“oh.  yes.  farewell, anthony.”

his grin broadens, dimples forming in his cheeks, and he bows.  you see how, as he brings himself upright, his eyes shift towards his brother, the delight in his grin never leaving but something in his eyes… softening?  before you can fully process it, he has turned and now walks towards kathani.

you turn back to benedict.

“i—— good evening, y/n.”

“good evening, benedict.  though, we have already greeted each other this night, just moments ago.”

“ah, yes— that—— that would be correct.  and— is… correct.”

he is anxious.  your heart aches at the sight, and you want to reach out and touch him, comfort him, ease whatever his concerns are—but you refrain.

benedict clears his throat.

“are you— are you enjoying yourself?”

while heavy by benedict’s current state, your heart cannot help but glow brighter at his question.

“yes, tremendously so.  the dancing has been plenty fun, despite how horrendous i am at it.”

that makes benedict laugh, and relief floods your body, mind, soul, and heart.  it is good to hear him laugh.  to see him smile.

“i do not think you are as horrendous as you think you are.  your form has been quite good.”

you cock your head, feeling the scrunch of your eyebrows and the smirk on your lips.

“you have been observing me?”

his jaw drops, his body stiffening again.  suddenly shy, he looks at his shoes and, with a cough, looks back up at you, and you attempt to hold in your gasp.

how.  

how is that, after all this time, he makes these butterflies within me flutter still.

“i— i do not have a clever diversion for that.  yes; yes, i have.  i suppose i have been building the— the courage within myself.”

“‘the courage’?  the courage for what?”

he swallows.

“to ask you to dance with me.”

oh.

“oh.”

he looks… he looks scared.  exposed.  vulnerable.

you feel them within yourself, too.

he offers his hand.

“may i dance with you, y/n?”

you place your hand in his.

“yes.  yes, you may, benedict.”

i am terrified of nothing else and would love nothing more than to dance with you.

benedict leads you to the floor, his ocean eyes never leaving yours, your eyes never leaving his.

the quartet starts up, and you detect how it is music for a waltz.  of all the dances you were taught, even you can admit that you were best at learning the waltz.  

…

you curtsy as he bows.  benedict places his hand on your waist, and you try not to elicit your gasp from feeling his touch.

< their dance commences.  they are silent.  a lot of staring and shit.

< notably, y/n is not cognizant of the ton’s perception of her while she dances with benedict as she had been with her previous partners.  it seems her sole focus in this moment is dancing with benedict, being with benedict.  her heart, mind, body, and soul is with him.

< y/n’s mind goes Rampant when benedict places his hand on her exposed shoulder. >

do not close your eyes, you reprimand yourself.  if you close your eyes, you will indulge.  you will indulge in this sensation.  in this touch.  in his touch.  in benedict’s bare hand on the expanse of your exposed skin.  in imagination.  in fantasies.  in thoughts.  in other thoughts on other parts of your body that you so, so very much want him to—

“i had not spoken properly.”

you try not to shudder a gasp upon hearing his voice.

“pardon?” you say, a bit breathless.  the dance calling for it, benedict twirls you, and you are now face to face again.

“earlier; when i had commented on your appearance, i had said you looked well.”

you snort, recalling the peculiar word choice, and that earns a smile from benedict.

“what i had meant to say is—“ he swallows, “you look beautiful, y/n.”

“i think,” you respond perhaps too swiftly, “that is testimony to genevieve’s skill and not to my appearance.”

“i think genevieve only enhances what is already there.”

you want to change, you don’t want to change— you do want to change the topic.  you cannot handle whatever— whatever benedict is insinuating.  the indecipherable, intense, attentive gaze of his ocean eyes on you.  it is so much; it is too much.

“she spoke of you.”

shit.  why did i say that?

his face immediately falls, ocean eyes transforming with it.

shit.

“genevieve spoke of me?  with you?  why?”

“kathani had accompanied me to the modiste, and i had shared with genevieve how i became acquainted with penelope and the bridgertons,” you half-truth.  “talking about the family, and then you, was a natural consequence.”

“what did she say?  about me?”

you try not to wince at the urgency in his voice.

“she shared how you and she had— an intimate and passionate acquaintance,” you divulge, using the words your friend had to describe the artists’ relationship.  perhaps you imagine the sensation, but you feel benedict wince as you dance.  “and that it was brief and no more.”

“she said that?  ‘brief and no more’?”

“indeed.”

he sighs.  you detect relief in the exhale, but perhaps you had, once again, imagined it.  you always had an active imagination; trying to bend what you perceive to what you wish was real.

“i see,” is all benedict says.

“do you care for her?” you inquire.  it is truly masochistic, what you are doing.  but you cannot help yourself.  it is something you often do when benedict is near.  when you and he are so close.

there is a small silence.

“i did.  at least, i think i did,” he shares. “i was hurt when our— acquaintance came to an end, but i was not heartbroken.  i had known nothing of heartbreak, not until—”

and he suddenly stops speaking, sucking in his lips.

“until?”

“nothing.  nevermind.  forget i had said anything,” he says all too quickly.  you laugh, and he scrunches his face in adorable disapproval at you.

“well, that only makes me the more curious, benedict!  the mystery of it, and your very clear blush, indicate it must have been quite the event.”

“i am not blushing!”

“you cannot lie about something i can literally see.”

“you are infuriating.”

“and what do you think you are?”

benedict just pouts at you, though you see the twinkle in his ocean eyes.  you want the twinkle to be of affection, but you will settle for amusement.  for friendship.  you take pride in how you can elicit this reaction out of him.  you take joy in how he can elicit this reaction out of you.  you love him, and you are grateful that is something you can say and know and feel.  even if he does not love you as you love him.

“the first time i felt heartbreak,” he begins, finally giving in.  you perk up in anticipation.  “was when— was when you had walked out of the house after i had crumpled the paper to the floor.”

you nearly stop in your tracks, halting your waltz with benedict entirely, until you find a way to recover and continue the steps with him.  he is looking intently at you, waiting for your response.  you inhale a breath and on the exhale say,

“oh.”

it is a pathetic response, but it is the only one you can muster at this moment.  breath has entirely left your lungs, your heart palpitates at a maddening rate, the lightning of benedict’s touch and proximity magnifying at every passing second.

“i had hurt you, this person whom i—” he swallows, “whom i care for, deeply and completely.  i was, and am, ashamed of my deed and the arrogant thoughts and beliefs that led me to do it.”

“i have long forgiven you for that, benedict.”

“it is something of which i am not deserving.”

“you cannot tell me what to think or do,” you challenge, arching an eyebrow at him to add levity to the conversation.  benedict smiles, despite himself, and it makes your body flood with relief and joy. 

“i would never dare.”

“as you shouldn’t,” you grin, then inhaling and exhaling through your nostrils.  “you need not flagellate yourself for what you did.  that accomplishes nothing, and guilt is entirely useless in the structures that be,” you say resolutely.  more softly, you continue.  “my forgiveness is something i gave you willingly because it is what i truly wanted.  because i knew, and know, how you wish to do better.  i see that in everything you do; in your art, in your character.  it is something i admire in you.”

benedict simply stares at you, his ocean eyes impossible to decipher again.  his gaze is overwhelming, but you refuse to break it.

“i was about to say how undeserving i am of your compassion,” he says, “but then swiftly realized you would have just admonished me.”

you laugh.

“you were correct in thinking so, yes.”

he looks at you still, his expression still impossible to decipher, but there is something soft about it.

“thank you, y/n.”

the butterflies within you flutter once more.

“and if you ever wish to discard your paper again,” you diverge from your feelings, “simply hand it to me.  i am always in need of more.”

he laughs fully, the corners of his eyes crinkling with delight, and you feel the flutterings violently rage within.  perhaps diversion was not the wisest choice (or perhaps it was, if it meant that you were the one to make benedict laugh like that).

“i have gotten quite good at maximizing the amount of negative space on a sheet, but nothing would delight me more than to support your writing.”

“i am most grateful for your patronage, mr. bridgerton.”

benedict makes something of a gagging noise, and you snort loudly.

“you are making it strange with the master-servant relation, y/n.”

“ah, so you are learning,” you comment with a sagacious nod of approval.  it is now benedict’s turn to snort.

“what can i say?” he grins.  “i have the greatest of teachers.”

“they have done quite well; please give them my regards.”

“i shall.”

and with the music coming to an end, you turn to face one another, wide and wild smiles on your faces.  you curtsy as benedict bows.  

“may i fetch you a drink?” he inquires after you are both upright again.

“is alcohol served at these occasions?”

benedict laughs.

“champagne it is.”

he gives you one more bow, lingering a moment more with one more smile, before taking off to retrieve your drink.

you try to bite back your smile, but it’s entirely useless.  you twirl in your spot, feeling the swish of your dress in the spin, for you cannot help yourself.  you cannot help how much joy radiates off of you in this moment, how giddy you are.  it feels like a fairytale.  you look in the direction benedict took off and feel your smile widen.

it is dangerous what you are doing— indulging in this.  but you do not care.

this is undoubtedly the most wondrous night of your life.

“so you’re the pauper that the bridgertons have invited to their ball.”

you freeze.

“how else would you have been asked to dance by the host—the viscount and a bridgerton, nonetheless; his two brothers; and the elusive duke of hastings?  it is an endearing sight, really.”

her posse snickers.

“the bridgertons have always been so kind and thoughtful in that way, extending their hands to the less fortunate.  why they chose you, however, remains a mystery.  if it were a pretty face that appealed to them, i perhaps could have understood, but you are simple at best.”

“you are cressida cowper,” you state.

penelope and eloise had warned you about a cruel creature amongst the ton, and the young woman before you matches all of the criteria they had described:  icy platinum hair, draconian eyes, and a haughty disposition that ought to be reserved for the royals.

cressida daintily gasps and smiles at you with what seems to be all the mockery she can muster.  

“i see that my reputation precedes me!  though, only those of my standing can refer to me as such.  cannot have my name tainted by the mouths of the lowly.”

you feel the gazes of other guests on you.  you hear muffled sneers.

this is entertainment for them.

you should say something, stand up for yourself— against cressida, against her posse, against the ton— but you don’t.  you can’t.  your mouth has gone dry, your mind has gone silent, your body has gone numb.  you have never, ever felt more powerless.

“your dress— did the bridgertons pay for it?  of course they did.  pity, though, for their wealth to go to waste on such an offensive thing.  allow me to assist you—”

and she pours her drink onto you.

you try not to gasp at the chill of the liquid making contact with your skin.  looking down, you see a reddish purple stain seep into the cream fabric of your ball gown as it continues to travel downwards.

you hear cressida giggle.  you look up.

“better,” she simpers.  “beautiful at last.”

her posse sneers with delight.  the guests who had tried to suppress their laughs do nothing to hide their mirth now.  

this is entertainment for them.  my humiliation— it is entertainment for them.

you step into cressida’s space, eliciting a stunned gasp from her as the others follow suit, and shove your face as closely to hers as possible.

“if we were not in your domain, i would rip out your delicate hair and strike my hand across your pretty little face.  but i am a lady—not in blood nor in title, but in character.  and with your words and your deeds, you have shown just how utterly undeserving you are of such a title with your complete void of morals, compassion, and integrity.  i do not care what you think of me, cressida, or what drinks you pour on me because i can rest easy in my sleep and waking hours knowing with perfect certainty that i am nothing like you.  i bid you good night.”

and maintaining the ferocity of your glare on her horrified eyes, you muster up the most mocking, deep curtsy you can, turn, hitch up your skirt, and run away.  you cannot care for the booming silence from that creature and her posse, for the murmurs and glowers of the ton thrown your way.  you cannot take time to process what words a flutters-inducing voice snarls at cressida.  

no. 

you must simply run away, quickly and efficiently, because you refuse to give into these monsters’ satisfaction of seeing your tears.

𝄆 ⚘ ✸ III.iv ✸ ⚘ 𝄇

the cool air of the night whips your face as you run as far and as deep as you can into the gardens.  you curse your damned shoes, for they are slippery and nothing like your sturdy boots, and they make you realize even further how much you have fucked up in allowing yourself to get this far.  in allowing yourself to go to the ball, in allowing yourself to dance, in allowing yourself to fall in—

feeling your shoe catch on something, you fall forward and throw your hands out in front of you, your gloved palms digging into the bark of a tree trunk as you attempt to steady yourself.  you attempt to control the staggered rhythm of your breath, the sobs that choke out of your throat, the palpitations that threaten to collapse your heart.

why did i allow myself to get this far?

