#It's taken me so long to respond to this ask forgive me anon I did not forget about you

[prudentseer]

etho down bad on his knees for joel after initially rejecting him but pride-and-prejudice-enemies-to-lovers-period-drama style

sorry i had to find someone who might(?) share the vision

Hold my hand when I say this anon but never be afraid to drop your takes into my inbox, I love to hear them regardless of whether or not I see the vision.

Fortunately for you however. I SEE THE VISION, I UNDERSTAND YOU.

The "fell first--fell harder" dynamic for boat boys fits SO WELL in my mind because of double life. Etho being wary of Joel, kinda sad that he's teamed with him and by the end he's right there with Joel in chanting "The ship burns everything burns". Also their dynamic in limited life where they were "exes"...they are enemies your honour. I call that character development.

In fact, I see the vision so much that I actually wrote something in a more arranged marriage, period drama-esc style a long while back. It's unfinished (and a bit out of order for context purposes) because historical fiction is not my specialty and I know it's not exactly what you asked for, but it's what I had and I thought I'd share a snippet (it's 1.2k words I don't think I can exactly call it that anymore) of it.

It was odd, really, how much love could feel like an obsession.

He expressed it as quietly as he possibly could in forehead kisses and small gifts; just so it didn't collect in his chest to claw at the confines and suffocate him. And it was probably dramatic to say but with the lack of air he felt around Joel it truly did feel as though if he didn't let some of it out of his heart, he'd explode.

Or even worse, he'd tell Joel how he really felt.

He'd gotten dangerously close on occasion after too many drinks by the fireplace or Joel dancing a step too close. But he didn't.

Because Joel didn't love him back.

And why would he? Etho had all but forbidden him from doing so.

This day had felt equal parts fast and agonizingly slow. But he had a feeling that a marriage he didn't agree to, with someone he barely liked, for power he couldn't have might have something to do with that.

Joel rests on the edge of the bed, one leg up and crossed on the mattress while the other dangled loosely over the edge. His tie hung loose around his neck and his shoes long kicked off but his suit still on. Etho leaned against the dresser across from him, arms folded and mouth pressed into a firm line. The grandfather clock ticking beside them. It had been three minutes and 29 seconds since they've entered their shared room and neither of them had spoken.

It was much easier to watch as time passed silently than it was to look at the person in his bed, the matching ring on his finger.

A heavy sigh startles him from his thoughts. "Listen, could you at least pretend to tolerate me?"

Etho blinks slowly. "I--"

"Don't say you have because how you've been acting like there's been a knife at your throat the entire day." Joel interrupts, running a hand through his hair. A nervous tick, something Etho noticed in the time they've spent together. "I've sent you three letters since we last saw each other; none of which you replied to, you were barely there for any of the planning process and when I see you for our actual wedding, you can't even look me in the eye."

"That's because--"

"Of what? Because I told you that I loved you?" Joel rolls his eyes. "God, excuse me for putting an effort to make it work with the man I've been betrothed to for over a year."

He remembers the day. They'd been exchanging letters weekly for several months at this point but it was only their third official time meeting in person. It was a nice day so they took a walk through Joel's garden and I instead of the flowers Etho noticed that there was this look in Joel's eye, a smile on his face and a certain tone in his voice...Joel didn't even need to tell him. He just knew. It made it extremely uncomfortable to see him again, that they both knew.

He glances down at the ring on his own finger before shaking his head.

"I'm never going to love you like you want me to."

"That's fine." Joel states, a small twitch in his face betraying his words. "I'll...I'll get over it eventually if it means you'll work with me."

Etho tilts his head. "Work with you?"

"You don't have to love me. You don't even have to like me or be friends with me..."

"But...?"

"But we're going to be a team." Joel finishes, pulling off his tie in one swift movement as he does. "This means you're going to sit next to me at gatherings, you're going to dance with me at least once when we're invited to balls, you'll eat one meal a day with me, you'll share a room with me and please for the love of God, at the very least don't look like you're going to throw up when you see me."

A compromise. A reasonable one.

"I can do that." Etho replies, as level as he can, straightening his own tie as he does. "On one condition."

"What?"

"You won't ever expect anything more."

He's being bitter and he knows it. Taking out his anger out on someone who doesn't deserve it, someone who didn't ask for this either. It's unlike him really, that he can't bring himself to care.

"You're not exactly making it difficult lad."

"Joel--"

"You have a deal."

Etho nods. "Then I'll play the part."

"You'll play the part *well*."

"I promise."

Etho didn't remember exactly when it stopped being a show to him.

"Really interesting page?"

Etho blinks himself back into reality, Joel staring at him so intently from his side of the bed that he feels his chest tighten. "What?"

Joel chuckles, rubbing his eyes sleepily before shuffling close enough that Etho can wrap an arm around his shoulder. And he does, squeezing it lightly as his arm curls around.

"You've been staring at this page blankly for the past ten minutes." Etho glances at the grandfather clock in the corner. It's been longer. "You don't have to read the book if you don't like it."

This book was Joel's recommendation and Etho had to admit that it was good, he'd just been...very distracted lately.

"No I like it's just..."

"Yeah?" He smiles, head bumping Etho's shoulder. It burns. Every touch Joel gives him feels like fire has been set to his veins. "What's wrong?"

And his eyes are staring up at him so soft and kind and warm and understanding and it feels like he can tell him anything. Almost anything. The words feel heavy on his tongue, going down like oil as he swallows them.

"Nothing, you should go back to sleep."

