#I just feel like if these 2 ever had to dance at any future balls the kingdom would host tani would be the one to lead not evan lmao | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

myfairstarlight · 2 months ago

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A Polite Affair of the Heart

AO3 Link.

Rated: T

Length: 16k

Pairing: Colin Bridgerton x Penelope Featherington

Canon Divergence

Part 2 of my Lord Remington as a rival fic, in Colin's pov

Summary:

It is the 1812 season. Colin Bridgerton, a third son, neither the heir nor the spare, is determined to venture into the marriage mart with purpose. Emboldened by Marina Thompson's interest, Colin believes he is on the right path. That is until his best friend Penelope Featherington starts to flirt with him with an ease that renders him breathless. And yet, as he endeavours to return such affections, at first in what he believed to be politeness, Penelope turns her back on him and accepts the courtship of another in the youthful and gossip-loving Lord James Remington. He is not quite sure why it bothers him so. Or. A companion piece to The Innocent Game of Flirting, with more flirting, jealousy and an extended epilogue. Can be read as a stand-alone!

*additional notes on ao3

꧁༺࿅ིཽ• –– •❈• –– •࿅ིཽ༻꧂

Colin enters the 1812 ecstatic. With both Daphne and Penelope debuting this year, he is thrilled to know he will have company at balls, considering how Benedict avoids these events like his life depended on it, and Anthony is the opposite of good company.

So he is quite… surprised when, after only one ball, Penelope disappears from any social events, nowhere to be found even when Colin visits the Featherington House when he is there to call on Miss Thompson so he may be allowed inside, but his eyes seeking the familiar smile of his childhood friend. It is impossible to inquire about her whereabouts, however, when Lady Featherington seems too focused on Miss Thompson's line of suitors, and Lord Featherington is as secretive as ever.

So he asks Daphne about it.

“Pen?” Daphne says though she seems rather distracted, looking around the ballroom, searching for someone. “Oh yes, she told me and Eloise that she hated the dresses her mother got her. She is refusing to leave her room until this changes.”

“Really? I thought the yellow dress she had was rather pleasant.” Daphne snorts. “Daff! Do not be mean!”

“No no! I am not being mean it's just— of course you think it was cute, but she does not. That is more important.” She pats his arm in quite a patronising way. “You know, she wishes to take this season seriously and find a husband. And frankly, she has not missed much so far. None of these gentlemen are worth her time. Or mine, for that matter.”

Even so, a pout tugs at her lips as she scans the room once more. At least one gentleman has retained his sister's attention. Colin has an inkling of who she may be searching for, but he is keeping his theories to himself for now.

“Penelope wants to marry?” he asks instead. “I thought she and Eloise were planning on becoming spinsters together.”

“Eloise keeps saying as such indeed, but have you heard Penelope do the same?”

Colin frowns, recalling every instance he heard them speak of their future, indeed Eloise has always been vocal about her marriage-less one, however, Penelope remained silent every time, neither agreeing nor refuting.

“Why do you care anyhow?” Daphne asks, finally looking at him again. “Are you not courting Miss Thompson?”

“I am, but it does not mean I cannot be curious,” he says, suddenly feeling defensive under his sister's gaze. “Speaking of which, my dance with Miss Thompson is approaching, I shall search for her.”

His sister does not need to know it is a lie, as he did not manage to find a spot on Miss Thompson's ever-so-busy card, he doubts Daphne will actually notice, as distracted as she seems herself. Colin spends the rest of his evening trying to get an answer from either of the Featherington girls about Penelope's wellbeing, then swiftly runs away when he sees their mother approaching.

꧁༺࿅ིཽ• –– •❈• –– •࿅ིཽ༻꧂

When he finally sees Penelope again, she seems different.

Not so much in her looks, although the green of her gown, paired with her striking red hair, suits her marvellously, but there is an air about her that screams of silent resolve, one she did not have previously. In her first ball, she appeared meek, intentionally taking advantage of her height to hide despite the loudness of her yellow dress. Now, she stands among the crowd with her head held high, looking around the event with sharp eyes, and barely hidden disdain as well.

For some reason, it renders Colin nervous. He has no reason to be, Penelope's dislike of the Ton does not extend to him, or his family, and yet, he fears that he might inspire disappointment in her. So he gets tongue-tied — asking about Miss Thompson’s whereabouts, though he had not even been looking for her, rather than inquiring about Penelope’s absence from previous events or complimenting her new attire. He sees her smile drop almost instantly and Colin feels the need to slap himself as she politely answers his question.

Nice way to make your friend feel special, Bridgerton, he chastises himself.

But then—

“It is a shame, you look quite dashing tonight.”

Colin's world stops turning for a few instants. He must appear quite idiotic, mouth half-open in shock, and oh, his face feels oddly warm despite the chilly air of the evening. “I—” is all he bloody manages to say.

Truly, what is wrong with him? He has flirted with half of London’s debutantes over the last two years since he has been allowed to attend events, why is one compliment from Penelope making him lose all his wits?

“I am being earnest!” Penelope insists, smiling adorably as she gestures to his attire. “Of course, you always do. This outdoor ball just brings out quite a whimsical atmosphere, do you not think?”

Colin is grateful for the slight divergence. He clears his throat and smiles. “I agree, it is a breath of fresh air compared to the usually stuffy ballrooms.”

“Exactly!” She laughs, her eyes bright.

“And—” Colin inhales, gathering the courage he was not even aware he needed. “You look whimsical as well, Pen, that charming green dress suits you finely, one could mistake you for a mystical wood fairy.”

Penelope gasps softly, the flush on her face piercing through her makeup.

“Colin, you flatter me!”

“I am being earnest,” Colin returns her words with a smile, pride flowing through his heart.

That is the Penelope he is more familiar with, sweet and a little shy, rather than apprehensive and scrutinising. His eyes drift to her wrist, where she keeps fiddling with her dance card, not so subtly leaning forward in his space. He wonders if she realises, or is trying to play coy. It's adorable, truly, Colin wonders why no other gentleman has approached her yet but he supposes he should feel grateful that he can be her first dance, then.

Just as he is about to request a spot on her dance card, Miss Cowper makes an appearance. It takes everything in Colin to remain a gentleman and not outright grimace at the sight of the eccentric blonde woman. Even more so when she, with the subtlety of a running cow, spills her drink on Penelope.

Screw asking, then.

“I’m afraid I cannot offer you that dance, Miss Cowper. I am to escort Miss Featherington to the dance floor,” he announces, unable to suppress the smugness in his tone at the rude debutante’s gobsmacked expression.

He swiftly takes Penelope’s hand in his to indeed bring her to a dance, perhaps in a bit of a forceful grip as she seems too stricken to move on her own. The prideful man in him preens at her flushed cheeks and shy smile.

“Colin, you did not have to do that,” she whispers.

“I needed a reason to not dance with her, frankly,” he says, unable to refrain from grimacing now that he does not need to keep the pretence in front of others. “And I wanted to dance with you, too.”

Penelope regards him with apprehension and Colin’s confidence wavers. She does not seem pleased with him, was this a mistake?

The dance begins before he can let his thoughts spiral.

He tries to catch her eyes as they fall into a familiar pace, but she keeps her eyes lowered as she concentrates on the dance. It brings Colin back to simpler times, to carefree afternoons at Bridgerton house as they were taught how to dance. He had two left feet back then, utterly nervous about messing up and hurting his partner, which is why Daphne was quickly annoyed with him and preferred Benedict or Anthony as a dance partner, despite the older two's reluctance. With Eloise refusing to learn to dance at the time — and still being stubborn to this day — Colin asked if Penelope could join their lessons.

Penelope had always been an effortless dancer, even back then. She danced, uncaring of Colin’s hesitation and sometimes leading when he took too much time deciding which foot to move. In fact, he recalls a few times Eloise and Daphne were jealous and swiftly took Penelope away from him so they could dance with her as well.

During a small respite in the dance as their steps slow, Penelope lets out a soft chuckle as, for the first time since the dance started, she looks up at him, a sparkle in her eyes.

(Or perhaps it is the light show starting?)

“Well, you are my favourite dance partner, after all,” she says then, finally continuing their conversation. “Did you know?” she asks next, prompting Colin to frown in confusion.

“Mm?”

Their hands join as they spin together, never breaking eye contact.

“Your eyes shine the brightest when you are kind. I think I can easily get lost in them.”

Colin’s step suddenly falters, and Penelope, in turn, almost steps on his feet because of him. He promptly catches her, winding an arm around her waist, effectively breaking the dance routine, though, after a quick look around, he is relieved to see that no one has noticed. Swiftly, or at least he hopes it is, he lifts her during a spin before putting her back down once he is certain she will not fall.

As the dance ends and they bow to each other, Colin clears his throat.

“Thank you.” His voice cracks. Great. Smooth. “You’re—” He falters once more, finding himself stricken by Penelope’s piercing eyes and her enchanting smile.

Has she always looked this captivating? Of course she has— Colin has always looked for her, wherever he went if he knew she would be there as well. Her wit, smiles and laughs have always had a way of enticing him.

But then she looks away, a slight pout on her lips, gazing around the party. There is that unfamiliar look in her eyes once more — the calculating and sharp one. Colin follows her line of vision, frowning as he notices that the one who has caught her attention seems to be Lord Remington, who is already looking their way.

“Well! Thank you for this dance Colin,” Penelope says, “I am quite parched now.”

Remington is by the drinks, she is far from subtle, Colin thinks. “Oh, I can fetch you—” he starts to offer, because why shall she need another gentleman when he is available to fulfil any of her requests? But Penelope shakes her head a bit too enthusiastically.

“No, it is alright, I shall take this as an opportunity to scour for suitors, should I not?”

So Daphne was right after all. “Ah yes but—”

“Have a good evening, Colin!” she exclaims as though she did not hear him before she eagerly makes her way towards Remington.

Displeasure shapes around his heart as he watches the gentleman hand his friend a glass of lemonade as they start to converse. Worse of all, truly, is the fact that Penelope seems charmed, smiling from ear to ear and laughing between every other sentence.

Colin hates the sight.

“Young man,” someone says and he jumps.

“Lord Featherington!” he exclaims. “Good evening.”

The man narrows his eyes at him before he looks towards Penelope and Lord Remington, his frown deepening. Colin wonders what this means — he knew Remington from his Eton days, and by all means, if a man such as Lord Featherington looks at him with such disdain, it should be a good omen, but Colin also knows the man to have a tender heart for his youngest daughter. Colin has been a victim of his protective nature more than once over their years of friendship.

The man is less intimidating now that Colin has grown taller than him, but a part of him still falters under his stern gaze.

“You were dancing with her,” the baron says, his attention back on Colin. “I thought you were courting Miss Thompson. Have I been chaperoning the wrong pair, boy?”

“I— I have no ill intention with Penelope, you must know that, sir.”

Lord Featherington hums. “Mm. I would rather you than any of these old croaks I suppose,” the man admits. Something catches his eyes in the crowd. “Ah, it seems my other daughter needs me. Excuse me.”

As he walks away, Colin finds pride warming his heart — it feels like approval, though he is not quite sure of what.

The next dance should start soon, he realises, when people start moving around him. From the corner of his eyes, he can see Daphne appearing seemingly out of nowhere, the Duke of Hastings by her side as he leads her towards the dance floor. When he turns, he sees his mother smile brightly at the sight, while Anthony is frowning at the pair, in much the same way Lord Featherington was looking disapprovingly at his daughter and Remington speaking.

Ugh, that is sure to be a headache soon, Colin reckons, but he would rather not think about it just yet. Instead, he searches for Penelope again and finds her still by the drinks, though her hands are now free.

“Pen, shall we dance again?” he asks, or rather demands, as he swiftly slides by her side, grabbing her hand and leading her away while ignoring Remington’s intrigued look.

“Colin!” Penelope protests, though she does not try to pry his hand away. “Surely you could have found another lady eager to share a dance with you!”

“Perhaps, but it is you I wish to spend this evening with.”

She flushes prettily under his gaze before something flashes in her eyes. In an instant, her face seems to morph into one of confidence and amusement.

“Careful with your words, Mr Bridgerton, it would make anyone else swoon and disrupt the event.”

“But not you, Pen?” Colin inquires teasingly, an arm wrapping around her waist. This time, the dance is a waltz, and he tries to ignore how such proximity, one he is familiar with, renders him breathless nonetheless.

“I have grown used to your charm and kindness, Colin,” she says, her left hand gently poised on his elbow, and the other grabbing his free hand. “Though I never tire of admiring it.”

“Then I must do something wrong if I cannot elicit more than mere indifference.”

Penelope chuckles. “Indifference? Colin, I believe you are perfect.”

He swears his heart skips a beat. Perfect? She believes him to be perfect?

“Though you do not need your ego stroked,” she continues, oblivious to his inner torment.

His steps falter again at her choice of words and his heartbeat picks up as another image strikes his mind, the hand holding hers tightening its grip ever so slightly. His attempt to recover swiftly is vain, judging by Penelope’s bemused smile.

“Colin, do you need dancing lessons again?”

In an instant, he feels like he can breathe again as he laughs at Penelope’s genuine concern.

“Only if you are the one giving them to me, Miss Featherington.”

“Ah, I fear I do have a busy schedule… It would be a tight fit.”

Colin swallows. Is she doing this on purpose? Surely not, well-bred ladies such as Penelope should know nothing of the… sexual natures of relations, and in truth, Colin is no better though he at least has a vague idea of it.

However, the emphasis she keeps giving the words makes him doubt his earlier convictions. Is she repeating what she has been hearing? That must be it.

But dear God, now he is imagining it. Holding Penelope even closer than he already is, being able to feel her touch, smell her scent, hear her voice whisper sweet nothings to his ears, much the same way she has been flirting and praising him all evening.

“I do not get special treatment as a long-time friend?” he asks, once he finds his voice again.

Penelope purses her lips, a slight frown creasing her brow, somehow making Colin feel like he said the wrong words.

Before she can reply, the dance ends, but as she pulls away, Colin keeps her hand in his, a silent demand in his eyes. She must have understood because she does not try to leave again and instead smiles at him with all the sweetness in the world.

The spectacle of the night is then announced — the light show is about to commence shortly. As everyone gathers on the dance floor, Penelope tugs at his hand, motioning towards a corner of the garden with little people to be crowded by. Colin smiles, following her.

“These balls are rather overwhelming,” Penelope says as they settle beneath the flower arches and wait for the show to begin. “I know it is what one must bear to find a match but between the dances and the talks and this need to remain pleasant...”

“You are always pleasant, Pen,” he responds.

“That is kind of you, but we both know that is not true.”

“I do not agree.”

She dares to roll her eyes at him. So perhaps she has a point, he thinks annoyingly as he nudges her side.

“So… It is true that you wish to secure a match in your first season. There is surely no need for such haste,” he says, in what he hopes to be a light tone, though he cannot completely hide his surprise.

“You speak of it with such ease, not everyone can be as… careless about such things as your family,” Penelope sighs. “Though it is surprising to hear such counsel from you. Is it not your intention to marry this season?”

“Well— I am not so sure anymore.”

“What of Miss Thompson?”

In truth, though it may be rude, he has not spared a single thought to Miss Thompson the whole evening ever since conversing with Penelope. But Miss Thompson has many suitors, and he doubts he ever was amongst her favoured ones as they have barely exchanged proper conversations. Surely she would not take offence that Colin may have realised he has been looking the wrong way for the past few weeks.

He is about to share such thoughts when a loud sound shatters through the quietness of the evening — the light show has finally begun.

As explosions of light brighten the night sky, Colin’s eyes fall on the small woman beside him instead when she gasps, full of excitement and awe, their previous conversion seemingly forgotten in favour of admiring the spectacle before them.

“Colin! It’s a magnificent sight, isn’t it?” Penelope whispers in wonder.

He smiles. His gaze traces the delicate shape of her nose, of her smile, notes the freckles on her flushed cheeks and the way her wide crystal blue eyes sparkle with such glee and marvel.

“It is,” Colin responds softly as resolve settles into his heart. “It truly is.”

(He is quite disappointed, again, when Penelope simply thanks him for the dance and the moment shared together only to return to Remington’s side as soon as Colin lets go of her hand.)

(He manages to steal one more dance, and nothing more, for he could feel Anthony’s and Lord Featheringon’s gazes on him afterwards. Colin is not a coward, but he does hold his life dear.)

꧁༺࿅ིཽ• –– •❈• –– •࿅ིཽ༻꧂

That night, he dreams the first of many dreams haunted by wild red curls and brilliant blue eyes.

And, perhaps surprisingly enough, it is rather tame.

It is nothing particular, all things considered, it is a familiar setting, even— he and Penelope on the edges of a garden party, as the sun begins to set. She is delicately holding a glass of champagne, the liquid sparkling under the twinkling light, but most importantly, there is a ring on her finger— one adorned with a familiar bee.

The sight makes his breath catch in his throat yet it feels all too… natural. Penelope stands next to him, no dance card at her wrist waiting to be signed, wearing his family’s symbol on her.

Then she turns, head tilted with a smile as if waiting for him. And so Colin, uncaring of the eyes of the other guests at the party, leans down and places a chaste kiss on her lips.

His heart thrums when she teasingly licks his lower lip before pulling away. She puts her glass down on the table and then takes his hand, leading him towards the dance floor where the rest of the guests become a blur in his eyes, only able to look at his… friend? Lover? Wife?

Wife.

They dance, to their hearts’ content, with no rehearsed steps, not even a melody to accompany them. Penelope is laughing in his arms, eyes bright and lips carved into a careless smile. They dance, and they spin, and they laugh.

An idyllic night that turns into a quiet morning.

Colin wakes to the first rays of sun peaking through his window. Slowly, he comes to himself, noting the emptiness in his arms. He sits up, sighing to himself as he massages his temple.

Penelope’s smile the night before flashes through his mind, a reminiscence of the one he had just dreamed about, waiting for him to kiss her as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

A part of him almost would have preferred to wake from a salacious dream he could then excuse for a lack of action on his part for the past few months, because how the hell was he supposed to react to that?

꧁༺࿅ིཽ• –– •❈• –– •࿅ིཽ༻꧂

Hearing Anthony yell becomes a regular occurrence over the next week as he systematically refuses any invitation the family gets, and so despite Daphne’s and their mother’s protests. At the same time, Colin tries to call on Penelope but the Featheringtons are not accepting any callers at the moment, though he knows from hearsay that they have been attending several of the events Anthony declined.

Somehow, the most frustrating part of this current predicament is Benedict avoiding it all, fleeing to someplace unknown to the rest of the family as he leaves Colin to deal with the growing tension in the house.

“Colin,” Eloise calls him that day as he was trying, and failing, to read in his study to clear his head.

“What is it?” he asks.

“Anthony is being annoying and refusing to listen to any of the women in this house. Believe me, I hate to ask you this, but it is either that or I throw a teapot his way and Mrs Wilson would not like that.”

Colin groans.

“It is not like he listens to me either, you know,” he says even as he stands up. “Why he is so determined to marry our sister off to a questionable man is beyond me.”

“Do not ask me, you know what I think of this whole circus in the first place,” Eloise huffs. “I am off to the market with Penelope, good luck!”

“Wait!” The sound of Penelope’s name has him all alert. “You… have seen Pen, this past week?”

Eloise sends him a bemused look. “Of course, like usual at the market.”

“It is just— I tried calling on her, but they were not accepting any caller. And she has not been here for tea for a while…”

His sister shrugs. “She didn't tell me anything about that, and she has refused any invention to focus on this whole… marriage mart thing. Frankly, she avoids any talk about courtship with me, she knows how uninterested I am in all this.”

Colin frowns, wanting to berate his sister for such… selfish behaviour, but he holds back the reprimand. It is not the time to fight with another sibling, and if Penelope would rather not confide in Eloise for the Bridgerton girl’s comfort, he supposes that is her choice.

“Alright. Please let her know I hope she's well and I wish to speak with her soon.”

Eloise raises an eyebrow with scrutinising eyes, but ultimately she only nods before she walks away. Sighing to himself, Colin now makes his way towards the drawing room, from which he can already hear Anthony’s loud voice arguing, and to his surprise, he hears his name mixed in there just as he reaches the doors.

“They��ve danced a couple of times at a ball, Colin has done the same with Penelope Featherington! It does not signify—”

“Actually, it does,” Colin interrupts. Daphne and their mother startle at his sudden appearance. “I want to court Penelope, hence why I have danced with her multiple times,” he clarifies when Anthony stares at him. “Is this about Simon again?”

“This does not concern you, Colin.”

“It is a family matter, of course it concerns me! You have been causing distress for the whole family, even Eloise had to ask for my help!” Colin argues, emboldened when Daphne swiftly makes her way towards him, grabbing his arm for support even as she stands in front of him, glaring at their eldest brother. “Is it such a ludicrous idea that your friend has been charmed by our sister?”

Anthony rolls his eyes. “You and I know Simon is not… suitable. I only aim to protect Daphne.”

“I can protect myself, thank you very much,” Daphne huffs and Colin catches her subtly shaking her right fist. “If the Duke is not suitable, why would Lord Berbooke be?!”

“Brother, what does that man have on you?” Colin asks.

Anthony stiffens, face becoming redder by the second. It seems like he hit a nerve.

“How dare you question my decisions! Basset cannot pursue Daphne, and that is final.”

“Anthony—” their mother tries to interject, but Anthony simply walks away without meeting any of their eyes.

A heavy silence settles in the room before their mother collapses onto the couch with an undignified groan.

“Colin,” she calls as she beckons him and Daphne closer, “I need a distraction for a moment. You said you intend to court Penelope?”

“I—” He did say that, didn’t he? In truth, he was partially motivated by the desire to prove Anthony wrong, though it has allowed him to come to terms with a decision his heart has taken, his mind was still understanding it. “Yes.”

A pause. Daphne is smiling, even as she questions, “Are you sure?” And he swears he hears her mutter “That was fast” under her breath, whatever that is supposed to mean.

He nods, suddenly feeling sheepish when faced with the pure delight on his mother’s and sister’s faces.

(They did not react as such when he shared his desire to court Miss Thompson. Only Benedict seemed supportive.)

“This is not about me, though,” he says after clearing his throat. “Anthony will come around, eventually. If the Duke is truly sincere about this courtship.”

Daphne takes a step back from him, crossing her arms with an offended look in her eyes. “You doubt it as well?”

“He does have a reputation just like our brother, they are friends for a reason,” Colin argues. “However, he has never outwardly courted someone before, has he? That must count for something.”

A strange look crosses his sister’s face, a hint of sadness and doubt that she tries to hide by suddenly looking downward, not meeting his eyes. Colin frowns. “Daphne—”

“Excuse me,” she cuts him off, fleeing the room.

His mother sighs. “This season is turning out to be more complicated than I expected,” she laments, grabbing Colin’s hand. “Promise me you will treat our sweet Penelope right, so I do not have to worry about you as well.”

Colin chuckles, squeezing her hand in reassurance. “I promise, Mother.”

His mother has always treated Penelope like family — he supposed he would only make it more official as if that was his destined path all along.

꧁༺࿅ིཽ• –– •❈• –– •࿅ིཽ༻꧂

When the Featheringtons allow callers again, Colin’s first visit goes… incredibly embarrassingly. In truth, his heart led his actions and before he could think, he found himself on his knees, presenting the bouquet, composed of Penelope’s favourite flowers, to the lady in question who was already entertaining a caller — Remington, of course.

Frustration had taken over him at the sight of the man, peeved that he had arrived before him, but unable to truly express such sentiment without outright provoking him into a duel. Which, even in his jealousy-induced state, he knew would be quite an excessive reaction.

So he fell back into familiar grounds — he simply wanted to give his friend a pleasant gift, for he had never done so before, even in his many visits this season, surprisingly enough, and he wanted to slap his past self for such an oversight. Even so, he could see the relief on Penelope’s face at his words and something dimmed a little within his soul.

As he sits by Miss Thompson’s side, trying in vain to entertain a pleasant conversation, his eyes remain on Penelope and Remington as they discuss some more before they make their way towards the garden, Penelope’s maid following diligently. He swears Remington looks back at him, even if only for a split second, an amused and challenging smile on his lips.

Colin stands up abruptly, catching Lady Featherington’s attention.

“Is Lord Featherington here? I must speak with him.”

She narrows her eyes, shifting them between him and Miss Thompson. “He is indeed, in his study. You may attempt to get an audience with him.”

He nods and promptly leaves the room, dismissing a valet offering to show him the way. Colin knows this house well enough to not need a guide, after all, so he climbs upstairs with much eagerness.

He is not quite sure what drives him in that instant. With the failure this visit has been, he could simply walk across the square and be home instead, but the atmosphere there has not been any better lately, a permanent air of gloom surrounding his family. Here— well, there is an austere air in the Featherington household as well, though the garish colours of the decoration can almost be distracting enough. Colin would rather not think of the fact that, at the present moment, Penelope’s house offers a much-needed and better respite in his life than his own home.

To his surprise, he finds the door of Lord Featherington’s study open and when he peeks inside, he sees the man standing by his window with a pensive look in his eyes. Colin knocks.

“Ah, Mr Bridgerton,” the baron says, neither delighted nor displeased, just quiet indifference. “Come in.”

Colin joins his side, gaze falling on the view of the garden the window offers. From here, they can easily see Penelope and Remington conversing in the garden.

“Did you have a request, young man?” Lord Featherington asks though he is not looking at him.

“An inquiry, rather. You have been refusing callers for the past week or so, I was simply curious as to why today was different.”

The older man mumbles something Colin does not catch before he clears his throat and answers, “It seems my daughter has found quite the fervent and insistent suitor.”

There is something else there, Colin can tell, but it will not be with this man that he will get answers, he knows that.

“You seem displeased, sir,” he says instead.

Lord Featherington frowns, finally tearing his eyes away from the window to look at him.

“Who are you here for, kid?”

I’m not a kid. He swallows the petulant protest back. “Penelope.”

Something flashes in the man’s eyes — apprehension. Colin is quite confused.

“Two suitors, then.”

The baron offers him a drink but the conversation ends there.

꧁༺࿅ིཽ• –– •❈• –– •࿅ིཽ༻꧂

That evening, he joins Anthony and Simon at Will Mondrich's bar, which turns out to be quite the mistake as the two men keep using him as a messenger as if they are not all sat around a small table and they can easily hear each other, even if they just whispered. Colin had agreed to come to distract himself after such an afternoon, wherein he was unable to find a moment to speak with Penelope again. It turns out that the distraction is far more annoying, in the end.

So eventually, Colin slams his hands on the table as he stands, claims he will fetch more drinks, and promptly flees.

At least it was his original plan. His feet abruptly stop as he hears a voice that is now becoming irritatingly familiar.

“Bridgerton!” Remington calls, settled near the bar and not far from the entrance. How did Colin not notice him before?

“Remington,” he responds, with much less enthusiasm he does not try to hide.

“Quite a spectacle you made this afternoon. Are you in the habit of falling to your knees and calling ladies by a bastardization of their name?”

“Speak louder, won’t you, make the whole world know,” Colin mocks. “Is this a game to you, Remington? A way to be the subject of the gossip you so cherish?”

Remington’s amused smile does not falter. In fact, it sharpens as he offers him a glass. Colin takes it, only out of habit, not as a friendly gesture.

“Do not insult Miss Penelope with such accusations, Bridgerton,” Remington says. Colin can feel his eyes twitch at hearing her name on his lips. “Why would it become a cause of gossip? I found a captivating lady I may be interested in courting, which is the most mundane thing to do. It is the first time I partake in the marriage mart, that is true, but it is the same for you, is it not?”

Colin looks away as he takes a sip, unable to contradict the other man.

“I am no threat… am I?”

There is amusement and challenge in Remington’s eyes, revelling in this… rivalry, Colin supposes.

“It depends. Are you playing with her heart, Remington?”

The young lord snorts, though there is a hint of disbelief and sadness in his eyes, suddenly. “If anything, Bridgerton, she may be the one playing with mine. You would not think when seeing her shy demeanour, but she is quite the flirt.”

Truth be told, Colin has discovered this only recently as well.

“I can assure you, Penelope is the most careful with one’s heart. As you must be as well.”

Remington raises an eyebrow.

“I called on her once, no need to behave as if I was a proposal away.”

“Lord Featherington seemed… convinced otherwise.”

“Lord Featherington is an odd man who owes me a favour, and he seems to hold Miss Penelope in higher affection than his other daughters, he is simply paranoid.”

Colin narrows his eyes at this new information. Lord Featherington’s reputation at money games is no secret within the gentlemen of the Ton, perhaps one of the reasons so many avoid the Featherington ladies in the first place — Colin cannot imagine why else no one has asked Penelope for a dance before, after all.

“You partake in gambling, Remington?”

The other man snorts. “Spare the judgment, my friend, I am not the exception here. Not everyone can be safe like you with the money in your name, some of us need to take… a little risk.”

“Huh,” is all Colin offers. He finishes his drink and slams it on the bar. “Thanks for the drink.”

Then he promptly leaves.

Remington watches him go with narrowed eyes. He swirls the liquid in his glass while humming an indistinct tune.

“She’s playing with his heart as well, and he does not seem to realise,” he muses.

꧁༺࿅ིཽ• –– •❈• –– •࿅ིཽ༻꧂

When Colin finds Penelope again the next day at the Trowbridge Ball, he is determined to make his intentions known.

Only for Penelope to pull her dancing card away from his grasp as if he were a disease. The utter look of confusion with a hint of anger in her eyes makes him falter, his heart dropping to his feet.

Does the idea of him courting her displeases her this much?

“What are you doing?” she asks.

“What are you doing?” Colin counters, trying to keep his voice levelled. “I simply wished to secure a dance with you.”

Penelope narrows her eyes. “... Why?”

“Do I need a reason?”

“Well, there is no notion of securing a spot on my card, as it has remained empty, and you know this. I hear Miss Thompson has yet to leave the dance floor, however.”

Colin holds back a groan at the mention of her cousin. He made the mistake once of mentioning her and now Penelope seems convinced Miss Thompson is the only lady he wishes to speak to. She does not seem to realise she is a lady herself in his eyes. “I have already spoken with Miss Thompson, all her dances have been claimed indeed,” he lies. He has not spoken to the young woman at all, he immediately tried to find Penelope.

Yet, silence persists, and his hand remains empty meanwhile Penelope keeps her card close to her chest, as if shielding it from the menace he represents. He sighs then clears his throat.

If he cannot be her suitor… he can be her friend, at least.

“So… you and Lord Remington?” he asks, internally wincing at his failed attempt to sound casual.

Penelope perks up, eyes lighting with interest. He hates the sight. “What about him and I?”

“Are you considering him a proper prospect? He’s… young…”

Penelope blinks, a smile tugging at her lips.

“Colin, he’s your age.”

Colin gapes before quickly snapping his mouth shut. He did forget about that.

“... My point still stands, somewhat.” He crosses his arms, perhaps a bit defensively at the reminder of how similar his and Remington’s situations may be. Young, perhaps a bit naive, and eyes set on the oblivious redhead before him. “He may not be as serious as you about courtship.”

You are damn lying here, his conscience berates him. If anything, his discussion with Remington showed the exact opposite — how seriously the man was contemplating this courtship, and how taken by Penelope he is after only two encounters.

But… the ugly part of himself cannot allow that, cannot accept that the interest truly is mutual, because where did that leave him?

What a selfish thought.

“Colin, thank you for looking out for me, but you do not need to,” Penelope says, voice gone soft with longing. He suddenly feels quite bad.

“Pen that is not…” He pauses. “You love to dance,” he finds himself saying.

She narrows her eyes at the sudden statement. “Careful before you utter a rude remark.”

“What? Oh! No, I did not mean in regards to his… oh this came out wrong,” Colin stumbles on his words, cheeks turning red in shame. “Simply, you love to dance, and I know you and Lord Remington have… started… uh, a courtship.” He struggles to get that last word out as if saying it out loud makes it all too real. Her friend found an interested suitor and soon— “But you do not need to deny dances for his sake. You are not a claimed woman. Should you not entertain other suitors?”

Me, for one.

She stares at him for a moment, mumbling something he does not catch, but he can see conflict in her crystal blues. Then her gaze travels to the dancefloor for a brief moment before it falls on him again. There is determination then, a quiet resignation.

Hope, that treacherous feeling, rises within him.

“Would you do me a favour?” she asks, eventually.

He smiles. “Of course.”

“Miss Thompson seems rather eager for a rescue.”

“Oh.” The statement makes him take a step back, frowning as he looks for the lady in question. He has to admit, she looks rather… displeased to be in the arms of an old duke. “Indeed she does,” he says, though he is not quite sure why Penelope has changed the topic of their conversation so abruptly.

“You’re so cute,” Penelope says, unprompted, as she starts nudging him towards the dance floor even though the dance has barely started. “Now go.”

Colin’s heart skips a beat. Cute? “Pen what did you just say—”

But she ignores his question and pushes him towards Miss Thompson with a force he did not know her capable of. He stumbles on his way, too confused by Penelope’s behaviour. It is a miracle he manages to find his way towards Miss Thompson without bumping into anyone.