“y/n—”

you snap your gaze over to the call of your name as your stomach knots, somehow, even now, with flutterings upon hearing his voice.

“benedict, no— just— no,” you manage to croak out, stepping away from where he approaches.  you hold up your hand, as if it is a magical force that will push him away.  it does not.  “just go, please, just go.”

“i refuse to leave you, y/n, you are hurt—”

you cackle, sniffling the snot that tries to escape your nostrils.  you push your remaining hand off the tree and turn towards him.  

“hurt?  what gave you that impression?  is it the tears?  they are just water, benedict, they will dry.”

“this is not the time to jest!”

“then what do you want of me!”

“to allow me to help you!”

“why!  why do you care!  why do you care for some, some low status person like me!”

“that is not how i see you!”

“THAT IS WHAT I AM.”

he freezes.  you feel yourself clenching your hands into fists, your nails digging into your palms through the satin of the gloves that were bought for you.

“you are the son of a viscountess, a brother to a viscount.  i wonder every day if my family will have enough food to eat at our one meal.  we—” you gesture between the two of you, “—are not of the same world.  and maybe, maybe it should have stayed that way.  to, to have stayed in our own worlds.  we should have stayed in our own worlds!”

“and is that what you want?” he shoots back.

“what?”  you snark.

“is that what you want?  for us to stay in our own worlds?”

you fall silent, words suddenly failing you, breath suddenly leaving you.  he huffs out a breath and continues.

“if that is what you want, i shall stay away from you.  i shall never bother you.  i shall never hurt you as i have.  we shall—” benedict swallows, “we shall forget each other.  if that is what you want, y/n, i shall give it to you.”

you do not respond to him.  you stare into him as he stares into you.

“is that what you want?”

you shake your head as you feel fresh tears rush to your eyes.

“then what do you want?” he softly asks.

you flutter your eyes closed and breathe in.  on your exhale, you open your eyes to the tear-blurry sight of benedict still looking at you with such tenderness in his ocean eyes.

“i want you,” you whisper.

you barely have time to process anything else when benedict surges forward and wraps his arms around you in a crushing embrace.  tears fall even harder than before as you cry into his chest and wrap your arms around him.

benedict pulls back from the embrace to look at you, to cup your cheek, to wipe away the tears that fall so quickly from your eyes.

“i want you, y/n.  i want to be yours.  i want to be in your world, i want our worlds to be one.  i want to go wherever you go.  i want to make you laugh and to make you smile every day and every night; i want to do everything with you.  i want to be with you, to share this life with you.  from the moment i met you, from the moment you intended to shake my hand, i have wanted nothing more than to share all the time i have on this earth with you.  i do not care for balls, i do not care for the ton, i care— i care for you, y/n.  these are not the circumstances in which i wanted to confess this, with you crying and us yelling at one another, but i must be true with you.  i—”

“benedict?”

“yes?”

“may i kiss you?”

benedict’s jaw drops and you laugh at his shock, sniffling your nose as you beam at him.  he quickly recovers, breaking out into the smile that has always made you flutter with butterflies, the smile that you always secretly hoped, dreamed, wished was reserved for you.  and you begin to think that, after all this time, perhaps it is.

“good god, please, yes—”

he barely completes his ‘yes’ when you jump forward to crash your lips into his.  benedict practically trips backwards with the force of your eager leap, the two of you laughing into your kiss at the messiness of it all, as he holds you both steady.

this is your first kiss.  you are so glad that it is benedict.  

and somewhere within you blooms the hope that he is your last first kiss.  

you have no idea what you’re doing, or what you should be doing, but you are far too much enjoying having benedict’s lips on yours, your hands on his cheeks, his hands on your waist, and your bodies pressing more and more into each other to give the slightest care.  and the smile you feel against yours makes you think that benedict doesn’t mind—at all.

you pull apart to breathe, but your lips do not move far from one another.

“i love you.”

“i love you, too.”

“and i am sorry.”

“for loving me?”

you feel benedict jump back as he holds you, his face absolutely crestfallen, panic flooding his eyes, and he’s about to open his mouth to speak when you giggle and peck his parted lips with yours.

“i’m teasing you, my love.”

benedict’s eyes soften but quickly glint with mischief.  you’re curious about the expression when you feel him tickling the sides of your waist.

“okay, okay!” you gasp with laughter as he tickles on. “i— i yield, i yield!”

benedict grins victoriously, his tickles fading into him softly rubbing circles on your waist.

“i am sorry for saying that is not how i see you, when you spoke of your social standing.  i had not meant it that way, but i understand now how it was understood, and i should not have said it as i did.  i know that i have lived a life of unfathomable ease with the wealth and circumstances into which i was born.  the privileges i hold are not things i had reflected on, really, until— until i met you.”

you soften at his earnestness, by the way he humbles himself before you.  but you cannot help the giddy mischief that bubbles from within.

“did you only reflect on your privileges as to win a femme’s favor?”

benedict’s jaw drops again, but you see how his ocean eyes shine with like-minded playfulness. 

“do you truly think so lowly of me?”

you grin.  

“perhaps.”

you feel benedict teasingly threaten his hands into tickling position onto your waist, and laughing, you shoo them away.  he grins and softens his gaze once more.

“what i wanted to say to you earlier is— i wish you did not speak of yourself so harshly.  as if you are unworthy of care from me because of your status.  i care for you, i love you, y/n,  as you are.  as you were, as you will be.  with all your circumstances, all your experiences, all your deeds, all your words, all your thoughts, all your feelings.  for your heart, for your mind, for your soul.  i love you because you are you, and i wish for you to see that, for you to see you as i see you.  as so many of us see you.”

“i— i do not know what to say.”

“you do not have to say anything; just to, if i may ask of you, seed my words into your heart and mind and soul and know them to be true, wholly and completely,” a playful smile forms on his lips.  “though, i must say, i am rather pleased with myself for rendering a writer with ferocious conviction speechless.”

you roll your eyes, but your voice is soft.

“you have had that effect on me for quite some time, benedict.”

benedict swallows and gently rubs circles onto your waist again.

“i love you, benedict.”

“i love you, too.”

< y/n and benedict, hand-in-hand, start to walk towards the house; they are taking their time. >

“are you certain you want to return the ball?” benedict inquires.  “we can stay here in the gardens and wait until the last of the guests have gone.”

you hum.

“i would like to dance.”

“ah, was there a gentleman or a lady who caught your eye, miss y/l/n?”

“oh, loads.  i hope it won’t make you terribly jealous, mr. bridgerton.”

“it will, but i shall simply stare at them maliciously if their hands are to roam.”

“yes, my form is reserved for your hands and your hands alone.”

you exchange grins.

“indeed.”

benedict nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck, and you laugh.  he lifts his head and plants a soft kiss on your temple.

“are you certain?  i do not mean to doubt you or your wishes to dance.  we can dance out here, under the bright light of the moon.  i want you to feel content and safe.”

“i do feel content and safe.  with you.  with the family.  within myself.  i shan’t let the ton or cressida ruin my first ball.  though, the idea of dancing in the moonlight is quite enticing.  perhaps another night?”

“you have my word,”  and bringing your hand to his lips, he kisses your knuckles.  a serene silence falls between you two until benedict makes some sort of a noise in his throat, as if to clear his voice.

“i, uh, must say,” benedict begins, “your confrontation with cressida was, uh, quite— alluring.”

you stop, letting go of his hand, and stare at him.

“alluring?”

a delicious blush colors your love’s face.

“indeed.”

a newfound bravery blooms in you.

you step into his space, not breaking eye contact with his blown out pupils, the ocean of his eyes mere outlines.  you sneak your lips towards his ear and hear a soft whimper emit from his lips.

“is that something of interest to you, mr. bridgerton?” you murmur, your bottom lip barely grazing his earlobe.  you feel him shiver and inhale.  “when you see someone be put in their place?”

he exhales frantically.

“it is something of interest to me when— when you do it,” he admits, as if out of breath.  you smile, pressing your bottom lip softly into his earlobe.  he does nothing to hold back his moan as you do everything in your power to hold in yours.

“that is good to know,” and quickly rip away from him.  

in your step back, you take in benedict’s state—flustered, expectant, ruttish—and wink at him.  you turn and walk away at your leisure, putting on a performance of superiority as you hide your own arousal.

it is only a few moments later that you hear benedict follow you.

“you,” he says, voice still fraught with desire but full with love, “will be the death of me.”

you look back at him and grin.

“and what would you like me to put on your epitaph?”

“benedict bridgerton, he who, in life and in death, loves the best soul to have ever existed.”

you cannot help your giddy self and close the distance between the two of you once more, grabbing his face and pressing your smile into his.  benedict happily obliges as he places his hands at the low of your waist and pulls you closer into him.

< they get into it! 

< y/n takes off her gloves so that she can touch benedict; she is about to throw them on the ground. >

“wait—”

and he takes your gloves.

“hm?”

“your gloves.  they were costly to make,” benedict states as he stuffs them into the inside pockets of his jacket.  “i don’t want to be flippant in letting them be discarded to the ground.”

you gape at him.

“you concern yourself with the cost of my gloves?”

“why, yes, of course, it is something i—”

you clutch onto the lapels of benedict’s jacket and push him backward into a nearby hedge, his mouth now agape and his pupils dark with a desire you very much want to satisfy.

“i find your consideration quite alluring.”

in the midst of his apparent arousal, benedict giggles, and that makes you grin.

“what is it?”

“a hedge, y/n?  of all things to anchor me against?”

you roll your eyes.

“it was this, benedict, or the bark of a tree.”

“ah, so i should be grateful then.”

you repeat his words with sped up mockery, making him laugh and the corners of his eyes crinkle in the adorable way that is so very distinctly benedict, and you capture your love’s lips again to shut him up, smiling and laughing into the kiss.

…

“what do you want?”

“you.  whatever you want, benedict, i want it.  please.”

“are you certain?” he breathes into your ear.

“god, yes, benedict, please, yes.”

“then—”

benedict positions his head downward, burying his face into the crevice of your bosom, and before you can even begin to tease him for his absurdity, you feel the wetness of his tongue flat against the curvature of your right breast.  your gasp of surprise quickly transforms into an ungodly guttural wail, feeling yourself dig your fingernails into benedict’s back, arching into him to steady yourself, as he painstakingly drags the flat of his tongue from your right breast against the expanse of your exposed chest to the length of your right shoulder.  dazed and euphoric, you feel how benedict sneaks towards your ear, hovers it, panting ragged breaths,

“i’ve wanted to do that since you descended the stairs in that dress.  and—”

taking your left hand, benedict pushes your middle finger and forefinger fully into his mouth.  he methodically works his tongue against them as he guides your hand to pull and push in him, his blown out pupils never once leaving your intoxicated stare.  you feel the desperate urge to throw your head back at the incandescent eroticism that throbs from your fingertips to the rest of your body, but may god smite you if you willingly tear your eyes away from the divine sight of benedict’s almost oceanless eyes gaping into you as his gorgeous mouth sucks on your fingers.  just before you feel as though you are to fully blank out and ascend into the heavens, benedict rips your hand out of his mouth, the action creating an obscenely delicious ‘pop’ sound, and, wrapping his hand around your wrist, pulls you back into him, your face finding respite just below his shoulder.

“i’ve wanted to do that since first drawing your hand.”

you laugh-cry into his jacket.

“shit, benedict.”

your love laughs and nudges his head into yours and rests it there as he softly rubs circles on your back with his thumb.

“please—” good god, breathe, “please remind me to ask you more frequently what you want.”

“did you enjoy it?”

“no, benedict, i quite plainly hated it.”

“i’d be glad to accept your critiques.”

“i know you would,” you smile into his jacket and, lifting your head, are greeted by your favorite sight:  benedict, with his soft smile and his gentle ocean eyes.

“i have never felt like that before,” you admit in a whisper.

“nor have i,” he whispers back.  that shocks you, and you must have made your reaction visible because benedict emits a laugh through his nose, soft smile and gentle ocean eyes unfaltering.