“Your Grace, you seem fatigued, allow me—”

The old man barely protests, in fact, he looks relieved as he immediately lets go of Miss Thompson to make his way towards the drinks. Colin blinks at the ease of the interaction, momentarily stunned, before he feels Miss Thompson grab his hand, effortlessly picking up the dance.

“Thank you, Mr Bridgerton,” Miss Thompson says, her shoulders relaxed as she offers him a relieved smile.

“Of course, Miss Thompson. No gentleman shall leave a lady in such distress, after all. And between you and I, the old duke seemed ready to collapse in the middle of the dance floor so perhaps he was the one in need of a rescue.”

She laughs, a bit too loudly, far louder and more exaggerated than she has ever done before during any of their other conversations. Miss Thompson has always treated him with passive interest, surely counting him among her many suitors. Unremarkable, but kind.

There is a sharp glint in her eyes now as she looks at him with interest and he gulps, hoping his nerves do not transpire on his face. Once upon a time, it is all he would have wished for — the interest of one of the incomparables of the season. Yet, now the idea fills him with dread.

Miss Thompson’s hands feel wrong, her steps too rigid, her smile a simple polite display.

Faintly, he can hear the other dancing pairs around them murmur, their gazes on him. Colin has no care for it, truly, but as he keeps craning his neck to look around the ballroom, he is unable to find Penelope among the crowd anymore.

He can always find her. Always. He must have left shortly after she pushed him to “rescue” her cousin. Colin can feel his movements slow as disappointment surrounds his heart. The evening has only just begun and Penelope is already gone.

He supposes she truly does not wish to entertain other suitors if Lord Remington is not there.

As the dance ends, he bows to Miss Thompson but before he can leave she clears his throat, presenting her dance card to him. One last vacant spot is available — for the waltz.

A gentleman never denies a lady a dance.

He keeps disagreeing with his inner self, lately.

“I apologise, Miss Thompson, but I must go. It was a pleasure to dance with you.”

He does not give a proper reason for his abrupt denial before he flees the dance floor, dodges his mother who tries to grab his arm when he passes her and rushes outside, perhaps in the hope that Penelope has not left, and simply needs some air. But there is no one in the garden, and when he makes his way to the entrance instead, he notices that one of the Featherington carriages is gone.

꧁༺࿅ིཽ• –– •❈• –– •࿅ིཽ༻꧂

“I thought you were courting Penelope, why is the Ton only talking about you causing a scandal to claim Miss Thompson’s hand?” Daphne asks him the next day when they find themselves alone in the drawing room for once, though it sounds more like a reproach than a question.

“Believe it or not, Penelope was the one to tell me to do that.”

His sister gives him an unimpressed look. In these moments, you would almost forget who between them is the older sibling.

“And you just listened, I suppose.”

“Do you want us to discuss your idiotic plan of fake courting Simon only to end up having feelings for him?”

Daphne gasps, slapping a hand on his mouth. “Not so loud that Mother or Anthony hears!”

His only response to that is a silent eye roll. Eventually, she pulls away with a sigh.

“Mother is very confused,” she says. “And perhaps a little disappointed as well.”

Colin’s shoulders slump. “She is not the only one.”

His sister gives him a pitying look this time as she reaches forward and lands a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “Listen, I have something to confess.” He frowns, listening. “Penelope asked me for advice regarding this whole courtship thing. And I may have told her she should practise flirting with you. Or Benedict.”

“Benedict?!”

“Is that truly what you wish to give attention to?”

Colin, petulantly, pouts before shaking his head. “If I understand correctly, what you are saying is that… Penelope… does not have any interest in me, I was only, what? A test subject?”

Daphne looks confused. “Of course not, you are still her friend, which is why I told her to do this with someone she’s comfortable with already. I did not think it would unsettle you! Colin, half of the ladies of the Ton keep flirting with you and you just charm them back with a few words or a wink.”

“Yes, but they’re not Pen.”

“And what does that mean?”

Colin frowns. His sister is right, what does that even mean? Why is the thought of Penelope flirting with him as mere practice such a disappointing thought to him when all the other debutantes have done the same? It is the essence of the marriage mart, a constant dance of flirtation until the right match is found.

“Truth be told, Colin, I did not expect this to confuse you. Having seen how you and Penelope behave, even before debuting in society, you two constantly exchange compliments, though I am aware you were not intentionally flirting. How is it different now? Why is Penelope different?”

Daphne smiles gently, an encouraging and reassuring sight. Colin wonders when his younger sister has matured this much in just a few months.

He ponders over her words. It is true, he reckons, that his and Penelope’s friendship has always been one based on honesty and trust. Colin has never been shy to praise Penelope’s kindness, wit and cleverness and, in turn, Penelope has always made sure to let him know that she finds his equal kindness, charm and passions inspiring. The compliments never touched on their physical appearances, though, now that he thinks about it, even though of course he has always found Penelope pretty — though the word pales compared to the way he sees her.

It was a simple truth of the world, one not needed to be spoken out loud, such as the sky is blue, Mayfair is suffocating; Penelope Featherington is mesmerising.

But now they are both out in society — by all means, they are on their way to adulthood. Every word, every action has now a different meaning, a different intention. Penelope wishes to marry, hastily, Colin still thinks. He is aware he can go on for years, continuing this perpetual dance of flirtation with the ladies of the Ton, but Penelope cannot. Ladies only have a limited time before they are deemed undesirable.

Which is a ludicrous and cruel outcome, Colin still thinks, but a reality nonetheless.

And the thought of Penelope’s words meaning nothing to him because her eyes are already set on someone else, on Remington, it ignites a fire in him that was nonexistent when faced with the many other suitors of Miss Thompson.

It is so blatant, now that he sits and thinks about it. His confusion at Penelope’s flirting, his hurt as she smiles at someone else, his fear at the thought of her leaving his life forever to marry another gentleman.

A part of him believed it to simply be his duty — Penelope had shown interest, and naturally, he thought that courting her was the natural next step.

And it was! He simply did not grasp exactly why. Nor why Penelope’s confusion and constant rejection at his every attempt to court her hurt him so deeply.

What a fool he has been. His body acted before he could reflect and think. He knew, deep within, but for some reason, it is only now that he understands.

“I love her,” he breathes out. And it is beautiful in its simplicity. Another truth of the world that he did not need to voice out loud before. The sea is blue, the world is wide; Colin Bridgerton is in love with Penelope Featherington.

Daphne lets out a disbelieved laugh, but it is not mocking. She brings him in a hug and Colin gladly melts into her arms.

“We Bridgertons truly are slow, are we not?” she says, but her voice trembles a little. Colin rubs her back in a soothing motion.

“Mother would say we simply feel before we think. I still do not think it is a compliment.”

His sister chuckles.

“Do not give up on Penelope, she thinks the world of you, but you need to tell her what you feel because, in her eyes, your behaviour did not change.”

He hums. “And you need to talk to Simon. The way he looks at you, dear sister, is one of a besotted man that no pretence can replicate.”

She hums as well, burying her face in his shoulder.

꧁༺࿅ིཽ• –– •❈• –– •࿅ིཽ༻꧂

The next few weeks are frustrating. Whenever he visits the Featherington house to call on Penelope, despite how many times he corrects Briarly, the man keeps announcing him for Miss Thompson, and the latter refuses to leave his side. Yet he has explicitly told her he wished to end their courtship. Every time, with no exception, Remington is already present, keeping Penelope’s attention all to himself, and thus despite his many attempts to interrupt without outright seeming like he wishes to battle the other man on the spot.

Colin loathes to admit Penelope looks happy next to him, but he still cannot help that little seed of hope in his soul as he notices that her smile does not quite reach her eyes either, not the way it does when he makes her laugh. It is perhaps an egotistical thought, but hope is known to render someone helpless and perhaps careless as well.

The one solace in his life, at the very least, is Daphne and Simon finding their way to each other eventually, though perhaps not in the happy outcome he had hoped for.

Because he sure did not expect to have to escort Daphne at the break of dawn towards a duelling ground to stop Anthony and Simon from killing each other.

As a result, Colin’s opinion of Simon changes drastically as well, suddenly not so certain if he was the right match for his sister if he would rather die than marry her after, it seems, compromising her.

(It does not mean he agrees with the way Anthony has been handling this whole thing, however.)

A few days later, as Daphne hands him a handwritten invitation to the engagement party for the Featheringtons, he asks, “Do you wish to talk about it properly?”

“Why are men so insufferably stubborn?” she mumbles in response, which might as well mean no.

“Right.”

So it is with a slightly sour mind that he walks into the Featherington drawing room, unsurprised by now to see Remington there as he hands the invitation as well as his gift to Penelope.

(He annoyed Eloise until she shared what book Penelope had not read yet. His sister answered quickly when he promised to get her one of her feminist pamphlets too she cannot easily get at the market. Fortunately, it was one he had already acquired during the summer, as he searched for books to entertain him during the tour he was originally planning on taking.)

“I heard the wedding is only a week from now, that is rather quick, was your sister not just being courted by the prince?” Lord Remington asks after Colin gives Penelope a copy of Sense and Sensibility.

Colin was hoping to just behave as if he did not exist.

“The Duke has simply come to his senses and secured my sister’s hand before anyone else could,” he responds, glancing again at Penelope, who is admiring the cover of the book before his eyes meet Remington’s in a silent challenge. “I do apologise that you cannot be of attendance, my friend.”

“I will pretend that your words are sincere.” The other gentleman chuckles. “Well, if you are to monopolise Miss Penelope’s time tomorrow, my lady, shall we leave for a promenade this afternoon? The weather has not been quite this nice in a while, after all.”

Colin does not listen to the conversation afterwards, he gets distracted staring at Penelope and the way her fingers curl delicately around the book before she brings it against her chest affectionately as she partakes in the discussion. Pride fills his heart at how carefully she handles the gift.

The petty side of him, again, thinks of the flowers Remington keeps bringing and the way Penelope has kept none of the bouquets for her bed-chamber; instead, they become an addition to the drawing room which appears less personal.

Now that he thinks about it, he has not seen the lilies and lavenders he first brought weeks ago around the house — has she… kept them in her most private haven? Or perhaps she threw them away, but Colin would rather not consider that possibility.

He promptly takes his leave afterwards, giving a poor excuse for it, then spends the rest of his day in a sort of haze, unsure of what to do within the tense atmosphere of the house.

Daphne still refused to talk, Eloise was locked in her room all day, Francesca played sombre tunes on the piano of the drawing room, Gregory and Hyacinth were uncharacteristically calm, their mother was tiredly guiding their staff in the preparations for the party, Benedict had, once again, fled the house for the night and Anthony…

Colin finds him late at night, smoking in the garden, not far from their childhood swings. Anthony seldom smokes, he usually resorts to alcohol or sex for a distraction, but for whatever reason, neither option seems available to him at the moment. Colin himself is not sure what led him there.

“Are you still upset Daphne and I prevented you from killing or being killed by your best friend?” Colin asks when all his brother does when he notices his presence is scoff.

Anthony sneers. “I am upset you put Daphne in danger.”

“She was already hurting, if one of you had wound up dead…”

He trails off, letting the silence speak for itself. Anthony groans, letting go of his cig to crush it beneath his shoe.

“Basset… would rather die than marry Daphne.”

Colin winces. “Granted, not the biggest point in his favour. However, the way he looks at her…”

“Is the same as the way you look at Penelope Featherington, yes I know.” Colin blinks, surprised. “What? I have eyes. Though I have no idea why you let people believe you are courting her cousin.”

“I am not! I have not danced once with Miss Thompson again and at every ball, I remain by Penelope’s side!”

“Mm. Forces are working against you, brother, and I am not one of them this time at least.” Anthony snorts. “Lady Featherington and Miss Thompson have been boasting about the courtship, it confused Lord Featherington and I,” he shares next and Colin is floored for a moment that his brother has apparently talked to the Baron on Colin’s behalf.

The viscount leans against the wall and lifts his head to wistfully gaze upon the night sky. Colin wonders what has gotten him this pensive.

“It seems this is all a big misunderstanding,” Colin says, eventually.

His brother hums. “I was at White’s, earlier. You better hurry, brother, for Remington was rather inebriated and priding himself on securing Penelope’s hand.” Anthony sends him a strange and unfamiliar look, one filled with vulnerability and worry. “Do not make the same mistake as my idiotic friend.”

“Will you provoke me into a duel?” Colin cannot help but jest, uncomfortable by the sudden seriousness of the conversation.

But Anthony does not laugh. “Love is such a pain,” he declares, glaring at the ground.

With that, he walks away.

Colin is left staring at the burned cig now hidden within the grass. He is not looking forward to the next day.

꧁༺࿅ིཽ• –– •❈• –– •࿅ིཽ༻꧂

The party is a small gathering, as per, well, the request of everyone involved, in which he is hoping to speak with Penelope and distract himself from the mess that his family is in.

Unfortunately, as soon as she arrives, Eloise is leading her away from everyone else to talk and Colin finds himself stuck between Lady Featherington and Miss Thompson, listening to the eldest Featherington daughter's horrendous singing to Francesca’s playing. He can feel the rest of his family try to keep a polite facade, though some — notably Anthony and Simon — are openly glaring at Daphne who was the one who insisted on inviting the other family, after all.

Daphne simply ignores them, fanning herself with an indulgent smile. Colin figures that, in some way, this must be some sort of revenge for the hassle they all put her through this season.

Once free from that performance, Colin goes to look for Penelope only to get cornered once more by his friend’s mother. And, in truth, he usually would have simply found an excuse to escape but then she said, “Tell me, Mr Bridgerton, when are you planning to propose to Miss Thompson?”

The question stuns him to the point he halts any movement to stare at the woman in disbelief. “What made you think I had the intention to?”

Lady Featherington frowns, eyes flashing dangerously. “It is rather rude to keep a lady waiting. Did you not ask permission from Lord Featherington over a month ago?” she asks, with a faux kind of innocence dripping from her tongue.

Colin blinks. “Do you even speak with your husband?” The question leaves his lips before he can talk himself out of it due to the rudeness of such a statement.

Her eyes narrow. “I would advise you to refrain from uttering such… insults in the future, Mr Bridgerton.”

A part of him is aware that antagonising the mother of the woman he wishes to marry is most likely an ill decision on his part but he could not care less at the moment. “It seems I am right anyhow. Lord Featherington is aware of who I wish to marry.”

“And does Penelope know?” she says, challenging, and thus proving that she has indeed been aware of his true intentions. Colin did have suspicions that the reason the entire staff in that house seemed determined to keep him away from Penelope had to do with the matriarch of the family, and now they are justified.

He just does not understand why. There is a story there, a desperation from Lady Featherington and Miss Thompson, but at the same time, he doesn't care anymore.

“My daughter’s courtship with Lord Remington is going rather swimmingly, as surprising as it seems, and I would rather you not ruin this for her,” Lady Featherington says.

Colin scoffs. “Fortunately, it is not you who shall decide what Penelope wants.” Then, rather rudely once more because he is too exhausted to care, he spins on his heels and leaves, needing a moment of respite. On his way, a maid informs him that Eloise has retired early to her chambers, which makes Colin hopeful that if he turns a corner, he might finally find Penelope waiting for him.

But, because fate has decided to play with his sanity, it is Miss Thompson that he finds by the staircase. He tries to leave before she notices him, with no such luck.

“Mr Bridgerton!” she calls and the loudness of her voice in the emptiness of the room makes Colin all too aware of what a dangerous situation is presented before him. There are no servants around, all busy either in the kitchen or in the drawing room. “May we speak, in private?” she asks next, pointing towards Anthony’s study, its door open and waiting.

She does not wait for an answer though, as she grabs his forearm and promptly drags him to the room.

“Miss Thompson—” he protests, but before he can blink he is inside his brother’s study, with the lady facing him with a small yet hesitant smile. There is an odd determination yet dread stiffening her posture. He sighs. “What do you wish to talk about?”

“It is not so much talk, I suppose…” she says, and she takes a step forward without much prompting, tilting her head up.

Colin takes quite a leap back.

“What are you doing?” he asks, or rather demands, there is no inquiry in his tone. He knows perfectly what was about to occur though he requires confirmation that he is not having a nightmare.

“I was hoping for a kiss,” Miss Thompson answers frankly, now frowning.

Colin takes another few steps back, making himself dizzy at the way he shakes his head as if trying to shake off the very idea.

“You are a lady, and I am a gentleman. I cannot take liberties of the sort with you.”

She scoffs. “You agreed to an unchaperoned moment with a lady, you believe that to be gentlemanly?”

“It did not feel like a choice in the first place when you dragged me here,” Colin responds in kind, sounding just as exasperated as her. He wonders suddenly what is the plan here, when Miss Thompson looks, by all intents, as if she despised him, her mask of politeness now gone. She is not hurt by the rejection, but rather disappointed and frustrated. “I have told you long ago that I wish to end our courting.”

“But you kept calling on me. Lady Featherington said— I thought you simply needed a little push.”

“I have not?” Colin says, confused. He sighs once more. So this has truly been a conscious choice to mislead his every visit. “I was visiting Penelope.”

“Penelope!?”

He gives her a bemused look at her genuine surprise. Miss Thompson is not shallow nor dumb, that much he knows with the way she appraises her suitors. Surely, she would have noticed that during his every visit, Colin has been trying to grab some of Penelope’s attention, rather than spend time with her.

It was rather rude of him and he felt slightly guilty about it, but now he sees he has no reason to. There is no affection in her eyes, but contempt… And despair?

“Miss Thompson—” Knocks on the door interrupt him, causing his heart to sink. Please no—

“You are being rather loud, if you wished to have a private moment,” a lovingly familiar voice says as Penelope walks in, head tilted and feigning innocence but there is a sharpness to her eyes nonetheless.

Colin smiles, letting out a sigh of relief before he stiffens once more as he remembers the current situation.“Pen!” he exclaims as her gaze flits between him and her cousin. “It is not— I assure you nothing—”

He stops when Miss Thompson suddenly huffs, shouldering him on her way out. At once, he feels all his frustration and anger dissipate as he stumbles a few steps back so that he can lean against the desk. As he closes his eyes and rubs his forehead, he faintly hears the door closing shut, and assumes Penelope has simply left as well — so it is a surprise when he hears soft footsteps approaching and his beloved friend’s voice says:

“It is lucky I was the one who found you, and not your brother.”

She says it lightly, probably hoping to ease some of the tension still lingering in his body. He lets out a derisive laugh. “I know. How much did you…?”

“I heard the mention of a kiss.”

Colin stiffens. Oh Lord, what must she think of me now? And then he tenses further for a whole new reason as Penelope reaches forward, a hand on his right arm, in what he is certain she means to be a friendly and reassuring gesture but all Colin can think about is the warmth emanating from her touch and the way his heart is bursting at the seams.

“I know nothing happened, Colin, you are a gentleman, a kind and considerate one,” she says, tilting her head as she leans closer, trying to catch his eyes.

Is she trying to kill him?

“Pen…” he says warningly as their eyes meet for a brief moment before she straightens up.

“In fact, if you wish I can speak with Marina, surely something—” Colin is decidedly not listening. Her lips bear a lighter shade of pink today. “Colin?”

Instead of a response, his hand reaches for her chin, tilting it forward so their eyes may meet. He feels Penelope’s breath hitch at the movement. A part of him, though much quieter than it was with Miss Thompson, is wholly aware he should stop, and let her go. But he cannot.

Faintly, he recalls that this is the second time that his pretence of being a gentleman falls away when Penelope is involved.

“I heard…” Colin starts, voice barely above a whisper. But then his eyes catch on Penelope’s right hand, still resting on his arm, her grip loose. “You are not wearing a ring.”

Penelope frowns, hand twitching before she brings it between their faces, partially hiding behind it. “Indeed, I am not. I doubt I ever will.”

It is Colin’s turn to frown at her derisive tone. “Pen, do not say that.”

“You are sweet, Colin, but the reality is as such — Lord Remington has asked me to wait another year, but he may change his mind, or I may not be able to be here next season anyhow.”

“Why would you not be?” he asks, though he has his suspicions…

“Colin, I have learned I have no dowry.” He gasps, he hopes quietly, though the tired look she gives him tells him he was not successful at that. “My parents are very much trying to hide it, but no sane gentleman shall wish for the third daughter of a Baron with not even a dowry to evaluate her status.”

Colin feels an anger, foreign and intense, light within his heart at her self-deprecating words. Before he can even think, he is holding her face with both hands, gaze piercing into her.

“You are wrong,” he announces, fervently.

She blinks, lips parted in shock. “... About?”

“So many things. Everything you have just said.” He leans closer, eyes never leaving hers. “You have been driving me insane, Pen.”

“I— I apologise?”

“All the flirting, the compliments, and sweet smiles… but then you turn around and entertain another, leaving me to gather dirt in your devastating garden.”

The words flow out of his mouth before he can comprehend them himself. How could Penelope speak so poorly of herself, after all?

“Colin, you are not making any sense.”

“Remington is besotted, enchanted. How can you even think for one second he would not propose even without a dowry when he was oh-so bragging about it at the gentleman’s club last night?” He scoffs and tries to ignore the reproaching voice in his head reminding him that he did not, in fact, witness such a scene and that what Anthony described to him was far tamer than the spectacle he is narrating. “How can you not see the effect you leave in your wake?”

“Do not mock me!”

She is upset, perhaps rightfully so, with the way he is holding her close, refusing to let her slip away once more. Yet, Colin’s mind is distracted, eyes falling once more on her lips, twisted in would-be scorn if she were not so adorable in her indignation.

The question leaves his lips in a whisper, but it may feel like he is shouting it into the dead silence between them, “May I kiss you?”

Penelope’s eyes widen at his abrupt request, and a part of him almost takes the words back — lucidity hits him at once as he remembers them being alone, remembers that Penelope is a gentle-bred lady, that such intimate acts shall only be shared between a married man and woman. If a choice she was to make, it was quite obvious to him that she would not choose him. She has been turning her head away from his affection. And it kills him but it would kill him further to compromise her, to ruin her happiness, even if it is with another. He does not wish her to settle for him, to be her second choice. But he is a selfish, selfish man and—

His thoughts halt as she nods. It would almost go unnoticed, a small movement of her head but her eyes are shining with— he does not dare to hope, but they shine a brilliant blue in front of him, and she takes a small step forward, bringing them even closer together.

So Colin Bridgerton leans in and kisses Penelope Featherington.

And he has no idea what he is doing.

But Penelope sighs against his mouth, body relaxing under her touch and he feels warm, he feels right, as he cradles her preciously, tentatively moving his lips against hers. Every brush, every caress, brightens something deep within his soul, all of his fears vanishing away in this one singular moment of perfect harmony between them.

Or… almost perfect. Colin cannot help but smile a little as Penelope’s lips try to follow his guide, but the movements are too hesitant and shy to truly be perceptible.

“Pen,” Colin whispers as he pulls away. “A kiss is for two people,” he teases.

“I–! I am trying my best.” She is pouting. Colin’s heart melts, smiling fondly.

“Do you trust me?”

She nods eagerly. “Of course— oh!”

Without waiting for further response, Colin wraps his arms around her waist, spinning them around and then lifting her on the desk. She blinks prettily at him before a wide smile graces her lips upon realising they are now on equal feet, allowing her to deftly wind her arms around his neck as he captures her lips again.

That’s his clever girl. His.

She hums pleasantly against him, meeting his enthusiasm in kind, and he feels her fingers carefully thread through his hair before they brush over the exposed skin of his nape, bringing in goosebumps in their wake. He groans, hands sliding from her waist, brushing her breast, fighting the temptation to feel them, afraid it would be too much, too overwhelming for the both of them, so he quickly reaches for her face again instead.

This is all so new to him — there was always some curiosity, of course, but never a desire to act on them. He was set on differentiating himself from his brothers, on denying brothels for only his wife would have his body, his heart, his soul. Only Penelope can have all of him.

And despite the passion and the heat he can feel building inside, he is aware Penelope is a gentle-bred lady. If he is lost, she may be stranded at sea. One step at a time, together.

He cannot mess this up.

His thumb gently caresses her left cheek, revelling in the softness of her skin before it travels to her lower lip, pulling at it before he tentatively licks inside her mouth, claiming it as his own. He feels her shudder beneath his touch as she lets out a moan, openly and eagerly, a heavenly sound to his ears and he hisses when her grip on his hair tightens. He falters, heart skipping a beat at the mix of pain and yet pleasure that shoots right through him at the action, and even more so when Penelope wraps her legs around him, bringing him closer as they continue kissing. One of his hands settles on the wooden desk so he may not fall to his knees, as Penelope seems to grow in confidence, alternating between presses of their lips and tentative licks.

They should stop, he reckons, before he properly loses his last bits of sanity, before he gets careless — or well, more careless. But Penelope is intoxicatingly sweet, and warm, and everything he has dreamed about and—

“Colin! Are you in there?” a sudden voice calls from outside the room.

They pull apart abruptly. Benedict.

As panic grips him and renders him motionless, Penelope, on the other hand, promptly jumps off the desk and hides beneath it just as the door opens.

Colin barely has the time to readjust his waistcoat.

“There you are!” Benedict says, relief written all over his face. “And you look a mess, have you taken out Anthony’s secret stash of alcohol in here?”

Well, Colin did not even know that was an option. “Wh— no, I just needed a moment,” Colin manages to reply with a somewhat steady voice. “Bracing myself to announce the end of my ‘courtship’ at our sister’s engagement party, like the insensitive brother I am, it seems.”

Scepticism shapes the amused smile on his brother’s lips. “Uh, alright…? Have you seen Penelope? I had asked her to search for you here or at the library, but I could not find her there.”

Ah, this explains why Penelope even ended up here, then.

“No. Perhaps one of our sisters kidnapped her. I heard Eloise retired to her chambers early.”

“Mm. Perhaps.” Benedict sounds entirely unconvinced. “Well, Mother is asking about you, we better get back to the party.”

“Right, yes of course.”

Trying not to look back, Colin follows his brother out, and as soon as the door closes behind them, Benedict chuckles.

“I know she was in there, brother. You are still flushed.” Colin is pretty certain his face becomes redder then. “I did not wish to embarrass her, though, the poor girl.”

“I did not—” he splutters.

“I will not tell Anthony, don’t worry, or anyone for that matter.” Benedict pats his shoulder. “But please, once you get engaged, I do not want to go through another tense party such as this one.”

Colin breathes in. “I promise that will not happen.”

“Good. You also will not need to announce anything, for Miss Thompson loudly declared the end of your courtship and promptly left. It will surely reach the rest of Mayfair by the morning.”

Colin groans. “Ben, I’m so tired.”

Benedict ruefully grins. “Love and adulthood suit you.”

꧁༺࿅ིཽ• –– •❈• –– •࿅ིཽ༻꧂

The days that follow make Colin wonder if ruin would be worth it if he could steal Penelope in the night so they may elope, away from London’s frustratingly convoluted ways.

“Son, I know you are eager to claim Penelope’s hand, but in society’s eyes you were just courting her cousin and it could mean ruin for our families. A quick engagement would look rather suspicious, and after what happened with Daphne…” his mother had warily warned him and he had to reluctantly agree.

Even so, the frustration remains. He is partially relieved by the fact he now knows Remington does not intend to propose, that he wishes to wait another year, but Colin would rather not take the chance— another gentleman may finally open his eyes, the season is not quite over yet, after all, and perhaps Penelope only saw their… moment as one fleeting passion, and it aches that he cannot see her and assure her otherwise.

(, Anthony, after hearing Colin say he was ready to elope one evening out of frustration, made sure he could not get his hands on any quill or paper. Perhaps Colin was predictable. Sending a letter to Penelope would be perhaps more inappropriate at the moment than if he called on her.)

So, when a week passes, and he is allowed to join the family at a garden party, Colin is thrilled. Only to be completely blindsided when, as soon as they arrive, a swarm of debutantes flock to his side, with placating and reassuring words regarding his courtship ending so abruptly.

It takes everything in him to not simply push past them, the way he knows his brothers would have no issue doing. But he remains a gentleman.

When it matters anyhow.

From the corner of his eyes, he sees her, however. Reminiscent of a certain dream he once had, she stands on the side, observing the party but conversing pleasantly with the man next to her every once in a while— in this case, Remington. This time, as he watches them, and even as Remington suddenly reaches for Penelope’s hand, resolve settles in his heart, rather than dread.

Oh, the other gentleman is as besotted as they come, Colin still thinks, despite his carefree attitude, there is an edge to his smile, to his eyes as he looks at Penelope, and cradles her hand ever so gently. It is a feeling one Colin is much too familiar with, as if he could not believe that such a clever and witty woman deigned to spare him a moment of her time and attention. Their eyes meet for a brief moment, and in Remington’s eyes, he sees empathy and support, oddly enough.

But then, he says something that has Penelope nodding before they both make their way further into the garden, away from the main crowd. Colin bites his lips, that anxiety returning suddenly.

“Ladies.” Anthony suddenly appears by his side. “It is quite unfair that my brother here keeps all of your attention, spare some for us poor fellows!” he laments, which has Colin stare at him with wide eyes.

“Good day!” Benedict joins in, bowing with a charming smile. “I concur, I would also delight in vibrant discussions with you.”

At once, the debutantes surrounding him shift their attention to his older brothers and Colin blinks, partly offended, partly relieved. Anthony, for a brief moment, catches his eyes and subtly points towards where Penelope and Remington had disappeared with a tilt of his head.

Colin smiles, mouths ‘thank you’, fully aware of how unpleasant Anthony and Benedict find this whole flirting and teasing dance, and then basically runs.

It is not difficult to find the pair again, towards the edges of the garden.

But the sight surprises him nonetheless, for they are dancing. Uncaring of the world that surrounds them, uncaring of the few eyes on them, Penelope effortlessly twirls around Remington and the gentleman meets her enthusiasm in kind, spinning her when she stands at the bottom of the few sets of stairs and then tilting his wheelchair as much as he could to match the gentle sway of her steps when she faces him at eye-level.

Colin breathes out. They look… happy. He loathes to admit it, truly, they make quite the pair.

But… He licks his lips, recalling the way Penelope had melted into his arms as if waiting for that moment all her life, and he lets his selfish desires win. He will not pretend to be a better option than Remington, however, he can, and he will prove his worth.

Grabbing a glass of fresh lemonade from a passing servant, he makes his way towards the pair just as it seems their improvised dance is ending. Swiftly, he slides to Penelope’s side, and she gratefully grabs the glass without even a second glance.

“Oh, thank you,” she says, a little out of breath, and taking an immediate sip.

“You’re welcome. That was quite the dance.”

He sees her stiffen and almost choke on the drink.

“Bridgerton!” Remington greets him with a friendly smile. This time, Colin gives him a small smile in return. “Wasn’t it? Penelope is an excellent dancer, despite having me as a partner.”

“James!” Penelope exclaims, and Colin frowns at the familiarity. “Do not speak of yourself as such, this was one of the best dances I ever had.”

Colin gasps softly, a hand on his chest. “Oh. Shall I take offence, Pen?”

“Do not start too,” she huffs. “You kept stepping on my feet during our first lessons.”

“Now, those did not count, we were children!” But he cannot help but smile at the fact she remembers.

“So you are very old friends, are you not?” Remington remarks with a hum.

“Indeed,” Colin says, then he grabs Penelope’s free hand before he can second-guess his actions, kissing its back. “And hopefully we will continue to be for many years, yes?”

“Certainly, I will let you visit when we marry,” Remington says, rather smugly.

“I do not see a ring attesting to such a promise…” Colin muses, inspecting Penelope’s ring-less hand. “Nor was Lady Featherington boasting about it.”

“I have not asked the patriarch's permission yet indeed, although I have the lady’s agreement, which is the most important part, is it not?”

Colin tries not to falter. That, Penelope did not tell him, and when he looks at her, she is sheepishly looking away.

“And yet you wish to wait for next season. For monetary reasons, I hear.”

Remington’s easy smile drops, narrowing his eyes at Penelope. “How— Ah, you told him, didn’t you?”

“I do not like secrets,” Penelope mumbles. “It is not like I will be getting another proposal before the season ends anyhow. Papa would deny it.”

Mm. Then he shall see Lord Featherington right away.

“We will see about that,” he says, rather cryptically.

Screw waiting.

“Colin?” Penelope’s voice sounds small, hopeful, even.

He grins, throwing a challenging look at the other gentleman before he winks at Penelope. He explains nothing and simply leaves after giving Penelope’s hand another kiss.

꧁༺࿅ིཽ• –– •❈• –– •࿅ིཽ༻꧂

He wastes no time and imposes himself into Penelope's father's study later that same day.

All things considered, Lord Featherington gives him his blessing with surprising ease — though Colin still had to almost beg. But the sun is still shining brightly outside, so he gathers it remains a rapid negotiation. Unlike Remington, the man did not owe Colin a favour, and he could not use that as leverage, though he would loathe to resort to such things to secure Penelope’s hand as if she were a mere object.

It turns out, someone did use his favour after all.

“Remington.”

“Bridgerton,” the other man greets, where he is waiting by the Featherington gates. “I assume your meeting with Lord Featherington went as you hoped?”

A pause. He knows Penelope and the rest of the Featherington women, plus Miss Thompson, are out promenading, therefore Remington has no reason to be here. Unless…

“You asked for another favour he owed you,” Colin states, narrowing his eyes. “To help me. Why?”

Remington shrugs. “So you can owe me a favour and allow me to visit once you and Penelope wed.”

Colin huffs out a smile. “And now the real answer?”

“That is my real answer!” the other gentleman insists. “Consider it… a kind gesture for a friend. So technically, you are not the one I am helping.”

Colin ponders over that. “Why give up?” He has no idea why that is his first inquiry — after all, should he not be relieved, thrilled even? Instead, somehow, he feels offended on Penelope’s behalf that her suitor concedes victory, so to speak, so willingly.

“I am not giving up, simply accepting things as they are.” Remington smiles. “Penelope chose you long ago, before this season, from what I gathered, and though I can see myself falling for her deeper, I knew the same could not be said about her, and it would be unfair of me to expect it.”

“I… am not certain what to say,” Colin admits when faced with such a confession. Apologise? Thank him? Both options seem rather insensitive.

Remington laughs. “I neither need your pity nor your gratefulness. Just… we both want her happiness. That is all that matters.”

He nods. “Indeed.”

“I must leave, I have business to attend to outside London, and I fear that will keep me away for the rest of the season,” Remington says next but he is not looking at him anymore, gaze on his carriage and a tinge of sadness laced in his voice. “I do still expect an invite for the wedding.”

“Then you shall have it.”

Remington hums as he is already instructing his valet to turn him around so they may leave. “Thank you. Goodbye, Colin.”

A smile tugs at his lips at the peace offering, and friendly parting, with the use of his name. “See you around, James. Thank you.”

(The next day, he learns Miss Thompson has accepted the proposal of a surprised suitor from outside of London. Colin tries not to seem too excited when Anthony tells him this — for this means he could soon see Penelope again without everyone fearing a scandal.)

꧁༺࿅ིཽ• –– •❈• –– •࿅ིཽ༻꧂

A week passes. Colin sends gifts every single day until it is acceptable for him to visit the Featheringtons and call on Penelope again. And, incredible timing as it is, Daphne tasks him to deliver the invitation for her ball to the Featherington himself, so it is what he must do.

Anthony also almost runs away with an opera singer during that time. He tells Penelope as much.

“What!” she exclaims, but her eyes are twinkling with pure entertainment.

“Benedict was panicking.” Which is an understatement. First the duel, and now the near-elopement, the second eldest of the family was on the verge of a nervous breakdown himself. “Mother thankfully does not know… yet. And I am hoping to bring some news that might distract her. Anthony will owe me.”

Penelope laughs. “It seems you had your own eventful week. But why did he think you would try to tempt scandal?”

Colin clears his throat. “I may have hinted, jokingly, of course, er, perhaps not, that I wished to elope. With you.”

The atmosphere shifts. He almost regrets the fact that they are, in all essence, alone at the moment. The constant hovering of Lady Featherington would be distracting, at least, and would prevent him from confessing such things.

“Colin…” Penelope whispers.

“Penelope,” he says, in a much similar tone, breathless and in disbelief. He takes her hands in his, leaning in. “I must apologise for my blindness. And for taking such… liberties with you.”

Her lips curl into a small, satisfied smile. Colin finds himself stricken at the sight. “I was very much consenting, to be fair. We can bribe my maid to look away if you wish,” she teases.

“Pen!”

She laughs. “Sorry… sorry. Go on?”

For some reason, the sound reminds him of the garden party, as he watched her laugh so carelessly when dancing with Remington and the words fly out of his mouth, once again, before he can stop them. “Do not marry him.”

Penelope frowns, visibly taken aback. Her lips form an indignant pout. His gaze drops to them. “Try again.”

“Wh—”

“Colin, try again,” she commands and a shiver runs down his spine.

“I was not done actually.”

“You stopped talking!”

“I— got distracted.” He shakes his head and goes down on one knee, hands never letting go of hers. “Penelope Featherington. Penelope. My Pen.”

She raises an eyebrow and bites her lower lip to stop herself from smiling too widely. “That is my name, indeed.”

“And are you…?”

“Am I what?”

“Mine.” He lets the word slip from his mouth in a breath.

“You still have not asked the question.”

Oh, his stubborn, insufferable but adorable Penelope.

“My Pen, my dearest friend, and perhaps something more if you allow us to be. It seems there has been a misunderstanding, for I thought I had made my intentions clear. Every time I came here after the Vauxhall ball, it was you I was hoping to see. It was you I was wishing to court, and I— I believed you knew. And you preferred Remington anyhow, so I sat by Miss Thompson, waiting for an opportunity to speak. One Remington didn’t leave me.”

“Briarly kept announcing you for Marina…”

“And he is lucky I am a gentleman or I do not know what I would do considering his mistake made all of this more complicated than it needed to be!” For emphasis, he glares at the closed door, behind which the footman should be standing. “You could have been mine… weeks ago.”

“Would I be?” she inquires.

He tenses at her tone — does she… not wish for this? Fortunately, his doubts are quickly squandered as Penelope tugs at his hands, leaning closer.

“Colin. My friend, my life, my love, please ask me properly?”

Penelope's eyes shine, hope, relief, and adoration swirling in their blue depths, as vivid and boundless as a clear summer sky. Colin could stare at them for hours on end.

“Penelope Featherington, I do not remember a world where you weren’t by my side. From childhood to now, I had a pocket of sunshine by my side. And perhaps I took you for granted, I thought you would always be there, even if our paths may stray. But as I saw you with another, and I felt dissatisfied with the path I had willingly walked on at the beginning of the season, I realised how foolish I had been. It is incredible, how a mere compliment and smile from you pierced through the infatuation I had found myself in. Oh, it is you, of course, it is you. And I can only hope you feel even a slither of what I feel for you, for I know you may simply see me as a friend you felt comfortable enough to… practice, as Daphne put it.”

He marks a pause then, collecting his thoughts, and his courage.

“I love you,” Colin continues, an easy smile on his lips. “I wish to see the world with you, so we may spend our past, present, and future together. Penelope Featherington, if a husband is what you seek, then let me be yours. Will you marry me?” Another short pause as he chuckles. “I also already asked your father until he could not take no for an answer, but that is less romantic.”

She laughs, loudly and carefree. Colin’s heart soars at the sound. Like pieces falling into place — he must now go forth with life, with his only goal to make Penelope laugh for the rest of their lives.

“Colin Bridgerton,” she breathes out, a hand reaching for his face. He leans into it. “I have loved you from the moment we met. Yes, I will marry you.”

Colin gasps. “From the moment—”

“We can discuss that later,” she cuts him off, an adorable flush to her cheeks. She who had no issue talking about their inappropriate behaviour just a moment before. “Would you kiss me?” she asks.

And Colin will, rather gladly.

(He does not get to, Lady Featherington and her two other daughters suddenly appear. This woman will continue to test his patience for the rest of his life.)

꧁༺࿅ིཽ• –– •❈• –– •࿅ིཽ༻꧂

As rain starts falling on the Hastings Ball, and Lady Danbury ushers everyone away to give the Duke and Duchess their moment, Colin finds himself grabbing Penelope’s hand amidst the hurried crowd and pulling her into an isolated room instead.

“Mr Bridgerton! How inappropriate!” she teases even as she easily meets his open arms, and accepts the kiss he presses to her lips.

“We are to be married next week, Miss Featherington,” he breathes into her mouth. “This hardly makes any difference.”

Penelope chuckles, small hands framing his face as she pulls away. “I thought you to be a gentleman, my love, but the rakish glint in your eyes says otherwise…”

“Only for you, Pen,” he assures, bringing her body closer to his, a hand sprayed across her lower back, twitching to go even lower. “Actually, I never…”

He does not complete his sentence, he does not need to, really, Penelope already knows. Under that innocent gaze, he now knows her to be more aware of… the acts of debauchery many gentlemen of the Ton attend to, of what brothels are and what some pairs do when in a secluded area. She hears people talk, she says, because no one is ever truly quiet nor discreet during balls, it is like an open secret, everyone is aware, yet no one acknowledges it.

“I just… wanted to hold you, for a moment, nothing else,” he confesses, sighing softly as she tilts her head up, allowing their foreheads to rest together despite their height difference.

“I am not going anywhere, Colin.” One of her hands slides to his neck and a shiver shakes his body as he feels the cold metal of her engagement ring against his skin. “You are stuck with me.”

“I am blessed with you,” he corrects, delighting in the slight flush that settles on her freckled cheeks. “You know… my parents married when they were our age. And they had been friends for years as well.”

Penelope hums, tilting her head. “I am aware. Are you insinuating you wish to have as many children?”

She means it in jest, he is fully aware, but he is stricken for a moment at the image of adorable red-head children running around their house and only Penelope lightly slapping his arm snaps him out of it.

“I was not serious!” she exclaims. “I love your family but I would rather have less chaos in our home.”

“Our home,” he repeats dreamily, distracted once more. He truly is unable to focus on anything when Penelope is in his arms, is he?

“We have time to think about all that, don’t we?” Penelope muses as she suddenly turns around, her back pressed to his chest as she guides his arms around her. She rests her head on his shoulder with a pensive sigh. “I mean, as a third son and daughter, there ought to be some advantages.”

He hums. It is true, isn’t it? Neither of them has the pressure of keeping a title to their name. He has two older brothers, whose children will always be the first in line to inherit the viscountcy. Penelope has two older sisters, one of which on her way to be married next season. If an heir is needed, it would not be Penelope who would be expected to give one to the world.

Free from such constrictions, they can choose to pursue their married life as they please.

“I think… I think I wish to travel first,” he shares, tightening his hold around her and burying his face in her hair. “It will be good to get away from Mayfair for a little while.”

Penelope nods. “Where would you go first?”

“I hear Greece is the perfect place for a honeymoon. We can visit Aphrodite’s temple, and renew our vows there.”

She laughs. God, he truly loves that sound. “We are not even married yet!”

“And so? My point still stands.”

She fondly shakes her head, letting all her weight fall against him. Carefully, he does the same, and they find themselves sitting on the floor, curled up around each other.

The rain is still falling outside, a soft rhythm against the window. Colin surmises most of the guests must have left already, hoping to reach their homes before the gentle pour turns into a storm. Their families may be looking for them as well, but Colin is not so sure, in any case, he cannot hear any commotion outside of the room, or voices calling their names.

It is as if they are in their own little world, for now.

“I would like that,” Penelope says eventually. She is absent-mindedly running her fingers up and down his arm. “Anywhere with you is where I belong.”

Colin leans down, kissing the crown of her hair then pulling her ever so closer. “I love you. I cannot wait for the many adventures awaiting us.”

Because they have known each other for half of their lives, growing and changing in an ever-stifling London atmosphere. Now, the rest of the world, as well as their lives, is open to them.

And Colin shall embrace such a future with both his arms.

#bridgerton #bridgerton fic #polin #polin fic #colin x penelope #my fics

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rising-dawn · 2 years ago

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peonyumi:

ʚɞ

she smiled softly watching their hands before allowing her eyes to scan back up to his face. “no, no you didn’t do any thing i just…” yumi sighed, squeezing is palm within her fingertips. “i’ve never. well i have, but, that’s just another long story.” the vocalist’s eyes rolled as she sighed again shaking her head, a story she was not interested in sharing. not right now, eventually she’d have to explain to dawn why him settling in that empty space in her heart was so painful. why it felt like every nerve of hers was on fire to kiss him but in more ways than one. she hadn’t wanted to get sad all over again, but eunwoo’s death had gone from being a something she’d distanced herself from, to becoming a cloud over her, and that mostly came from the woman she’d die and kill for all in the same breath. “i just had a lot…i needed to think about, and it just made me really anxious. i closed you out rather than just talking to you, it had nothing to do with what you did.”

yumi couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled in her throat, shyly she broke one of the entanglements of their fingers to hide her mouth on instinct as she did so. “no, oh my gosh sungie it wasn’t the kiss.” she smiled brightly, “the kiss was amazing, i mean i did ask you to kiss me a second time didn’t i? it was everything i’ve ever dreamed of.” she said sheepishly, hiding the way her cheeks flamed a bashful red. yumi sighed again, firmly shaking their hands to still them for a moment. “daesung-ah can we just…start over.” the blonde looked at him hopefully, big eyes softening, threatening to mist over with tears. “but like not from the beginning…from phoenix…around 2:10AM…on janurary 1st…if that’s okay with you?” yumi tacked on with a growing smile.

♡ .

his eyes were soft as he intently listened to her explanation, but he felt his heart tighten again in worry for her. he didn’t want to pry, but whatever it was she didn’t want to indulge on seemed to be making her upset. “well i want you to know that you can talk to me. if you want to, of course. in the future,” he tried to sound as genuine as he felt, but the way his words awkwardly stumbled out of his mouth made him feel a little dumb in the moment. he just prayed that she truly understood. he didn’t know what he would do if he ever ended up in a situation like this again.

dawn awkwardly chuckled along with her for a moment, unsure of where it was going, but his smile tore into a grin as he finally got to see the familiar blush of her cheeks he missed so much. it finally felt like a huge weight was lifted off his shoulders and his posture visibly eased at her reassuring words. “january 1st, 2:10 am, phoenix. i think that works for me,” he smiled, hearts nearly blooming in his eyes as he could finally take in her smiling features again after what felt like ages. “well, if we’re still ringing in the new year... will you dance with me?” he pulled away slightly to formally offer her his hand, the slower music accompanying the ambience of the ball. a valentine’s celebration with the one he liked so deeply was all he could ask for, but wasting the night twirling her around on the dance floor could only make it that much better.

#ੈ♡˳ thread #ੈ♡˳ yumi #ੈ♡˳ xin

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ramblingguy54 · 3 years ago

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Sonic Movie 2: The Brotherly Sonic & Tails Scene I Wanted

SPOILERS AHEAD, DUH.

One of my expectations going into this film yesterday was seeing Sonic take up the mantle of big brother to Tails and did it do more than deliver. It gave an emotionally charged adorable moment of fluff when they were winding down after that big dance number. Loved they put Sonic in the very same position of Tom Wachowski previously showing someone the ropes, as well as being there for Tails solitude. Sonic & Tails brother dynamic has always been one of my favorite aspects of their characterization because they both inspire each other to become stronger. Seeing the film recapture the magic I felt from it in games like Sonic Adventure 1 & 2 to say was a real treat is an understatement, naturally.

It’s funny and meta as Hell to have Tails been keeping tabs on Sonic, since that big energy blast reading from the first film. Now Sonic gets to be in the shoes of what Tom felt like having someone being inspired by his antics for awhile, despite never knowing he was becoming a future role model to another person, or in this case two tailed genius. Sonic instantly clicks with Tails feeling so alone, despite Miles being around his own kind, due to getting made fun of for being the only fox in his village to have two tails. He was always looked at as out of place, instead of receiving fair treatment, which in retrospect is as equally painful toward Sonic’s solitude having to hide himself all those years.

Tails had a community, who was supposed to be there for him, and they failed to ever make this kid feel included in their way of life. Keeping tabs on him in case of future dangers wasn’t his only reason obviously, as seeing Sonic embrace being who he is allowed Tails to gain confidence in asserting himself enough to go out there and protect the hedgehog from Dr. Eggman’s malicious intentions. It’s heartwarming and extremely consistent to what Tails’ personality is all about from being a shy, albeit lonely, kid toward becoming confident in who he is, due to watching Sonic from afar. Such a simple moment, but effective.

My heart melted seeing Sonic empathize a huge deal with Tails’ reasoning for joining him in his quest. Sonic sees underneath the genius and his two tailed ability knowing he’s just a kid, who has only ever wanted companionship. I was hoping they’d go there with Tails relating strongly to this iteration’s of Sonic’s backstory feeling said sting being on their own for years. I’m happy it didn’t take long for Sonic to grow into the role big brother Wachowski more or less, since why wouldn’t he? Deep down Sonic always wanted a family to call his own after losing his mother Longclaw. Sonic may have rejected the idea of calling Tom his dad at first, but meeting Tails reminded him of the family values he holds.

If Sonic can show Tails how Earth is and become the friend/family Miles never had, then he can in turn amend that grief of losing his mother. He can truly earn his moment of what it means to be a hero in taking responsibility for helping someone find their place. The building blocks were there for a damn great moment between these two and I’m ecstatic they didn’t choose to overlook it. This is how you pay tribute to what makes Sonic & Tails friendship inspiring.

Like Wachowski father, like Hedgehog son. It’s absolutely sweet Sonic does for Tails, what Tom did for him before with this blanket callback to the hotel scene. Sonic’s doing his best to pass on what compassion he has experienced. The same compassion that made him choose to stay on Earth and not run away to another dimension. Now he has something new to protect with Tails as a mentor figure of sorts. Sonic wants him to know he’ll be there for him, always.

The best and most cutest part of all from their scene together? Miles wrapping his two tails around Sonic to give him warmth. Holy shit, just when I thought this scene couldn’t get any cuter it throws me a curve ball at the end of it. It’s utterly wholesome and poetic because Tails had always been mocked for how different he was from other foxes in his tribe, but now those very things are being used to help give warmth toward another. Some part of Tails had likely hated being born so different from others and used his skills for building tech to cope with it all. However, after seeing and meeting Sonic everything changed.

Tails embraces who he is and accepts his “weirdness”, overall.

#sonic movie 2 spoilers #miles tails prower #sonic the hedgehog #this scene is like a big ball of fluff #it's downright fucking adorable #hello! can you tell this one of my favorite scenes in this film?#aww yeah this is the tails content i've been waiting for #sonic movie 2

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kkusuka · 4 years ago

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(i had to repost lol- it wasn’t showing up on my page)

this the request: part 3 of thiccy gf hcs ??? with kuroo, terushima, sakusa, and daichi and/or atsumu 🥺👉🏽👈🏽 i must be fed

i understand your need for them

and as a member of the thunder-thigh committee, i am happy to write about my fellow sexy women! (another 4:56 am ramble i refuse to delete)

part one

part 2 <3

i mixed this with this ask ; Pt. 3 of the thicc af gf with Aone, Osamu, Kyotani, Daichi, Kuguri, and Terushima plz? 🥺

this got wayyyyyyyyy long

4, 685 words. my finger slipped?

Kuroo tetsuro

this guy has been trying to get you since first year

he’s that dedicated

and you didn’t even notice, he was just a flirty friend who helped you with science

(even when he would practically put you in his lap while he went over things)

lo and behold, he finally got his chance during the third year culture festival

yeah as in he waited a whole three years for this

Eh, once again, had a whole pan to make you see him as your great future husband, aka the haunted house (a good excuse to have you hold onto him)

He has to give it to class 2-4, the did a damn good job, it was scary

Long story short you fell on top of him, boobs in face hands-on ass

~heaven~

Mans actually asked you to be his girlfriend right there, groping you and murmuring between your boobs. (he wouldn't have gotten up if the next group wasn’t approaching.)

From then on he’d literally do anything for the ass

He’s a big simp and we all know it.

Like When you wear shorts he has to ‘pull them down’ aka feel you up while pulling the hem of your shorts down ever so slightly.

Or when he gets on a knee right behind you to ‘tie his shoe’, but the school shoes have no laces.

He could be a bit more creative and he wanted to look under your skirt.

When he wants to cut the bull shit he’ll just lift the back of your skirt and rub around for a but, to hell with all the other kids in the hallway.

(did I mention that he puts things on the highest shelves so he can walk up behind you and practically dry hump you.)

Speaking of simp nation

You can't really wear anything without setting him off

Shorts drive him absolutely nuts, it's insane. But it isn't his fault that most of your shorts are spandex that cut off right at the beginning of your thighs, it's like a homemade booty lifter. He just can’t help but wanting to cop a feel.

Or the color red in general. It is ridiculous, the guy rips everything when he tries to take it off too. So that stunning red cocktail dress with the lace-up sides was not unwearable, and you only had it on for like 2 hours. And that was only because it was a friend's 18th birthday party you were both invited to.

(thanks to kuroo not letting you out of his arms you both were late and left early.)

((in his defense you looked like a full course meal and it was giving him severe blue balls, and he’s only seen you for a few minutes))

Halloween, you know. the one night you could dress up as anything. any you decide to go as a cat-girl in a maid costume. And you expected him to just take that sitting down? Hell no. the red thigh highs AND the corset middle? You're lucky it lasted as long as it did.

That my dear was bravery. His color. A cat. And a short skirt. With thigh highs!

And so, he did what he did all those other times, dragged you to sit on his lap, and opening your thighs, and like a good girl you’ll let him

If you could already tell, he gives no shits to whos watching, let ‘em see (they really never do but you get the point)

He’s also a prime thigh groper, especially when he wants to keep your legs open, he also loves thigh hic

Terushima Yuji

Another shower-offer

You were already he's so why can't he let everyone know?

Speaking of you being his, he doesn't tell people how you guys don’t together, with good reason considering you practically beat him up

Not really but that’s what he calls it, basically he tried to get with one of your friends at a party.

She just happens to not be interested in men and has a wonderful girlfriend, so she was uncomfortable but couldn't tell him to leave her alone

So you took fate into your own hands, literally, you stole Fate from class 3-2’s drink and poured it on him before slapping him and telling him about how he was a pig.

And he fell in love, you looked like an angel, a really hot angel, it didn't help you were in a white dress either

And from then on he literally once or twice, got on his knees for you, asking to give him a chance.

Honestly, it got annoying, so you just agreed to make it go away. It did, but you also gained a perv of a boyfriend who has an insatiable love for your lower half

He’s a simple creature, do take caution of his fragile being

So that means all those times you bend over in front of him he was slowly cracking and trying to figure out where the nearest storage closet is.

He thought he was having heart palpitations when he saw you in the damn dress again, apparently, he didn't see all of it. Specifically the v-neck top, and the fact it only went to the end of your ass. Needless to say, he made sure to walk behind you on every staircase that you went on

Another set off is yoga legging, like the lululemon ones, that people wear all the time. They fit you great, really really great. They were supposed to work out in them???? Why were they so skin-tight????? And he also figured out that you wore things because of them. Instant nut.

How you ask, simple.

One time he saw your underwear line through the pants and he pointed them out, they did make it seem like your ass was super soft so he saw his chance and took it.

So the next time you wore them and he didn't see the lines he was like ??????

And thus began the “Yuji hunt for lineless underwear” and he found the thongs

And you received the fucking of your life soon after.

Oh! And there’s any time you go to the beach. Literally every time.

No cap.

The first time was when you wore a red one-piece and he practically went feral. It wasn't really a one-piece if it was see-through and had the lowest neckline on the planet.

Everyone was looking at you.

He practically fucked you on the beach but held off until you got back to the hotel room.

He’s way more forward when he wants to fuck, if you could imagine. He’ll just walk up to you and tell you he wants to get some, like right now.

If you can even ignore him, he’ll throw an arm around your waist and grope around your legs, all the way to the apex.

It is also not below him to try and get you off while still wearing underwear that he will be taking after.

(i didn't say anything about his stash off orgasm ruined underwear? My bad.)

Sakusa Kiyoomi

Going beyond the fact he even has a girlfriend, y’know considering, but the fact that no one knew who you were until you showed up at nationals to cheer him on

(atsumu was even starting to think that you didn't exist and that poor kiyoomi just imagined you up, so can imagine his shock when you ran up to said boy after they won)

The whole dating thing wasn't the shocking part; it was the fact that you looked like you walked off of the Milan runway.

And you were wearing leggings and sakusa's jacket, all of a sudden everyone was interested in how that happened

It was a kind of a boring story, someone had spilled coffee in a shop that you both happen to be in

And he watched you offer the man the same disinfectant wipes that he uses!

And in the most sakusa way possible he followed you out of the shop and tried to talk to you.

An exchange of numbers and many awkward conversations (and boners) later, you were a couple.

Back to that hug, like the many others, he's let you have, it’s all just to feel how soft you were

But poor touch -starved sakusa doesn't know what to do with any of these pent up feelings.

And he has a loooooooot of them.

Multiple occasions have shaped the poor germ-boy into the horny-tornado he has become

so he’s not really into what you’re wearing, it’s more about what you’re doing

like when you wore the mask he bought you to one of his games, and you wore one of his alternate uniforms, but the kicker was how you stayed away from everyone and didn’t let a single person near you (or his shirt)

or when you helped him clean his dorm when he was doing his weekly deep clean

or when the two of you washed the dishes while trying to do one of those “try not to sing” challenges

(is it normal to get a boner when your girlfriend helps you clean? no?)

but, as much as he tries to remain emotionless on the subject, there are multiple exceptions to the “it’s not what she wears” whole thing

Like that violet puffy skirt, you wore to a study fate, the one with the white sweater? That one, the same one that he could see your panties, from anywhere he sat. and Every time you got up you would have to smooth it down to make the creases go down, but it was only ever really giving him a good idea about the shape of your ass.

(if he sees you in that skirt again he’s just going to fuck you in it)

The lesser-known horny-inducer, since he made you take it off within the first five minutes, was a dress! What kind of dress? A neon yellow see-through mesh dress. The bottom wasn’t what got him though, it was the fact that your white bra was clearly seen under the mesh top. Or maybe it was the way the skirt made your waist look super small, and how your hips looked so round and squeezable.

Yeah, no one else could experience you in that.

Not to sound like this, but sakusa is still averse to touch

BUT BUT BUT

That goes out the window when he wants to dance the devil's tango with you.

Mr. His way or no way shows up, he does it every so slightly different

If it’s just the two of you, he’ll put a hand on your shoulder and he’ll push you to your knees. And he’ll pet your head and tell you what’s about to happen and advise you to listen like a good girl.

But in the instance you are in the presence of others, he’ll stand behind you and bring you super close to him, ass to dick. (maybe he’ll grind into you a bit, just to convince you to follow him) and he’ll throw a few words in about how much of a bitch in heat you are for getting turned on in front of all of these people.

It’s best to just do what he wants before he makes you cum in your underwear.

Daichi Sawamura

oh my

you guys are the power thigh couple

powerful and defined mixed with soft and pillowy

In Fact, that’s literally how the two of you met, thanks to Tanaka and Nishinoya of course.

(let’s just pretend karasuno has a cheer squad, and you just happened to be the captain of said team)

So basically you were doing a favor for the student council, and you were supposed to ask how many third years, managers included, were on each team and each club in the school

Easy! Turns out not so much. You were still in your cheer practice uniform, which was the shortest spandex ever made, and a Karasuno school t-shirt that was ever so slightly too tight.

Anyway, you make it to the gym and open the door, and the little one, Yachi, saw you and literally screamed. (she was right by the door), and that alerted everyone else in the gym, which led to the bald boy and his short companion pushing you further into the gym.

But in the better sense, it did gain the attention of the captain! Just the exact moment he was in front of you someone pushed; your back and within a second, in some miracle like way, you both ended up on the floor and he ended up planked on top of you with a leg between your spread thighs.

Almost kissing nonetheless.

Then, like the gentleman he was, he got off and asked you if you alright and kneeled down and let you use his shoulder to try and stand back up.

You did get up, for a split second, Daichi still kneeling letting you use him as a step stool when a certain red-head was flung right into you and you went toppling forward.

Onto Daichi.

Onto Daichi's face.

Your thighs around his head.

His hands-on your ass.

Hand in his hair.

He could sit there forever, you were frozen, everyone else was frozen.

You eventually climbed off and asked how many third years there were. But he just sat there, his hands hadn’t moved either, luckily Suga answered and you were on your way.

And Daichi still didn’t move, after that incident, you had begun to see him everywhere, and eventually, he just cut the shit and asked you out.

Daddy Daichi likes seeing you in literally anything from sweatshirts to lingerie.

His favorite was the brown buttoned pencil skirt and the white blouse, that you wore to a date. You were kind of overdressed for the ramen shop and after a walk, but he didn't even care. He was so thrown off by how turned on he was he couldn't speak in full sentences.

An example:

“Yeah, the food here is- boob, I-I mean great, not boob, great, yes, great.”

The second.

Was a bathrobe.

Can you see where I'm going with that? Simply you look hot.

His favorite part of the night was ripping it off of you.

And like the first time you met, he had his head in your thighs <3

Atsumu Miya

You met poor atsumu at a party.

He tried to shoot his shot, y’know he sees a cute lady he’s just gotta try and show you what you could be getting

he had it all planned, he was going to walk up behind you and run his hands over your delicious curves and ask you if you were in need of any help

he doesn’t take into account that a having a random guy just start groping you and pressing himself behind a girl was panic-inducing

so when he dropped your waist, you freaked out and may or may not have punched him in the dick

while he was in a. world of pain you age to figure out what the hell had just happened to you

then you noticed him on the floor, and when he noticed you looking at him he put this forced cocky smirk on and gave you a “how you doing”

You took pity on the poor creature and helped him up and got him some ice, then conversed with him for the majority of the rest of the night.

And he just hasn't left you alone since

(and, you learned this far later, that he went so far to tell Sakusa and Kageyama all about you and how amazing you are, and has even sent them- more than one- picture

But in other news, he’s very horny

So really all that means is he always has his hands on you

Like during practice breaks when you're allowed to come down and talk to him for a bit, give him some things, but it normally just consists of him sitting on the bench and you standing in front of him.

While his hands rest on your hips and his face is shoved into the valley between your breasts, and he just sits and listens to you as you brush a hand through his hair.

Or sometimes, if he had been having a rough time, he’ll just have his hands under your skirt and he’ll feel around for a bit while grumbling about how people cant hit his sets

But for being the possessive bastard he is, he sure likes letting you wear all those outfits

Like the booty shorts and tank top, you wore to bring them food during the summer training camp. That same camp that the two of you disappeared at and he came back looking like he had won the lottery.

Or the cute little red dress you wore to your anniversary date? The one that made him have a hard-on the entire time you were at dinner. He knows the waiter remembers, he also bets the waiter remembers seeing him fucking you in the car when his shift was over.

And that time you wore his jersey to bed and sent him a picture of it. It was such a good picture that he made it his lock screen for everyone to see.

He just likes looking at you tbh.

Aone Takanobu

you guys didn’t meet in some weird perverted way, it was actually really cute!

Not to sound creepy but he knew that you were in the garden club because you sat right in front of him in class

And since he didn't talk to anyone else in that class he was just content with listening, and so there he was

Standing outside of the garden club door holding his withering basil plant. Lost.

Lucky for him you were walking down the hallway and greeted him, looking all pretty and cute

You did help him realize that he was overwatering the basil and within a few weeks, it was back to life!

From that first time on, he came to the club room with you twice a week and walked home with you, just listening to all the random plant facts that you had harbored in your mind.

Eventually, with the help of the team, he asked you out, and you hugged him and said yes, and that was the beginning of the “oh god, y/n is way softer than I thought”

So he really just tries to be near you or be touching you at all times

(i am also a firm believer that he likes to slow dance to classical music in your living room)

Like during lunch periods when you sit next to him and the second you finish eating hell push you to lean against him

And he’ll rub small circles on your hips and give you small innocent gropes

Or how he hugs your waist when you're doing literally anything, and he puts his head on top of your head while swaying

I can also tell you that Aone is a good singer

So he hums to you (I'm uwuing over my own headcanon lol)

He also really likes just running his hands along your body, so he likes when you wear the one-piece dresses so he has smooth sailing down your body

As a man of little words, he clearly has a more physical approach to getting you on the horny train

What I am trying to get at is that more often than not he literally just picks you up and carries you away.

Of course, that leaves you to come back to whatever you were doing.

That is after the cuddles and after sex ‘conversations’ about the dumbest things

Basically, he likes to hear you talk and he really likes being near.

Osamu Miya

He knew who you were

With a brother like atsumu, who never shuts up about you, it's hard not to

(Osamu is pretty sure atsumu had a picture of you next to his pillow. ew)

Anyway, the two of you just happened to share the same lunch block, and it also just happens to be the only period block that he was alone

No teammates and no especially close that he could hang out with

That meant he could either study or eat

Had he chose to eat, only to be met with the fact that atsumu had drained both of their lunch accounts for his flavor of the week

Poor baby stood there for a while just processing what was the worst news of his life

When you, a true angel among the evil, said that you would graciously pay for his food so that he didn't outlook so sad anymore

If he wasn’t holding an armful of onigiri he would have fallen on his knees and begged to whatever god was out there to let him keep you

But he settled for thanking you and spending the entire period with you, he even offered to share (for the first time in his life)

You complimented him on his flavor choice and he decided to keep you

He made sure to share his recipes with you and you tried to do the same

And somehow that evolved into you guys going on dates, much to atsumu’s distaste, and you guys were totally hitting it off

Osamu was your official biggest fan, he loved everything you do

But that means he wants to stay your biggest fan, and he knows that you’re pretty well known for boys thinking not so innocent things about you

Again being brothers with atsumu gave him this little sadistic streak

He lets you wear all of the revealing outfits and the bikinis, all for everyone to see

Everyone to see what belongs to him

Like at suna’s party he let you wear a black mini-skirt and a white off the shoulder long sleeved flowy shirt.