“but you have been with others before; you’ve had similar experiences, yes?”  

you had assumed that your exhilaration must have been, apart from it being benedict, rooted in your lack of experience in such things.

benedict brushes a loose strand of your hair away from your eyes and tucks it behind your ear, his hand moving down to cup your cheek, his thumb gently rubbing it.

“yes, but those were different.” 

you cock your head in response.  he smiles, as if it is apparent.

“because they are not you.”

the sweetness of benedict’s ocean eyes are quickly replaced with shock then delight and then you don’t know what because he closes them as you crash your lips into his.  whatever you had just felt before, you want it again.  you want benedict.  all of him.  and you want all of him to feel what you just had.

you lick his teeth, and granting your wish, benedict opens his mouth more, groaning, bringing his hands to the curvatures of your ass, pushing your bodies even closer together though no space left exists between the two of you.  you move your hand to the back of his head and, gripping a tuft of his hair, pull it roughly just as you capture his tongue with your mouth and suck hard.  the sounds that benedict produce in reaction are entirely inhuman, but you vaguely deduce he is trying to say your name, and you’ve never attended a concert but, my god, nothing will ever sound as harmonious as the symphony that is your name gutturally trapped in benedict’s throat.

continuing with the work you’ve done to undo benedict thus far, you take your other hand and start to rake it against his body, starting at the base of his throat, taking time and leisure to explore, lowering and pressing into his chest, wondering wildly what beauty exists behind his damned shirt, lowering and feeling the firmness of his stomach and trying not to completely undo yourself with the sinful, transcendent thoughts of putting your tongue there, lowering and lowering and touching something curious and unfamiliar and hard and—

when he pushes you off of him.

“benedict, i— i am so sorry,” you panic, “please, what did i—”

“no, no,” he swallows, “you did— you have nothing to apologize for, my love, you were— uh— you were doing quite——” he clears his throat, “you were doing quite well; very well, actually…”

you continue to frown, still concerned.

“then why are you so tottery?”

“because— because if we were to continue, i do not think— i know i would not last for— um, for very much longer.”

you jut out your hip, putting the knuckles of your fist on it, and furrow your eyebrows at him.

“benedict bridgerton, i still do not understand what you are trying to convey.  speak plainly.”

“we should stop.”

your jaw drops, as does your hand from your hip.

“why?” you practically whine.  you should be embarrassed by your desperation, but to be entirely frank, you couldn't care less.  benedict huffs out a laugh, still breathless, and, stepping towards you, lays a tender kiss on your forehead.

“as much as i would love for us to continue, i think being in the family gardens with a ball being held a few meters away is hardly an ideal location for the more— involved aspects of such activities.  the aspects i’d like to explain to you,” he takes another step into your space, lowering his voice to an unfamiliar but enrapturing gravel, “the aspects i’d like to show you.”

you swallow your whimper.

“i—— i would very much like that,” you manage.  and then you grin, “though, exploring such aspects in the family gardens sounds like it would be quite the adventure.  a calculated risk, if you will.”

the alluring tone of benedict’s voice is completely replaced with a giggle, and your grin broadens as you press even closer into him and nudge your nose against his.  benedict rests his forehead against yours and flutters his eyes closed.

“what did i do to have you love me back?” 

you flutter your eyes closed.

“you were you.  you are you.”

𝄆 ⚘ ✸ III.v ✸ ⚘ 𝄇

< ahead, y/n sees kathani.  she makes the connection that kathani must have accompanied benedict as a chaperone so that y/n wouldn’t be “disgraced” by having a man by himself chase after her.  

< as the two approach the viscountess, kathani recognizes how disheveled y/n and benedict look and promptly fixes them to look more presentable. she takes some hedge leaves out of benedict’s hair. >

“i see that you are well, y/n?” inquires kathani.

“never better, actually.”

she laughs, a smile falling on her lips.

“i am sincerely glad to hear that.”

< they walk closer to bridgerton house. >

“you are fortunate that it was not anthony who volunteered to chaperone.  he would have not reacted well to his loved one being dishonored, as he would say, particularly on family grounds.”

“oh dear,” you say, nervous and suddenly self-conscious.  you do not want to be the target of the eldest bridgerton’s wrath.  “what have i done to dishonor—“

kathani laughs.

“i wasn’t referring to you, chellam.  i was referring to him,” and she juts her chin out at benedict.

“me!”

“anthony will be furious when he finds out that you have been— private,” she says, gesturing to his newly tidied appearance, “with y/n in the gardens.  not very gentlemanly of you.”

“he won’t find out!” benedict pauses. “he won’t find out— right, kate?”

kathani just makes a face of feigned deep thought and you chortle.

“kate!”

“i do not keep secrets from my husband, benedict.”

“but what if it’s for love?” he implores.  he says it facetiously, but you feel with what conviction he exudes his true feeling.

kathani’s expression softens as she looks between you and benedict.  you offer a small nod and a smile, confirming her thoughts.  she beams at you but then narrows her eyes at benedict.  there is no heat to her gaze; she is, however, having the most sublime time making her brother-in-law squirm.

“i do not keep secrets from my husband, benedict,” kathani repeats.  benedict groans, throwing his head back like a disgruntled child, and you belly laugh at him.  

“i hope you are ready for gregory to be your second,” she continues.

you almost double over as benedict snaps his head forward to look at his sister-in-law.

“gregory!”

“indeed.  it is a shame as well— anthony’s accustomed second being the one he has to duel,” she sighs dramatically.  “oh well.  colin will make a fine replacement.”

“this family is ridiculous,” you declare, grinning like mad.  “gregory seems a tad young, though.  what about eloise?  i am sure she would be a more than suitable second for benedict.”

“oh, i have no doubt,” grins back kathani, “but i would not dare involve a woman in the idiocy of men and their ludicrous concepts of honor.”

you and kathani laugh loudly, delighted by how much you are enjoying yourselves, untroubled by benedict’s moping.

“it has been wonderful being in love with you, benedict,” you state simply.  “it’s a pity that it has to come to an end so soon."

kathani snorts.  benedict stops in his tracks and gapes at you.

“you think i would lose the duel!”

“anthony is more stubborn; he would let it fuel his will to live.”

“i think you underestimate how much i love you and how that fuels my will to live.” 

you smile.  in your periphery, kathani smiles. despite his current displeasure with you, your love smiles.

“i suppose i do.”

𝄆 ⚘ ✸ III.vi ✸ ⚘ 𝄇

< upon returning to the ball, y/n, benedict, and kathani see how anthony and violet are ensuring that the cowpers are leaving.  before the family leaves, y/n approaches cressida. >

“i do hope to see you at another one of these events.  if you find a way, of course, not to have yourself kicked out.” 

and you curtsy.  you turn to your love, his mouth in a wide smile and ocean eyes sparkling, and offer him a wink. you hear the quartet start up. 

“i believe it is time for another round of dancing.  care to be my partner?” 

“i would love nothing more.”

< they dance.  it is sweet, silly, romantic, and delightful.  both y/n and benedict touch each other beyond what is considered proper, like hands laying too low on the waist or eliminating the space between their bodies, but they truly do not care.  their unabashed joy is abundantly evident to everyone in the ballroom, but they are only focused on one another.  they are in their own world.  they giggle, they grin; it is the happiness they both deserve.  

< they dance the next set.

< after her and benedict’s third dance together, y/n makes eye contact with violet, who is at the margins of the dancefloor, eyes wide with joy. >

“as much as i love dancing with you, my love,” you beam, “i think i am in need of a new partner.”

< y/n approaches violet and with a bow asks her for the honor of being her next dance. though delighted, violet remarks how she is too old, and y/n says that the youngsters can learn a thing or two from her wisdom and skill. >

“we would need permission from the host,” offers violet.

“from anthony!  you birthed him!  you granted him permission to exist!”

that makes violet laugh.

< violet agrees, and they walk hand in hand to the dance floor.  in this dance, y/n and violet are partnered, benedict partnered with penelope, kathani partnered with anthony. >

…

“you’ve told each other."

“has anyone remarked how keenly insightful you are, violet bridgerton?"

“no,” the dowager replies with twinkling eyes, “but it is something of which i am well aware, and take great pride in.  i am happy for you both.”

“i am so glad to have your approval.”

“oh tosh!  as if a mother’s approval or disapproval can get in the way of real, true love.”

“perhaps so, but it is affirming to have the blessing from someone you so dearly love in a matter such as this.”

“you make it easy to love you, my dear.”

< the dance calls for a switch in partners.  y/n becomes partnered with penelope, and violet becomes partnered with benedict. >

“thank you, pen.”

“whatever for?”

“for bumping into me at the markets.”

penelope laughs.

“accidents are quite good, are they not?”

“i despise them, actually,” you declare with a grin.

< penelope reveals that benedict shared with her why he was not seen for the first three dances of the night. >

your jaw drops, and penelope merely titters in response.

“is that why i didn’t see him!  because he was lurking in the crowds to prevent men from approaching me?”

“it has been my discovery that the bridgerton brothers do not handle their jealousies well.”

“do you think gregory shall be the same?”

“oh, i am entirely certain.  he shall likely be the worst of all.”

the two of you snort as you are sent back to your partners, penelope with benedict and you with violet.

“and what has you and penelope in such giggles?”

“making barbs at your sons.”

violet laughs.

“they make it awfully easy to do so, do they not?”

< the dance comes to an end.  violet plants a soft kiss on y/n’s head.

< turning, y/n connects eyes with benedict who wears an incandescently happy expression. >

how could you not see it before?  how in love he is with you.

< tired but elated, y/n takes a break from dancing.  she reunites with the rest of the bridgertons at the ball.  y/n finally meets daphne, who remarks that she has heard so much about y/n.  eloise shares how the family wished to check in on y/n when she had returned to the ball to see that she was well; in a rare smile rather than a smirk, eloise shares that, upon seeing her dance and dance again with benedict, that she looked quite well indeed. at some point in the conversation with the bridgertons, y/n inquires when she can meet francesca.

< time passes, and joy is had amongst the bridgertons, penelope, simon, and y/n.  y/n cannot believe her happiness.

< the last dance is called.  benedict approaches y/n. >

“may i have the honor of being your final dance of the night?"

“you aren’t tired of me yet?”

“i shall never tire of you, y/n.”

upon taking your hand, benedict twirls you once then twice as he leads you towards the dance floor.  giggling and grinning, you decide to do the same to him, causing him to giggle and grin right along with you.

< they dance a fourth time. >

𝄆 ⚘ ✸ III.vii ✸ ⚘ 𝄇

< the guests have made their leave from the bridgerton ball.  colin, eloise, and violet have gone to their respective bedchambers.  

< anthony, benedict, kathani, and y/n walk up the steps of the grand staircase. anthony has his hand clamped on benedict’s forearm and pulls him up the steps with particular determination and quiet fury. >

“i know where i sleep, brother!  i have slept there since we were children!”

“i am well aware of that, benedict, and i am also well aware of how you— roam when enticed.”

benedict looks at anthony, to you (you just shrug as you look on at the exchange with excitement), and back to anthony.

“do you people really think so little of me!”

“i do not think little of you, brother, i just know you.”

benedict’s shock deepens incredulously, though you see the smile underscoring it all.

“i am a man of honor!  i am a gentleman!”

“yes, as am i, as is colin, as was father; all bridgerton men are, and all bridgerton men are idiots around the persons for whom they have affections.  now, go into your bedchamber,” anthony finishes as he shoves his younger brother into the room.

“you are a nightmare!” you hear your love shout from within.

“and you are to stay here for the remainder of the night!” he shouts back, leaning forward to grab the knob to benedict’s bedchamber and pulling the door shut with a loud thud.  he turns to kathani, composure returning to his senses. 

“my dearest, may you call samuel and lawrence, please?  i shall have samuel stationed here and lawrence stationed outside benedict’s window.  they will be paid double their wage for these extemporary responsibilities.”

you laugh with your whole stomach and feel tears sting your eyes.  you have no concern in hiding your howls until you remember hyacinth and gregory are asleep and promptly clamp your hand over your mouth.  your hand succeeds in muffling your laughter, but marginally.

kathani rolls her eyes at her husband and deeply sighs.

“i shall,” she replies, smiling at her love’s antics.

pleased with her answer, anthony right about turns at benedict’s door, places his hands behind his back, and stands up tall, taking his temporary duty as guard with the utmost gravity.  something then eases in his posture, and he turns to you.

“i hope you have enjoyed your night, y/n.”

your heart swells.

“it was wondrous, anthony.  thank you.”

he beams, brilliant delight in his eyes.

“i wish you good rest.”

and with a bow of his head, anthony turns away from you and assumes his station once more, gravity and perfect posture and all.

the viscountess turns to you, her smile having softened, and says, “let me escort you back to your bedchamber.  i shall help you prepare for bed.”

–

“despite his many flaws,” kathani says with all amusement and fondness in her voice as she removes the pins from your hair, “anthony is, indeed, a man of honor and honesty.”

“i never had my doubts, but—” you snort, “that has certainly proved it.”

“it is because he thinks so highly of you,” she shares, looking at you in the mirror.  you turn around in your seat and connect with her eyes, eyes that are filled with so much warmth.  “he cares deeply for you, y/n.  anthony is only that overbearing and overly protective when it comes to his family, and he sees you as our family.  we all do.”

you suck in air through your nostrils, feeling the swell of your heart.  how did you get so fortunate as to be so loved by this family?  

though, you detect something in kathani.  her words are sincere, of that you are not doubtful, but they do not seem complete.  it is as if she wants to say more, if the blossoming twinkle in her eyes is indicative of anything.  but kathani does not elaborate.  

instead, she picks up the brush on the vanity and gently brushes your hair.  it reminds you of when your elder sister used to brush your hair before bedtime.  you close your eyes, humming.

“i see you all as my family, too.”

𝄆 ⚘ ✸ III.viii ✸ ⚘ 𝄇

< the next morning, late morning.  the dining room. >

“you are infernal,” benedict deadpans to anthony, staring at his brother and taking his seat next to you.

“you are incorrigible; i was correct,” anthony responds, his eyes not leaving his paper.

“correct about what, brother?” hyacinth asks.

despite their current rivalry, benedict and anthony both freeze.  kate speaks on their behalf.

“your eldest had deemed it necessary to have lawrence stationed outside below benedict’s bedchamber window in the early morn and was proved correct in doing so; your second eldest had attempted to escape by way of that route.”

“stationed outside his window?  why would that be necessary?” gregory inquires.  he turns to benedict.  “and why were you trying to leave through your window?” 

in his periphery, benedict sees you whipping your head.  you seem to have suddenly found some interest in the painting on the wall faced away from the current scene.  he notices how you hide your smile behind your fist and how you attempt to suppress the convulsions of your laughter.  kate, on the other hand, unapologetically laughs.

“i am certain you will learn in due time, gregory.  it is something of a tradition, it seems.”

“will i get to participate in this tradition?” hyacinth enthuses.

“NO!” benedict and anthony shout in tandem.  they look at each other, and the elder gives a ‘see!’ face to the younger.  benedict just rolls his eyes.  

his eyes eventually land back on you:  you have now totally hidden your face in your hands with elbows perched on the table for support, any attempts at hiding your laughter now entirely gone.  your entire body vibrates as you somehow squeak and guffaw into the palms of your hands.

“ugh, why do adults always speak in such vague statements!” hyacinth grumbles as she slumps in her chair and crosses her arms.  she then suddenly shoots back up and looks at you.  “y/n, you only speak in riddles when we play!  may we play now?”

“yes!  may we play now?” gregory pipes up.

“please!” the two youngest plead in tandem.  benedict looks to you, and wiping away your hands to reveal your face red from laughter, you say,

“i would be— i would be delighted to do so,” you take sharp breaths in between attempts at controlling your laughter.  “perhaps—” you full on snort, and it makes benedict break out into a grin, “—perhaps, after the young sorceress and— and the young knight slay the wyvern, they— they will save the— the—” you laugh hard again, “the princess, captive and forlorn in her tower.”

gregory and hyacinth shout their joy and take off from the table.  

“you haven’t been excu!— oh, nevermind,” anthony grumbles in an uncanny, childlike resemblance to his youngest sibling.

benedict watches as you use your forefingers to swipe at the corners of your e/c eyes, fits of laughter still bubbling out of your mouth.

i love her, and she loves me, he thinks in awe.  it has been on repeat in his mind since you confessed to one another in the gardens just the night prior.  she is mine, and i am hers.

“your lordship,” you giggle still as you look at anthony, and benedict snickers, “may i be excused to play make-believe with your youngest siblings?”

anthony rolls his eyes with much theatricality, but his smile at you is sincere.

“you are not my sibling,” he states, but benedict catches how his elder brother quickly glances at him with eyes that say ‘yet,’ “you need not my permission, but yes, you may.”

you bow your head in dramatic gratitude, causing kate to titter and anthony to look to the ceiling, and you lift yourself up from your seat.

before you follow after his siblings, benedict reaches out and gently takes your hand.  you look at him, and he feels how his stomach flutters when his blue eyes makes contact with your e/c.  just as it did the first time, just as it did every time after.

benedict feels you softly rub three circles on his hand.  he softly rubs four circles on yours.

“good day, princess,” you say with a wink at your love, slowly slipping your hand away from his and then turning to walk out of the dining room.  benedict stares at you as you leave.

i love her, and she loves me.  she is mine, and i am hers.

“when do you intend on proposing, brother?” anthony smirks as he puts his teacup to his lips.

benedict smiles, looking off at where your laughter is heard. 

“later this afternoon.”  

anthony chokes on his tea, and kate, patting her coughing husband’s back, arches an eyebrow at her brother-in-law, amusement dancing in her eyes. 

“without a ring?” 

benedict turns to look at the couple and grins.  

“who said i don’t have a ring?”

“you are joking,” anthony says matter-of-factly.  “we all are excited at the prospects of y/n officially joining this family, but you just confessed your love for one another not even twelve hours ago.  we are still breaking fast!  there were guards at your door and your window!  how could you have already procured a ring?”

benedict smiles, digging into his pocket.

“i do not jest, brother.”

and, with pride, he holds up a thin band made of twisted paper.

“now, if you will excuse me,” benedict announces, lifting himself out of his seat, giving a kiss to the top of kate’s head, and ruffling anthony’s hair.  “i must be going.”

“and where are you off?” anthony demands as he straightens out his hair.

“do you think i am going to propose to y/n without asking her family’s permission first?  would not be very gentlemanly of me if i did.”

“how do you know where she lives!”

“that is what you were asking penelope last night,” kate answers.  anthony looks at his wife, incredulous and in awe.  benedict grins.

“exactly so, sister.  i’ve always known you held all the intelligence between you two.  i would have seen to it sooner, but—” 

an image of e/c eyes and ink-stained hands flashes in his mind, the flutterings in his stomach intensifying.  butterflies— that is what he will paint next, he decides.  

after he finishes his portrait of you.

“—i was held captive in my tower.”

[hogwartslegacyreactions2]

Hey, I'm pretty sure that this was asked before, but I can't find the post.

What if MC died in the repository instead of professor Fig?

(I'm sorry, but I'm in an angsty mood)

I love your posts, and thanks

A/N: I do have vague recollection of answering a similar prompt once upon a time, but nothing wrong with a reprisal!

HLC REACT TO MC DYING IN THE REPOSITORY

WARNING: angst, death, grief

Dark ancient magic flew violently through the air around MC. The whirlwind of human agony consumed them as they released silver blue light from their wand. The magic thrashed and roared as MC expelled more and more effort to contain the chaos. Cracks started to form along the length of their wand.

Time slowed for them. MC could see Fig's silhouette just beyond the veil. The hundreds of young souls above them weighed heavy on their conscience. If they can't do this, everyone will die. They had to use all of it.

MC closed their eyes and whispered their goodbye. A light even brighter than the one from their wand emerged from their chest. The ancient magic within them burst forth with the fury of dragonfire. The silver light merged with the darkness, and as quickly as it had appeared, the magic vanished.

MC was gone. Their broken wand was all that remained.

SEBASTIAN SALLOW: He has officially lost everything. After losing his uncle, Anne, Ominis, and MC all at once, he's cracking. They can't be gone. Not them. They were too powerful to just vanish. He just has to find them. Yes. That's what he needs to do. He leaves Hogwarts. He MUST find them. Then Anne will see. Then Ominis will know. What he did was worth it.

OMINIS GAUNT: He rarely speaks anymore. The silence in his life has become so oppressive it took his own voice. The good life he thought he had was nice while it lasted, but now it's all come apart. It's only a matter of time before he loses Anne too, and when that happens...he doesn't know what he's going to do with himself.

ANNE SALLOW: She doesn't know how to feel about MC's death. On the one hand, they were trying to be a good friend to her and her brother but on the other...they also enabled Sebastian in his treachery. She's so very tired of the pain. She just wants to go to sleep.

IMELDA REYES: Well, damn. Mc was the closest thing to a friend she had in years. Someone competitive but friendly and fun to have around. They could dish out as much sass as she could, and she respected them for it. She cries a little at the end of year feast.

NATSAI ONAI: She should have been there. She could've done something! Why didn't they tell her!? She would've had their back! She....she...she breaks down into sobs so intense, even her mother can't comfort her. Her best friend was dead. Her heart was shattered and it would never be whole again without MC.

GARRETH WEASLEY: What? No. Nonono. Not them. That's impossible. They couldn't be dead. They're too strong to be.... He's in denial all the way until the MC's memorial service at the end of year feast. Then he breaks down. A bit of his fire died with MC.

LEANDER PREWETT: He wasn't super close to them, but he was still quite fond of them. They were a real friend. He hopes they're at peace and raises a goblet in their honor.

AMIT THAKKAR: He feels cold and numb all at once when he hears the news that MC died in the attack. He'd grown to care about them. He cursed himself for not spending more time with them when they were around.

EVERETT CLOPTON: He and MC didn't talk much outside of flying class but he had liked them. It was a shame he didn't get to know them more. He doesn't feel like eating when the feast is presented.

POPPY SWEETING: She hadn't cried this much since she left her parents. She finally made a friend, and just like that, they were gone. She doesn't know if she could make another friend again if she wanted to. Was she just doomed to lose every human connection she made?

ELEAZAR FIG: He wholeheartedly and inconsolably blames himself. Even if this fate couldn't be avoided, why did they have to die so young? He can't stand to hear the words "ancient" and "magic" in the same sentence at the same time anymore. It sends him into a dissociative trauma spiral.

He finds MC's wand. It's snapped in the middle with bits of wood frayed outward like the very core of the wand exploded. The two pieces are held together by the slightest sliver of wood.

He retires from teaching at Hogwarts. He doesn't trust himself with the care of students anymore. He doesn't trust his own judgment. He's tortured every night by the survivor's guilt taunting him that he should have done more. He should have protected them. He shouldn't have let them go as far as they did. They weren't ready. They couldn't handle the power they were forced to control. It takes everything in him to not attempt to destroy the map room with the portraits of the Keepers. He just leaves.

But every once in a while... On quiet moonless nights.... When he sees MC's wand displayed with Miriam's, he hears a whisper. A quiet breathy whisper that he could swear on his life sounds like MC. He chalks it up to the fact that he could be going mad from grief, but it's still strikes him as strange... If he looked at the wand hard enough... He could swear he sees a blue glow...

[hystericstar]

maybe a headcanon or two for each link + sidon and how they do aftercare? I know it's not explicit but is still nsfw related, right? ;w;

Yeah, in my book it is! Just very soft :)

! MDNI !

𐂅 Twilight princess link 𐂅

9/10 times you’re gonna end up really sore, so he remedies that for you by giving the best massages you’ve ever had

Rough, calloused hands rubbing your back was something you never knew you needed till now

has a whole conversation with you

asking about your day, if you felt okay, etc.

goes into golden retriever mode as if you don’t limp when you walk

“ I couldn’t be happier your day went well darlin’. As for me, just your smile makes me forget anything else even exists.”

༆ Skyward sword link ༆

bath time!!!

Carries you to the bathroom and has you sit in the warm water while he changes the soiled bedsheets

he joins you when he’s done and y’all bathe together

his favorite thing is to brush your hair while humming

your’e always out like a light within minutes

idk why I just feel like he has the voice of an angel

“ Are you comfy enough? Let me know if I pull too hard on your hair, okay? Is there anything in particular you want me to sing for you dove?”

ᘏ Botw/Totk link ᘎ

Cleans you up, leaves, and then comes back with a tray full of munchies

you guys spend like half an hour praising each other

and then another half is just you happily listening to him tell stories of his chaotic adventures

a tickle fight may or may not be involved

“no matter how hard the battle was, it’d do it all again if it meant I’d get to have you look in my direction.”