You looked good, and all the guys staring at you proved that point tenfold. Three guys had come up to you and tried to get you to go upstairs with them. And it was almost immediately shut down when they noticed the act you were sitting on your boyfriend.

Speaking of, he almost always has you in his lap.

Aww, cute! Not, he like grinding you down on him, that's also why he likes having you wear skirts, easy access to your ass, also a nice way to ensure that he could get more than a few gropes in when he wants

No, it's definitely the way he made you wear thigh highs to school one day and the shortest skirt you owned (like a school skirt) and walked behind you the entire day.

And he just reached behind you and lifted your skirt for the whole hallway to see, but mostly for him

He waists no time when he wants to fuck, he’ll just walk up to and open your legs while making out with either you or your neck.

And yes he has done that in front of atsumu

Who was warned to stay out of their room for a while.

Not to mention all those times he convince you to go to school with no underwear on just for the fun of it

(I didn't tell you this but those off the shoulder mini dresses drive him wild. On graduation day he pulled into a closet and had his way with you. I mean he did say that if you wore that dress he was going to do it, buuuuuut y’know….. yolo)

Kyotani Kentaro

We all know he’s a fighter, which means he gets hurt a lot, which in turn makes him a frequent face in the nurse's office

And who happens to be the nurse's niece? You of course!

And right after school, when your aunt takes her break and leaves you to take care of the office alone

Right after school is also when Kyotani always comes in.

(it’s not like he knew that you would be there alone, and that meant that you had to deal with him and heal him up. And it also is not like he started the fight so he could come here and see you. No not that)

Who am I kidding it was like that.

It was totally like that.

Your hands were just so soft when they put the bandages on and you have to bend down to get the wrapping.

He had a crush, that's what iwaizumi said, and after googling what the symptoms of a crush were he was sure

So with the help of the third years, aka Oikawa just having Iwaizumi repeat what he wanted to say, they had a plan

And the next time he was in the office he asked if you wanted to see a movie with him, it was so cute and he looked so shy

It would have been perfect if after five seconds he tried to take it back, you still went on the date with him though

He was happy.

Angry boy likes hugs

And yes he does, no objections

So when he’s upset he’ll make these grabby hands at you and have you come over and stand with him

He shoves his chin on your shoulder and his hands squeezing your waist and you’ll rock back and forth until he calms down.

He’s also very aware of what you wear

Like how your skirt perfectly frames your legs. How the socks you wear make your legs look 10x longer, and make you look like you’re walking like a model.

Or the dark blue leggings you wore with his alternate jersey and you were cheering for him!

But nothing and I mean NOTHING gets him better than when you wear spandex shorts and one of his shirts. He goes feral every time.

This man is the CEO of picking you up and placing you on his lap, straddle style, and just going ham on you

Not to mention that sometimes when he’s really tired he’ll have you just sitting on his lap while he plays with your thighs

(he also likes playing with your waist and stomach, but he doesn't realize that he’s talking out loud so you can hear all of the “so soft”’s he lets out.

Kuguri

You were one of Mika's close friends so you were always just kind of around

It was a little get together that Daishou threw that really made you two close

It was a weird drinking game of sorts, and it had these teams, and you were out as a pair!

Somehow throughout the game, you guys got side-tracked and just ended up talking to each other the rest of the night

Eventually, you were convinced to go on a double date and the rest was history

He didn't even pay attention to what you wore that much until he heard a few rando kids in the locker room talking about it.

And that’s when he started thinking about just who he was dating

He first realized how round your ass was. Is it normal to look that good in leggings? No one else has ever looked that good to him. With that came his obsession with just touching your butt. He just grabs it or he’ll stop you from walking and palm it. Or he’ll rub circles into it.

(it's cute how intrigued he is by your butt)

Then came his obsession with your thighs. Mostly the way that they spread out when you sit. He didn't even understand why they were just so mesmerizing. They were so squishy too. He likes how they look in his hands-

Lastly was the waist thing. You aren't even sure what it is. He just likes putting his hands on your waist. Like a prom picture. Sometimes he’ll squeeze or run his hands along your sides. But he’s mostly stationary.

He also has this habit of just opening your legs and laying on your stomach.

He is just so into how soft you are.

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onlymexsarah · 4 years ago

Text

Prince Friedrich | Amore e Psiche

MAIN MASTERLIST

Request 1: “ i loved both jealousy and taste of sin so much!! 😍😍you literally made my day better. i would love to see more of them together. maybe how them courting or their first encounters? 😇🥲”

Request 2: “ I cant say i saw anything wrong with your prince friedrich imagine. I actually really fooocking loved it 🥰 💕!! It was so 🥰 cute!! I need more! Would you be willing to do a prequel of sorts where she met him and their walks in the park? Or even from his perspective of his first thoughts of the reader? “

Summary: (This is the prequel of “Prince Friedrich | Jealousy”) the behaviour of your sister Daphne brought you to meet Prince Friedrich at the ball with the Queen.

Pairing: Prince Friedrich x Bridgerton!reader

Warnings: my english :)

A/N: For this one I got inspired by the story of Cupid and Psyche, if you don’t know it I leave you there a summary because there will be many allusions at their story ;)

SEQUEL 1 - SEQUEL 2

“Do you think that he will speak german? Or maybe he knows english? Oh, do you recon if His Highness had ever travelled?” you asked excited at your brother, Benedict, while you entered at the ball.

“I do not know, sister. You can ask these question to him personally, tonight.” he said ironical smiling at the Lords who walked beside you.

“If he will have time for them, my dear brother. I am sure that if he’ll want peace he will have to disappear somewhere where the Ladies will be not able to find him.” you both laughed searching around the room your sister Daphne.

“Be careful with that tounge, Y/n. You know that I love you for that, but not many Lords will think the same.” he warned you kindly knowing that your temper wasn’t like the others Ladies.

“Fortunately I don’t want many Lords. I think that Lord de Bethencourt had hit the right string in me, and he likes me for who I am, Benedict.” you smiled thinking about your suitor, Lord de Bethencourt, that since the first ball had started courting you as a true gentleman without boring or offending you in any ways. “Look, there is my sister with...Simon.”

Benedict could hear your smirk even without looking at you, indeed his attention was captured by the opening of the large doors followed by the entrance of Queen Charlotte with her nephew, Prince Friedrich of Prussia.

“Oh, they are arri...ved....” your breating stopped for few seconds causing Benedict to look at you; however your gaze was fixed on the guy who’s arm was intertwined with the Queen’s. You would had sworn to have seen Cupid himself revealing his face for the first time as he did with Psyche after their marriage. When his eyes met yours, you were sure that Canova must had taked ispiration from him for Cupid’s sculpture, because never in your life you had ever seen such beauty as the Prince himself.

“I will be not surprise when you will drag Colin in Prussia at your next travel.” Benedict joked smirking looking the Prince who now was approaching your sister.

You woke up from your dreams blinking many times to understand what was happening. The Prince now was speaking with Daphne but at some point she laughed, and from his face you could see that he hadn’t say something funny. “Well, surely now he knows how the Bridgertons are.” you said shrugging slightly keeping your elegant posture. “One of us should go and apologies for her.”

You looked Benedict, he looked you. Both wanted to send the other because neither of you liked to speak with the Queen. “Look your Charming Prince is coming, I must let you to know him.”

“What! No you must stay here and intimidate him! It is what you brothers are made for.” you tried to keep his arm in your hands without looking clumsy, but obviously he was stronger than you.

“Trust me, sister, you can intimidate him perfectly by yourself.” he gave you one last smirk before slipping away among the people leaving you alone. You heard the heels of the Queen approaching, and with still your amused smile you turned around ready to meet them.

The Prince’s eyes were already on you making your cheeks turned into a soft pink. His smile suggested you that he had assist at the scene with your brother, even if he couldn’t hear what you said, and when the Queen spoke briefly about you he wasn’t surprise to know that you were also a Bridgerton. He noticed happily that you were a particular family.

“Miss Y/n Bridgerton, he is Your Highness Prince Friedrich of Prussia.” the cold voice of the Queen interrupted you from staring Prince’s eyes.

“Your Grace, it’s a pleasure meeting you.” you bowed slowly wanting to remember at the Queen that Daphne wasn’t the only one who could bow in a charming way.

“Please, my aunt loves the title, but Prince Friedrich is more than enough, Miss Bridgerton.” he smiled kindly at you when you stood up. He bowed too, kissing your hand over your glove charmed by your smile. He had the pleasure to see it long before approaching, when the smile had began more polite and less amused. He saw you interacting with your brother in such a natural way that he couldn’t not think that you were the only two people who didn’t hide behind a mask.

“I hope you enjoied the journey, Prince Friedrich. I heard that the English Channel is not always so kind with its sailors.” he appreciated that you didn’t say the same questions or senteces of the others Ladies he met, but instead you chose to make an indirect question adding a true fact and leaving him the word.

“I was lucky, the sky was blue and the sun had welcomed us with the warmest of its rays.” you were happy to hear the German accent in his voice while he kept speaking, like you had imagined since the news of his arrival.

“I am happy to hear that, and I wanted to apologies for the behaviour of my sister, few moments ago. We are a very...vivacious family.” you giggled at your last words thinking about all the time that you and your brothers had made your mother loosing her mind.

He could not hold a laugh at your comment, knowing perfectly what meant growing up in a big family with people you love. He ignored Queen’s eyes on him that was waiting to walk away; he just staied still admiring your features while with still your smile on you were looking the couples who were ending their dance.

“Have you had already the pleasure to dance, Lady Y/n?” he asked curious letting the Queen understand that he hadn’t the intention of going away.

“Unfortunately, not yet. I have arrived few minutes before you, Your Grace, and your arrival had shadowed my presence here, I think.” you raised an eyebrow turning your gaze on him. Benedict was right, you could intimidate people by your own and you had so much fun doing that, because it was beautiful seeing the men taken back by a woman.

He raised his hand offering it to you with shining eyes and a little bow. “Your beauty is too shiny to be shadowed; I beg you to let me repair at what I have done. Perhaps with a dance?”

The Queen looked him shocked while your smile grew bigger. “I do not think it will be appropriate, Friedrich.” she said worried.

“It is my fault that this beautiful Lady has not been invited to dance yet, I cannot let to this injustice to happen.” he felt his heart lighter when he heard your laugh.

You took his hand happily to have the power of doing something that the Queen didn’t approve; she had made the mistake to understimate you just because your vitality that a Lady shouldn’ t have, and now you were taking her nephew away under he own nose. “I suppose a dance can repair your damage, Prince Friedrich.”

You hadn’t realize that you were actually to be about to dance with a Prince, untile all the eyes were on you. You two were let alone at the centre of the room, standing in front of each other without looking away from the other’s eyes. Whispers could be heard around you, Benedict was looking the face of the mothers around him to make a laugh while Daphne was positively surprised with beside her Simon had a huge grin on his face.

After bowing you stepped closer to let one of his hand resting on your hips while with the other he took yours. You rested your left hand on his shoulder and the music began covering the whispers and leaving the only two of you to dance.

“It is a honor being your first dance of tonight, Lady Bridgerton.” he said breaking your silent.

“You flatter me, Your Grace.” he spinned you taking all the space you wanted since no one had yet joined you. “Although you stil haven’t meet my all family; you would find yourself less honored and more...longing to walk away and never meet us again.”

With your surprise he laughed lowering his head a little looking the ground for a moment. He felt attracted by your humor; it made him feel more relaxed and it brought him memories about his childhood with his cousins with who he was used play and laugh every day.

“I find it quite impossible, my Lady, but tell me something about you...I heard that you are a traveller; which place has the unattainable fortune to own your heart?” his voice was smooth and sweet but still with the firmness of a Prince. You wondered if the choice of wearing the same blue of his eyes had been his own choice or it was you that sometime observed too much.

“I’ve been in few places with my brother, Lord Colin Bridgerton, but I hope to see more.” he nodded understanding the feeling. “I found Scotland quite lovely, but if I have to be honest, my heart would like to take a little farm in Ireland and settle there among the green of its beautiful landscape.”

More you two spoke, and more he noticed how much things you had in common. You hadn’t problem to talk sincerely, you knew he was out of your league; in that room there were few Ladies who could be a future princess, and you were very aware that one of them was your sister. However the feeling that Cupid was in front of you in all his beauty was still in your chest; you couldn’t even decide which part of him you liked the most, because every thing of him matched perfectly together; his warm smile suggested the humility he had, his big blue eyes seemed belong to a baby who looked everywhere with wonder and his curly blonde hair looked like freshly cut wheat.

When the music ended you bowed at each other. He took your and kissing it without taking his eyes away from yours. Were butterflies those in your stomach? “You put me in a difficult position, my Lady. I cannot compliment with a part of you without mention the others.” his smile and his voice made you blush while he was still holding your hand. “You are a wonderful woman, Miss Y/n, and a divine dancer. I shall look to meet you again, if you allow me.”

You felt your heart beat fast in your chest, almost as it wanted to speak with Prince Friedrich personally. “Your words enchant me, Prince Friedrich. I would be more than delighted to talk with you again, maybe next time you could tell me about Prussia and suggest some place to visit for my next journey.”

“I will be not surprise when you will drag Colin in Prussia at your next travel.” you heard Benedict’s voice in your head laughing at you, but the Prince’s presence was like a drug to you.

“I will look forward to hear about your journeys, my Lady.” with a last smile, you walked in different directions still with all the eyes on you.

He found himself looking for you around the room more often than he were conscious; he learned fast that the gentleman with who you danced few times was Lord de Bethencourt, a French Lord who since your first debut had expresses the interest he had toward you in the most romantic way. He saw you two laughing, speaking and dancing with a chemistry he envied. When you would laugh due something that Lord de Bethencourt had whispered in your ear, he would ask himself what he had said to you and the same when you were commited in a deep conversation about God knew what.

The Queen had tried to make him dance with Daphne, but he wasn’t blind and he could see the affection that your sister shared with Simon, but at some point of the night Lady Cressida fainted in his arms catching the attention of everyone.

You saw with a smile that the two of them made a beautiful couple, and Cressida had always radiated royalty in everything she did. To be honest, it didn’t touch you at all; you had enjoied Prince’s company and the dance had made many gentlemen coming to you and ask for a dance so who you were to complain?

When you fell asleep you could not ask yourself why Cupid had decided to reveal his face at you so soon when with Psyche he tried to hide it everytime. You didn’t know there could exist such beauty in just a person, and still the Prince where there, in your same city and you had shared a dance together. You wished that just like Psyche, Cupid would come to you and take you away to live together, but this time Cupid was a Prince, and as a Prince he could not avoid his duty.

Dear readers,

I know you were waiting the edition of the morning, and after what happened last night at the ball I can understand you.

If you weren’t at the ball then you didn’t assist at the rivelation of the season. We all know that Daphne Bridgerton had been declared the Diamond of the season by the Queen herself, but it was another Lady who danced with Your Highness of Prussia. Indeed, Prince Friedrich and Lady Y/n Bridgerton had shared their first dance together under the disapproval look of the Queen.

Surely Lady Violet must be excited to have under her roof a future Duchess and a future Princess, and if you think that I am too fast to judge then you didn’t see Miss Y/n and Prince Friedrich at all. But Prince Friedrich must had seen that Lady Bridgerton had already a suitor, the handsome gentleman Lord de Bethencourt, I am sure we all are curious to see what will happen.

However the Prince seemed to have taked the attention of another suitable Lady, Miss Cressida Cowper. The young woman had fainted between the arm of Prince Friedrich and he helped her like a real Charming Prince, but if your eyes had fallen on Lady Y/n for a moment you could have seen that she was smiling, and not a polite one, but a true smile!

Is it possible that the charm of our Charming Prince didn’t charmed her at all? Maybe her heart is already living in France, but I would not be surprise if in few day the Prussia will reclaim her heart as its own.

If something happen, I will be the first to tell you.

Yours, Lady Whistledown.

“How was the Prince? Did he invite you at palace? Was he like the princes of the farytails?!” the shrill voice of Hyacinth filled the room in the exact moment you entered in the Living room the next morning.

“Let your sister breath, Hyacinth. Come sweatheart, sit here and tell us about last night.” your mother said making you sit on the couch beside her excited.

“Mama, I stop you here before you start to hyperventilate. We shared only one dance and it was beacuse I almost forced him to do so.” you giggled at the lovely memory of your dance.

“Although, he didn’t seem forced. I would say he quite enjoied your dance.” Benedict said slyly and you launched a pillow at him hitting his face.

“You were beautiful together, Y/n. Everyone couldn’t stop looking at you during the ball.” Daphne said smiling sweetly making you blush.

“Stop! All of you. It was only a dance and-”

You were interrupted by three servants who entered in the room with three baskets of flowers. “A gift for Miss Y/n Bridgerton.”

They put the flowers on the table leaving all of you Bridgerton looking at each other curious. It wasn’t unusual that someone sent you gifts, but no one had ever sent you so many flowers; usually it was enough just one baskets or few rose.

“Whoever send these must want your hand badly.” joked Colin while you walked toward the table.

“Maybe he will, look at this Lilies!” Lilies were your favourite flower, indeed there was a spot in the park full of them where you were used to go whenever you wanted to relax alone.

You took the ticket that was on the second baskets seeing that there was your name written with an elegant handwriting. “Make sure to read it out loud, sister.” said Anthony with a smirk.

“Lovely Miss Y/n,

the memory of our dance took the charge of my thoughs and the time we shared together seems a dream. My heart wish to hear more about your journeys and dreams, I hope my presence in the park these days will be accepted from you and perhaps we could talk again.

In the meantime, I thought about what you said of living in a little farm in Ireland, and I could not resist but imagine that these flowers would be perfect in your future garden.

Sincerely, Prince Friedrich.” your voice had become exciter after the first part of the letter, and now you didn’t know if it was a dream or it was all real.

“I didn’t know that in Prussia had such low standard:” Benedict.

“Our sister will become a Princess!” Colin.

“Yes, a Princess who will make all the Prussia crazy due her talkativeness .” Anthony.

“Y/n Bridgerton! Did you tell at the Prince that you want to live in a farm?!” Lady Violet yelled shocked by her own daughter actions.

“In my defence he liked it!” you said trying to hold a laugh. “And then...come on! Who would ever imagine that he was truly listening me?! I though, and still thing, that he is out of my league so why not being sincere?”

“Well, I would dare to say that he was truly listenting you.” said Benedict giggling earning a death glare from you.

“It is his fault!” you pointed at him looking your mother.

“Why mine?” he stood up suddenly confused.

“He left me alone when the Prince was approaching! I was unsupervised, and you know what happen when I am unsupervised.” you hoped that it would be a good excuse, but the look of your mother said otherwise. “Alright, when I’ll see him again I say that I’ve lied, my real dream is living in a huge castle full of jewerly, rules and boring stuff. Because we all know how much I love the boring stuff.”

Your drammatic tone made everyone laugh until the arrival of the first suitors for you and your sister.

You tried to stay focus on what they were saying, but every now and then your eyes felt on the baskets of flowers that were on the table worring about what the Prince was doing. Had he visisted some Lady? Maybe Lady Cressida? Or maybe he sent flowers to all the Ladies with who he had danced the last night...you wouldn’t be surprise since you had seen how much was big his kindness.

Waking up with the sight of his flowers in your bedroom made your next mornings starting in a good way. That afternoon you would meet Lord de Bethencourt at the park, and in a hidden place of your mind you were hoping to see Prince Friedrich there.

You had the beautiful idea to taking a walk with the horses so you had the opportunity to put on your new dark blue suit. The clouds were covering the sun colouring the air around you of a light shade of grey, indeed there weren’t many people out letting you two to enjoy the company of each other.

“And what was the thing that inspired a lovely lady like you to learn French?” Lord de Bethencourt asked you curious.

“You see, my Lord, with my passion for travelling the desire to know other languages came by itself. It wasn’t easy at the beginning, I must say, but I find it so romantic that I could not stay in my ignorance.” you looked over his shoulder for a moment seeing a blonde haired head sitting not far away from you.

“There is so many places in France that would be lucky to being seen by you, my Lady. Perhaps the next time shall I talk about them?” he asked taking firmly his reins ready to return at his home.

“You must, Lord de Bethencourt. I wish you a good night.” you smiled at him and after having wished you a good day he kicked his horse making him trot away.

Could you go home and relax with a good book and warm blankets? Yes.

Did you wanted to do so? Absolutely no.

So in a very natural way you turned around your horse and went towards the blonde haired man you had seen few moments before. The park was huge so you started to look around enjoing the green that was around you and looking the swan that was in the middle of the little lake at your right.

Few metres before the man, who you saw was sitting at a table admiring the lake, some guards stopped you and your waitress from going further. “I am sorry Miss, but you cannot get closer.”

“Then would you be so kind to guide me at home toward another street?” you replied with fake concern. You knew very well that there were plenty other street that would bring you home, but you wanted some fun earning his attention.

“I am really sorry Miss, but I cannot let you go further.” he looked truly sorry, but most of the men forget that a woman has more power than what they believe; indeed it was you favourite hobby making the Lords apologies with you for whatever and whenever you want.

“Then let me adjust this problem.” you cleared your throat holding the smirk that fought so hard to be free. “Your Highness! When you said that you would like to stay in my company again I didn’t expect that you would forbid me to go home.”

Prince Friedrich turned around looking surprised at you. The guard’s mouth felt open while you kept your sweet smile on your face rather amused by all the situation.

“Lady Bridgerton, for a moment I though to have seen a mirage...tell me, my guard had been unkind to you?” he walked closer to you, but you didn’t get off the horse kepping your back straight and looking him up down.

“There is not enough sun for a mirage, Prince Friedrich; unfortunately it’s just me.” you let out a giggle and a smile appeared on his face. “Although, no you guard didn’t do anything out of your orders, but I was unhappy when I found out that I couldn’t get back at home...”

“Your unhappiness bring me pain, my Lady.” he brought a hand to his heart bowing respecfully. “I cannot say that I am not pleased to see you again. Can I apologies for this misunderstanding wìth a cup of tea?”

You smiled with pride seeing that you made the Prince asking you sorry twice without even commit yourself too much. You looked behind you your brother Anthony that had been your silent chaperon for all day and after he gave you a nod smirking you turned your attention to the Prince again.

“How could I say no after the wonderful flowers you sent me?” he offered happily his hand to help you to get off the horse and you accepted it gladly. When a guard approached to take your horse you looked at him carefully. “Be careful with her. She is not fond with men due her...brutal childhood, so be kind and treat her as a Princess, because she is, right Cassidy?” you caressed your horse affectionately before giving the reins at the guard.

“What happened to Cassidy?” the Prince asked curious bringing you at the table and holding the chair for you.

“She was born to race. Her first owners used to do illegal races and it wasn’t unusual for them to beat her to make her run faster. My brother, Lord Anthony Bridgerton, found them and all the horses had been selt, but she was frightened by everything; so an afternoon I decided to visit Cassidy and day by day I took care of her.” you said lost in your memories with a little smile on your lips.

“She had been very lucky to find you, Miss Y/n, and do you like riding often?” he offered you a cup of tea that you took thanking him kindly.

“Oh yes. Mostly when I want to go in the countryside and take a walk among the green. I find horses beautiful animals.”

“I agree. So, I hope I had helped your immagination with those flowers.” he smiled with a little blush on his cheeks. If Cupid owned already such beauty, why he must own even the most melodious voice that your ear had ever heard? Wasn’t enought enchanting your eyes? What did he want from a normal human like you? Why didn’t he fly to his Psyche and let you live happily?

“These flowers made me dreams more vividly about my future garden, Prince Friedrich, and your words had been poesy for my eyes.” he must had done something to your tea, because with few words you were drunk of his presence. You didn’t dare to allow you to dream about a future with him, because you knew he was a dream to live day by day so that when you would wake up you would not have any regrets.

You talked and talked; he made you laugh and your spontaneity made him attracted to you even more. He watched your smile, your eyes, your pink cheeks and the beautiful light that turned on everytime you talked about something you loved. He found out that weren’t you only a strong woman, but you were also acculturated, clever and smart; this made him liking even more your power to stand up for yourself even with men.

“But if I will go to France, the first thing I desire to see if the sculpture of Cupid and Psyche, their story affascinate my since I was a kid.” you ended your speech about the place you wished to go in the future.

“Such a beautiful love story. I read it long time ago and still it is in my head so vividly that I could recite some part of it.” he agreed completely absorbed in your conversation.

“Indeed, I dare to say that is one of my favourite love story ever. He, the god of love find love in a human girl due his own mistake, and to protect her and himself from the mother he decided to hide his face. I mean, yes his love started because one of his own arrow hit him, by I think it was destiny.” your voice was music to his ear, he wished to be able to listen you all day.

For a moment he seemed to see cupid behind you with his arrow pointed at his chest and when his eyes felt on your face again he could feel a strange feeling in his chest, as if Cupid’s arrow had hitten him for real.

SEQUEL: Jealousy and The Sweet Taste Of Sin

#prince friedrich x reader #prince friedrich #prince fridrich bridgerton #bridgerton #bridgerton netflix #daphne bridgerton #anthony bridgerton #benedict bridgerton #colin bridgerton #bridgerton x reader

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comfortwriting · 4 years ago

Text

A Triwizard Baby Part 2 - F.W

Masterlist, Writing Prompt Masterlist, Requesting Rules, Taglist

This is Part 2 of The Triwizard Baby Series, you can read part 1 here.

Want to be tagged? Let me know!

Fred Weasley x Fem Reader

Warnings: Swearing, Pregnancy, Mention of Abortion, alcohol.

"Oh come on, Y/N." Fred begged again "Please!"

"I said no!" You hissed, slapping Fred's hand away from you, storming past him and hurrying to the bathroom, feeling more nauseous than ever.

Clutching your stomach, you fell down onto your knees and hurled yourself over the toilet, vomiting up your porridge and pumpkin juice. At the moment, mornings were cruel to you - your stomach would churn and you had to endure feeling sick, and most often vomiting up your food. You didn't think anything of it, you told yourself you got food poisoning, or one of your potions had bad side effects, but in reality, as you discovered, food and potions weren't responsible for your morning sickness - Fred's baby was.

"Miss Y/L/N, it appears that you're pregnant." Madame Pomfrey announced, handing you the strange plastic stick, pointing at the tiny circle window with a plus sign inside that stared up at you.

You put your head in your hands and sighed, starting to shake, tears filling your eyes.

"I-I don't know what to do."

"Do you want to keep it?"

"I don't know"

"Do you want to terminate the pregnancy?"

"I-I don't know, just give me time to think."

Wracking your brain and trying to think of how you could explain this to your parents, and thinking about your future, Madame Pomfrey walked across the room, sorting through various potions, you could hear the glass bottles knocking over and clinking against one another. Walking back over to you, she handed you a deep purple potion that was misty and looked sparkly when hit by the light.

"Take this once a day, each morning until you know what you want. This potion will hide any indication of pregnancy as the weeks pass by. You'll still experience the usual side effects, but the most this will do is hide your growing bump."

"The usual side effects?" you scoffed "You're saying this as if this has happened to me before, I-"

Madame Pomfrey shook her head at you "You're in here, in a complete pickle on your own because of Fred Weasley" she said quietly, in case any students were now inside the hospital wing.

You swallowed hard, was your love for him that obvious?

"You're not the first girl of his to end up here" she grumbled "And I doubt you'll be the last!"

Fred knocked other girls up? Who? Did you know them? Did they secretly keep the baby?

Everything started to make your head spin, even more, you pulled the top off the potion and necked a tiny drop down, it tasted bitter yet spicy, you could feel a tingling in your tummy.

"If you run out, you know where to find me," Madame Pomfrey said, ushering around you, fluffing up pillows and making the beds "Now, you better be off!"

You were in shock - not just about being pregnant and hiding it, but the whole night in general from what you could remember. One minute you were snogging your best friend, being cheered on by everyone around you, the next minute you were having sex, then you woke up in the morning with a pounding headache and a hangover from hell - which led you to this moment: you were already one month into your pregnancy, and no one aside from Madame Pomfrey and Dumbledore knew.

You didn't want to terminate the pregnancy, but you didn't want to raise the child either, you felt lost and afraid, and you had no one to talk to - but in the next week or so, you would either have the support of your family or you would be disowned.

"What's up with her?" George asked Fred, looking around after waiting for you to return to the great hall.

"I don't know, Georgie." Fred answered, feeling pissed off "She's been more distant, after the first task she just.. she's changed."

Fred couldn't remember anything from that night, the next morning he woke up and you were already out of his bed, and no one mentioned what happened because they were going through hangovers from hell too - what did they expect? you were the master of drinking games, and no one could ever keep up with you.

You couldn't face Fred after the night you shared together, your brain warned you to stay away from him, to run in the other direction - screaming, whilst your heart cried for him, calling out his name and screaming at you - begging you to run to him with open arms.

You were frightened, alone, and felt ashamed, how could you bring a child up so young during your studies? how could you tell your best friend that you were carrying his child? how could you explain that you were now forever tied to him whether he liked it or not? You decided that you shouldn't and wouldn't tell him, from what you knew of - Fred couldn't remember what happened that night and you were satisfied, the least he could remember the better.

"Probably her time of the month or something, Freddie, don't overthink it."

Fred sighed "Well I’ve been planning to ask Angelina to the ball, I thought she'd get jealous when I took my time to ask her, but she didn't care."

George nodded, trying to think about what could have caused you to be so distant and moody, even George knew your periods and mood swings weren't that bad.

"I'm not giving up on her though" Fred continued, crossing his arms "by the end of the week she'll be on my arm, I can't turn up to watch the Yule Ball without a lass now can I?"

Tomorrow was The Yule Ball, a formal dance held on the evening of Christmas Day. Before realising you were pregnant, you had picked out a dress, you even got excited with the possibility that Fred would ask you - but now you needed to avoid him at all costs, seeing his face and turning him down once more would hurt your heart more than it deserved.

After taking a shower, you stared at your tummy through the mirror, realising that in a couple of weeks time, it would become more obvious that you were pregnant, and remember that you would need to rely on the potion to keep things a secret.

"Okay" you whispered to yourself "Don't forget, don't let the brain fog get you into trouble."

Drying yourself, you pulled on your clothes, constantly repeating the potion, and your plan in your head.

Walking out of the common room and down the stairs, turning around and walking down the hall, a loud whistle made you jump, Fred was following you.

"Don't ignore me, love, you know it's rude."

You glared at Fred, your heart and head both at war just by the sight of him and the sound of his voice.

"The answer is still no Fred, just leave me alone."

Don't look at him, don't get attached to his baby - stop it - just keep walking.

"Is it seriously too much to ask?" Fred hissed "It's just Yule Ball, not a bloody date!"

"I'm aware, Fred!" you raised your voice, feeling stressed, sick, and drained "No, I'm not going with you, just please - leave me alone."

Fred didn't chase after you, he stopped in his tracks and burned holes in the back of your head. He didn't understand, why were you avoiding him? why did you suddenly hate him after being best friends, inseparable for so many years? did he say something wrong? did he look at you funny? he didn't know, and he couldn't put his finger on the strange feeling clawing inside him.

Fred’s heart split in two, and he wouldn’t let you get away with doing this - he would get you back in the cruellest way possible, he had to make you jealous.

“Fine!” he yelled at you “I’ll ask someone else! Someone worth my time!”

The Yule Ball was underway, Fred had managed to ask out Angelina, Hermione with Krum, everyone with a partner - even those who weren’t happy about it, like Ron and Harry. You, however, were sat in the empty Hospital Wing, with Madame Pomfrey and your parents.

The huge lump kept forming in your throat, no matter how many times you kept swallowing it down. You couldn't keep still, your feet were tapping against the floor and you kept picking at the thread on your skirt.

"So what seems to be the issue?" your mum asked politely.

You stared at the thread, avoiding all eye contact.

Madame Pomfrey cleared her throat "Well, Mr and Mrs Y/L/N, you have been called into this meeting today as you need to be made aware of something that involves your daughter, Y/N. This matter will give us all plenty to discuss, and plenty of choices for Y/N to decide."

"What is it, sweetheart?" your dad asked, holding the hand of his wife.

Tears welled in your eyes again, your vision going like Harry's before the Gilliweed would take effect in a few months time.

"Please don't get mad" you croaked, finally looking up at your parents, staring at their concerned, soft faces "I-I'm pregnant."

Your parents went quiet, exchanging looks, appearing to be concerned, and quite shocked, but they understood - and they were going to get you through this.

“I know you’re scared, Y/N,” your mother said softly “You’re so young, raising a baby whilst being a baby - our baby - yourself.”

“We were young parents,” your father added quietly “it wasn’t easy, but we pulled through, we will support you, please don’t be ashamed.”

“The worst thing is” you choked, tears falling onto your skirt “I don’t even have the heart to tell him, he can’t remember what happened.”

Your mum got out of her seat and hurried over to you, pulling you into her arms, stroking your head as you wept, reassuring you.