𝄞 Ocarina of time link 𝄞

Gently holds you and takes a moment to just press his forehead against yours, admiring every aspect of you

starts gently making out with you cause he just loves you so much he physically can’t contain it

he’ll hold you for as long as you let him, face buried in your neck the whole time

holds your hand too cause he’s soft and if you disagree then you’re wrong

“you are my sun, sky, and earth. I am nothing without you.”

➳ Hyrule warriors link ➳

“I want you to breathe in and out for me, kay?”

bro performs a whole wellness check

“ I wasn’t too rough on you, was I?”

”thank you for allowing me the honor to pleasure you m’lady.”

don’t ask me why but I feel like he calls you that

actually it’s cannon Zelda just told me herself

anyways-

gentlemanly but can’t help tease you for that blissed out look in your eye

teaches you stretches to ease any kind of pain and exercises to help you catch your breath

ᖫ The fierce deity ᖭ

Asks you if you enjoyed it

wants to know if you did or didn’t like anything he did in particular

after all, he vowed he would serve you the moment he laid eyes on you

what kind of deity would he be if he couldn’t make his darling little human feel good?

“ I will do everything in my power to grant your every wish. I’d forge you jewelry made of the stars should you say the word.”

🜲 Sidon 🜲

Yk how I said twi would have golden retriever energy after?

yeah, scratch that

he is nothing compared to fish man

immediately sprints outside to get you some fresh zora spring water

don’t worry, he purified it like 5 times so that water is clean

you swear you can almost see the fin on his head wagging-

“are you hungry? Comfortable? Cold?”

eventually, he asks if you want to go for a swim

takes you to a private pond and lets ride on his back, or, if you’d prefer, you lay on his chest while he just floats along.

~《☆♡•°•°♡☆》~

done 😩

it was so fun adding in little text lines for them. Writing lines for characters is so fun istg

thank you for requesting!

[onlybeeewrites]

Until The Mockingjay Sings

Requested: no but I love Sejanus and angst and this made me sad

Warnings; major character death, hurt no comfort

Pairing: Sejanus x gn!reader, platonic Lucy Gray x Readers (y’all are besties)

Italicized = flashback

Word count: 1.6 k

You remember the last few hours that you had spent with the sweet Sejanus Plinth so clearly. It was a few days ago, you both had finished dancing at the Hob to the beautiful songs of the Covey. The two of you had been dancing, laughing and singing. It was a beautiful. You swear everything was so perfect.

Then he had walked you home, pressing a kiss to your cheek before leaving for the night. The small kiss from the sweet boy left butterflies in your stomach. Enough to make you smile from cheek to cheek, the redness on your face never ending. It was enough to have your father questioning his intensions, but it was all teasing.

He knew how much you cared for the young peacekeeper. As the bakers of the District, they sometimes (often) came into the bakery for breads, sweets if they could.

That’s how you met Sejanus Plinth.

Poor, sweet, foolish Sejanus Plinth.

How could things have ended so poorly? So quickly? Your mind couldn’t comprehend.

You stood with Lucy Gray in the crowd of people, near the front as you watched you who recognized as Spruce and what you had heard to be his sister. be brought up, about to be strung up on the big old tree. The two of them looked defiant, while also being horrifically beaten. Dried blood and bruises covered their faces and exposed skin. Dirt littered and stained their clothes and hair, and yet they still held their heads high. Honorable. But what had they done?

As Coriolanus’ eyes scanned the crowd, he spotted the familiar head of dark curls that belonged to his beloved Lucy Gray. Though next to her was you, Sejanus’ beloved Y/N. His heart pounded seeing your pained and confused face. You truly had no idea what Sejanus had done….maybe it was better that way anyway. Had you known you would have been up there beside Sejanus. And that would have been such a waste. He agreed that you were good, too good and too kind. Often too much for your own good. But then again, you and Sejanus had that in common. And his mind went back to the moment everything had started to gone wrong.

“You can’t show that you know or saw anything anything, Sejanus. You need to pull yourself together. If we’re all caught…they might suspect Y/N too. And you want to keep them safe right?” Coriolanus’ had asked Sejanus. And Sejanus’ dark eyes had widened at the mention of your name.

No. No, no, no, no. You couldn’t be wrapped up in this. You didn’t know anything about the rebels, or the plan of escape, the weapons, his meetings with Billy Taupe and Spruce. Would you really get caught in the middle of it all if himself and the others were caught? You had no knowledge of anything. You wouldn’t. Your life in Twelve wasn’t all sunshine, but it was better than many.

You had expressed this to him too. That you did what you could for the District. Handing out free bread to those who were starving. Often you have the Covey expired pastries and sweets when you could. You were kind. Genuinely so kind and almost too kind for your own good.

It was ironic for Sejanus to think so, but it was true. You were a good person. One of the few he had met in a long time. And he had sworn to himself and you to keep you safe. He was just about to pull you aside and ask for you to come with him. Away from the districts, to travel up North away from it all. That was until Coryo shot Mayfair. And then Spruce shot Billy Taupe. And it was all going wrong.

Sejanus quickly shook his head, looking at his friend in tears, “no….no they have nothing to do with this Coryo, you know that…” he whimpered with a desperate shake of his head. He failed onto keep from the violence. But he would always make sure you were safe.

Coriolanus nodded, keeping his hands firm on his friend’s face. “I know they don’t, Sejanus. I know. But in order to keep them safe and out of this, you need to pull yourself together. You need to collect yourself and walk back out there like nothing happened. We’re the only lose ends left right?” He asked, and Sejanus nodded again, taking a shaky breath. “Hey…we’re brothers, remember? Brothers...and I’ll do everything I can to keep you safe,”

How that would change so quickly. Coriolanus remained at the front stage of the hanging tree, his gun firmly in his hand while hearing his friend beg for him. Him. Coriolanus Snow. Sejanus Plinth’s best friend. His murderer. And Sejanus didn’t even know. You didn’t even know.

“Please…please coryo…..Coryo…” his voice repeated as he was dragged to his spot, the noise fitting around his neck as the head peacekeeper replayed the recording of the Jabber Jay. You looked on horrified next to Lucy Gray, looking around in shock.

“No….whats Sejanus doing here? He hasn’t done anything. There’s been a mistake,” you say rather in disbelief and frazzled as you watched your boyfriend struggle against the pace keepers before being brought up on stage. You listened in horror as the recording

“No….no there’s been a mistake!” You shout, all eyes moving towards your figure. Lucy Gray’s eyes widened, shaking her head. “Y/N, stop it..” she warned quietly, anxiously.

But you didn’t hear her as the crowd parted to show you. Senjsnus’ eyes widened through the tears. He didn’t expect you to be here. With all his fear he felt, what really made his blood run cold was seeing you. The panic on your face, the disbelief. He never got to tell you everything. The plan to run away together. He wanted to make sure he had everything planned out to the second to make sure it was perfect.

Sejanus wanted to tell you about the life you both could have together. A family. Away from the districts. Away from the Capital. And away from the Games.

"Y/N..." Sejanus gasped, jerking in the restraints, only to earn a warning from the peacekeeper. You weren't supposed to be here. He was scared, but he did not want you to see what was about to happen.

"Sejanus! There's been a mistake! Please!' You called out, the stinging in the back of your eyes as some of the peacekeepers moved. Lucy Gray had seen this. Lil...the girl about to be hung now had done this exact same thing when her lover had been hung. Quickly, Lucy Gray moved forward and quickly pulled you back.

"Y/N, you need to stop or else you'll be up there next," She whispered harshly as you fought her for a moment. How could you remain quiet?

"No....no...no...Y/n! Ma!" Sejanus's voice rang out before there was a sickening crack of several necks as the floor below the three people gave out.

You stared in horror through your tears as the body of the love of your life twitched and swung back and forth by rope that killed hundreds already. You felt like the whole world stopped. Your blood ran cold, and it was like someone had sucked everything from you. The warmth, the love, the hope. Everything that Sejanus had given you, the light and hope for a new and better life, was taken from you within seconds. Who could do such a thing? Sejanus didn't have enemies. None that you could think of at least. But at the moment you couldn't think as you tried to come to terms with what just has happened.

"Oh my god...Sejanus..." You sobbed, feeling your legs give out from beneath you. Lucy Gray was quick to drop down beside you, wrapping her arms comfortingly. Though Sejanus' voice continued to ring out in the air.

The Mockingjays all flew around the crowd and trees, repeating his last words, "Y/N! Ma!"

His voice was scared, desperate for the ones he had loved most. A District boy turned Capital turned rebel. you stared as the ground in horror, tears streaming down your face as your body shook with sobs and shock. Lucy Gray was gently rubbing your back but you couldn't feel it. You couldn't feel anything. Just numb.

So Lucy Gray allowed you to remain like that, sobbing until there was no tears left. Your eyes and face red and puffy, a blank and lost look in your eye. By the time you even got to your feet, a majority of the crowd had left.

"No...don't look," Lucy Gray had gently ordered, keeping your gaze down from the sight of the tree. You were shaking, and nothing like the best friend she had known. She wrapped a supportive arm around you before leading you out of the area without another look behind you both.

Coriolanus felt his own stomach churn as he had heard he snap of his former classmate, his squad member swung behind him, and watched as you had fallen to your knees in pure anguish. As the look in your eyes turned from hopeful and light to a blank and pained look. All for Sejanus. Maybe he had more of an influence than Coriolanus originally had thought. The same boy who had gotten himself into more trouble than he was worth.

The very same boy he had met on the playground when they were eight, the same boy who had given him the gum drops, the one who Coriolanus had almost died for in the arena, the reason he had to kill.

But then he had to remind himself that it was not his fault. He had to report Sejanus, he was trouble, a rebel. Sejanus had been ruining everything with his guilt and urge to help others. But that was all over now. Sejanus was no more.

Poor Sejanus.

Poor sweet, foolish, dead Sejanus.

[aphroditelovesu]

Maybe Yan!Alicent and Yan!Criston. I think a romantic dynamic would be interesting

❝ 🐉 — lady l: Someone stop me because I'm writing hcs after hcs lmao! Anyway, I made these hcs in honor of our Green Queen and our Ser Cole, I hope you like them! 💚💚

❝tw: obsessive and possessive behavior, mention of death, polygamous relationship.

❝🐉pairing: yandere!alicent hightower x gn!reader x yandere!criston cole.

You had caught Alicent's attention a long time ago, when she still fondly remembered the time she was friend with Princess Rhaenyra. She never acted on it, however, always in the shadows observing your interactions with others.

You could read the jealousy, the pure envy in the Queen's brown eyes when she saw you close to someone else. She hated it, she hated them and she hated herself more for wanting you. She was well aware of what she felt but never wanted to confront them. She was afraid.

But she was more afraid of being away from you, of you being separated from her. Alicent didn't have an active participation in your life, but she was tired of seeing you giving attention to those who didn't deserve it, to those who weren't worthy of you. So she decided to act.

Criston followed Alicent's orders blindly, she was his Queen and he had sworn to her. Whatever she asked, he would do without hesitation. And this was no different when he came to you, after being ordered by her.

Cole didn't know exactly why Alicent was so interested in you, but he knew it had nothing to do with him. It was her choice and he would just obey. However, it was only after he contacted you, and spoke to you that he finally understood.

Alicent was the most controlling, imposing her desires and expectations on you. You should be like her, modest and devout. She knew it was wrong to fall in love and even more so to get involved with you, but she didn't care. For the first time in her life, she would be doing something for herself and not for others.

Criston also had his morals and his honor, although less than Alicent. He fell in love quickly and wasn't shy about showing it. He was in love, he wanted to be loved by you. He needed you. Cole is more liberal in his obsession, giving you more freedom.

Once they both realize that they are interested in you, things will get interesting. Normally, they would never agree to share you, but it was with each other, with whom they had a strong and close bond.

They are incredibly possessive, overprotective, and petty in their obsession. They agreed to share you because they knew there would be no one else but them for you. No one who was worthy of you, at least.

Alicent adored you, she loved dressing you in shades of green, combing your hair, and telling you how much she loved you. She was deeply in love with you and you were a breath of fresh air for the Queen after a long day at the council. There was no place she preferred more than your arms.

Criston worships the ground you walk on, always watching your every move like an eagle. His eyes never leaving you and yearning for you with every passing second. He couldn't live without you anymore, not when you were his air.

They protect you fiercely, especially Criston. Anyone who looks or breathes in your direction will be eliminated from the Earth. No one, absolutely no one, can think of hurting you. They are ready to destroy anyone.

You are unconditionally spoiled by them, especially Alicent. She loves showering you with clothes (mostly in green tones), jewelry, shoes and anything else that money can buy. Criston is more modest, but he also spoils you a lot.

They are willing to go against anyone who might threaten you or cause you discomfort. Alicent likes to hold you, brush your shoulders against yours shyly while she admires you. Criston watches you from afar, looking at you with love, and likes to hold your hands.

You can't leave them, not after everything they've done to make sure you stay with them. Any marriage proposals will be quickly shot down and Criston is more than willing to beat any potential suitor to death. And Alicent will support his actions.

There's no escaping them, especially once the Dance of the Dragons begins. You will be under lock and key in the Red Keep. They can't risk losing you. They love you too much so that's why they can't let you go.

[devildomwriter]

First Things They Say to MC

Lucifer

“I will explain everything to you.” — (1-1)

Mammon

“Huh? Who the hell are ya? You ain’t Lucifer.” Or “Are ya foolin’ around? Who the hell are ya?” — (1-1)

Leviathan

“Do you realize what just happened? Mammon used you as a distraction to get away from me. …Or maybe I should say he used you as a sacrifice. I’ll admit that mammon is one of the scummiest scumbags you’ll ever meet…a total lowlife. But still, that was pretty dumb of you letting him use you like that.” *sigh* “This is EXACTLY why humans are— …Wait a second. Humans…yes, that’s it… Suddenly, I’ve got an idea. Listen, are you free right now? Of course you are. You’ve gotta be, right? You know what? Never mind. Either way, you’re coming with me.” — (1-10)

Satan

“Aha. So I’m that one, am I? Nice to meet you MC. I am Satan, the avatar of wrath.” — (1-2)

Asmodeus

“That’s right! It pretty much sums up what I’m about! Including my power. Let’s give a little demonstration! MC, could you gaze into my eyes for a moment? It’s okay, I don’t hurt you. Come on don’t be shy… …Wait a minute. There’s something about you…hmm…” — (1-2)

Beelzebub

“I’m Beelzebub, the avatar of gluttony.” — (1-2)

Belphegor

“…el… …elp… Help… Someone help me… Help… ….Over here! — (2-15)

Solomon

“Hey, you there. That’s right, I’m talking to you, the human with that frightened, tormented look on your face that demons love so much. You’re practically screaming, ‘Come and eat me! I’m scrumptious!’ Your name’s MC, isn’t it?” — (2-2)

Thirteen

“Ahahahaha! Ooh, that was just hilarious! You walked RIGHT into my trap! Well done, Mr. Bucket 3! WELL DONE!” or “Ugh, what was THAT?! Honestly, I don’t believe it! Mr. Bucket Number 3 was supposed to land on your HEAD not the floor!” — (65-3)

Simeon

“Well, hello, MC. I’ve heard a lot of rumors!” — (2-13)

Luke

“Never trust…mmrmhrm.” — (2-15)

Raphael

“…I have to say, I take that as an insult. You think I’m Michael? I do not appreciate being mistaken for that socially inept weirdo. My name is Raphael. Try to remember that in the future.” or “Correct.” or “…Wrong. If you don’t know, say so. Don’t just guess at random. My name is Raphael.”

Michael

“Hello there, MC.” *sigh*… “Here I am, finally getting to talk to you, and it had to be in a situation like this… Can you hear me, MC?” — (38-17)

Little D. No. 2

“Hello there, I’m Little D. No. 2! Ah, but call me Number Two if you would, mmkay?” — (7-10)

Mephistopheles

“Don’t touch that! …So, it’s you. It’s bad form to pick up someone else’s documents and start looking through them, you know? Don’t they teach you that in the human world?” — (63-1)

Barbatos

“…Ah yes, pardon me. I suppose we haven’t met before, have we? My name is Barbatos. I apologize for not introducing myself sooner. I have the honor of serving as steward to Lord Diavolo. Pleased to make your acquaintance.” — (2-13)

Diavolo

“Welcome to the devildom MC. …Oh pardon me. Feeling a bit shocked, are we? Well, that’s understandable. You’ve only just arrived after all. As a human it will probably take a while for you to adjust to things here in the devildom.” — (1-1)

[the-s1lly-corner]

How would TADC cast react to their s/o baking them some pastries?

TADC cast x reader who bakes!

Funny that this is the next request due to be answered because I'm making orange cranberry scones as we speak (for an order! Not for me sadly, though I have enough to make myself a batch!)

CAINE:

Bro is going to try to shove whatever you've made for him into his jaws before bubble even has a chance to eat it.. has probably eaten right out of your hand before because of this/j

...../hj

He seems the type

Loudly goes on and on about how amazing it tasted, every single time without fail! Gets REALLY creative with his compliments, I thimk

Alas admin is no where near as creative as caine

POMNI:

Looks like she keeps a jar of cookies in her house in the real world. And honestly theres nothing wrong with that... though pomni herself cannot bake for shit

But good news! You're constantly making sure she has a supply to them so things work out in the end!

Though, I think she would eventually feel guilty because you're always making stuff for her, so shes gonna try to return the favor; with varying success

RAGATHA:

I know for a fact I said somewhere that ragatha would, if she ever escaped with her partner to the real world, she would open a bakery with them. As well as this I also hc ragatha to be really into baking

So

You guys bond together through that, and perhaps even have dates where you two get together and make something! (This can be read as platonic, too!)

This leads to you guys sometimes surprising one another with a baked good... kinda funny tbh

JAX:

Similar to zooble, jax is more of a sour over sweet kind of guy. But if you tie say, limes or lemons into a treat, then you've caught his interest. Probably the type of guy to snag pieces of stuff before everythings done and/or assembled, you're probably going to have to bar him from the kifchen

He does this both to be annoying but because you're so so talented he cant resist

Comically slaps his hand as he tries to reach for something

KINGER:

I propose to you;

Person who can cook but sucks at baking x person who can bake but sucks at cooking

Oooo I mentioned in ragathas part that you two would make a bakery in the real world

But imagine you and kinger having a stay-in date in the real world; he makes dinner and you make dessert and its just you two working around in the kitchen and just

Talking

I think that's nice

As for the actual giving of goods, I think he would be honored. Makes it a point to take his time and savor the goodie. It kind of just.. no clips/phases into his head

Weird

Constantly talks about how talented you are to others, I think

ZOOBLE:

Oh... thanks...

Look zooble loves you, a lot, but sweets arent exactly their go to. Now sour and savory, that's another story and if you make her anything that falls into those groups they're gonna subtly hint that they wish for you to bake something

Actually .. no not subtly, zooble doesnt strike me as the type to drops hints like that majority of the time, they seem more blunt

Very nice, none of it goes to waste! Bad at making compliments but does express that your baking is good regardless

GANGLE:

She looks like a strawberry shortcake enjoyer (I have never tried or made strawberry shortcake( and I explain why

Would be over the moon if you gave her some. Actually, she would still be over the moon if you gave her ANYTHING

Shes very shy when it comes to recieving gifts, so she may kinda. Freeze up when you put the plate in her hands... give her a minute shes just trying to find her voice to thank you!

[badass-queer-couples-battle]

Gay wrongs tournament, semifinals of the losers bracket

Propaganda:

For Wen Kexing and Zhou Zishu:

you've got the founder of the fantasy ancient Chinese CIA and the leader of what is essentially the mafia and then they're soulmates and in love. they're both willing to kill anyone who dares hurt the other while also just wanting a soft domestic life together

Zhou Zishu is an assassin and spymaster who put the current Emperor on the throne, and then quit his job by faking his death (kinda, hes still dying but not as fast as he was supposed to). Had done A Lot on his old job, including murdering children (more than one, and at least one of them in a way I can't even describe without several trigger warnings), exterminating whole families, war crimes (and i dont mean this in a buzzword way, i mean "organized a public execution of foreign diplomats during war time")… btw he doesn't feel particularly bad about any of this, because he believes it was necessary. Like he wouldn't do it for fun, but he thinks the ends (putting a good Emperor on the throne) justified the means (all of the atrocities). As a retiree, he definitely cut down on the amount of morally reprehensible murder, but not murder in general. He still routinely kills ppl, he just doesn't go out of his way to kill more. Wen Kexing, meanwhile, is the Ghost Valley Master - Ghost Valley being a place where the worst of criminals are exiled. Even in such a place, he has reputation as a complete lunatic, owed partially to the fact that he either skinned a man or fed him his own flesh or both at one point, and partially to him having a rule where he would kill anyone who came closer than 3 meters to him. But in truth, everything he'd done was to survive the Ghost Valley and eventually take revenge for his parents, who were brutally murdered when he was only nine. By the start of the novel's timeline, he put his plan in motion - the plan that would drown jianghu in blood, but also deliver poetic justice to all responsible for his parents' deaths, as well as all who'd commit the same crime given the chance. And these two men, these two murderers and schemers, meet - and unexpectedly, find in each other the person who /understands/. The person who is just as ruthless and whose hands are just as bloody, but also the person who knows standing at the top of the world is not worth it, who seeks the same freedom of leaving it all behind, and who is still, underneath it all, a human, with human heart seeking connection. So you have this couple who understand each other with barely a word, and who want the same things - who are so hungry for domesticity and for people they can just goof around with when all their lives they had to measure every step and word - but ALSO where one half a couple is like "i gotta go murder hundreds in revenge" and the other half is like "ok pick you up at 6". (This btw is why I'm submitting novel's iteration of the couple in particular. Show wenzhou with their ridiculous breakups over morality could Never.) Also they were both hiding who they are when they first met, and later flirted about having figured each other out. Finally, I'll leave you my favorite quote that just. perfectly sums up their relationship: "And just like that, they fell asleep in each other's arms, steeped in the smell of blood."

You’ve probably already had submissions for them but I’ll add on. One of them founded an assassin’s guild and killed a staggering number of people. His malewife is the leader of a sect of insane murderous outcasts, and he attained his position by proving to be the most crazy and murder happy of them all. Most of the plot involves him wandering around watching his schemes get more people killed. Together they adopt a kid that was only orphaned due to said scheming (oops). They’re terrible and I love them.

For Legolas and Gimli:

They literally have a running competition between the two over who has more kills. And non-canon my ass, Legolas took Gimli to valinor

They kill alot of orcs together. They make it into a competition. Better minds than i have spoken about the couple ness

[bandgie]

Ateez MTL Pussy Eating

first thing: okay so obviously! this is an 18+ ONLY blog and content. I've had to block a minor already and imma admit im not rocking with it. I understand cuz god knows what I was doing when I had wattpad as a literal child. but now as an adult, its weird. anywho...

So! these are my personal beliefs about the Ateez members and whether or not they enjoy eating pussy. this is not to represent them in anyway, just me being a disgusting creature

cw: pussy eating, pussy slapping, biting, thigh grabbing, fondling, tit grabbing, oral ranging from sweet to rough, face riding, anything you think of when eating/getting head

lets go!

✮ So first we have Seongwha on the list. sorry but my man loves to ravage your pussy. I think this is common knowledge honestly, I mean, bro said he 'can't control his tongue' yk. I personally think he does it to pass time, cuz he misses the taste, cuz he simply just wants to, the reasons are endless. He'll start off innocent, maybe ya'll are watching a movie and he just leans his head into your shoulder. You lean you head on top his head, its cute, right? wrong! he gets access to your neck and he knows you loovveee little neck kisses. He'll start there, all cute and adorable until he bites down. (my man gets those aggression cuteness too). then you really have no choice but to let your lover slide off the couch to spread your thighs. your ass would be at the edge of the couch, underwear merely pulled to the side cuz he just couldn't spare any second before his tongue was on you. no worries though, he's still really caring even when he's biting on your inner thighs so hard you think it'll leave a mark for days. Super vocal in moans! says little words here and there but he usually just mumbles them. His hands are exploring you too, rubbing on your sensitive spots to really get you wet. my man lovvvesss dripping with you when he's done, you have to literally force his head away because of how overstimulated you are

✮ Mingi is so close to being first, but he just doesn't do it as often as Seongwha (which might be a good thing). Still, he really enjoys stuffing his face with your cunt, nose deep and everything. When you're working on an assignment and you just so stressed? man, he's doing it out the kindness of his heart honestly. Your frustrated sighs quickly turning into pleasure when his tongue flicks over you. Mingi prefers to keep his hands on your thighs to keep your legs open. you tend to have a habit of suffocating him, and although he loves being squished by your plush thighs, he needs to stay conscious to taste your cum. bro does tend to overstimulate you too, but he doesn't push your limits too much. totally makes out with you when you finish on his tongue btw.