“Is Fred the father?” Your mum asked under her breath, hoping her husband wouldn’t add him to his hit-list.

You nodded your head “yes” you sniffled “he is.”

“Now,” Madame Pomfrey huffed “I don’t want you going to that ball, you need to keep yourself safe, the baby needs to be safe.”

Well, you can’t join the dance or drink the spiked punch, but that doesn’t mean you can’t watch from a distance, does it?

Sitting down at the table behind Harry and Ron’s, you watched everyone dance with smiles on their faces, falling in love with their date for the night. You felt left out, quite bummed, and worst of all, you now had to watch the love of your life, the father of your child, mess with you on purpose.

Fred’s eyes meet with yours, his pained heart softens for a moment before remembering what you had done to him, and how you would get what you deserved. Dancing with Angelina, Fred gripped her hand, smirking at you before pulling her in for a deep, passionate kiss.

It felt as if time had stood still, your heart - like Fred’s - split in half, tears formed in your eyes and you felt sick, mortified, and betrayed. Pushing your chair out from the table, you got to your feet and ran away, leaving everyone behind as you rushed to the common room.

How could he do this to you? Why would he do this!

You felt stupid, you were getting attached to his child when you wanted nothing more than to be free - but this baby was the only piece of Fred you could ever have, and for all his faults, and mind games, you wanted to be close to him in any way that you could, no matter what.

Bursting into the common room, George gave you a sympathetic look, stopping his conversation with his friend Matt.

“You alright love?” he asked, his ginger hair lighter from the flickering flames.

You wanted to tell him, tell somebody, you couldn’t hide this anymore.

“Are you?” you asked, walking over them, sitting down on the floor by the fire.

“Not really, no” George replied “My twin brother is dancing with the girl I love, bit shit really.”

“Why have you been so distant?” Matt asked, “George and Fred are worried about you.”

This was it, you had to tell them, your words coming up like vomit.

“After the first challenge, when we attended that party when Fred and I kissed - that night went much further - I’m... I’m pregnant with his kid.” You admitted quietly “I don’t know what to do, I’m in love with him, and he can’t remember a thing, and he’s dancing with Angelina - he snogged her infront of me knowing I was watching him!”

You started to cry, hurt and fury ignited inside of George, everything starting to make sense - your absence, your morning sickness, you constantly clutching your tummy in protection when people bumped into you.

“Are you going to tell him?” George asked.

You shook your head “No, and the both of you aren’t going to tell him either, you need to promise me.”

George loved Fred, hell, twins are inseparable for crying out loud, but right now, George didn’t care about his loyalty to Fred, he hated him, he fucked you over and will most likely be fucking his crush tonight.

“I promise” he muttered, “it’s no one else choice, but yours.”

“That goes for who you tell, and for what you decide is best for you and the baby,” Matt added.

Feeling slightly better, you got to your feet and pulled Matt in for a quick hug, and then pulled George in for a close and warm embrace “thank you” you whispered in his ear, nuzzling your face into his neck.

Now three months pregnant, you were heavily reliant on the potion that deflated your bump, the only person to see it was George - who teared up and rested his hand upon it, wishing you were with someone better than his stupid brother.

Fred leaned against the wall with his arms crossed, staring at you and George talking, why was it that you acted as if he didn’t exist yet you were all over his brother? Was he fucking you behind his back? Did you prefer the twin you didn’t know as much over your best friend? Is this why his twin avoided him at all costs?

With the second challenge only a day away, Fred wanted to patch things up with you in time so he wouldn’t have to go to the second challenge alone, although he asked Angelina to the ball - and they had a good time - she wasn’t you, and he missed you more than he would like to admit.

Walking past to go to Divination, Fred stepped out in front of you, stopping you from getting past.

“Quite fond of Georgie now, aren’t you?”

“Let me through, Fred, I don’t want to be late.”

“Only if you go to the second challenge with me” he smirked, getting his hopes up.

You scoffed “Looks like I’ll have to skip this class then.” You turned your back on Fred, walking away from him, leaving him to feel frustrated and pissed off.

Missing out on the challenge, you went through everything you needed to buy for the baby and everything you would need to learn to make sure you were the most amazing mum. You were content with your decision to keep it, that little piece of Fred you could nurture forever.

With Harry succeeding down to moral fibre, you knew there would be endless parties tonight - Fred fucking another girl, probably getting her pregnant as he did you, just to not remember and move on to the next girl.

You loved him so much, but you hated him at the same time.

Feeling yourself finally doze off to sleep, the lights in your doom room flicked on, and heavy feet thundered into the room, startling you and waking you up. Your best friend and her mini group brought the party to you, holding a bottle of fire whiskey with your name on it.

“Get up Y/N!” she yelled, jumping on your bed and bouncing, the other girls cheering and laughing in the back.

You clutched onto your bump, the potion wearing off as it did in the night.

Sitting up in your bed, your best friend got on her knees, opening the bottle and shoving it in your face, the scent of the drink you swallowed down like water making you sick to your stomach - reminding you of the night you had too much.

“DRINK! DRINK! DRINK!” Your friends chanted.

“No!” you hissed “I can’t!”

The rim of the bottle hit your lips, and you couldn’t take it anymore.

“I can’t!” you yelled, silencing them “I’m pregnant!”

The girls stopped and stared at you, fire whiskey spilling out of the bottle and onto your bedsheets. Your heart thumped, your best friend’s eyes were wider than you had ever seen.

“Y/N is having a baby!” Katie squeezed in excitement, jumping on the bed, clapping her hands.

Thanks to Katie, the shock dissipated, and your friends were now supporting you, rubbing your back as you cried, and going through the list of baby things you needed: clothes, nappies, bottles, food, a crib, a pram. They were more excited than you, already arguing over whether it would be a girl or a boy, and who would be the better auntie.

They had a feeling that you didn’t want to tell them everything just yet - and luckily enough, they didn't make you, for now - they just wanted you to know that you weren’t alone, that you were surrounded by help if you ever needed it.

Fred stumbled into his dorm room, fire whiskey on his lips, and red lipstick marks on his neck. His brother George, and friend Matt sat on their beds and glared at him, the two of them looking so angry Fred was convinced they were going to rip his head off.

Fred shrugged his shoulders and got into bed - he had the worst night imaginable - every girl he kissed wasn’t you, his heart didn’t mend - it just broke even more, and from what he gathered - you and George were seeing each other behind his back.

He closed his eyes, drifted off to sleep, and met you in his dreams - holding you close, and swearing that he would never let you go.

taglist: @amourtentiaa @horrorxweasley @alwaysnforeverfangirl @reeophidian @inglourious-imagines @sebby-staan @onlyfreds @pandaxnienke @xmalfoyweasleyx @manuosorioh @cosmiccomicloverqueen @the-romanian-is-bae @fhhsposts

#fred weasley #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley fanfiction #fred weasley x you #fred weasley imagine #fred Weasley oneshot #george weasley #george wealsey x reader #george wealsey imagine #george weasley fanfiction #George Weasley one shot #Weasley #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #Harry Potter fanfic #ron weasley #bill weasley #harry potter imagines #harry potter oneshots

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syndxlla · 4 years ago

Text

Part ten of the More To Love Series

Summary: The ball is tomorrow night and preparations are in full swing in the Mandalorian Palace. In desperate need of a break from all of the Masquerade planning, you get away from the palace for a few hours. This gives you a chance to reflect on your relationship with the Knight, learn more about his past, and grow closer with Koska.

Word Count: 10.9k, NO ‘Y/N’

Warnings: SMUT (handjob, grinding, this is like actually sort of gross if you over think it so just don’t over think it thanks <3), THIS IS EXPLICIT, 18+ CONTENT, READ AT YOUR OWN RISK. Swearing. Mentions of: blood, scars, fighting, hand-to hand combat.

IMPORTANT PLEASE READ: insight of recent events surrounding my tumblr, I have added an additional in-text warning for the smut scenes. This will continue for future chapters for those who do not wish to read the explicit scenes of More to Love.

Author’s Note: HEY, it’s been a little while, huh? Happy to be back. THANK YOU FOR 1k FOLLOWERS HOLY CRAP!! You all mean so much to me and the support of this fic is unlike anything I could have ever asked for! Also... the smut in this gets,, nasty. Like not that bad it isn’t super kinky or needs lots of warnings it’s just... like gross if you think too hard about that so do me a favor and don’t overthink it haha. OKAY LOVE YOU ENJOY

Part Nine

“No, If you keep that elbow down it will throw off your balance.”

“Okay, what if I hold it like this.”

“No it will get more tired faster.”

“Well how long do I have to keep it up like this?”

“Until the song ends!” You sigh, your fingers coming up to hold your eyebrow out of frustration. You and the Knight have been in the library for nearly an hour trying to learn how to waltz together and if you didn’t know any better, you’d guess he had two left feet. He was starting to get the hang of it, though. Slowly but surely and through a lot of trial and error but you don’t have very much room to talk because an hour before this one, he was just as frustrated with you because you couldn’t swing at him with nearly enough power needed to make some damage on anyone. This is how you’ve spent your last two evenings with the knight. The two of you sarcastically bullying one another in learning the opposite’s art. It was already Friday, the ball was tomorrow and you weren’t sure if he was going to be able to pull it together in time. The worst part is that you haven’t had anytime privately with him to do your... usual antics. There was always someone with you, usually Korkie or Koska, or the dance and fighting practice took up too much time to really have any fun.

The palace has been bustling the last two days. Every servant has had a task they were always doing, there was no down time for them which meant lots of downtime for the Royals. If there was no one to set up tea, then there would be no tea, simple as that.

Because of the high workload put on the staff of the palace, each royal has been subject to dinner in their own rooms alone this week, which was a dream come true for you. Dinner was your least favorite time of the day because of how painful it was to get through socially. And it also meant you got to spend more time with your own thoughts. You still aren’t sure what to do about the marriage, especially since you’ve admitted to yourself that you think you are falling for the beskar-clad knight who stands watch outside your door.

Even Soniee has been spending less time inside your quarters pampering you (you could really use a bubble bath). At all hours of the day, there was either a team of butlers carrying large bouquets of flowers down ornate hallways, a chef interrupting your dress fitting with Soniee and Koska to have you try another flower-flavored mousse, or an immediate meeting with the Queen to learn about some of your guests who will be at the masquerade and how to properly greet them. One time yesterday, you were asked to review the lanterns they picked out for the garden decorations. You were so indifferent to the ones they picked that the servants actually sent you back inside out of frustration. Along with the controlled chaos of preparations, the mask making has still left you feeling guilty. Just this morning you caught a glimpse of Koska’s shaky hands that had clearly been pricked by one too many needles while sewing jewels into the Queen’s mask. You must have apologized too much because she eventually got snarky and asked you to quit saying sorry about it. As much as you would like to dance with your knight with others looking on, you weren’t sure if it was worth all the pain and labor others were putting themselves through for it.

Party planning was exhausting, and on top of all of it, you needed to teach the most uncoordinated man in the kingdom how to waltz. It genuinely baffled you how he was able to be so methodical and perfect in hand-to hand combat and in bed but can barely hold his own in situations such as these. There was something charming about that flaw, however.

Now, the golden sunlight of the aging day was pouring into the towering windows of the Mandalorian library. It had made the room warm, and showed just how valuable the knight’s dark skin was as his bare hands soaked in the rays. You caught yourself staring at them a few too many times, which to your dismay, he caught you doing.

“You’re staring again.” He says while the two of you are practicing the basic 1, 2, 3 waltz step. Your eyes jump back to the emotionless visor of the beskar helmet which looked down at your face. You didn’t even realize you were looking at your hand holding out to the right, studying the way his knuckles looked and how clean his fingernails were.

“Sorry… It’s just that dancing is usually an emotional thing, you’re supposed to play off of eachother I suppose.” You shrug, stopping the dance. You realized you had been searching for something to play off of, anything, even if it’s just the calloused fingers of a hard worker.

You wouldn’t think the two of you would be so far behind and underprepared but for a majority of these rehearsals you’ve been the one leading as he figures it out. You know how bad it would look if you were the one leading tomorrow, and you’re starting to lose hope that you’re going to pull this off. You had wished you started teaching him earlier, but knew that he would have never agreed before now.

“Princess, you do realize that you’re probably still not going to see my face if we dance tomorrow.” He drops your hands. You sigh, you did know it, you just didn’t want to admit it.

“I know… when do you take it off?” You couldn’t remember if you had asked this already. Maybe you were out of line for asking, but a piece of you didn’t care, you deserved to know.

He was quiet, he always was when you asked him something personal. Maybe he was hoping you would get the idea by now…

“When I eat, when I sleep… sometimes around my son. Sometimes around other guards.” He said as he walked towards one of the library windows. You followed him, a few footsteps behind. He stopped at the glass, his reflection disturbing the pristine scene outside. You could see the beach from this window, not as well as in other parts of the castle, but the horizon of the Mandalorian sea was still in view. Your reflection came up behind his. You could see the exhale of his lungs from the shift in armor weight.

“I understand if you never want to show me.” You said. You didn’t really believe that, but you did respect him, and because of that you had to accept the reality that he may never show you. Maybe you were just trying to convince yourself that. You walk a little further to him and stand up on your tippy-toes so that you may rest your chin on his shoulder, looking out at the world below. It was so peaceful from up here. You’ve only left palace grounds once in the last two weeks and you desperately want to again. Being cooped up inside an oil painting was getting exhausting. “I want to go somewhere.” You mutter, your arms wrapping around his waist to hug him from behind: a pure and innocent act of affection.

“What?” His helmet turns to the side just a little bit so that you might hear him better. “Like… the Garden? The Parlor?”

“No!” You chuckle against his pauldron, “Outside, I want to get out of the palace again.”

“Did you forget what happened last time we went out?” He asks meditatively. “We can’t risk anything happening to you before tomorrow, The Queen would be furious, and even worse, Koska would be too.”

“Of course I didn’t forget! I’ll have the scar to always remind me” You giggle at his remark. “And besides, I-I want to go to the water.” You step out from behind him to look out at and gesture to the gentle waves against the golden beach. “I’ve been on a sandy beach before.” You clear your throat.

“We… might be able to arrange that. How about we go on Sunday? After the ball?” He attempts to negotiate.

“Or we could go now? There’s no formal dinner tonight.” You suggest.

“Your parents are coming in tonight, along with a number of other guests, not to mention Grand General Vizsla, all the Royal Guard is to be presented to him at nine.” He groans, but you were determined to convince him. You really needed a break from all of the planning, fittings and tastings.

“So? It’s barely five! We can just go for a little while!” You say as you look at the grandfather clock that sits nestled between two bookcases. You weren't feeling very optimistic, you doubted he would not budge, he’s always been so stubborn. “I can repay you…” You bite your lip. You were also incredibly horny and remember overhearing a maid back home talk about sex on the beach. It had always excited you.

He sighs again.

“Please? For me? I seriously deserve a break, so do you.” You reach out to stroke his hand. You knew that would probably work, it has before.

“Fine-“

“Really!?”

“Yes, but we have to tell Koska just so they don’t think we’re missing again.” He turns to walk out of the library. You silently congratulate yourself on getting the most unmovable and obedient man in the galaxy to go against his orders and do what you want. You happily skip behind him. “It takes a while to get all the way down to the beach so we should probably take a horse.” He says on the move. “Do you know how to ride?”

“I’m royalty, of course I do… do you?” You revising a teasing eyebrow.

He scoffs at your question, “There is much you do not know about me.”

“Well, you make it sort of hard for me to learn.” You roll your eyes playfully. He elbows you in the side, knocking you off your balance. You attempt to do the same to him, nudging him right back but not even getting the boy to budge and hurting your funny bone a little against the Beskar.

It takes you two a few minutes of complete silence and portrait-perfect stature to get all the way down the palace into the servants quarters. The only other time you had been in these narrow, stone hallways in the ground level of the Mandalorian Castle was earlier this week after Korkie begrudgingly led you back to your quarters in a wet peasant gown and a stinging bicep.

By the time the knight and yourself had made it down here, he was leading you through the maze of corridors, past helmetless knights who all nodded out of respect as they passed you, and into a wooden-arch. The room you had entered into must have been the servant’s common room, because it was about the size of the dining room. A candle-lit, wooden chandelier hung over four long tables, unlike the glass and oil-lamp chandeliers in the rest of the palace. A large fireplace burned on one wall, illuminating the room more and several small, gothic-arch windows towards the ceiling allowed warm light to pour into the cozy hall. Several handmaidens bejeweled masks at one table, twice as many sewed the bases of the coverings at another. One table showcased all of the finished designs, which depicted extravagant bird beaks, colorful fox and wolf snouts, towering cat and rabbit ears, ornate peacock tails, sharp antlers and horns on some and even incredible tusks on a few. They were all breathtaking, and while you felt guilty for making so many staff members work double-time, you appreciated their handy-work in making your dream come true.

The fourth and final table was mostly empty, a few elderly and child servants ate potato soup at it, and one maid cleaned her finger-nails at the opposite end. Everything was so simple and normal, it was such a display of controlled chaos that almost made you forget about the corruption in Mandalore… almost.

A sharp whistle rang through the room, and immediately, everyone dropped what they were doing, stood up swiftly from their seats on the long benches that paralleled each table, and turned to look at you before bowing deeply and diligently. They hadn’t even noticed you were there at first and interrupting their normalcy was not what you intended to do, but then you caught sight of who it was that sang the whistle. Koska Reeves was walking through the bowed, silent heads to you and the Knight. She looked exhausted, her hair was down and over her shoulders instead of pinned up in the intricate braids she usually wore them in when she was around royalty. The amount of fly-always was distracting but you couldn’t blame her, she would not disappoint the Queen with her work, even if that meant looking a little rough and disheveled.

“What’s the meaning of this? All royalty is supposed to be approved before coming in here.” She says to your knight chivalrously, then turns to you, “This is no sight for you, princess.” Something told you that she wasn’t only referring to the activities taking place in the common room. “I am sorry for our disorder.”

“No worries, Lady Reeves. There’s no need to apologize. I am most impressed by the work done on the masks for tomorrow.” You gesture to the table with the completed designs.

She sighs and smiles, “Thank you.” She nods before turning around, “Carry On!” She calls out to the room and everyone returns to normal as if nothing out of the ordinary happened, as if you weren’t even there. There was something you liked about that, something that reminded you that even though you have a lucky bloodline, you’re human too, and not all that different from the workers in this very room. Their daily routine was fascinating to you. “What do you two want?” She hushes her voice and drops her “right-hand woman to the queen”, first lady-in-waiting and head of the Mandalorian royal staff persona. She’s now the same brash friend you two shared.

“We want to go out for a while, it’ll just be a few hours but we knew we needed to tell someone in case anyone notices that we’re missing.” The Knight nods, explaining the situation. She raises a questionable eyebrow.

“Absolutely not, we cannot risk anything happening to her before tomorrow night.” Your heart drops.

“That’s what I said, but she’s incredibly convincing.” He shrugs, tilting his head just enough to show the extra bit of emotion. Koska looks between the two of you, her hands perched firmly on her hips. You caught sight of her hands again, which were now bandaged tightly with the same white gauze that she wrapped your cut arm with earlier this week. You wondered if that was done to dress bleeding wounds, keep the shakiness from over-working and late nights in control, or a dreadful mix of both. A terrible feeling told you it was the third.

“Vizsla is going to be here.” She raises an eyebrow, her intimidating demeanor hasn’t gone away even after she’s become aware of your little secret (well, actually massive, life-altering, “how-the-hell-am-I-gonna-fix-this?” secret). “If you aren’t here, that could result in a court-martial from the Queen herself.”

“Sounds tempting.” He replies.

“You and I both know what’s going to happen to you and your little boy if you step out of line, even once, which is why I’m guarding your scandle so close to my heart.” Her voice get’s real quiet when she says that, and he shifts his weight. Your heart drops, what in the world could she mean by that? “You know what could happen to you if I accidentally slip something, that’s why I won’t cover for you.”

“What the hell does that mean?” You whisper. She glances at you and then right back to him.

“Wow, you really haven’t told her much, have you?” Koska’s arms move from her hips into a fold over her chest. He doesn’t respond.

“Told me much about what?” You ask, worried about whatever was going on that you didn’t know about. Every day you’re reminded about how much of a stranger he really is to you.

“All she knows is that I had an old job, that’s all she needs to know.” He bites back, his voice equally hushed.

“If you’re fucking her, she deserves to know a lot more, but that’s just my opinion.” Koska chuckles once and you blush red hot. “I mean, at least tell her your name.”

“Why is this happening here? Now?” He gestures to the very crowded room. “Look, we just want to go down to the beach for an hour at the most. We’ll be back long before Vizsla gets here. You won’t have to cover for us, I swear.” He tries changing the subject but your mind is racing with the possibilities and confusion of the conversation you were just welcomed into.

Koska looks between the two of you a few times again, carefully considering what’s on the table and the risk. “Fine, one horse. I mean it, only one because if two are gone, someone will notice and then I’m gonna have to do exactly what I told you I wouldn’t do and what you said I won't have to: cover for your ass. Get out of here.” She beckons her head to a door that leads outside as a smile spreads across your cheeks. “Djarin! Don’t be late!” She calls out as you begin walking. That’s the second time you have heard that word, both times uttered from Koska’s mouth. Something wanted you to believe that might be his name but you were far too scared to find out for your own. You would try to remember it this time.

The knight leads you out of the room, and you watch Koska over your shoulder as you follow, studying the way she stood still immediately after you walk away, taking a few deep, sharp breaths and then promptly returning to her work. You wondered if she was tired, remembering that not everyone who lives in the Mandalorian Palace has the same relaxing lifestyle that you have.

Despite the aging daylight, it was still deathly hot. The heat of summer bled onto your shoulders, which were still partially covered due to the scarring cut in your muscle. The clothing only added to the heat. The part of the Castle grounds you were were foreign to you. They weren’t the beautiful, lush and trimmed gardens or breezy courtyards you usually spend your afternoons in, no. It was dark, the tall height of the palace shading the courtyard where knights sparred and a pair of little servant girls chased one another. One wall that lined the courtyard was the horse stables, and another was a blacksmith. The golden light shone through the stables, and you were able to spot the four white horses that took you and Korkie to Keldabe earlier this week despite the beasts being backlit.

“You can ride, I’ll just walk.” He says as he guides you to a palomino, a tall horse with a Caramel body and pure white mane.

“Are you sure?” You ask, not wanting him to have to walk.

“Of course.” He says as he mindlessly bridles the horse, petting him on the nose a few times. “Do you prefer a saddle?” He asks. You nod, and he swings the seat over the back of the steed.

“Does this horse have a name?” You ask, reaching your hand out to pet his neck a few times. The horse nickers at your touch.

“He likes you.” The Knight chuckles. You smile at the statement, and continue to stroke the soft hair on the neck. “Clove.” He says, his voice velvet and full of caring. The knight knew this horse. They had a bond. “Here.” He holds his hand up for you to hoist yourself onto the saddle. You were in no way dressed for riding, and the saddle wasn’t even a side-riding seat, but you would make it work. You knew that on the palace grounds you would have to ride side-saddle, it’s customary, and how you learned. But that didn’t mean you couldn’t ride regularly. The horses back home in Corellia were massive beasts, animals suited for harsh winters and heavy amounts of snow, thick fur covers their ankles so that they can trudge through deep snow and pull sleighs. The Mandalorian horses were far more majestic, more like show horses than work horses. Clove was gentle, though, that was something that wasn’t common for the strong horses up north. He didn’t move a muscle or bat an eyelash as you heave yourself onto his back, adjusting yourself to sit properly, the knight’s hand holding yours tightly as you positioned yourself and then rearranging the heavy skirt of your dress to properly cover your legs. His plan grazes your shin as he does it, and your eyes immediately catch the visor of his beskar helmet. You liked to think he was looking at your eyes, too. The moment is so still, time freezing for half a second.

He starts to walk the horse out of the opposite side of the stable and into the field behind the palace. You could see the tree line of the garden from here. The bridle was tightly wrapped around his hand as he led the two of you out of the palace and into the hot, hot sun. This was the first time you’ve ridden a horse in a very long time, and you had almost forgotten how much you loved it. A cheesy smile was on your face, and your eyes cycled from the mane of the horse, the shoreline ahead, the back side of the ornate castle and the top of the helmet of the knight. The sun reflected off of the beskar, causing a bright illumination to shine on the bodice of your gown. He walked methodically and quietly, and you wanted to start a conversation with him but it didn’t feel right.

Comfortable silence is often overlooked, something taken for granted that is really only shared between two trusting people. You aren’t sure if you’ve ever experienced a genuine comfortable silence with anyone before. Being a royal has a lot of “fine print”, one of which being that no one ever shut up. Korkie isn’t the only self-centered, talkative royal in this world. The thing that sets Korkie aside from the rest is the fact that you’ll have to deal with it intimately for the rest of your life.

There was something wildly attractive about the introvert by your side. Because he was few with words, it caused you to seek them out, and cherish what little you did get. He was warming up to you, opening up and every time you get a moment alone with him, he says a little more. Your conversations now are very different from that first night in the castle when he helped you untie your corset. All he said originally was “Goodnight, Princess”, and now he’s telling you about the stars and teaching you how to fight and defend yourself. The idea that it’s happened too fast has crossed your mind several times, but you considered that when you’re alone with someone almost all day, every day, you’re bound to get to know one another quicker than usual. However, you’ve also been afraid that you came off too harsh, maybe you jumped into it all too fast and overwhelmed him. What if he’s only complying to the relationship because he’s obligated to through his duty? You had to admit that there were a number of insecurities surrounding your friendship, you would be lying to yourself if you didn’t think that. Maybe you felt that way because you relied so heavily on him to get away from the other boy in your life who you can’t escape no matter how hard you try. Was it entirely possible that the knight feels about you the way you feel about Korkie? That very thought made you sick, your stomach twisting and preventing you from enjoying the beautiful landscape ahead.

“What’s wrong?” He asks. He noticed that you had tensed up. You silently curse yourself for not hiding it better.

“What?” Your look down at him, forcing a false smile. He was looking up at you now, his hand resting on your knee. Your eyes move from where he holds you and back up to the visor on his helmet. “Oh… nothing.” You hum.

“You are a fool if you think you can hide anything from me.” He tilts his head and your cheeks burn with blush. You sigh, knowing you should tell him. The chances are that expressing these concerns to him might give you a piece of mind… or they could do the exact opposite. You aren’t sure if you can take the emotional weight of resenting two men who you admire. You admire them for entirely different reasons, however. You admire Korkie for his dedication to his kingdom, and you admire that he’s genuinely trying his best. However, you admire the Knight for his kindness, his patience, his protection. You admire his velour voice, his plush lips, and the way he touches you. You admire that he’s a father, that he’s split his dedication between his duty to his kingdom and his duty to his son. You admire his deep chuckle, and the way he kisses you, the way you can see him laugh when you shoot him silly faces during dinner. You both admired and was frustrated by his obedience to his creed. He kept promises, no matter how life-altering they may be.

As you reflect on all the reasons he meant anything to you, you felt a sense of peace. It was better, the feeling in your stomach, that is. You decide it is right to tell him, you recall your governess explaining to you that all good relationships are built on enthusiastic communication, and you wanted your relationship with the Knight to be considered ‘good’. You sigh and then speak up, “I just…” You take a sharp, deep breath in the middle of your sentence before speaking up again, “just lots of insecurities, I suppose.” You shrug.

“Insecure- about what?” He asks.

“Everything, but especially us.” You didn’t really want to have this conversation, but you knew you had to.

“May I ask why?” His tone was sincere.

You aren’t sure how to reply at first. “Is it too fast? Am I too much?” You ask after careful consideration of what you were going to bring up first.

“What? No.” You think this was the first time he had ever replied immediately after you ask him something. “What makes you think that?”

“I don’t know-“

“Yes you do… tell me.” He reassures.

“Our personalities are different, you’re quiet and stoic…”

“Is that… bad?”

“No! No, not at all. Royals just aren’t that, and I worry if we’re compatible enough. And don’t mistake me, I admire that about you, but I fear I’m too much for you.” You sigh, shaking your head. Clove nickers again as if he’s listening in on your conversation and chiming in. He doesn’t respond right away which you’ve gotten used to, but if it was any other situation you wouldn’t be overthinking it. You can’t take the silence anymore and speak up, “And there’s the added factor that I’m totally cheating on Korkie with you-”

“-If I thought you were too much, do you think I would let you teach me how to dance?” He interrupts. The words halt in your mouth, and you look at him almost dumbfounded. “Or do you think I would be teaching you how to defend yourself? Fucking you on a royal sofa in an un-locked room? Risking my title to take you to the beach?” He almost sounded… angry? Had you offended him for thinking that? Your legs tensed up on the horse, and you regretted everything you had said. He did have a point, you hadn’t really thought of that.

“I… suppose you’re right.” You mutter.

“I don’t have to be doing any of this,” He grabs your hand, holding it in his and uses his other hand to halt the horse. The three of you pause in the field between the beach and the castle. There had been a downgrade so you were mostly hidden but you could still the upper-towers of the palace. He looks up and you, and you find yourself wishing you could see his eyes again. “But I do because I’m… fond of you.” It sounds like he’s having a hard time getting the words out, but that isn’t very uncommon for him. Your heart flares up, this was the first time he had ever admitted anything like that.

“W-what?” You ask, sounding like a fool.

“I know, it’s crazy. How could a halfwit like myself deserve a Princess like you?” He chuckles under his breath. “Maybe the elf laid a spell on me, I don’t know. But I do know that ever since I was given the duty of protecting you, my life has been different.” You can’t believe what you’re hearing. “I’ve… I’ve never felt this way about anyone, and I don’t know what it is but I-I-“ You smile fondly, and use his hand to hop off the horse. You bring your hands up to hold the back of his neck.

“It’s not a spell.” You whisper. “I feel it too.”

“Then it’s a spell on both of us.”

“Maybe.” You move your hands up to his helmet, desperately wanting to remove it, but you remember what you told yourself the other day. If he wishes to show you his face, it should be his choice, he deserves to be the one to take the beskar off. You would respect that. Instead, you just run your fingertips along the lip of the helmet, looking into the visor enchantingly. “Then it would be a wonderful spell.”

His hands find their way to your waist, hugging you to his chest. You rest or head on his shoulder and just close your eyes, feeling his chest plate move with each breath. It’s so still, the summer breeze softly runs through the tall grass. You can hear the waves gently hugging the beach, and the two of you just stand there like that. Completely alone, the only companionship being one another and a mindlessly-grazing horse. No one to interrupt. No doors to lock. No Princes to lie to. No thieves to fight. Just the two of you. If you could stay in that moment for the rest of your life, you would. In the earlier days of your relationship, you used to worry you wouldn’t like what his face looked like, worried that he might be unattractive to you. But every selfish desire you had about his physical appearance dissolved with the wind. No matter what he looked like, or what his past was, or what his name was, you didn’t care. You didn’t care because he cared for you, and you cared for him, too.

Before you can soak in the moment any longer, you’re swiftly grabbing his wrist, and tugging him towards the beach. The stillness of the moment is lost, but you’re quickly giggling as he’s chasing you down the small slope to the beach. You pull your skirt up as far as you can so you don’t trip on it, and find yourself being unable to slow down before the hill meets the shore. The soil slowly becomes more and more sandy, and your feet are bolting against uneven land towards teal, clear water. Before you can reach the ocean, however, strong hands are wrapping around your waist, pulling you flush against the Knight’s chest. You can hear the low rumble of chuckling in his throat, and you have the biggest, dorkiest smile of all time on your face. He spins the two of you around a few times before setting you back down on the beach.

You’re out of breath from running, and your hair is already untidy from the unexpected change of direction. The wind blows it just softly, letting it pull away from your face and neck. He tucks one rogue strand behind your ear, and then cups your face. You hadn’t even realized he’s been gloveless this entire time. You close your eyes and rest your cheek into him. You turn your head ever-so-slightly to kiss his palm, laying a sweet and innocent peck to his calloused skin.

You wonder if he’s hot with all that armor on. If you were too warm with a dress, only he knows what it’s like to have to spend summers so formally.

He’s the one to pull away, walking towards the water. You follow him, and the two of you stand against the tide. You kick your shoes off and pull your dress up again. Stepping into the water. You giggle at the tickle of the sand and smile at the feeling of the warm water against your ankles. He watches you fondly with his arms crossed. The water in Corellia is never this warm, and you throw your head back in bliss, breathing in the salty air. This was the happiest you had ever been since you arrived in Mandalore. The break from all the rules and customs was very needed, and you soaked in the sound of the waves, a distant call of a gull, and the wind keeping your hair out of your face. The best part was the fact that you were experiencing it with the Knight. There is no other person you would rather spend this memory with. You bite your lip and close your eyes and you never want to leave, you want to stay here forever. You hear the sound of metal clinking behind you, and something heavy hitting the sand. You turn to look at the Knight, who had discarded most of his armor. His boots have been carefully set next to one another, and beside them were his pauldrons, wrist guards, thigh plates and breastplate. The chainmail was the next thing to be removed, leaving him in only the dark-brown underclothes. His trousers were heavy duty, covered in various pockets and made out of thick material, but his tunic was a thin material, still long sleeved, but flowy, allowing the fresh, summer breeze to run through the fabric. The two items of clothing were held together by a pair of black suspenders, and the entire ensemble made him oh so… human.