✮ Wooyoung loves when you use his face. Imagine being on the bed, you hovering over him with his eager eyes on your pussy. You were nervous at first, to hurt him. He had to tell you time and time again that it would be fine, and that it would actually be an honor to die from your cunt. He keeps his hands on your ass, carefully rocking you back and forth on his tongue. You told him to keep his eyes closed, embarrassed by the angle but he refused. He just loves seeing you get lost in the pleasure. The way your hands play with your tits, your nipples. How your mouth falls open in pretty little moans. God, you really are a gift from God himself. I feel like Wooyoung is vocal, both in moans and words. Telling you how good you are (he is a praiser for sure) and that you can be more aggressive with him. he even begs for you to squirt on his face and to keep letting him make you cum even if your legs are shaking. he's a big boy he can take it. however, unlike the last two, wooyoung does like getting something back in return. He won't force you, he rarely even asks you, but you can tell with how bad he's whimpering that his poor cock is aching to be touched. You don't though, because that's when you can do the 69 position.

✮ Yunho is next, and for some reason I feel like a lot of people won't agree with me, but here me out! cuz I feel like he's the type to eat you out because he feels bad. okay maybe not feel bad, but because you're doing so good for him he should do good for you. He's a big guy ya know? so I think he really like using that to his advantage when eating you out. I'll try my best to describe the position...so you're on your back okay? knees up and open while he's kneeling besides your head, cock out. His long fingers play with your folds while you suck him off. He does make you cum with his tongue or fingers, he's just a little better with his cock. I feel like he def has to potential to be a god at pussy eating, he gives me such pleasure dom vibes. I think he just needs a little more practice, any volunteers?

✮ Hongjoong is next and I think he's similar to Yunho, just not as kinky. I think he keeps things pretty vanilla, not too handsy nor messy. He likes it when you're flat on your back, gives him a good view of your tits and face. He def talks you through it, he's just loves knowing how good he's making you feel. He also will have you sit on his face, but I don't think it lasts very long. I don't think he likes being suffocated very much, he likes to have full control of your legs, ass, pussy, you. It's not like you have to give him something in return every time, but does love saying shit like "making my dick so hard baby, gotta cum in that pretty little mouth later.'" Makes you cum quick honestly, its embarrassing. He doesn't continue though once you've finished, unless you ask him.

✮ I know a bunch of people are gonna be mad at me for putting San towards the bottom...I am not sorry. I dunno man I think he gets nervous. he's shy, and he likes to dance around things. The members say he's completely different off camera, and I think it's similar in the bedroom. He does love pleasuring you, but much rather would do it with his cock. He'll never say no though if you ask, and you do ask a lot. He's so good at it, you don't even know if he knows how talented he is. San does get pussy drunk, bro is literally lost in the sauce. It's like his persona on stage right before you between your legs. He's like wooyoung where he both moans and talks through your orgasm. Just doesn't prefer to do it, he's got a beautiful cock why would you want anything else?

✮ Jongho totally does love eating your pussy, just doesn't do it often. It's more like a foreplay thing, and he rarely does it outside of it. Like san though, he gets pussy drunk. You just sound so good to him, your cunt so soft on his tongue. He also loves looking at your sex, just kind of admiring it. He's just so amazed that your little pussy can handle so much. Jongho's cock isn't for the faint of heart (that's for another time) so just to see how tight you already are with just his tongue inside is breathtaking. I think he does like making you squirm with pleasure, too much pleasure. Holds you down by the waist to keep you still and he drools on your pussy. I think he's into overstimulating you, it's just something he has to awaken first. Be patient with him, my man has potential.

✮ I really feel weird putting Yeosang at the bottom, but he just doesn't give me any sexual prowess imma be totally honest. I mean he totally looks good on stage, in normal clothes, in anything period. He just is so fairy and babygirl I can't see him doing anything deemed 'dirty.' I do think, however, that he prefers to receive head than the give it. Bro just thinks you looks really pretty stuffed, and he loves pretty things. I mean he will eat you out, it's just a rare occurrence. He's super gentle, sweet, caring. He leaves kisses all over you, making sure you're totally comfortable for him. I allssooo think he gets a little pussy drunk, but he's pretty quick to snap out of it. I think he almost scares him how addicting your taste can be, he doesn't really think it's normal. Yeosang can be a little air headed at times (still love him though) so you literally have to explain to him that that's actually a good thing. It's still a learning process with him, he just has to learn on his own about his own feelings.

[azaleaniath]

It is done. I think this is my best one yet. Enjoy reading, leave your thoughts below if you want!

~ NETEYAM X AO'NUNG ~

Dream Hunt pt. 1

summary: Ao'nung has to face the tough choices of a future olo'eyktan, first of them: choosing a mate.

part 2

includes: angst, cuddling, aged up to 22, tatted ao'nung, crying, more crying, boys in love, mating, fluff

SFW

2.1k words

_____________________________

Tomorrow was Ao'nungs big day.

Ever since he was born his father had prepared him for this day and yet he felt so lonely. Something about all of it seemed wrong. He was restless, laying awake in his own marui.

Every other warrior that had gone this path before him had always been excited about it. They all celebrated, but Ao'nung did not feel like celebrating the slightest bit.

His heart ached only at the thought of the upcoming day. His parents were proud and delighted that their firstborn was finally ready. He had finished all his tests and he had successfully proven worthy in every single one. But still he couldn't possibly even smile at the thought of what he would face tomorrow.

He would be ready to step in as the next Olo'eyktan, leading his people, taking care of them. Was he scared of the responsibility? No, not at all. Was he scared of everyone looking at him? As if it was something new to him.

No, the reason for his worries lied elsewhere and he knew exactly where.

One of his hands rested behind bis head. His sister Tsireya had honored him in braiding his long, black hair. She made sure to give her everything while she had turned his messy curls into a beautiful half updo. Ao'nung looked just like his father now. A few hair strands sticked out around his forehead from his nervous hands fumbling around with his hair. He had to stop himself or Tsireyas hard work would be for nothing, so he let his hand rest on his stomach.

His new markings enhanced his aged up appearance. Half of his forehead was now covered in precise finer and thicker lines, perfect dots and swirls. They reached over his temples, down to his cheek and ended on his jaw. Rarely had he seen such perfect work when it came to markings. He liked them a lot, even if it felt like his entire face was burning. If he accidentally touched his freshly decorated face, he hissed in pain, regretting his own carelessness immediately.

He couldn't help but sigh as his aquamarine eyes fixated on the ceiling of his marui which was still rather empty compared to his former home. One might have guessed that this was the problem, that this was the reason he felt lonely, when it was rather the opposite. According to their traditions, his marui wouldn't be in this minimalistic state for a long time.

He was expected to share it with a mate. His mate.

The choice would be made right after his ceremony. During his entire life, his father Tonowari and his mother Ronal had introduced him to many beautiful young women, hoping he'd show interest in any of them. He didn't.

Not one of them were able to start the slightest fire inside of him. Not even a spark. Kireä was the first one he remembered. She had gorgeous hair, stunning big eyes and very skilled, quick hands which made her the best weaver in the clan. But none of that meant a thing to him. The second girl was Sat'xo. Apart from her soothing voice, her dancing was unmatched. Only few could take their eyes off of her when she did, but Ao'nung was the first to do so.

Many women tried to win his heart. They fetched him some iridescent shells, gifted him carefully knotted armbands, even carved daggers. They tried to befriend his sister to get closer to him, but he could not have cared less all his life.

Countless times his father had tried to talk some sense into him. Persuade him to choose, offered him to make the choice for him, but Ao'nung refused every single time. People joked about him not being able to make up his mind, that he couldn't choose one mate or even that he was too arrogant to find someone he deemed worthy.

Oh, how wrong they all where.

He had made his choice many years ago already. It had been seven years since he had made his decision. Seven long years. He had just turned 22, which meant he was 15 at that time, and the time had really just flown by.

Ao'nung tried to find peace in the sound of the ocean and the nightlife, closed his eyes and listened to the crashing and lapping waves, the humming and chirping insects, the wind in the trees while he steadied his breath. One deep inhale, a slow exhale. Over and over again.

His peace and quiet did not last too long. The creaking sound of the woven pathways caused his ears to twitch, so his eyes opened again as he guessed that someone was approached rather hasty.

He supported himself on the ground of his marui and raised himself halfway up. It didn't take long until his searching gaze landed on Neteyam, the oldest son of Jake Sully.

With hanging shoulders and a lowered head he charged into Ao'nungs marui, falling onto his knees before the metkayinan could say anything.

Without one word the golden-eyed man clutched himself against Ao'nungs chest, hiding his wet face in the crook if his neck and threw his hands around his torso as tight as he could. He sniffled against the other man's chest. Sniffles turned into sobs quickly, which ended up in desperate cries. Neteyam did not explain himself for now, but he also did not have to.

Just seeing Neteyam like this tore Ao'nungs heart into pieces. He tried to comfort the omaticaya with soothing touches. There were no words needed, yet Neteyam couldn't help but whimper "Please don't send me away tonight. Don't leave me alone, i beg you-"

Neteyam's own cries made it impossible to end his own sentence.

Ao'nung swallowed the big lump in his throat while he caressed the other boy continuingly, his hands gently traced over his back before the pressure and weight of his sobbing friend pushed him back into the mat.

"Stay for as long as you want. I'm not going to send you away, ma 'Teyam."

Neteyams hopeless cries got even louder as he heard how Ao'nung adressed him. He let it all out against his teal-skinned friend, knowing that he would have to make a choice tomorrow, and Neteyam wasn't possibly an option.

"I knew this day would come" he cried against Ao'nungs skin while digging his fingers into the flesh of the others waist. As if he would lose him any second, he threw one of his legs over Ao'nungs hip like a little child.

Younger Ao'nung would've made fun of him for his behavior, but by now, the future clan leader of the metkayina was smarter than that.

Neteyam continued to cry as if someone was ripping his heart out, pressing his head into the crook of his neck to muffle his own sounds, even if there was an enormous chance that others had heard him already.

Ao'nung didn't even try to stop him. If he could, he would take all of his pain away, but what was he supposed to do? He could only hold Neteyam.

"I knew it..." he repeated in between his cries, placing one hand around the other's shoulder, his nails scratched across his skin, but Ao'nung didn't mind one bit.

"we both knew this day would come, ma 'Teyam..." he mumbled into his ear before taking a deep breath to keep himself from crying as well, his blue eyes were already glossy.

"That's not what I meant..." Neteyam tried to calm himself in order to explain, just for a moment.

"To become one of our people, a true omaticaya, you have to go through a specific ritual. We call it the Dream Hunt."

He took a few sobbing breaths, inhaling deeply while his salty tears continued to roll down from his cheeks and onto Ao'nungs chest.

"Sometimes, we get blessed with a true vision, and so did I- I- I saw you before we even met. I saw us, together... I saw how you-" he hook another deep, quick breath before he could continue, "how we spend our first night together. How- how you kissed me and how you touched me and- and-" he couldn't even end his sentence before he continued to break out in tears.

"Mawey, ma 'Teyam, mawey..." Ao'nung kept stroking over his back and carefully embraced him tighter.

"I believe you, i really do."

Neteyam rubbed his head against him, biting down on his collarbone to hold onto him with every fiber of his body, as much as he could. He expected a 'but' after Ao'nungs sentence, but there was none. Only sweet, reassuring whispers into his tilted ears for what felt like an eternity.

A long time passed like this. A time in which Ao'nung contemplated. A time in which Ao'nung replayed every memory he shared with Neteyam until he eventually cried less, much more quiet, but his tears did not cease to fall all night long until dawn.

"Ma Teyam..." he whispered gently while stroking over his head, then his hand sunk into the long dark braids.

"Look at me, please."