You had only seen him with all his armor on before, and witnessing his shell being removed was both humbling and inspiring. The armor added quite a bit of bulk to his stature, it rounded out his shoulders, boosted his posture, and broadened him out. That was the first thing you noticed about him on the first day you arrived, he was ample in size and it made you feel so primal and safe. Despite his smaller stature without the armor, he wasn’t one bit less attractive to you. He was still the same guy who you were slowly falling for and didn’t even know it. But as he cuffed up his trousers and rolled back his shoulders, you felt so comfortable in his presence. He wasn’t just a mass of armor and creeds and rules, no, he was just a man. He was a single father, a guy who doesn’t know the first thing about dancing, and a boy born across the world in the Nevarro frontier. He was just a man.

You couldn’t stop the warm feeling in your chest that came with this thought. Everything about him was far more simple than you initially thought.

He walked towards you, and you held out your hand for him to take. He laces his fingers with yours as he steps into the shallow water with you. Your dress drops, dipping into the water and getting wet but you can’t even be mad about it. Your smile is big as his hand tightly grasped yours, the two of you looking out at the horizon.

“When I was a boy-” he begins, his voice quiet, “I wanted to live on the sea. Join a ship crew and travel the waters. There was always something so adventurous about that thought.” He shares. You turn to look at him as he speaks, studying the contour of the helmet with your eyes.

“What stopped you?” You ask, not entirely sure if he would share, but this time he was the one to start the conversation, and you felt like he might this time.

He sighs, you see it, he turns to look at you, the two of you staring at one another as the temperature slowly dropped with the sun on the horizon. “I was orphaned when I was only five.” He shrugs, your heart breaks. “It was one of the Mandalorian wars that caused it.”

You can’t imagine what it’s like having to serve a kingdom so intimately when they were responsible for the death of your family. You give his hand a reassuring squeeze, letting him know that you’re here for him. “I’m sorry.” You whisper.

“It’s not your fault, it was so long ago I don’t really remember it.” He looks down at the water.

“Thank you, for sharing that with me.” You smile apologetically. You really did appreciate that he felt comfortable enough to share something so serious with you. While you were grateful that he had begun to open up to you, it still didn’t answer any of the questions about Mandalore’s past, and what Koska was referring to a few days ago. It didn’t tell you what his past job was and why he’s serving the royal family now. However, you supposed it didn’t really matter, not right now, not today.

After a little minute of listening to the waves, he reaches down into the water, picking up a flat, thin rock. He runs his pointer finger along the edge, outlining the shape before hatching it into the space between his index finger and thumb, reeling back, and flicking it out so it hopped over the water’s surface seven or eight times before falling in. You looked at him enchanted, like he had just expressed a magic trick to a bright-eyed child.

“How did you do that?” You ask in awe.

“You’ve never seen anyone skip a rock?” He asks. You slowly shake your head. You’ve been cooped up inside a wintry castle your entire life, of course you haven’t.

“Teach me.” You say a little too forcefully. He chuckles and looks down at the sand, looking for a pebble that might work. He bends down eventually, and picks out a similar looking rock to the original.

“So, you want a rock that’s thin and flat, like this one.” He shows you the sediment. You reach your hand out, taking it and outlining the edge of the stone with your finger similar to how he did. He walks behind you, sloshing in the water but eventually gaining position. He wraps his left arm around your waist, and cups your right hand which holds the rock in his. “Now, don’t throw it quite yet, okay?”

“Alright.”

“You’re gonna flick your wrist like this,” he motions both of your hands at the same time, pulling back and then shooting forward quickly. He does it two or three times before speaking up again. “You’ll use your pointer finger to pull back like the trigger on a crossbow, it will give the rock enough spin that it stays on top of the water.” He makes you do the motion along with him a few times again. “Your shoulders will draw back almost like you’re pulling back an arrow on a bow.” Again, he does the motion with you, your back flush to his chest. You admired that he was able to relate everything to weaponry. He definitely knew his way around combat, that was apparent to you. “Then, you add all three motions together, aim for the horizon, and-“ he pulls back with you and before you know it, the rock is spiraling out of your hand and onto the surface of the ocean. It doesn’t skip, though, and instead plops right into the water.

You frown and look back at him. “What did I do wrong?” You ask, you knew he would know what needed to change.

“You didn’t flick your finger enough. Try again.” He pulls another stone out with a grunt, and holds you against his body to pull back and send another rock out. This one skips once before plopping into the water again. You sigh out, frustrated. “Here, try without me.” He says after handing you a third flat stone. You carefully practice the motion once, desperately wanting to impress him. You then pull back and give it everything you got, only for the stone to plop in without skipping at all again.

“Ugh, lemme try again.” You say angrily. You can hear him laughing at you, but you ignore it, ready to try again and determined to get it right this time.

You must have thrown four more rocks after that with no results. Each time he tried giving you just a little more advice about different things, “Follow through” or “You had too much spin that time”. You were starting to get really frustrated, having never had to really work for anything in your life before, and you knew he was starting to have a hard time finding flat rocks. You would not give up on this.

“Maybe we can try again next time-“

“No.” You say forcefully, “We do not leave this beach until I skip a damn rock, so if you want to be back in time for your evaluation with Vizsla, I suggest you find me another rock.” You raise an eyebrow as you pull out your diplomatic royal voice. He holds his hands back in defense and then tosses you the stone he already had waiting for you. You sigh when you catch it, taking a deep breath and remembering all your training. Don’t spin too much, follow through, add all three motions together, have faith.

You pull back the stone, praying that it will all go according to plan because you aren’t sure how much longer you can take failure. You pick out your target with your eyes before adding together all the advice given to you and sending it. You can hardly believe your eyes when you see it skip at least five times over the water. You cheer out in accomplishment and look over at the Knight, smiling big and triumphant. He runs through the water to you, shouting with you.

“I knew you could do it!” He grabs your waist, congratulating you. You giggle out of achievement. “See, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” He asks.

You roll your eyes and playfully punch his arm (which luckily this time was not covered by pain-inflicting chainmail). “A lot easier than having to dodge your hits.” You admit.

“I’m proud of you.”

“It’s just a rock skip?” You wonder why he would be proud of you for that and ask yourself if you really are that pathetic.

“Yes but you put your mind to it and did it! I know some guys in the royal guard who would have given up on their third try, but you didn’t!”

“I was just trying to impress you.” You sheepishly chuckle.

“We’ll consider myself: Impressed.” He laughs and you blush.

“They don’t teach royals that.”

“Well of course not, I learned how to do that from the guy who took me in after my parents died. You picked it up much faster than I did.” He nods and you smile again.

The two of you catch your breath from the exuberant laughing, but you aren’t able to enjoy the still moment because all too quick it all comes crashing down quickly when he’s pushing you into the water. It isn’t very deep, but the unexpected soak makes you yelp out in surprise. Your initial reaction is to be frustrated, but you can hear him chuckling by your side and you can’t help but mischievously smiling in response. He’s standing, still dry with a hand over his stomach as he laughs at you. You roll your eyes before reaching up to pull him in with you, he yelps out stupefied as he’s splashing down into the tide next to you. You laugh out at him, sitting up in the water which is about waist deep. He wipes some water away from his visor and then splashes you, swatting a handful of the ocean at your face. Your laughing immediately halts from a mouthful of salt water. Your slight makeup washes off, and your hair is starting to get wet, too. You look over at him with a frown before copying his action and spraying him right back. He laughs at you, and you remember that you can’t win this. He has a helmet to keep his eyes clear from the water. You groan out of frustration, and wipe your eyes dry. He’s just looking at you, panting. His clothes were soaked now. You crawl to be closer to him in the water, which thank goodness it wasn’t too cold because you’d be rushing to get out, but the summer weather made it enjoyable to just sit there together.

[SMUT BEGINS HERE]

You’re next to him, running your fingers lightly up and down his right arm, looking at him fondly. He catches his breath, and brings his wet hand up to cup your face again. You close your eyes, hoping he takes the hint, which he does because a few seconds have your eyes are closed, his arm his pulling away from your touch against it and his lips are pressing into yours. You can tell he completely took the helmet off this time, which means he would take his time kissing you instead of a quick peck to shut you up.

The two of you sit in the water of the Mandalorian Ocean, both of his hands reaching up to hold you as he kisses each eyelid as if to say “keep ‘em closed”, before moving to your lips passionately. His left hand holding your cheek while his right hand finds its place on the back of your neck, pulling you into him. You breathe deeply as he practically devours you, his lips moving hungrily. Your hands find their way to his thighs in the water, running your palms up and down the strong muscle, making sure to take notice of the healing wound on his upper-thigh. Your hands eventually find their way to the waistband of his pants, running your fingers under them to pull out the tuck of the tunic. Fingernails come out of the water and up soft abs that flinch at the stroke. It’s hard to work around the suspenders, but you’re able to still run your hands over his torso, getting to know his body for the first and hopefully not the last) time. He has a few scars, you can feel the fresh tissue under your fingers and wonder what caused them. He’s still kissing you, his left hand moves down to hold your jaw and you keep your eyes tightly shut out of fear of this ending too quickly. The kissing noises are obscene, wet and needy amongst the sound of the waves. The Knight licks into your mouth, his tongue hot and forceful as it explores your mouth, you can taste the lust on his lips, and you happily welcome the sensation.

His right hand works around the way your gown has flared out in the water and eventually wraps itself around your ass, pulling you up onto his lap. You’re mostly out of the water now, just your shins being completely submerged. You’re slightly weighed down by the added weight of a wet skirt, but you sit comfortably on the guards lap, your hands coming up to wrap around his neck, kissing him from above now. The kiss is forced down, and this time you’re able to lick into his mouth, nibbling his lip and deepening the kiss further from the angle. You can’t help your hands from cupping his face now, pulling him into you.

Your noses rub into one another, and both of his arms lift you up from behind. Your back arches into him, and your breathing hitches, getting heavier and hotter. He starts to get hard, you feel it under your body, and a mixture of the kissing and the pressure beginning to press into your cunt is really starting to turn you on. You start to just softly grind against him, moaning a little bit at the feeling of his growing cock against your heat. His hands help you, making the humping motion more smooth and natural. The kissing becomes sloppy now, and the water from the wet bodice is making your nipples just that much harder.

Your hands are reaching down to slide the suspenders off his shoulders, and then you’re pulling his shirt up and unhooking the trousers. Your hand is reaching in and finding the base of his hardening, thick length. He groans at your touch, and you’re bending down to kiss his neck, sucking deep, purple hickeys into his golden skin. You’re needy, still grinding against him and trying not let the water slow you down. He’s sighing breathy moans and grunts in your ear as you start jerking him off. The water does make it hard, but there’s something about the added sensation of the flowing water that really made it unique. You swipe your thumb over the head a few times, getting drunk with the unexpected control you have. This was the first time the two of you have fooled around that you really got to have total dominance. You liked it… you really liked.

He did too.

Your clit is able to rut so slightly and deliciously into your fist and his cock, and you’re having a hard time not letting your eyes open and flutter in pleasure. The same shocks of ecstasy ran up and down your spine, and he held you closer to his body, using his strong hands to cup your ass and knead the soft skin. You’re panting, your free hand reaches down to rub your clit, both of your hands working in between your legs as you straddle the Knight. You’re going to cum already and can’t believe it’s happening so fast but choose not to hold it back. You’re moaning out loud when you cum against your fingers, graining against his lap fast and squeezing his cock a little harder.

“Fuck, did you just cum?” He asks deep in his voice, growling in your ear. You hum out in response against his neck pathetically, and all dominance you previously possessed dissolves as you keep jerking off your Knight. “Dirty girl, kiss me. Keep those pretty eyes closed.” His throat is dry, which you remember from last time that that means he’s close, too. You reach up to kiss him again, going in tongue first and breathing in his scent deeply. One of his hands reaches around to cup yours that is working his length, holding it and adding pressure and then making you go faster, you happily oblige and soon the pace is quick and he’s grunting against your lips. He cums in your hand, you feel the heat of it. He’s panting and sighing and it’s all so hot you think you could get turned on by it again.

He rests his head on your shoulder after cumming, catching his breath. You take your hand out of the water and you tangle your fingers through his hair, toying with the curls as he sighs against your wet skin. You open your eyes now, looking out at the horizon, lashes heavy with lust.

[SMUT ENDS HERE]

“Gross.” You chuckle.

“You liked it.” He hums against your collar bone. His hands are steadfast on your lower back, holding you there against his chest. He doesn’t have the cold breastplate separating the two of you, so your hearts were pressed against one another, beating in perfect synch. You could also finally feel how warm his body was, despite the wet clothes and gentle waves. In your peripheral, you can see some of the brown curls.

Your heart warms, this might be the happiest you have ever been. The two of you must have sat like that for a long time because your skin was starting to prune and your hair was slowly drying with the wind. His breathing had completely calmed, and he was so still and quiet that just for a moment you wondered if he had fallen asleep. The sun was almost down completely, only a little sliver of it peaking over the water. You watched it as it fell to its resting place in the ocean, the sky still blazing oranges and yellows but cooling with a soft, pale blue from the top down. It was so… serene, so peaceful. Nothing like the crashing waves of Corellia. This was the best part of Mandalore yet. It’s saving grace.

The crescent moon is on the horizon when he’s turning to kiss your ear one more time and asking you to close your eyes as he pulls the helmet back on.

“We should probably get back, I don’t want to be late for Vizsla and I’m afraid I’ve started to lose track of time.” He stands up and holds his hand out for you to take. You attempt to hoist yourself up out of the water, but the wet dress has added so much weight that you can’t lift your legs up. You grunt in effort, but there’s no budging. “Huh, looks like we need to take that thing off.”

“Again?” You look up at him, you knew he had a smug smirk under all that beskar. You reach behind you to undo the corset just enough for you to step out of it, water dripping from your undergarment as he yanks you up and out of the warm water. “I’m starting to think you just really like seeing me naked.” You mutter and don’t realize how close you were to him while saying that until after. You catch your tongue, holding your breath as he looks down at you.

“Yeah, something like that.” He mumbles in response and you believe you could faint and die right then and there. He doesn’t let the moment stew for nearly as long as you would have liked for it, however and he’s pulling the sopping wet dress out of the water and carrying it back on shore. He hands it to you when he gets to his armor, and you try ringing some of the liquid out from the fabric but it’s almost too heavy for you to even hold in your arms. He re-assembles his gear on top of the wet clothes and you know that can’t be comfortable. Sand clings to your bare, wet feet, and you're desperately trying to brush some of it off before slipping your shoes back on. He’s resituated too fast, he has dressing his armor down to a perfection and you’re sad to see your beach adventure come to a close so quickly.

Before you know it, he’s walking up the hill again with you by his side, making your ways to Clove who has been diligently and patiently chewing on the grass in the field this entire time.

“Ride with me.” You ask as he helps you onto the palomino. “Please.” You ask. “We’ll get to the palace faster and then maybe you can get out of those wet clothes before you have to go to the meeting.” You ask. He sighs but then nods with a shrug, hoisting himself onto the horse behind you. You were riding normally now, and situated yourself comfortably into his chest. The wet gown lay on the back of the horse and you wished you had thought about removing that before getting into the water.

As the two of you start a gentle gallop to the palace, you feel your hair get drier. At one moment he reaches his hand up to run bare fingers over your healing bicep.

“We should have kept this out of the water.” He says in your ear. You twist your head back to reply.

“It’s okay, really. It’s starting to feel a lot better.” You reassure.

“It looks better, but the salt water can only do bad things to it.” He explains. You shrug, unsure of how he expects you to respond.

The three of you arrive at the castle just as the sky begins to darken, both of you still damp from the ocean but your hearts still full and bodies still riding the orgasm high. The Knight helps you off the horse, and now that you aren’t alone, you feel very aware that you’re only in your undergarments and really anyone could see you. You pull the wet gown off the rump of Clove, which was so saturated that it made his fur wet. You hold it against your body, trying to cover yourself up as much as possible. The Knight removes the saddle of the horse, storing it away and removing the bit. He stretches the beast’s ears and then walks over to the far side of the stable to grab a carrot out of a bucket before handing it to Clove as a reward for his hard work. You watch him as he expertly takes care of the animal, like he’s done it a thousand times before.

Then, with no warning, the two of you hear the shrill voice of none other than Koska Reeves.

“I shouldn’t have let you go.” She’s crossing over the dirt courtyard to the stables. Her hair has been done now, put up into the customary braids they usually are in. She was now wearing the royal blue color reserved for the Queen’s court, a golden sash sitting on her hips. She held the dress above her feet and she hustled in your direction. You felt scared, you knew Koska meant business, and was not afraid to scold. She was intimidating, to say the least. “You’re soaking wet.” She gasps when she gets to the stable fence. “Come with me, Princess. We must get you changed before anyone sees you or the Queen will have my head.” She sighs, opening the gate for you to walk through. “As for you, Vizsla’s here early.”

“What.” You heard the drop in his voice from panic. “Why?”

“No one knew, he just arrived before we could do any regular welcoming. The evaluation is starting in ten minutes, I suggest you move your ass.” She shakes her head. You were incredibly thankful you had both rode Clove now. He wouldn’t have made it back in time if you hadn’t. You did feel a twinge of guilt, however. You shouldn’t have pushed for that so much and risked him missing his mandatory meeting. But an overwhelming part of you was more than happy that you got to experience those few hours alone with him. He swears under his breath before bowing to you, shrugging apologetically and then full sprinting towards the servant quarter’s entrance. “I would take that from you,” Koska says in reference to the wet dress, “But I’m already in my ceremonial dress. I can’t get it wet. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. I can manage.” You nod. The two of you begin to walk back inside, and the night time breeze runs over your wet body, making you shudder ever-so-slightly. When you get back inside, the Knight is nowhere to be seen, and there’s only a fraction of the people as there were earlier. The masks had all been moved somewhere, which let you know they finished them. A mother sat on a chair by the fireplace, nursing a small baby and three young boys who couldn’t be any older than seventeen all sat around one table playing some type of card game and eating buttered bread. They were the stable boys. The three of them stared at you when you walked in, in awe of your unparalleled beauty and the fact that you were carrying a massive, heavy, wet dress.

Koska led you down a hall adjacent to the fireplace. You could see into a few sleeping quarters. The little ones were dozing off, and in one room was a couple laughing together. The small community that existed underneath the palace was something you deeply admired. You wouldn’t have had any idea any of this was here if you hadn’t pushed for today’s events, and you truly loved it. You loved how all these people found refuge and a home here.

You wished you could, too.

Koska stops at one door, taking the wet dress out of your hands and tossing it into the room before closing the wooden door shut and progressing back down the hallway. She eventually opens up a door to a small room with a single bed and large chest.

“Is this your room?” You ask, looking around and familiarizing yourself with it. A single embroidery hoop with a half-done pattern sat on the bed, on the windowsill was a melting candle whose wax had dried in a cascading pattern on the ancient stone, and at the foot of the bed was a small table with a wash basin and hairpins.

“No, It’s my sister’s. My room is closer to the Queen’s.” She nods. You had no clue Koska had a sister. She opens up the chest and pulls out a dry under-slip and simple but pretty purple dress. It wasn’t a ballgown and had long, bell sleeves in a similar fashion to Koska’s. There was some moon and star embroidery on the bodice.

“I didn’t know you had a sister.” You said, starting to shiver a little now.

“Her name is Alva, she works in the kitchen.” She nods as she crosses over to the table, opening up a little box to pull out a horse-hair comb.

“Will she mind us using her things?”

“Well, you’re the Princess, so I hope not.” She shrugs and crosses over the room again like a madwoman, pulling a wool blanket from the chest. “Here, strip and dry off.” You look at her, confused. “Alright… I’ll turn around then.” Koska rolls her eyes and turns to face the wall. You peel off the wet slip, and use the wool material to wipe your body dry. It wasn’t nearly as soft and luxurious as the cotton robes you have five floors up, but it will do for now. You have sand everywhere, and you mean everywhere. You brush it off as best you can, hoping it doesn’t make too much of a mess for anyone to have to clean. You then pull on the dry clothes, and clear your throat when you’re done and decent.

Koska turns around and smiles. “Sit, I’ll brush your hair for you and then escort you back upstairs to see your parents.”

You had completely forgotten that they would be arriving tonight. You get a twinge of adrenaline. You’ve been so homesick, and it will be nice to see some familiar faces after such an emotional two weeks. You sit at the stool in front of the table, and Koska carefully combs out your knotted but drying hair.

“So… It looks like you two had fun.” She says. You smile and blush.

“Yes, we did.” You chuckle.

“That’s good, it’s been so long since he’s had fun. He deserves it.” She hums in response and you immediately question how they know one another so well again.

“How do you know each other?” You ask, knowing there's no harm in that.

Koska sighs, “We… used to work together in a sense. He’s a good man, an even better father.” She shrugs. So that’s four people you can think of who know about his son, You, Koska, Peli and the woman from Isla’s bar… although that situation seemed different, magical almost.

“You two never…” You trail off, not really wanting to hear the answer but not stopping yourself before you ask it anyways.

Koska laughs out loud this time, stopping the combing motion, “Oh stars, no. Never. I have someone else… and he has you.”

Your heart warms at that phrase. “Who is this ‘someone else’ you speak of?” You ask, enjoying the casual girl talk the two of you are sharing.

She hums again, “You’ve met her, she’s shorter than me and far more serious, she has a fire burning, but she’s special to me.” You can hear the smile in Koska’s tone.

You wonder who she’s talking about.

—

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devildomdoofus · 4 years ago

Text

Lemon Dreams: Part 2

[NSFW]

Asmodeus, Beelzebub, Belphegor

Part 1:

MINORS

DO NOT INTERACT

DO NOT PROCEED

‼️WARNINGS‼️

NSFW, wet dreams, mature themes, implied intercourse, swearing, UP TO CHAPTER 16 SPOILERS

Author’s Note:

You already know what I’m about to say 😅 I am very sorry for the delay. Work’s a doozy and I get stressed easy but.. I hope these are worth the wait!! Please enjoy ❤️

- DevildomDoofus

💖Asmodeus:

This day was rather an exhausting one for Asmodeus. Not enough people groveled at his feet as they normally did, he had a multitude of wardrobe malfunctions, and he just couldn’t quite get his hair to stay in place after he struggled for hours, earlier that morning, to get it just the way he imagined. On top of all of that, you were so busy keeping his brothers out of your hair that you couldn’t quite make enough room in your schedule for him. No, he didn’t blame you in the least, it was just frustrating because, on days like this, you were his sanctuary. You meant the world and more to him and whenever he was feeling out of it, you were right there to remind him just how amazing he really was. However, today.... he was meant to take care of himself.

No matter! He had a backup ‘chin up, Asmo’ kit waiting for him when he returned to the House of Lamentation and he wasn’t about to let anyone, or anything, get in the way. Once inside the house, he made a beeline for his room, put a Do Not Disturb sign on his door, and shut himself away with a click of the lock to ensure that he was certainly NOT going to be disturbed. He stripped himself all the way down to bare skin, dipped into his bathroom, and turned the knobs of his bathtub to the temperature that he enjoyed most. Then, he turned the radio to one of his favorite music stations, dimmed the lights, and lit a handful of scented candles before he finally slid down into the tub and sank low enough so that the bubbles tickled his nose. His eyelids felt too heavy to hold up any longer so he let them close as he let out a breath that he felt as if he had carried it all day. The heated water eroded the tension in his muscles and the sound of bubbles popping and music playing in the distance kept his mind from drifting too far down into a spiral. A waft of his favorite scented candle crept up to his nose and from its serene aroma, as well as the effects of the other combined therapeutic items, he was finally able to shrug away all remaining traces of the stress in his mind and body.

After his much needed bath and his before-bed beauty ritual, Asmo slips between the satin sheets of his bed and before too long, drifts peacefully into slumber.

As the Avatar of Lust, his dreams were no different than his life living with his sin; the adoring crowds, the self-idolization, manipulation, and, it goes without saying, the sex. Not much changes in the dreamworld when you’re practically living it in your waking world. However, this particular dream was unlike any he’s ever had before, and it was all because of you.

In this dream, he was a prince renowned for his looks, for his charms, and, of course, for his riches. But he had grown apart from that lifestyle and such a reputation was a tiresome thing, as it made it rather difficult in finding a proper romance partner that wasn’t after him for his looks or money. He wanted someone that loved and wanted him for who he was deep down. That is why he snuck away to a masquerade ball in disguise, in hopes of finding said partner. He spent a majority of the night talking with some people, dancing with others, and trying his damndest to find his future spouse but to no avail. He began to give up hope and with such a loss comes his indulgence of his sin, in which he finds the nearest and worthiest soul to charm, slip them away from prying eyes, and do whatever each of them pleased.

That is, until one peculiar stranger approached him, gently extended their hand, and asked him without words for a dance. He tilted his head in question, a bit hesitant, as so few ever dared to approach him first. They were either far too intimidated or in awe of him that they waited until he approached them.

The stranger smiled beneath the mask, their eyes giving it away, and they dipped their torso low in a respectful bow, so that they may communicate that they truly mean no harm, while keeping their hand extended in invitation. Asmodeus’ lips give way to a pleased smile and he gingerly takes the stranger’s hand as they lead the way to the dance floor. For hours upon hours, song after beautiful song, they whirled and spun in perfect unison as the crowd surrounding them gave way to their joyous dances. The chemistry was unmatched and Asmodeus was overjoyed, as he felt he had finally found his one, true partner. He simply had to know who they were.

Before the next song could play, he took their hand and lead them into an empty hallway where they may share their identities without nosey onlookers. Once out of sight, he brought his fingers up to the mask that concealed the strangers face and looked into their eyes in question, hoping that they permit him to do away with it. The stranger nods and Asmo proceeds, pulling the mask ever so slowly from their face and suddenly, Asmo’s mouth flies open with a gasp and he drops the mask to the floor. It was you.

“MC...?!” He pries his own mask away and looks at you in the same way an artist looks at their own masterpiece after years of hard work. He lunges forward and wraps his arms around you, tightly. You return the embrace, wrapping your arms around him and smiling from ear to ear. He parts from you only to cup your face in his hands and in a whisper he says, “I’ve searched for you for so long.” You smile warmly at him with a twinkle in your eye, replying “I’ve been looking for you too,” and he can longer restrain himself. He crashes his lips flush against yours in a desperate and hungry kiss. He‘s reluctant to let either of you breathe as he‘s pressing himself against you further, closing the distance between your back and the nearest wall. “I’ve searched for you,” he pants between kisses, “for so damn long.” He moves down to your neck, letting his teeth graze the skin before he sinks them down and licks the bite. The noises that you emitted due to his actions made his knees weak. With his lips close to your ear, he practically whines, “Please, may I have you?” You grab him by the collar, tug him back to look you in the eyes and with a hunger of your very own, you commanded, “Take me, Asmodeus. I am yours.”

He sweeps you off of your feet and into his cradling arms, carrying you to the nearest empty room to give you everything that you desired. With the door shut and locked behind you, he was back onto your lips in a matter of seconds, only this time, he was much more patient. He had finally found you, someone he was going to love far greater than he loved himself, and here you were in all of your unbridled glory, asking for him and him alone. Not for his money, not for his looks nor reputation... you wanted him for who he was and he could feel that as he danced with you, in the way that you kissed him, and would soon feel as your bodies became one. And by Diavolo, he was going to take his sweet time getting there. He paced himself, slowly stripping you of all of your clothing as well as all of his own, and kissed every inch of skin he uncovered of yours, starting from your neck and all the way down to the tops of your feet. He praised you as he went, not letting a moment go by without him practically singing your name and the glory that came with it. He snaked his way back up your body and, for the rest of the night and into the early hours of the morning, made love to you in the most beautiful ways, eliciting your sweet melodies of pleasure that he shan’t ever forget for as long as he lives.

Just as he was beginning to whisk you away to his very own castle to marry you, he wakes up. He whips his head around and you were nowhere to be seen, nor was he taking you to his castle to wed you. It was simply him alone in his room. He huffs out of frustration that it was all just a dream... but then he smiles widely with a giggle, bringing a pillow up to cover his reddening cheeks because the dream was unlike anything he’s ever dreamt before, or ever experienced in real life for that matter. And that experience was love. Not lust, romanticization, idolization, or a sorcerer looking for a pact. It was pure love. He simply had to tell you about this dream. He texts you to “come over right away! It’s an emergency! Be sure to come alone. ❤️”

Once you’re there, he sets the both of you down onto his bed, where he usually talked things over with you, snuggles up close to you and relays everything that happened in the dream... EVERYTHING. He didn’t leave out a single detail. To say that your cheeks could melt steel by the end of his storytelling, was an understatement. For the next few days, Asmodeus was like a barnacle on a boat. He never left your side and couldn’t stand being away from you for too long. He also was a little more protective of you against his brothers or anyone else that wanted your attention. He wasn’t having it. For now and maybe perhaps forever, you were Asmo’s, like the masquerade partner you were in his dreams.

❤️Beelzebub:

As a demon, and living in the Devildom, you just don’t really get to have many ‘good’ days considering the whole ‘sin’ thing and fighting in The Great War and then falling because of it and all that jazz. However, today was an exception for dear Beelzebub. He had eaten his favorite meals all day, was lucky enough to spend an exceptional amount of time with you and Belphegor throughout the day, won a championship game of Fangol (devildom football) against the toughest opposing team, and finally had enough remaining energy to celebrate his big win with a surprise house party involving one of his absolute, all-time favorite meals catered by you and Barbatos... human world cheeseburgers. And it wasn’t even his birthday! He’d have to mention this to his brothers to coerce them into doing some like this for when his special day came around but.. ya know... bigger. Oh! And don’t forget Belphegor’s favorite foods too.

The party lasted for hours on end as each brother spent an extended period of time congratulating him on his victory in between moments of him shoveling the food into his mouth, singing his praises for every move and tactic he used in the game that kept them at the edge of their seats, and hyping him up for the next game to follow in which they were confident in him bringing them another victory. Eventually, everyone’s batteries especially Lucifer’s had run out and the time for celebration had come to a close.

Lucifer sent the elder brothers and yourself to your rooms as he stayed behind to help Barbatos clean, as well as monitor Beelzebub while he finished scarfing down the last scraps of food and downing the final glasses of Demonus. “You played well today, Beelzebub,” Lucifer praised, as he cleared away the empty dishes surrounding Beel and the slumbering twin that rested on his shoulder. “I’m quite proud of you.” He paused for breath. “Then again,” he quipped, “I expected no less from you.” Beelzebub tried his best to flash his dimpled smile with his cheeks puffy with food before swallowing it whole, followed by an audible gulp, and chuckled. “Thank you, Lucifer. That means a lot to me.” Lucifer returned the smile, shifted some dishes from one hand to another in order to use the free one to ruffle a bit of Beel’s hair before he stepped away. By now, Belphegor shifted against his brother and mumbled incoherently. Fortunately, Beelzebub spoke Sloth and knew it was finally time to call it a day and take his twin to bed. He grabbed a final cheeseburger and stuffed it between his teeth, squatted low enough to allow Belphegor to climb sluggishly onto his back like a koala, and started towards their room with a light skip in his step. “What a day,” he thought to himself on repeat, all while tucking his brother in and getting ready for bed himself. As he turned the lights out and finally laid down, he gazed up at the ceiling with a dimpled grin on his face and let his thoughts venture towards you before finally closing his eyes and drifting off to sleep. Of course, they always did ever since you held his hand to help him fall asleep way back when. And since you couldn’t always be there every single night to help him fall asleep again, he had to think of you as an alternative.

When it comes to his resting, unconscious mind, Beelzebub has four different reoccurring dreams.

He’s living an absolute carefree life with his entire family (including his late sister), not bound by sin or Diavolo, and experiencing paradise in its truest form with the ones he loves

It’s an everlasting, all-you-can-eat, buffet, catered by Barbatos, Luke, and you (with your human world cheeseburgers)

He’s reliving the terror of having to watch his sister get struck down and die. Sometimes he loses Belphegor and/or you too, and, if he’s really unlucky that night, he loses absolutely everyone he’s closest to. His sister, his brothers, you, Luke, Simeon...

Some fortunate or unfortunate combination of any of the above.

However, Lady Fortune continued to smile upon dear, sweet Beelzebub and tonight, he was going to experience a dream unlike any he’s had before.

It commenced with you and him taking a trip to the human world so that you could show him a few of your favorite eateries, restaurants, cafes, bakeries, and the like. Of course, Belphegor came along and was lingering close by, window shopping at furniture stores as they usually had the best products for maximum comfort. You first took them to a coffee shop and showed them all the delicious things they could buy. It took some major convincing (and elbow grease and the help of a twin demon) to pull Beelzebub away from the glass, encasing the baked goods, to keep him from drooling on it. Next, you ventured to a nearby ‘ma-and-pa’ bakery where the goods were stocked to the edge of the shelves with various handmade loafs, muffins, cupcakes and cakes, cookies, croissants. You name it, you smell it, and it was there. With stars in his eyes and zero restraint, Beelzebub slapped his wallet onto the counter and pleaded for as much of their inventory as the shop owner allowed. You two left the bakery with both arms carrying bags up to your elbows and giant grins on your faces. After breezing by a number of other food joints, you finally came to the crowning moment that you’ve been dying to show Beelzebub. The local candy shop. His eyes grew to the size of the sun and his mouth swung open as he gawked at the wonderland of hypnotizing colors and towering walls covered in sweets just beyond the window. Belphegor sighed, shook his head with a smirk and mumbled, “I’ll be out here if you need me.” He took the bags you two were carrying and sat on a nearby bench. Seeing Beelzebub unable to contain his excitement, you nodded to Belphie, took a firm hold of Beel’s hand with a big grin, and led him in.

You started off by showing him the taffy puller where the employees kept watch over the machine as it looped the taffy over and under. Then, you brought him over to the cotton candy machine as an employee was twirling the little ball of fluff into an adorable bunny. Finally, you brought him to the wall of candy where you could grab a bag of whichever size you prefered and stuff it to the brim with goodies. Of course, you handed him a couple of the largest bags they had available and off he went in search of a multitude of sweets. You, yourself grabbed a medium sized bag. When he returned to you, his bags were bloated and almost spilling out over the top but Beel simply couldn’t help himself. They all seemed so delicious. What you didn’t know is that he had a little surprise for you whenever you two left the shop.

Once the three of you returned to the House of Lamentation, Belphegor lazily saluted and headed off to the attic, whereas you and Beelzebub had some major snacking to do.

Sitting in the floor of his room, you took your time sharing sweets amongst each other and complimenting their sugary goodness... until he sealed his bags up, slid them away, and scooted closer to you. You eyed him in curiosity, unsure of his wellbeing considering he stopped eating so suddenly. “MC, I wanted to thank you for today and wanted you to know how much it meant to me...” He inches closer, knees touching yours. “...so, I got you something.” He held up a couple of boxes of Pocky, each in a different flavor. “Pick one.” You tapped on the box with your favorite flavor, and he set aside the remaining ones. Pulling out one of the sticks, he hovers the tip of it just outside the immediate reach of your lips. “Say ahh,” he requested, demonstrating by opening his own mouth. Your lips parted with an ‘ahh’ and he tucks one end of the Pocky stick between his teeth and placed the other end in your mouth. As your cheeks heat up and you look back and forth between his eyes in question, you spot a smirk making its way to his face and he takes a swift bite of the Pocky to keep you focused on him rather than letting go and backing away. You attempt to mirror his act by taking a trembling nibble of the Pocky, inching yourself closer to him, to his lips. He takes a bigger bite than before, rapidly closing the distance between you two. Before long, you’re but a mere half an inch apart and you shut your eyes as you consider just letting go before things could go any further. With the Pocky still between his teeth, he chuckles lowly and “look at me,” he demands. As your eyes open to meet his, he smirks and bites off the last bit of Pocky, lifts a hand up and cups the back of your neck and pulls you into a deep, flavorful kiss. His tongue slithers past your lips and chases after the taste of the Pocky that still lingered in your mouth. Meanwhile, he’s lowering you down onto your back and shifts in a way to keep you pinned beneath him. Your whimpers and moans keep stirring the flames inside of him, engulfing every other thought that isn’t you and this newfound hunger for something oh so sweet. He slinks down your body and strips you of your clothes as he goes, leaving little bruises and bite marks in the bits of flesh he uncovers. “I could just swallow you whole...” He reaches a hand down between your legs, swipes a bit of yourself onto his fingertips and drags his tongue along it, savoring the taste of you. “Fuck MC...”

Before he could do as he very much pleased, the intense growl of his empty stomach startled him awake. He is an absolute blushing MESS and the sheets of his bed have somehow become uncomfortable for his lower half. He looks over at his brother, hoping that he’s still asleep. Thankfully, the sound of a gentle snore confirmed it and Beelzebub tiptoed into the bathroom to cool down.

The following weeks, Beelzebub had a hard time avoiding you, bearing in mind that you were a big eater similar to him, and like him, wherever there was food or snacks, you were there too. It’s one of the reasons he used to feel so comfortable around you. However, the very reason for one of his comforts was the same reason it was harder in more ways than one for him to keep his cool around you because he couldn’t quite that sinfully amazing dream out of his head. You unknowingly made things more difficult whenever you offered him a handful of candy as his stomach growled around you. It brought that cherry red blush back to his entire face and he would make an excuse to go back to his room... and you could never figure out why. Was it the flavor? The gesture itself? Had you done something to make him uncomfortable? You got around to asking Belphegor and with a shrug of his shoulders, he replied “maybe he had a dream where he ate candy off of your body?” Your cheeks heated up at the thought and you tried to laugh it off, dismissing the idea. Still... just the thought of it kept you up many, many nights. If only such a thing would come true...

💜Belphegor:

Lucifer was NOT giving him a break. How could he expect The Avatar of Sloth to handle so many responsibilities that go against his very nature? Like waking up in general to go to school, staying awake during classes, completing assignments, kitchen duty, attending whatever event Diavolo was hosting simply because Lucifer said so... I mean, it was all TOO much. It was the same situation as if one were to ask Beelzebub to stop eating, or Satan to stop reading, or any of the other brothers to just toss their sins and means of survival into the trash and pretend they don’t have them, all for some goofy prince who decided it was ‘perfectly fine’ to bring different realm dwellers down into the devildom to be buddy-buddy, like there wasn’t a huge, gaping scar diving them all in the first place. Then again... two of them aren’t all that bad. Simeon is an old ‘friend of the family’ and MC... Well? MC is Lilith MC. And they were the warm light at the end of this bleak, never ending tunnel. The thin shred of hope in the world. And he was going to show them how much they meant to him in the best way that he knew how, while also giving Lucifer a headache in the process.

Belphegor plops down beside you at the large desk you two shared before the class could start. He glances around, noticing that the assigned teacher hadn’t shown up yet nor were any of the other classmates, and it was the perfect time to put his plan into action. He hooks his foot around one of the legs of your chairs and slides you closer to him so he could whisper in your ear without much effort. “Let’s ditch this shit hole.” You could feel the smirk against the lobe of your ear and the heat from his breath sent a shiver up your spine. With a heavy sigh, you glared at him and could tell from the twinkle in his caverns of amethyst that it was going to be an uphill battle to change his mind. “C’mon, goody two shoes. We won’t be gone long.” A blatant lie. “Belphegor, you know as well as I do that I can’t do that.” You were trying your best to stand firm, undeterred by his attempts at coercing you in hopes that his laziness would make its grand appearance and he’d give up. But not this time. This time, Belphegor had something he wanted to do for you and he wasn’t about to give up. “MC...,” he places a warm hand on your upper thigh, giving it a light squeeze as he leans in to the skin just below your ear with his lips grazing it, “what’s the matter? Afraid Lucifer will find out and tear you a new one?” He shifted his free hand to the bottom of your chair and jerks it around for your body to face his direction, his lips now very close to your own. He brings the hand from the chair up to your face and holds your chin snug between his index and thumb. Your face heats up enough that it could melt lava and your body tenses. You hear him chuckle lowly to himself, amused by how worked up you become from his actions. “What if he’s too busy nagging me to pay any attention to you? Hm? Worst comes to worst, we can just knock it up to you being ignorant of my...,” he pauses, rubbing his thumb across your bottom lip while stealing a glance at them, then looks back up to you, “advances... and he lets you off the hook? What do you say to that, MC?” Your mind was empty and his hands on your body were making it difficult to even comprehend his proposal. You could only think of the low rumble of his voice and whatever the hell it was saying was probably going to come back to bite you in the ass later. However, something about the way he said it, the way he teased you in a such a way to get what he wanted... it was hard saying no.

You slowly nod your head, and the hands that once pinned you in place from the gentlest of touches released you a little too quickly. “Great!” he chirped in victory, standing up from his chair and offering his hand to you. You shot him another glare and reluctantly took his hand with an annoyed squeeze to his fingers. “Not for long. Promise?” He giggled, scooping you up into his arms bridal style. “No. Now act sick until we get to the attic. Don’t want anyone thinking there’s nothing wrong with you and you don’t need a day off.” You crossed your arms in a huff, feeling humiliatingly duped. But the way he was holding you made you feel a little bit better about it all, taking into account how much he truly cared for you and teasing you was just his cheeky way of showing it, while also getting whatever it is he wanted. With that in mind, you curled into his embrace and fully indulged in his scheme, letting out a few test trial, fake coughs and thought of something that distressed you to get the tears going... mostly for the runny nose and puffy eye effect. “Careful. Too great a performance and they’ll be badgering Diavolo to revive you in exchange for their soul.” You reeled back with your outermost arm and sent a heavy blow to his chest. “Kidding,” he laughed. “...sort of.”

Once you two make it behind the door of the attic with a quick turn of the lock, he sets you back down onto your feet and stretches his arms out followed by an audible yawn. “You almost had Mammon shift into his demon form over you. Great job.” he quipped. “Yeah, and I hated every second of it. Can we just nap already? All the crying and fake coughing tuckered me out,” you retorted. “Sure, I’ll grab our favorite blankets,” he said, ducking away to go get them. “And I’ll get the pillows and stuffed creatures.”

You separated for a moment to gather the necessities, tossed them onto the bed, and then huddled up to snuggle close beneath the mountain of comfort. You hooked a leg over his waist and he slid one between your legs, while you wrapped your arms around his neck and he draped one of his over your side, nuzzling his face into your chest. “‘night MC... and thank you.” he mumbled. You placed a chaste kiss to the top of his head and replied, “You’re welcome, Belphie. Sleep tight.” “You too.” And with your bids of sweet sayonara, you drift off into a deep slumber, one that only clinging to The Avatar of Sloth could provide.

One of the perks of being said Avatar of Sloth is that he can visit other people’s dreams, especially if he shares a strong connection with the host. Whenever you shared naps together, he’d sneak his way into your dream world and your mind was like a shared secret hideout because it was the only place you two could be alone for extended periods of time. It was also your own wonderland because he could make ANYthing happen. You wanted to fly amongst the stars? He’d take your hands and lift you both into the atmosphere. You wanted to become your favorite human world creature? He’d snap his fingers and away you two would scurry off. Whatever it was that you wished, he could make it happen within your unconscious mind. However, this go around, Belphie had a wish of his very own and one that he hoped you would grant.

Once he snuck into your dreams, he soon spotted you laid back peacefully upon a cloud, reaching your hand up to rearrange the stars in different shapes and patterns. He noticed you had made one of him and yourself, holding hands. The smile that crept onto his face was impossible to hide, no matter how hard he tried to come off as cold or indifferent. “Always knew you had an artistic streak in you.” You jumped at the sound of his voice, sitting up and clutching your chest. “That was fast,” you breathed. “A warning would be nice.”

“Why? I wouldn’t be able to get such a cute reaction out of you if I did.” He floated towards you and hoisted himself up to his place beside you on the cloud. “How charming,” you teased, nudging his shoulder with your own, earning yourself a light chortle from him. “So,” you continued, “what shall we do this time? Sail some open seas as pirates? Rob a bank as outlaws in the old west? Or maybe-.” He places a hand over your mouth and shakes his head with his shoulders jumping in light laughter. “You seem to forget who I am, silly. I say we continue from where you left off before you were so rudely interrupted, hm?” He lays back onto the cloud and pulls you down next to him. Then, he takes your hand by the wrist and lifts it back up to the stars and starts moving your fingers in different motions so that you’re creating various works of art as you had been before. Getting the picture, you giggle and continue moving your fingers to shape the stars with him watching you in adoration... but he’d never tell you he did so. At some point you make a cow and point it out to him, laughing at your own joke referring to him in his demon form. “See? The resemblance is astounding!” He smirks, sitting up and looking down at you. “Oh yeah?” he asks, his tone hinting towards a playful threat. “Yeah!” you swat at him.

That was your mistake.

He grips your wrist with one hand and rolls over top of you, taking your other hand and pinning both of them above your head. He trails his free hand from your face, down your side and rests it on your hip, keeping you in place beneath him. Your skin twitches under his gentle touch and your face heats up again as your breath becomes hitched in your throat. “N-not fair...” you whined, squirming and trying your best to get the upper hand. He shakes his head. “Tsk, tsk, tsk. Still forgetting who I am, MC?” He leans down towards your ear, his lips grazing the lobe. He practically growls in your ear, “I don’t play fair.” His gripping on you tightens as he moves lower to sink his teeth down onto your neck, earning him a soft whimper, one that spurs him on further. He snakes his hand from your hip beneath your shirt and runs it up and down your sides as he moves his lips to yours, giving them a bite every so often while occasionally slipping in his tongue. For the rest of the dream he is having his way with you and making your wildest fantasies become reality.. as much as your dreamworld allowed.

When he wakes, he opens his eyes to an empty spot beside him where you normally laid. He sits up, scratching his head and finding a new sense of uncomfortableness beneath the blankets, particularly at his groin. He searches the room for you but you’re nowhere in sight. “MC?” You pop your head around the corner of the bathroom doorway, weariness still in your eyes. “hmmm, yes Belphie?” As you switch off the light and shuffle back to the bed, slipping back underneath the blankets, he’s eyeing you in suspicion. “When did you wake up?” He asks, a gravel to his voice from such a deep slumber. “Well, as you were watching me paint with stars, my body woke me up because I had to use the bathroom...” you paused a moment in thought. “Did I miss something in dreamworld?” He ponders your statement for a second, unsure of how to respond. What it be so bad if he was just honest and told you what happened between him and.. what was supposed to be you? “Yes, you did.” he smirked, “You painted a cow and said it looked like me.” “Haha, classic MC,” you quipped about yourself.

The remainder of your time playing hooky, you were the big spoon and his excuse was that it was more comfortable this way now. Unfazed, you snuggled up behind him and snaked your arm under his to place your hand against his chest. Only this time, he couldn’t sleep. Him. Mr. Sandman. Couldn’t sleep. His mind was reeling, constantly going over the way your body moved against his, how your voice and sounds were like lewd melodies to his ears, and the way you made him feel on another level... it kept him and his lower half up for as long as you were snuggled close to him and had your hand so close to his heart. However, the memory of the dream would last for eternity.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #otome #mine #my posts #devildomdoofus #obey me scenarios #obey me headcanons #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #asmodeus #beelzebub #belphegor

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cadopan · 3 years ago

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Arsenal’s player ratings for Hoffenheim vs Arsenal UWCL Group Stage 2nd Leg (4-1)

what was that…. i’m actually speechless. it’s like a slow-burn amnesia where the whole team is forgetting how to play football. I’d like to talk about something positive, so I’ll just dive into how good Hoffenheim played today. I have to say, from the first 10 minutes, I kinda got a feel of where this was going. They outplayed us in all aspects; hunger in their pressing, confidence in playing out of the back, knowing exactly where their teammates were in the final third, the list goes on. There was one movement right from the kick-off where they beat our press so seamlessly, whereas our buildup/attack looked disjointed (mainly due to midfield distribution being absent) and completely lacking creativity or ideas.

Starting XI:

*do take note that these are all based on my memory from watching the game live (doubt I’ll want to watch the replay), and half of the match was spent in ever-growing panic and averting my eyes at the way we very nearly let that quarter-finals place slip out of our hands. thank you. Lydia — 4.5/10. can’t really fault too much her for any of the goals, our defending was pure shambles today and it’s just unfortunate that she’s on the end of 4 goals being knocked past her. and what happened to Manu? and Noelle?? their presence is sorely missed. Anna — 3/10. one of the least culpable of the backline, but Jule Brand (can we sign her up?) was having a field day up against Patsy, just dancing past her like nobody’s business. also went foolishly rushing out for the first goal, which left that gaping space behind her and Lia and Jen were left scrambling to try and cover her. couple vital blocks and backtracking that she produced in the second half really saved our skin though. Jen — 2/10. now that’s two completely individual errors made that led to goals conceded in two matches from her. even in the first goal, her lack of pace is just glaringly obvious and it’s costing us. I hate to sound cold but we really need to move on from this defence if we have want to have any hopes of putting up some kind of fight against good teams. Steph — 3/10. had a good outing last time but today was just back to the usual suspect performances from her. how many careless passes into the midfield danger area does she want to make? honestly, the midfield were poor too but they weren’t being done any favours by the risky balls constantly sent into their feet when they had multiple Hoffenheim players surrounding them.

sidenote: ever since our defence situation has been looking absolutely appalling in recent times, I’ve put some thought into who we could possibly nab in the transfer window to shore up our backline and who might fit in to our plans for the future. my pick is…. *drumrolls* Hawa Cissoko from West Ham!! not sure if many people watch their games, but I keep up with their matches in the WSL and she’s a rock at the back for them. has good reading of the game, is never bullied physically, and she actually has some pace! also, she makes these surging runs to get up field (both with and without the ball, and picks the right moments to do so!), which would add an exciting element to our variations going forward. she’s the same age as Leah, and recently been getting called up to the French national team after consistently doing well for West Ham. i’ve really settled on her as my ideal pick for defensive reinforcements that we desperately need. y’all should check her out. plus, West Ham has been growing as a team this season and they play some pretty enjoyable football. Katie — 4/10. didn’t make as many dreadful mistakes, but can’t say she had an especially good game either. decent, might even be generous. tried to get up and send in some crosses (which is arguably her strongest point), but still not enough to really effect our attacking game, and quite stagnant in the buildup on the left side. Lia — 2.5/10. like Jen, had a hand in 2 of goals conceded today, particularly the second one where she let a simple pass completely roll under her, Hoffenheim get possession right outside our box and voila their scoring streak begins. i just really hope her confidence isn’t shot, because we’ve seen those true moments of quality that she can produce! maybe in terms of her mentality under pressure, she needs to improve that pronto so she doesn’t keep getting dispossessed right in front of the CBs. another game for Lia to forget this season :(

Frida — 3.5/10. another victim of the ‘Frida-Lia-Kim midfield’ that simply does not work well together. here’s my take on one of the reasons why: if you notice Jordan or Mana play, they often drop deep enough to receive the ball from the defenders, which might seem very basic or simple, but what that does is drag out the Hoffenheim players who are marking them and thus creates pockets of space further upfield that can be exploited. this dynamic movement hardly exists, not to mention the significantly lesser creative output too, that almost nothing was progressing from the midfield areas in the first half. Arsenal’s only route of attack was find a way to get the ball to the wingers, send a cross or shot in, and hope to god that someone gets on the end of it (like the way Mana did).

Kim — 5/10. i mean, it was an abysmal day for everyone but she was still one of those who sorta managed an okay-ish performance. her close control and footwork to wiggle out of the Hoffenheim players’ grasps was great to watch as usual, but sadly she was one of the only few who were trying to lead by example.

Beth — 6/10. another one who did as much as she could, during the time that she was on imo. liveliest spark over the course of the first half, and if not for her shot being parried, we wouldn’t even have that consolation goal to commiserate over. it’s getting more and more concerning that she isn’t being rested by Jonas though.

Viv — 4/10. throughout the 90, i think i only counted one (maybe two) good shots from her? and that clear 1v1 opportunity that she absolutely wasted can’t be ignored… don’t like saying it but what’s going on with her recently? i know everyone likes to use the “but she doesn’t get enough service” reasoning, but it’s now been multiple, and dare i say easy finishes that a lethal striker like her should be putting away in as many games.

Mana — 5/10. also didn’t have the best of games today, felt like she was trying to compensate for the midfield by becoming the creative force and also lost quite a bit of possession due to it. (fyi, this is a recurring feature of her game though. high risk, high reward kind of playing style. that’s why she can do magic and make things happen out of nothing, but also ends up giving the ball away when it doesn’t work out.) however, she busted a gut to target Beth's rebound and make the equaliser happen, so that was her significant contribution today.

Subs:

Keets — 5.5/10. another case in which the subs get higher ratings because they were on for a shorter period of time when the catastrophe was taking place. definitely the much-needed energy to sort of “wake up” the team and get some tempo in our attack going. the right side came alive in the second half after she entered.

Jordan — 5/10. should’ve been on from the start. i don’t even want to write it out because i’m so tired of repeating this. another thing about Jordan and Mana is that they actively try to turn and face forward with the ball, which beats the first line of opponent press and kickstarts the attack or enables them to spray out through balls or go wide. in this current midfield that Jonas nonsensically favours, Kim is the only one who does that. also did good to settle the nerves a bit and ensure that we saw out the game without conceding anymore goals. we’re clearly missing an extra leader on the pitch when you omit her, wtf Jonas.

Viki — N/A. brought on to tick down the last few seconds before our misery finally came to an end.

Bonus:

Jonas Eidevall — 3/10. not resting players, choosing the same ineffective midfield. he is letting us down yet again, but I have to say that he doesn’t get a rock bottom rating because he can’t do anything about those defensive errors. we’re just making a habit of giving up goals mainly from our own deficiencies, that needs to be coached out of our system ASAP. the midfield today is especially puzzling because, hey, this is Hoffenheim. no disrespect to them and we were clearly shown who’s boss today, but this is a side that we beat 4-0 in the first leg. what in the world was the reasoning behind Jonas putting out a midfield that is mainly defensive more than anything? go out guns blazing, secure a couple goals, and then you can sit back.

Referee — 5/10. don’t recall anything contentious she may have done, mostly because i was distracted and panicking over us possibly losing our ticket to the QFs. Overall: thought things were on an upturn after the way we ended the week, but nope. the team was shocking, fatigued and slowly losing it. cmon we can do better guys. my summary section is usually longer than this, but i think you can tell i’ve just kind of lost the motivation to continue lol.

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angloie · 4 years ago

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Nighttime garden visits and Royal Galas.

Out of all the gala's and balls, Perseus has never found what he- or rather his parents- wanted. A sucsessor to the throne. And, frankly, he's never had much want for one. Why would he in the first place?

But a night in a disguise, a garden, and a strange blonde might change his mind.

genre: percabeth royalty au, fluff, just the slightest of angst

warnings: 2 (two) swear words

a/n - words cannot describe on how much a had wanted to write a percabeth royalty au :DD

The first time Percy has his first ball thrown, he's fifteen.

Young and naive. That's what he was. He had just scoffed and rolled his eyes at the royal advisors, because why would he, so early, need to find a possible suitor this soon?

"Its a friendly gathering with our neighboring kingdoms, sir," The shrimpy man had explained. "The purpose is to get a feel on what future balls could look like."

"And... If I refuse?"

He shakes his head, glasses tilting atop his crooked nose. "Im afraid the king and queen wouldn't allow it, sir. It's for your best."

It's for your best.

Was it really?

Was it for Percy's best when a he had sat for the majority of the gathering? Was it for his best when he clearly was uncomfortable? Or maybe when he had to leave early by sneaking away in the lavatories?

He didn't think such.

The next time (and hopefully last) time Percy has a ball thrown, he's sixteen.

Okay, he's not so young anymore. At least that's what the other noblewomen say when they sign their own to partake in the ball.

"Oh my, Perseus has grown into a handsome young man!" They had always said. "Shouldn't he start looking for a suitor? My daughter would be more than willing, you know!"

So that's why he's here, looking as dull as the grey sky as he sips on some fancy concoction. Its funny, really, Percy should be happy.

He should be happy and thankful that his kind parents arrange him these gatherings, putting up with his scowls and frowns. He should be happy when the other Princes don't get nearly as much attention as he does.

"May I have this dance?" Someone; Percy can't even remember at that point, asks with a hand out. The question almost comes out as expectantly.

Well, the drink isn't getting any less bitter, and Percy hasn't danced since he took a break from his lessons two months ago.

He takes the hand gingerly.

A cheer rings out when he takes it, short and filled with excitement. Hope, even. Isn't that a shame. This dance means absolutely nothing to him, and Percy definitely knows that. What he hoped, however, is that everyone else does too.

Hands reach out to grasp his shoulders, tight and firm. He can only manage a stiff hand to reach on the other girl's shoulder, his right hand finding itself on her lower back.

The ruffles of her dress brush over his shoes as they whirl through the dance floor. Percy's sure that his parents are watching as he dances with the unameable girl. She's the first one he's danced with out of the two ball’s thrown- and the first ask, too. He guessed the other guests just expected for him to ask.

Percy might not seem like the type to like dances; and he usually isn’t, but the feeling of waltzing down with someone just feels soothing. But with this girl, and this audience, it doesn't feel all that natural.

Maybe, the girl can feel it too, because when the song finishes she's never to be seen again.

What's so hard about all this is that the participants aren’t looking for his wealth, or status. They just want to find someone, somewhere, just like him. They all seek someone who can truly love them for who they truly are. They cannot find that in Percy. Not now, and not ever.

He wished they could find that in him.

But, gosh, this would be so much easier if they weren't like him.

Unfortunately the second ball isn't the last.

He's seventeen now, a prime age for searching for suitors. He knows that, his parents know that, and the kingdom knows. His eighteenth birthday will only be in two weeks, and cruel reminder that time is limited.

“Percy, dear, I know that this isn't what you want to do.” Sally comes into the training grounds as he finishes up shredding the practice dummy. Her voice laces with sympathy. “But this is for your best.”

There it is again; 'For your best'.

“So please,” Sally adds with a shake of the head. “You need to find someone. I know this must be hard for you.”

“Uh huh.” Percy grunts.

“It’s just... The kingdom needs you. They rely on you. We do, too. I know you can find someone who you will love genuinely. If not for the kingdom...”

Then do it for yourself.

The lines between true love and what's forced starts to blur. Forced dances, words, smiles. Sure, the guests might be all smiles then, but when the ball’s over Percy can sometimes hear the dissapointed whispers coming from them. Its almost too much for him.

So he runs.

He runs out of the castle and out in the town, where he doesn't stop until he reaches the market. Because he just can't stand another minute in that stuffy castle. Because if he wants to find someone, throwing gala's and balls isn’t the way he wants to do it. Sally tried. She really did, but, Percy didn't want or need it.

People must not recognize him because if they did, they'd be swarming him like fish to a worm. The worn clothing and messy hair must be more than enough to disguise him.

But... What was he here for, anyways?

People bump into him, brushing his shoulders and nearly knocking him down. It's mid-afternoon; so it's pretty busy for that time of day. Especially for that time of day.

Shops line the sides of the street. People stop and look at all the variety of items. They all flow through the streets in one fluid motion, acting like a well oiled machine.

When was the last time Percy's been here?

Excitement-- a feeling he hasn't felt in forever- takes over his senses. His pockets feel much heavier now, a reminder that he has money in there. Money, something that can buy things. He grins.

Tarts, strudels, cake, baked goods... They all start to pile up in both the paper bag Percy's carrying, and in his stomach. Street food is completely different than gourmet food in the castle. It's so... Delicious. So much more savoury than the plain food he's been eating that comes in such little portions. Percy stops to stare at little trinkets at the little stands. Who would care if he bought a little something in the little time?

But you know what's better?

Nobody knows him here. They all pass him like some other commoner, and maybe he is. The absolute freedom is overwhelming when you don't have some prestigious title held over your head. If this was what a 'normal' life was like, then you could sign Percy up right away.

A fountain in the middle of the square oh so poised, white marble holding both water and gold drachma as people pass and throw a coin in.

Call Percy childish, but he throws one in with a wish with them.

Please help me find someone who will love me as much as I love them.

Yes, it's immature and pathetic. He knows that. But Percy will need all the help he can get, so why not get a wishing fountain to help out?

By the time the orange sun dips beneath the rolling hills, Percy's legs feel like putty.

He doesn't know just how much it can help. Not quite yet, anyways.

In other words: if he has to walk a whole thirty minutes to the castle, then he's sleeping on a bench for the night.

But Percy can't go home now; not when his parents are waiting, and not when the Royal servants are ready to pamper him like a baby again. And definitely not when he's not prepared to see anyone again.

So the question is- where can he go right now?

Maybe the garden that's in Percy's peripheral vision can be a nice spot to relax.

The trees sway along with the light breeze, leaves occasionally falling to the green grass below. A pond reflects the moonlight in a way that leaves the water crystalline. Unlike the bustling crowds in the marketplace, this place is much more calm.

When Percy looks up ahead, there's an arch that reaches high above him. Maybe just about overlooking the rest of the garden. Vines circle around it, green and thick. Almost like a ladder.

Now that seems like a nice spot. And who's stopping him from getting there, anyways?

He nearly falls on his back climbing up the vines, but he gets up there in a matter of seconds. Years of building up some muscle can pay off, turns out.

The view is breathtaking.

The stars shine ever so dimly up there, and if Percy squints, he can see the hunter constellation Orion. Its so breaking in fact; that Percy finds himself leaning forward, forward, forward, reeling to get a closer look.

"You know, if you keep leaning forward you'll fall." A voice blandly calls out.

"Wha-" He turns around to meet someone a few feet right of him. Was someone there before him? "What?"

"I said you're sure to fall if you keep leaning forward." The person says again. This time Percy can note a hint if exasperation in the tone.

And- who's talking, anyways? The moonlight doesn't reach the person's face, and the dark isn't quite helpful.

"I- I'm aware of that." He shoots back, slightly irritated. "...Were you always there?" He adds short after.

"Aren't you the observant one?" Percy can practically feel the eye roll. "But yes. You just so happened to interrupt my reading."

When the moon angles itself to shine on the person's face, he starts to think that this view is more breathtaking.

Grey eyes stare back at him, a few strands of blonde hair covering them. The rest of the curly locks rest on her shoulders, glowing in the light. She's maybe his age.

And Percy's such an idiot, because all he can manage is "Why're you reading in the dark?"

She laughs after a second of quietness. "And what about it?"

"Well," He stammers. "Isn't it hard to read in the dark? And why not just read during the day?"

"For your information, this is the only time I can read without interruption. This place isn't all that bad either."

"Ah."

"And why might you be up here?"

"No reason!" Percy sits up straight, like a chill just ran down his spine. Well, it feels like that. "I just... wanted to relax, that's all!" Thats not all a lie.

The moonlight shifts to him, and she sucks in a breath.

"What?" He asks, "Are you entranced by my absolute hotness or something?" A grin creeps up his face.

"N-No. Its nothing." An owl hoots somewhere in the mess of trees, adding some noise to the awkward silence.

Her stomach grumbles.

"Are you perhaps... hungry?" Percy looks at her, eyes flicking towards the book in her hands.

"Maybe."

More silence.

“Here,” He grabs one of the remaining tarts in the brown bag beside him, pushing it towards her. She stares at it for a moment.

“Really?” Percy nods, looking away absent mindedly. “Thank you.”

“Whatever.”

The rest of the time remaining is spent on a more comftorable silence spent together. He isn't sure when they depart, but some time in the middle of the night, Percy decides that the high arch won't do as a bed.

His parents await him with stern faces and words of dissapointment when he returns to the all too familiar castle. Where have you been? and: Why did you return much too late? is all Percy can hear as he sighs, heading to his own quarters. The Royal servants can't even question on his choice of wardrobe before he's gone into the safety in his own privacy.

“See you never, I guess.” Annabeth says, boredom lacing her tone.

And she's gone.

It soon comes to mind that Percy enjoyed the unamed girls company.

It's too bad, though; he probably won't ever get to see her again.

That’s what he had though before.

For the thrill of it, Percy decides to go back to the arch one last time. Because he found comfort in the area, with the cherry blossom trees and cool breeze.

And the girl is there, again.

'One last time’. That saying is long gone, because then Percy's visiting more, more, and more. Because Percy continues to share baked goods with her on long nights while they talk.

Those nights spent in disguise as a bakers son seem to work, because Annabeth doesn't question on how he can afford so much strawberry tarts, or chocolate cake slices. What she doesn't know is that Percy spends nearly all of his money buying them.

Because he's started to learn more about the girl, like that she's his age and likes to read books about architecture. Like how she used to catch cicadas when she was a kid but let them go because she felt bad. Her name is Annabeth Chase.

And she's one of a kind.

The nights are less lonlier, the days seem to shine more brighter.

Percy’s more happier now. And it's all because of her.

More nights spent out, as the Baker's boy. His parents get worried. He tells them he's out training. The royal workers question him, pestering Percy on why his wardrobe consists of commoner clothing. He brushes it off as a new taste in fashion.

“Your eighteenth birthday is coming up, dear,” Sally brings up at dinner one day. Percy drops his fork, stabbed into a price of mild meat.

“Hm? Oh, yeah.”

“What would you like?” Poseidon- the King and his father- speaks up. “Perhaps you would like a day out in the kingdom's stables? Or maybe the Royal Orchestra to arrange a concerto in the Opera house?”

Yeah, right. Like I would even stay awake for any of that.

“Theres not much that I would like,” Percy shifts in his seat. “So anything is fine.”

“Maybe a gala would be fitting for the occasion, your graces.” The Royal advisor piped up from his spot from the other side of the room.

“A gala! Perfect!” Sally beams, clapping her hands together.