For the first time in hours, Neteyam shifted his position to meet Ao'nungs light eyes. He was scared. Frightened to the bone. His entire body shivered, no matter how lovely Ao'nungs touches were.

Neteyam knew that Aonung couldn't choose him and yet he quietly begged him for his dear life that he would not not leave him alone.

"You know my father tried to make me meet other women, promise myself to them, until he gave up. He noticed how I look at you. How happy I am around you. Now, my mother is another story, but my father knows. I talked to him about it. He knows that there is only place for you in my heart. Only for you, ma 'Teyam. Only you."

The young man looked up to him, hope sparked in his puffy, golden eyes, even more as he saw Aonung smile softly.

"I believe you what you said about this dream hunt, and it only underlines what I've been thinking for a long time. We were made for each other."

Neteyam hiccuped at his words, snorting. His ears must be playing tricks on him, he was certain, until Ao'nung cupped both of his wet cheeks.

"I want you, Neteyam. Nobody else. And later I'm going to prove it to you."

"You cannot choose me, Ao'nung. I'm not an option. I'm not even a woman-"

Ao'nung didn't even let him finish before he sat up, positioning the other male on his lap. He reached out behind him while his other arm snaked around Neteyams waist again.

"I have chosen you a long time ago. I've pondered every single aspect, and yet, I couldn't possibly think of anyone else as my mate."

He brought his queue forward, right in front of his face, gesturing Neteyam to do the same, and he did.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" His voice was pretty rough and broken from all his crying, but Ao'nung only nodded and smiled.

"What if the clan doesn't accept this?" he asked before looking into his blue eyes again, but Ao'nung still smiled.

"Then you'll leave and go back to your roots. And I will come with you. Then you can teach me how to fly these ikrans."

Neteyam couldn't help but laugh at his words. There was no way he meant it, but Ao'nungs face said something else.

They both watched the glowing ends of their queues winding before Ao'nung asked him to close his eyes, and he did.

The next thing Neteyam felt was him. Only him. In his mind, on his body, his lips, his hands, his hair. They both gasped lightly, feeling the presence of each other different than ever before. There were no words for either of them to describe this incredible feeling. Ao'nung watched Neteyams reaction in awe, being completely overwhelmed himself. His heart raced and his thoughts run wild. Neteyam, all across his mind. He was everything and everywhere.

"Ma 'Teyam..." he whispered so full of emotions, before he leaned back again and pulled the other male with him to rest on top of him. He let go of his queue which was tightly intertwined with Neteyam's before his hand sunk back into his braids, caressing his head ever so gently.

"Ma Ao'nung..." Neteyam whispered back, all cuddled up against his partner. An innocent smile spread all across his face as he finally let go of all the tension and simply rested against Ao'nung in peace. He belonged to him now, forever and for all eternity.

______________________________

taglist:

@luvlykrispy @zatarias-pandora @vviolaswrld @yeosxxx @lilgurlbeoncrack @philiasoul @itszzmoon @simp4ff @itsnotme02 @et-j-art

[calliesmemes]

THINGS SOMEONE MAY NEED TO HEAR

SENTENCE STARTERS FROM VARIOUS SOURCES FEATURING MESSAGES THAT YOUR MUSES MAY NEED TO HEAR.

CHANGE gendered words and in-universe phrases as needed.

SPECIFY muse for multimuses.

“   You are not responsible for what was done to you as a defenseless child. ”

“   Don’t allow yourself to be a victim. Take control of your life. ”

“   I will never give up on you. ”

“   No matter what they did or how you feel, causing hurt to others will never bring healing to you. ”

“   Nobody could ever replace you. ”

“   Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle. ”

“   To be beautiful means to be yourself. You don't need to be accepted by others. You need to accept yourself. ”

“   Do not be so ashamed of yourself, for that is at the root of it all. ”

“   Nothing about you is a burden. Everything about you is a privelege and an honor. ”

“   You are all I ever wanted, even before I knew what I wanted. It was you. It was always you. ”

“   For every person you forgive, you heal a wound of your own. ”

“   You are at war with yourself, caught between what you truly are — and what you’re supposed to be. ”

“   You can tell how dangerous a person is by the way that they hold their anger in themselves quietly. ”

“   You are so many amazing things, but most of all, you are so very brave. ”

“   True happiness comes only by making others happy. ”

“   Learn to light a candle in the darkest moments of someone’s life. Be the light that helps others see. ”

“   There is no greater gift than a generous heart. ”

“   You can never replace anyone because everyone is made of such beautiful, specific details. ”

“   When someone says you’re difficult to love, or hard to handle, you must remember that they say it about them, not about you. ”

“   We all do damage. Character is determined by how we repair it. ”

“   Growth isn’t always constant. ”

“   Sometimes you can’t do anything else than just hope… hope that everything will be okay. ”

“   Nothing in nature blooms all year. Be patient with yourself. ”

“   Go on with what your heart tells you, or you will lose all. ”

“   You are scarred, but you are not broken. Beneath your wounds, you are still whole. ”

“   Even in the darkest night, if you strike a match, the shadows will flee. This is a law of nature; the darkness yields to the light, no matter how small the flame. ”

“   Trust yourself. You’ve survived a lot, and you’ll survive whatever is coming. ”

“   You will never be free until you free yourself from the prison of your own false thoughts. ”

“   You are so brave for getting this far. I’m so proud of you for not giving up. ”

“   If you’re lonely, bored or unhappy, remember you are young. There is so much time to meet new people and go to new places. ”

“   The way you treat yourself is the standard you set for others. ”

“   We’re more than our mistakes. We’re more than what people expect of us. ”

“   You deserve to be okay. ”

“   Everything will work out in the end. You don’t need to know how. You just have to trust that it will. ”

“   Love all, trust a few, do wrong to none. ”

“   People will stare. Make it worth their while. ”

“   Even the darkest night will end and the sun will rise. ”

“   Thanks again for saving me. Someday, I will save you too. ”

“   I’m sorry you were not truly loved and that it made you cruel. ”

“   To hell with them. Nothing hurts if you don’t let it. ”

“   Confidence is ignorance. If you’re feeling cocky, it’s because there’s something you don’t know. ”

“   Mastering others is strength. Mastering yourself is true power. ”

“   Even when idle, it’s best to do something, wouldn’t you agree? It keeps the restlessness at bay. ”

“   You must change your life so that you can live it, not wait for it. ”

“   If it means something to you, fight for it. ”

“   In order to love who you are, you cannot hate the experiences that shaped you. ”

“   There’s good in this world, and I found a little bit of it in you. ”

“   The past doesn’t need you anymore. Your future does. ”

“   If you can’t do great things, do small things in a great way. ”

“   Whatever life takes away from you, let it go. ”

“   Grief and growth go hand in hand. ”

“   Home is not where you are from, but where you are wanted. ”

“   We are what we repeatedly do. ”

“   No one is destined for anything. We control our own fates. ”

“   Continue to share your heart with people even if it has been broken. ”

“   It's better to have a guarded heart than a bleeding one. ”

“   Magic is an honor until it is a shackle. ”

“   Sometimes your heart needs more time to accept what your head already knows. ”

“   Don’t abuse a kind heart. You may never be offered one again. ”

“   There are two reasons why people don't talk about things; either it doesn't mean anything to them, or it means everything. ”

“   I love you because the entire universe conspired to help me find you. ”

“   It's never too late to change the road you're on. ”

“   My devotion to you is steadfast. ”

“   You're no hero in this story. You're just another wretched pawn. ”

“   Sometimes, there’s honor in revenge. ”

“   I’m on your side, no matter what. ”

“   If you want change, you have to invite chaos. ”

“   Power corrupts, and absolute power corrupts absolutely. ”

“   When you cannot look on the bright side, I will sit with you in the dark. ”

“   I’m okay with your history. It made you who you are. ”

“   The past cannot be changed, forgotten, edited, or erased. It can only be accepted. ”

“   The saddest thing about betrayal is that it never comes from your enemies. ”

[celestoria]

Heaven Knows I’m Miserable Now

Summary: Both of you have already broken up but, deep down, he knows he still loves you. Worst part about this? You’re dating his best friend.

Characters: Ayato x Reader x Thoma, Kaveh x Reader x Alhaitham

TW: ABUSE OF ALCOHOL

A/n: It’s been a long time since I wrote anything and out of all times, I chose to write at 3 AM with no glasses. Anywho, I hope you enjoy!

Ayato 

Ayato should have seen this coming. 

When the both of you were dating, there was so much pressure placed on you as his significant other. Even if you did nothing wrong, judgemental eyes would stare down at you. 

Everyone looks up to the head of the Kamisato clan for all the things he has done for the nation of Inzuma and with that, the masses have placed a standard for whoever he is with. They expect them to catch up on the same level as him in terms of diplomacy, bravery, and etiquette to ensure the honor of the Kamisato clan is in good hands. Sadly, you weren’t built for their expectations.

You forced yourself to fit into what you want them to be out of societal pressure. You loved Ayato so much, you didn’t want to be the reason why they would give his family dirty looks. You’ve changed so much since the first time you met that you don’t recognize yourself anymore. 

After you called it quits, Thoma was always there to comfort you. He knew that you were just trying your best but you were perfect the way you were. He was always there when you needed him. It wasn’t long that both of you saw your friendship in a different perspective.

When Ayato saw you with Thoma accompanying him on his errands as he held your hand, he can’t help but hear his heart break into a million pieces. 

You had the same glint in your eyes when you were smiling so freely at Thoma, something that was lost when you were with him. 

Ayato eventually turned to pile more work on himself. There was little room for love in his life. With you gone, it felt like half of him was missing. He wanted to be distracted from that feeling of loneliness and work felt like the most efficient way to do it.

He wanted to rip that pain off his chest and forget about you, but how can he when every little thing would remind him of you? 

From the sakura blossoms of spring to the first fall of snow, a vision of you would always come into his mind.

Still, he didn’t want to take you away for himself. Especially from Thoma who has been so selfless since the very start. The blond man looks so happy every time you give him little kisses on the cheek or when you made him homemade lunch. 

All he can ever do is smile and pretend that his lonely heart doesn’t crave your touch…

Kaveh 

When he’s sober, he’d blame you saw things differently and you often never tried to understand him. Both of you have common interests but your ideologies never crossed paths. 

However, when he’s drunk on whatever he is in his cup, he’d babble to himself that it was all his fault. He knew he had too much emotional baggage for one person to handle. He knew his sensitive nature would be the demise of your relationship since no amount of love could change the fact that everything felt so draining for you.

Kaveh also blamed his tendency to get drunk every other day. You had to pick him up, walk him home, and cry yourself with how frustrating it is to deal with this. 

Being with him felt more like taking care of a sad man rather than falling in love. 

Now that you’re gone, alcohol was the only thing that gave him comfort. Oh, how it numbed him from the pain of losing you. Specifically losing you to someone who he considers the worst person in the world. 

You seemed more tranquil and carefree now that you’re with Alhaitham. You don’t have to walk a staggering man home often and listen to him rant about the smallest of things. 

What he hates the most about all of this is that he still sees you every day when you come by their home. 

Kaveh wears his heart on his sleeve. So much restraint has to be placed for him to not just fling himself onto you and beg you to take him back. It’s a miracle that he hasn’t whined about Alhaitham dating you (you can blame that on the guilt that weighs on him)

He’s surprised that you don’t see the heartbreak and regret in his eyes. Probably because you’re too busy staring at Alhaitham’s, which are filled with a sort of tenderness not everyone can see from a stiff man like him. 

Mr. Heartless was the last person Kaveh thought to fall in love with anyone, yet here he is with his head on your lap while you ruffle his hair while you snuggle on the sofa.

Kaveh missed the times you also had your hands on his locks. It brought him so much comfort and peace of mind that made him forget all his troubles. Now, none of that is for him but all of it is for Alhaitham.

The worst part is, he can’t tell this to Cyno or Tighnari. The two are always up to date regarding his complaints about everything whenever they meet up for a game of TCG at Puspa cafe. However, Kaveh fears that his troubles would reach his roommate via Cyno and Tighnari, and eventually would end up going to you. He can’t handle the shame of his jealousy and inability to move on from you.

All he could do is waste away in a corner of the cafe as he deludes himself that it was the warmth of your love filling him and not the daze of countless wine bottles he drowns himself in to get out of this dreadful nightmare.