“Ha ha...” Pure dread settles in his stomach as he lets out a defeated laugh.

“Fantastic.”

And so it's settled.

In a matter of days, the news of the gala is spread throughout all the neighbouring kingdoms. People talk about it like the news of some ruler giving away their fortune. Royal servants, designers, and maids work together in a flurry of gala preparations.

Percy isn't sure why he feels so dreadful. He should be more greatful- greatful that people are working so hard just for him.

“I just really wish they wouldn't.” He rambles onto Annabeth the next night. Their legs dangle off the jagged stone edge of the arc. “I don’t even want this. It's so stupid! Just let me live in peace, gods, it's like they don't even care.”

“Yeah, I get that on a whole other level.”

“I just hate my role. And my duties, too.” Percy finishes his story on how he's appointed to 'run the family bakery'; which is his royal problems disguised in a more local one.

He can't tell her that he's the prince. He can't tell her when their solid friendship is on the line. Not when Annabeth could decide to leave him one day, or even stop visiting.

Now he wouldn't want that.

The two munch on another snack. This time Percy has brought some chocolate cake, because he always found comfort in eating sweet foods. A comfort that's close to what Annabeth radiates.

Eating baked goods, talking about problems, and sharing stupid jokes is what Percy loves most about nightime.

Especially if those nights are spent with Annabeth.

Great, he's come full circle. Back to his very first ball thrown.

He wonders if she would look just as good in the daylight than she did at night.

Well, gala, actually.

Percy sits stop his plush throne that overlooks the Grand ballroom. People come up to him and wish him a happy birthday here and there, wearing extravagant clothing and much too bright smiles. Heck, someone even came up to him wearing this barf coloured hat that stretched a meter or two wide.

Percy had to stiffle a light when that happened, but it came out as an embarrassing snort/chortle that raised a few eyebrows.

But you know what all those greetings had in common?

“I’m sure you must be looking for someone to rule your side, your grace.”

“So, when are you going to settle on someone to marry?”

“A handsome young man like you must be looking for a sucsessor by now!”

Yeah. That.

People dance with him with such passion that it makes Percy look bad. Thier gracefulness, swiftness as they dance across the floor, the delicate hands that grip his shoulders. It's all so foreign to him. And yet, Percy's been doing it for most of his life.

It's shameful. It's shameful that he thinks of a certain blonde in his arms instead of the person he's dancing with. He can only imagine her being there-- another one of his childish fantasies.

He sees the bubbly looks people give him when they think he's not looking. The looks that are full of want when they look at him.

Yep, he’s definitely come full circle, when he excuses himself to go the the lavatories.

Or in this case: The royal gardens.

The Royal gardens are nothing like the one Percy visits every night. They all lack something that only the other one can have.

Consolation.

Old grape vines circle the stone pedestals, hanging highly above him. Cicadas buzz quietly in the rose bushes as he walks, setting the soundtrack for the majority of the night.

It might not be the same, but Percy can find the same solace in the quietness.

“When am I ever going to find someone...” He grumbles as he sits down on the bench, hands covering his face. “Fuck.”

“I think that's the first time I've ever heard you swear,” A voice snickers.

A familiar voice.

“Annabe-” Percy's quick to correct himself. “I mean! Uh. I'm afraid you're mistaken, miss.”

Annabeth Chase, In all her glory, smirks and few feet away from him. “Oh, Am I now?” the smirk tugging at her lips curl upwards in a way that makes him think that she knows something he doesn't.

“Yes, I believe so.”

“I think you're lying to me.” she steps forward, eyes glinting with a certain familiarity. “A happy birthday to you, baker’s boy.”

She...

She knows?

“Yup,” Annabeth answers his question. (Which he didn't realize that he said it aloud, but that's fine now he's gotten that out of the way.)

“...And you decided...” Percy reels for a straight answer. “And you decided not to tell me?”

“Well, I noticed that first time I got a full glimpse of you. I just thought you were dressing up as someone, so I just wondered what you were doing.” She tilts her head. “But it looks like I've confirmed it now, your majesty.”

Yeah, she knows. And she's singlehandedly put me into cardiac arrest.

“How embarrasing.” Percy can barely meet her eyes without the expense of blushing. “H-How are you here, anyways?”

“I think I forgot to tell you that I'm the general's daughter.”

“Yeah, 'forgot' is a understatement, Annabeth!”

“Oh whoops, my bad.” She laughs again, this time taking a spot beside Percy on the bench. “I’ll be sure to tell you next time.” There won't be a next time, idiot!

He grimaces. “I’m pushing you in the pond when we go back to that garden.”

“ooh, scary.”

A cricket jumps past them. Almost comically, considering the silence between the two.

“So,” Percy awkwardly speaks up. “Do you come here often?”

'Do you come here often'? What kind of question is that!? Of course she doesn't, because we're in the Royal gardens? does she think I'm weird now? Or does she-

“Nope,” She rolls her eyes jokingly. “You?”

When Annabeth picked up the invitation to prince Perseus's gala, her lips twitched downwards in a confused frown.

“U-uh, not really.” he lets out a sigh of relief.

Why would she, someone who has no interest in galas, ever be invited to one? They usually just invited snobby rich people with too much money on their hands.

And to be more specific: If she wanted to dance with the prince, she could just meet him at that garden the next night.

But this was Percy. So she could attend one measly gala.

Annabeth watched as Percy exited the ball room. A scowl on his face and all.

She also saw him sit pretty on his throne for the majority of the gala, sipping on some foreign blue drink. Not to mention the massive amount of people that came up to him. Nobles, other royals,

It was weird- weird seeing him without those scrappy clothing and moonlight illuminating his features.

But Annabeth would be lying if she said that he looked any worse.

In fact, she thinks he looks even more handsome in the ballroom’s light.

Other people surely notice that, too, because she doesn't miss the lustful gazes of them as he walks by to greet some Grand duke. For a reason she can't comprehend that makes her... a little jealous.

No. That's not like her.

Annabeth can settle on the term on edge for now.

But how can she not be? Percy and his condescending smirk, lame jokes and messy black hair.

Maybe, just maybe, she wonders if anyone else knows that side of him.

She can't just watch as he exits, right?

So Annabeth follows him. Follows, because he can't be up to any good. Because Percy seriously can't be ditching his own party, can he?

“Well, I can officially say that this is the lamest party I've ever been too.” She snickers at the boy besdie her.

“Hey!” Percy protests, frowning. “This party is not lame. It's not even a party, for one.”

“Fine. You ditched you own gala, so it can't be all that fun.” Annabeth reminds.

“You’ve got a point.”

The music playing ever so softly in the background changes. It's a more happier rapid and lively in the dark sky.

“This isn't getting any more funner.”

“You got that right.”

“And I'm pretty bored, if you ask me.”

“Yup.”

“And I just so happen to have a solution.” Percy gets up, coming to stand in front of Annabeth.

“Hm?” Her eyes narrow.

He reaches a hand out bashfully. “So what do you say? May I have this dance, miss Chase?”

At that very moment, Annabeth’s heart stops beating.

She takes his hand with no qualms.

“Of course, your higness.” She says, grinning like a lovestruck idiot.

The grass tickled thier ankles as they away through the garden, stars glimmering above Ike showcase lights upon them. Annabeth can only blush as his hands find themselves on her hips as her own place themselves on his shoulders.

She can proudly say that she's never been a dancer. But with Percy? Annabeth feels like she could dance all night.

The music can only get louder as they dance, the guests inside unknowing of the two outside.

Would it be weird to say that Percy feels more at ease with Annabeth? No amount of dancing instructors or dance partners feel as natural as she does.

Gosh, this is just as amazing as he fantasized about.

Those daydreams and longing thoughts of being in her company wasn’t for not, because here Annabeth was, waltzing along with him. The setting. The lighting. The air. It all seemed like some sort of fever dream.

The lines of what's forced love and what's love seemed to blur at one point, but Percy definitely knows that this isn't forced.

But is this what love is like?

For him, yes.

Love to him is your heart beating faster than you've ever thought possible. Love is dancing with a red face and clammy palms. Love makes him feel all mushy inside, and he wouldn't have it any other way.

Love is Annabeth Chase, and she's dancing with him.

Percy's a fool, such a love struck fool for her. And a even bigger fool when he asks: “Would you slap me if I kissed you right now?"

“W-What?”

Annabeth meets his eyes, and blush spreading like wildfire across her face. Did he just say what I think he said?

Damn it, it must be too late to take it back now! She's going to slap me any second now, too! “S-sorry, that was uncalled f-" He can't finish, because Annabeth beats him to it.

Clamping a hand over his eyes, she presses her lips to his in a heated kiss.

And Percy thinks that he might have just died a liitle.

Holy shit, her lips are so soft against his, its sure to drive him crazy. He can't see anything, but he can feel it. The way her grip tightens, the way her lips seem to fit perfectly against his, and how Annabeth smiles in the midst of it all.

He comes to the conclusion that its simply addictive.

"You're so lame," Annabeth giggles as she pulls away from the kiss.

"Yeah, I know." Percy rolls his eyes at that. But before Annabeth can make some idiotic retort, its his turn to render her speechless with his own kiss.

BONUS::

Yes, love to him is Annabeth Chase, and she's kissing him under the stars.

"Oh, would you look at that!" Sally beamed, peering out the window. "Percy's kissing someone! Somebody get the camera!"

The guests scrambled to look through the wide windows, tinted with colors of blue amd green. Someone gasped a little too loudly at the sight from mere surprise.

i feel like ive just plagiarized something o_O

"Hey! That's my daughter!"

#percy jackson #annabeth chase #pjo #percabeth #hoo #heroes of olympus #percy pjo #percy and annabeth #percabeth oneshot #percabeth fanfic #percy x annabeth #percy jackon and the olympians #annabeth pjo #annabeth #camp jupiter #camp half blood #chb

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ddarker-dreams · 5 years ago

Text

Aspiration Part 2. Yan Chrollo x Reader [COMM]

click here for part one!

“You’ll hurt your neck if you keep craning your head down like that.”

What good it does to chastise you on an insignificant action like this is beyond you. There isn’t much else to do until you land in this “unknown” destination that he’s spoken of earlier, yet the thought of entertaining conversation with him doesn’t feel appealing either. Being kidnapped will have that effect on you, he shouldn’t expect otherwise but seems to.

“Nothing a few painkillers won’t solve.” you respond with forced disinterest, flipping to the next page of the magazine Chrollo gave you earlier. It feels like a minor loss to entertain him with a response, your cold shoulder treatment temporarily lifting.

You’ve read this magazine at least three times by now, hoping that giving your mind something to focus on will steady you in reality. The lackluster stories about summer sales, latest keto recipes, and what celebrities have been up to lately offer none to little substance. Yet your eyes continue scanning them dutifully as if it’s a sacred text recovered by a forgotten civilization.

Letting out a small yawn, you continue to read until you get to the familiar final page once again. Fully intending on completing the cycle of rereading it, Chrollo interrupts this by plucking it from your grasp before you get the chance. All you can offer in return is a halfhearted glare and grimace.

“Hey! I was reading that.” you protest with a frown, feeling vulnerable without anything to hold onto.

He ignores your agitated exclamation, placing the magazine out of your reach by his side. “I don’t believe you’re missing out on anything of importance, seeing as you’ve read it multiple times already.”

Huffing but not humoring him with a response, you cross your arms and stare out the window. The clouds below you are an enticing sight, still not enough to maintain your attention for the remaining thirty or so minutes of this flight. When traveling, it’s always the last amount of time before reaching your destination that feels like the longest.

Chrollo lets out a disapproving sigh at your actions, then pulls back his sleeve to check the time. “It won’t be much longer. I’ll attribute your current behavior to being hungry.”

“Well, yeah, there’s that,” you finally look over at him, lips pursing indignantly. “And there’s the fact that I’ve been kidnapped by an A bounty criminal and am currently heading to god knows where at four in the morning.”

“You’re by all means welcome to rest.”

How he can calmly rebuke all your thinly veiled sarcasm is a special talent, like water off a duck’s back. You don’t want to admit it, however, you’re grateful he isn’t hotheaded and offended by your boorish remarks. Watching your tongue would be how any sane person would deal with a threat like this… then there’s you. Making poor decisions and winging it. A life motto, really.

An invitation to rest your weary eyes isn’t easily declined, an alluring proposal. His presence makes it a challenge to feel comfortable enough to fall asleep, that state leaving you entirely vulnerable. When you’re awake you have some tandem of control, even if it isn’t much.

“Where exactly would I do that? I don’t see any beds in here.” You emphasize your rebuttal by glancing around the room you two occupy, as if one would materialize at your words. Now that would be a useful nen ability, if he happened to have it.

Chrollo smiles, in a way that doesn’t sit well with you. “Why not rest on my shoulder?”

“W-whatever happened to your previous care over the well being of my neck? That’ll just hurt it after five or so minutes.” you stutter back, face flushing as his lips quirk further upwards. Amusement is dancing within his dark eyes, drawing out further discomfort from you. He seems to like exchanges like this, flustering you with the same ease as breathing.

“Painkillers. You said it yourself,” Chrollo throws your previous statement before you, challenging you with a raised eyebrow. “I’d be happy to get them, if that’s the only reservation you have about sleeping on me.”

Inhaling sharply at his teasing assault, you close your eyes to prevent yourself from doing anything foolish. Gritting your teeth and balling your fists by your side, you remember why you were giving him the cold shoulder earlier. Talking to Chrollo is exasperating, all of his composed words like needles in your skin. Not wanting to swat at the wasp nest any further, your mind starts drifting, in a last ditch effort to distract yourself.

It’s been an eventful night. The most memorable night of your life, if you’re being honest. You had always acknowledged and accepted the risks of looking into the Phantom Troupe. The stories of their unabashed cruelty served as an appropriate warning. Playing it close to the chest usually entailed fear of death, so never in your wildest dreams were you expecting… whatever this is.

At least it beats dying? So you’ve got that going for you.

There isn’t anything you can do now, is what you’ve been telling yourself. Playing along with his whims is all you can think to do. It isn’t the ideal situation, but your only option now is to wait for an opening for escape. Even though Chrollo has more strength than you, he is still human. The thought offers a glimmer of encouragement, knowing that people aren’t infallible. You’ll take advantage of any weaknesses you can find.

Getting more information out of him is a path worth pursuing for the time being.

“I hope we’re not camping,” you murmur, shuddering at the horrific thought. “Bugs eat me like I’m the last supper.”

“We won’t be camping. And despite the name, the last supper isn’t actually the last time the disciples ate.” There’s something extremely ironic about a murderer correcting you on this.

“Please forgive me for not being up to date on biblical theology. I’ll be sure to correct that before the next test,” you deadpan before a realization hits you. “Wait, so what exactly are we doing? How am I even allowed to be on this blimp without my passport? God, none of this makes any sense…”

“I was beginning to wonder if you’d ever ask. To answer your questions, we’ll be staying at a hotel for a few weeks. I know some people in the area who are interested in purchasing what was stolen earlier.” Chrollo explains with a casual air, smoothing out a wrinkle in his shirt.

It all hits you again. This is really happening to you. An inescapable reality where you’re at the complete mercy of this man, who despite showing no interest in harming you, is fully capable of doing so. Your contempt style of speaking until now has been a pitiful defense mechanism to help you cope with the extremity of this situation, not doing anything aside from momentarily distracting you. Running a hand through your hair, you feel your heart pounding within once more.

Chrollo takes note of how you shift in your seat, and tilts his head. “I understand this has been quite a lot to process. I meant what I said earlier -- about having no intention to harm you -- unless you do something that forces my hand.”

He smiles, the warm action not matching up to the dark implications of his words. It makes your blood run cold, how a monster can wear the skin of a human. There isn’t any benefit of getting yourself further worked up, so you continue rambling on. Life is all about testing the boundaries of what you can and can’t get away with.

“I still… don’t really get it. I know I was looking into information about you guys, but in that case, why not just,” you gulp, fearful that saying it will solidify the possibility. “Kill me? Even more so now that I know more.”

For the first time all night, Chrollo doesn’t offer an immediate quip in response. He carefully considers your words, in a way that leads you to believe he doesn’t entirely know the answer himself. It’s not that you have a death wish, yet your curiosity is overwhelming. Whenever he does decide to grace you with an answer, maybe you’ll find out something that’ll prove useful to escaping in the future.

“There’s no simple reason that’ll satisfy you. You piqued my interest, and that’s a dangerous thing to do with a thief,” he leans over, clearly assessing you as you back away in response. “I confirmed my suspicions when we spoke earlier in the car. So for the time being… I want to observe you.”

He was right when he said the answer won’t be satisfactory. His response leaves more questions than answers, some of which you don’t want to delve into. Backing down from this befuddling conversation, you focus on something else.

The soothing night sky outside elicits butterflies in your stomach. Darkness allows for the city lights beneath to stand out, little twinkling dots of light growing closer as the blimp descends. You can’t help but feel a sense of relief knowing that you’ll be on the ground soon, a sense of claustrophobia constricting you in this room with no escape. His suffocating presence doesn’t help on that front.

Chrollo is finally considerate enough to leave you to your thoughts. Within a few more minutes you’ve made your landing, leaving through a private terminal with what has to be forged ID. A black car rental car is waiting for you outside the airport, Chrollo opening the door to the passenger seat for you. The gentleman-like act almost causes you to roll your eyes, but you’re far too exhausted to do anything other than sitting down obediently. You’ll save the cheek for a later time.

He shuts some luggage into the trunk, then starts the car with a low hum, driving off to where you presume the hotel he mentioned earlier is. Looking out the window, you squint as the sun begins to rise into the sky. Your eyelids grow heavier by the second, in spite of how desperately you cling to consciousness. Eventually, the world around you grows distant, and you’re lulled into a deep slumber.

Dreamless rest is stolen from you, Chrollo gingerly shaking your shoulders and bringing you back to cruel reality. Letting out a low groan at the unwelcome interruption, you feel like swatting his hands away. “What… oh, it’s you.”

“Good morning to you too,” If he’s bothered by your unenthusiastic greeting, he doesn’t show it. Taking out the keys from the car, the vehicle ceases making noise. “We’re here now. You did mention wanting to sleep on a bed earlier, didn’t you?”

Craning your neck to look out the window, you see only about half an hour has passed since you first fell asleep. Outside is a grandiose looking building that must be your hotel. As much as you hate to admit it, you find yourself staring at what has to be the very expensive venue. Much more than anything you could ever hope to afford. While you’re appreciating the sight before you, Chrollo gets out to get his luggage.

That’s right. What are you supposed to do for clothes anyways? All of it’s stuck back at your apartment, and you don’t think Chrollo was generous enough to pack for you. At least a hotel will have toiletries, so that won’t be a concern.

‘Oh well. I guess we’ll cross that bridge once we get to it.’

“Do you need me to carry you?” Chrollo calls over from the curb, two large suitcases in hand. You realize only one of them has a lock on it.

Not even humoring him with a response, you get out of the car, keeping your distance from him. To your understanding, attempting to flee or signal down anyone will earn “unwanted consequences”, or at least that’s how he put it. It’s one thing to endanger yourself in a daring escape, but you can’t justify putting other’s lives on the line.

Morning chill prompts you to wrap your arms around yourself, warding off the cold. Following Chrollo’s lead, you head through revolving doors into a breathtaking lobby. Warm, yellow light from a glass chandelier basks the room in an ethereal glow, accenting the white marble flooring. He walks up to one of the employees behind a desk, checking in and getting a key to the room.

In the liberating few minutes away from Chrollo, your eyes sweep the surroundings for any openings. Is it possible to make a run for it for one of the cars outside? He’s fast -- you’ve seen it for yourself -- undoubtedly more than you. Such an obvious attempt at escape will only be met with failure. The lobby is wide open, no possibilities for hiding evident.

‘There goes that idea.’

Your insistent glancing around the area must’ve given you away, Chrollo placing a warning hand on your shoulder, and giving a firm squeeze. “Let’s head to our room. You must be exhausted by now.”

Once again offering no signs of protest, you head to an elevator together. Chrollo hits the button with the highest number on it. Ascending upwards, you watch the lights around the rims of the buttons with interest until it reaches level thirty. The elevator adds to your dizziness, a fuzzy feeling budding in your head.

With a ding, the door opens to reveal a long hallway. Chrollo checks the number on his key once more, before navigating to a room.

Finally, after what feels like forever, he opens the door to your shared suite. The lobby clued you in earlier that this is no cheap hotel, the suite confirming that. Since it’s at the top of the building, the entire city is visible to you. It’s a breathtaking sight, one that keeps you entranced as Chrollo shuts the door behind you. Looking out the window, you see more signs of life as the morning progresses.

The glass opens up to a balcony, the handle locked and cold to the touch. It’s probably not a good idea to walk out without permission, not sure of the act could be interpreted in a negative way.

Chrollo takes a place by your side, a little too close for your liking. Amidst the beauty before him, he’s more interested in looking at you. “I take it you like the view?”

“I’ve never been in a place like this,” you tell him, eyes wide and mouth agape at the breathtaking scenery. “If I had known we’d be staying here, I would’ve let you kidnap me sooner.”

“That’s a joke, by the way.”

He chuckles lowly at your rushed cover up, thinking little of it. “Are you hungry?”

Now that gets your attention. You can only imagine how wonderful the food here is, and you haven’t had anything to eat since your dinner last night. Having gone so long without food you’re surprised you aren’t ravenous, the kidnapping likely stunting your appetite. Still, you won’t be turning down the offer.

You nod your head to confirm his words. Chrollo walks over to a phone in the room to place an order for room service, quietly listing off a variety of breakfast foods. While he’s occupied doing this, you look around what will be your residence for the next few weeks. He must not take any issue in your wondering about, seeing as he’s covering the only possible exit. How considerate of him.

While he’s busy placing an order, you wonder off to take in your surroundings. From the door that leads to the hallway is a small closet on the left, and an expansive kitchen in the middle of the room. To the right of which is a living room, all surrounded by glass windows. That leaves your sleeping arrangement.

Saving the bedroom for last, your fears are confirmed. You realize that even in such an expansive suite, there’s only a single bedroom, with a king sized bed. Luck doesn’t seem to be on your side. Well, it’s not like you can’t sleep on the floor or couch if the opportunity presents itself. A nagging voice in the back of your mind tells you Chrollo won’t allow for that, unfortunately.

Plopping yourself down on the right side of the bed, you could almost melt into the comfortable mattress. Tempting as it is to fall asleep, you don’t trust Chrollo enough to give that a shot. Frowning at your fancy evening wear from the previous night, your previous concern about not having any clothes to change into returns. The bathroom did have a fluffy, white robe in it.

‘That feels too vulnerable... I’ll take my chances with the dress.’

Getting up before you fall asleep, you look around for anything that might be useful. The phone in the living room might be an idea, if you could somehow call and alert the staff of your predicament. Something tells you Chrollo has already taken that into account, and you write off the idea as soon as it appears.

Speaking of Chrollo, he enters the bedroom with an inviting cart of food in front of him. Everything from hashed browns, scrambled eggs, pastries, pancakes, bacon and waffles sit atop silver plates.

“I wasn’t sure what you like, so I got everything. Help yourself.”

Not needing to be told twice, you grab a plate and go to town. Chrollo grabs a steaming cup of tea, taking a sip and sitting down next to you. The bed creaks underneath his added weight, you too occupied with eating to care about the implications of his action.

He raises the glass to his lips. “Is there anything else you want to ask me, [First]?”

Swallowing your previous bite, you give his question some thought. There is plenty on your mind that you’d love to know. A better, more conclusive answer for why he kidnapped you at the top of that list. You recall how he looked detached from reality when you asked him about it on the blimp, leading you to believe that asking again will earn a similar result.

‘It’d be best to play it safe for now.’

“Yes, actually,” you take a bite of a blueberry muffin, wiping your mouth before continuing. “Am I supposed to wear this damned dress for the remainder of this... arrangement?”

"As lovely as you look in it, no. One of the suitcases has clothes for you, among other things.”

Blinking at this new information, you wonder if he ever intended on telling you this. In your short time of being acquainted with Chrollo, you’ve picked up on how he rewards you for conversation. Humiliating as it is to play along with his tune, you’ll have to do just that.

“Other things...?” you repeat back in a faint murmur, showcasing your confusion by tilting your head. Chrollo nods his head in affirmation to this, setting his now empty tea cup on a nightstand with a faint click.

“You strike me as the type to want something to do, so I went through the trouble of procuring a few of your belongings. A few books, and the like.”

‘Ah. How terribly considerate of him.’

It’s not much, but knowing you have some of your personal possessions is comforting. Anything is better than being stuck alone with him, or your thoughts. The worst possible case scenarios.

Your meal now finished, you get up and place your dirty plates back onto the tray. Chrollo continues relaxing, eyes still following your every moment. How is he not exhausted? The only thing keeping you awake is your fear of what could happen when you’re asleep, and even that is beginning to wane. Maybe some caffeine will help with that.

“I’m gonna get my stuff.” you call over, holding your breath in anticipation of a response.

At his lack of protest, you assume this action is approved of. Helping yourself to the suitcase without a lock on it, you unzip it to find it’s just as he said. Some of your clothes from home, your switch, books, a few offline games, your favorite perfume, shampoo and body wash.

It’s creepy to know someone went into your residence and took your stuff, but that’s the least of your problems right now. While grabbing a change of clothes, a thought hits you. Looking up towards the phone Chrollo used to call room service earlier, your hand twitches by your side. It’s a temptation, taunting you over the possibility of freedom.

‘He’s in the other room relaxing. Maybe, just maybe I have enough time...’

Cautiously, as not to alert him of your scheme, you begin to silently tiptoe over to the phone. Time feels like it goes slower, not even trusting yourself to breathe in fear of him hearing it. Hand hovering over your possible saving grace, your fingers grow closer to pressing 9.

That’s when he appears in the corner of your eye, leading you to hurriedly bring back your hand and straighten your back.

“I already cut the wires. It was a good idea though.” he calls over from the doorway, leaning against it and smiling in a way that makes your stomach curl. Not a single detail has gone overlooked, but what were you expecting from a mastermind criminal who has managed to go this long without being caught?

Checking to see if his words hold any merit, you find it’s just as he said. Wires cut in a single clean motion, biting your lip as your hopes evaporate in front of you.

It reminds you of Tantalus. Who was cursed to be hungry and thirsty forever, in the taunting reach of food and water that’d recede whenever he went to partake in it. An eternal punishment you’re now being subjected to.

‘I should’ve known it wouldn’t have been so easy. Still, how could he have not made a single sound? I didn’t even hear the bed creak.’

Laughing nervously at being caught, you step back as to avoid further consequence, cheeks flushing at being caught in your measly attempt. “Just... checking to make sure all is in order, aha...”

Walking away from it, you look to change the subject. Chrollo doesn’t seem bothered by your defiant actions, having clearly already anticipated your idea. He rolls out the cart from before, leading you to stiffen when he walks past you. Heart pounding away in your chest, you silently observe him opening the door to place it outside.

He looks back at your anxious form after shutting the door. “I’d rather not have to constantly monitor you. Whether or not I do will be determined by how you act.”

There’s a thick pressure in the room from his words, one that pushes down on you like a heavy weight. Unable to maintain eye contact with him any longer, you look to the side, clutching your clothes to your person. Chrollo doesn’t have to resort to infuriated threats or physical violence, his presence commanding enough on its own.

To ease the tension in the air, Chrollo speaks up. “If I happened to leave out anything you need, let me know.”

Grateful for the change in subject, you nod your head in a daze. From now on you’ll have to be more discreet. Mentally slapping yourself for not giving your earlier actions more consideration, you move on at Chrollo’s lack of reprimanding.

“Is it alright if I get changed?” you speak up, voice meek enough to remind you of a mouse. Chrollo considers you before nodding his head. You jump at the opportunity to be alone, borderline running to the master bathroom and shutting the door behind you.

Looking in the mirror, you see your frowning reflection staring back. Placing a hand to your face, you inspect the bags forming underneath your eyes. Peeling off the dress feels heavenly, using a wet rag on the sink to quickly clean your body. Showering with a murderer in the other room isn’t a tempting proposition.

Putting on your clothes, you feel like a new person. Straightening up your hair and splashing your face with cold water, you place your hands onto the cool marble counter top.

‘I’m going to get out of this. It’ll be okay, [First]. Stay calm.’

Finishing your mini pep talk, you fold your previous outfit and place it on the floor. Will Chrollo even allow someone into your room to clean it? Not that it matters, seeing as you spotted a washer and dryer earlier.

He’s sitting up in bed when you open the door, a book now in hand. At your presence, he looks up to acknowledge you. Chrollo’s dark hair frames his face, and you flush at his admittedly handsome appearance. How are you supposed to remain composed in his company?

“I can close the blinds if you intend to sleep.” he offers before turning to the next page of his book.

Oh, that’s right. Now that you’re wearing pajamas he must assume you want to sleep. The next hurdle of this headache inducing dilemma, Chrollo having the expectation of you resting next to him. Eyelids feeling heavier by the second, you wonder how much coffee would be necessary to keep you awake.

That’d still be delaying the inevitable. Coffee or not you won’t be able to stay conscious forever. Earlier, when you fell asleep in the car, he didn’t do anything weird... right? Nothing that you can account for.

He looks up at you, noting your lack of response. Unfreezing from your prior stiff position, you make the decision to sit down next to the bed. Chrollo most likely wants you where he can see you after your previous stunt, and sleeping on the floor isn’t the worst thing in the world.

Aside from the back pains.

Making yourself comfortable, you fully intend to fall asleep on the floor. Chrollo closes his book at your antics, coming over to your side of the bed and frowning. “What are you doing?”

“I’m about to sleep.”

“... On the floor?”

“Yeah, that’s the plan.”

Unreadable grey eyes pierce through your being, sending chills down your spine. From your previous interactions with him, you thought a measly sign of resistance such as this one wouldn’t matter. Your initial assessment must be incorrect, as he sends you a disapproving look.

“There’s no reed for that.” he reasons with you, leaving little room for argument. Not wanting to give in, you remain planted in your spot. Without wasting anymore time, he gets up and crouches next to you. You wonder if he’s going to chastise you further for your childish actions.

He instead lifts you up in a single, fluid motion. A small noise of shock leaves your lips at the sensation of being hoisted up, scrambling to clutch onto him in fear of falling. It doesn’t last long, as he places you down onto the bed with gentleness that you didn’t expect him to have.

Arms receding back to his side, Chrollo returns to his previous position as if nothing out of the ordinary had just occurred. You feel your face burning, a bright red glow coupled with it. The scent of his cologne lingers, memory of his touch flustering you further.

Clearing your throat to play off the events, you still can’t manage to look at him. “I was planning on sleeping here, actually. Was just testing the floor out.”

He opens his book back up to its previous page, lips quirking into an amused smile. “I’m sure you were.”

Having no other options, you lay on your side facing the wall. Muscles taut and incapable of relaxing in his presence, you squeeze your eyes shut to no avail. All you hear is the gentle hum of the air conditioner on the wall, and the occasional page flip from him.

More time passes, at a snails pace. An hour ago you would’ve entered slumber easily, now it taunts and eludes you. Huffing at your inability to rest, you adjust yourself against the soft mattress.

Sighing quietly in defeat, you attempt to make conversation to pass the time. “Do you not ever need to sleep?”

“I’ll be fine for a while longer. Are you concerned for my well being?” You can imagine the smug visage on his face, clear as day. It’s tempting to want to bite back with no, you’re not very worried about his health. You bite your tongue and instead ignore the teasing.

Sitting up and hugging your knees to your chest, you look over at him. His guard is still on high alert even while he’s reading. There’s an immeasurably gap in strength between you two, accented by his casual demeanor.

“That makes two of us. I don’t feel tired now,” you narrow your eyes in his direction, wanting desperately to know what it is he’s thinking. “Something tells me we’re not going to be sitting here all day.”

“For a majority of it. I’ll consider taking you out for dinner if you continue acting agreeable.”

Tempting you with food, huh? It’s a most valiant effort, one that almost threatens to win you over. Especially since cities always have a variety of nice restaurants to choose from. Giving his proposition some thought, you realize there might be a catch. There always is with these kinds of ordeals.

“What is your definition of... agreeable?”

Disliking the way the word feels on your tongue, you purse your lips. Dehumanizing is how you’d describe it, knowing that your actions are being analyzed and studied. If Chrollo notices the bitterness in your voice, he doesn’t feel a need to mention it.

“I don’t care much for labels, but I’d equate it to wanting to date you. I told you earlier that I had taken an interest in you, that’s what I meant.” Chrollo explains to you with ease that tells you how much thought he’s given it.

When he had told you he was interested in you earlier, you thought he meant it in an entirely different way. Like how you find a certain movie interesting or entertaining. Now you’re unsure what to think. Mind swarming with thoughts ranging from maybe it’s a good thing, to what do you do now?

Finally, you deliver your eloquent and delicately woven response, having put every level of care into it.

“Oh.”

Glancing over at your dumbfounded expression, he can’t help but laugh airily at your mortified look.

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

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