He won't be able to resist forever but he buys himself one more day.

Joel's nose wrinkles. "You--"

And Etho is saved by the fact Joel's interrupted by his own yawn.

"You know I'm not stupid right Etho?" Joel states, settling further into Etho's arm as he does. Etho only pulls the sheet tighter. "You've been weirder than usual and if you won't tell me, I'll figure it out myself."

Theoretically, he could tell him but what then? He wouldn't leave, he wouldn't laugh but if Joel knew what Etho felt for him, he would never let him get this close to him again.

And it'd exactly what he deserved.

Karma for being an asshole to someone who just wanted to not be treated like dirt by his husband of circumstance and all he can do is accept it. Accept that he missed his chance.

Maybe one day his heart will catch up with his brain.

"Goodnight Joel."

"I'm serious." He yawns again, head tucked into the crook of Etho neck; breath tickling his clavicle. "I know you better than you like. Just wait."

It's true and it's even scary sometimes. Etho wonders how on earth he got so lucky to have someone that understands him like Joel. Someone who was willing to stick by his side through everything.

Etho waits until Joel is settled, snoring softly again before he places his book down gently on the nightstand, blowing out the table side candle. He tilts his head and presses a soft kiss to the top of Joel's head, waiting in case he stirs.

"I love you." He whispers into his hair, taking a breath when there's no response.

And the part of his chest settles just enough that he feels like he can sleep too.

[bonefall]

So, I'm writing an essay on the whole STATE of misogyny in WC for one of my university classes, and I was wondering if I could ask you a couple of things! No pressure of course, please feel free to say no!

A) Could I reference your good takes with appropriate harvard referencing and links back to your blog?

B) Are there any specific moments from the books that you think should be covered the most?

C) The end result will be a visual essay, so it's like those fun infographics people on Tumblr make on like ADHD and stuff, so when it's done, would you like to be tagged to read it?

(Sorry for anon, I'm nervous lmao, but if you'd be more comfortable I'll resend this off anon)

AAY good topic! You've got a lot to work with. Absolutely feel free to reference anything I've written, and tag me when you're done.

While you're here and about to write something so legitimate, I'm also going to recommend you check out Sunnyfall's video on gender in Warrior Cats. She breaks down the arcs into numbers, directly comparing the amount of lines mollies have to toms, and examining the archetypes women are usually allowed to be.

I think it's a must-have citation in a paper about WC misogyny.

...and, I think it's insightful to look at the WCRP Forum thread about the video. Note how the respondents immediately come into the thread to complain about how the video is too long so they didn't watch it, dismissing Sunnyfall as not being entertaining enough to hold their attention, even whining that she starts with statistics to prove her point, which I'm convinced she did exactly because they would have cried that she "had no evidence" if she didn't.

I am not a scholar, so I don't know how to document or prove that the books have an impact on the audience outside of anecdotes. But I think if you do write a section about fandom, it would be worth mentioning the in-universe and metatextual apologia for Ashfur and its reflection in the real world discourse, the authorial killing of Ferncloud because of fan complains, and the utter defensiveness against the discussion of misogyny you see outside of Tumblr.

You may also want to check out Cheek by Jowl, a collection of 8 essays about sexism in xenofiction by Ursula K. Le Guin. There's a very unique manifestation of authorial bias in animal fiction, having a lot to do with how the author views "the natural world," and it's worth understanding even though Warrior Cats are so heavily anthropomorphized.

So... Warrior Cats Misogyny

I think discussing individual instances can be helpful, but I'd implore you to keep in mind what's REALLY bad about WC's misogyny is framing and the bigger picture.

Bumble's death is shocking and insulting, but it's not just that she died. It's that the POV Gray Wing sees her as a fat, useless bitch who took his mate so she deserves to be dragged back to a domestic abuser, and he's right because the writers love him so much. It's that Bumble's torture and killing only factors into how it's going to hurt a man's reputation.

It's how Clear Sky hitting, emotionally manipulating, or killing the following women,

Bright Stream (pressured into leaving her home and family)

Storm (controlled her movements and yelled at her in public)

Misty (killed for land, children stolen)

Bumble (beaten unconscious, blamed nonsensically on a fox)

Alder (child abuse, hit when she refused to attack her brother)

Falling Feather (scratched on the face, subjected to public abuse and humiliation)

Tall Shadow (thrown into murderous crowd, attacked on-sight in heaven)

Rainswept Flower ("blacked out" in anger and murdered in cold blood)

Moth Flight (scratched on the face for saying denying medical treatment is mean, taken hostage in retaliation against mother for the death of his own child, which he caused)

Willow Tail (eyes gouged out for "stirring up trouble")

Is seen as totally understandable, forgivable, or not even questioned at all, when killing Gray Wing in an act of rage would have been "one step too far" with the ridiculous Star Line.

"Kill me and live with the memory, and then let the stars know it would only matter if a single one of your murder victims was a man."

It's the way that fathers who physically abuse their kids out of their ego (Clear Sky, Sandgorse, Crowfeather) aren't treated anywhere near the same level of narrative disgust and revulsion the series has for "bad moms", even if they're displaying symptoms of a post-partum mood disorder (depression, anxiety, and rage), an umbrella of mental illnesses 20% of all new mothers experience but are heavily stigmatized with (Sparkpelt, Palebird, Lizardstripe).

It's Crookedstar's Promise giving him two evil maternal figures in a single book, while bending over backwards to make every man in a position of power still look likeable in spite of the fact they're enabling Rainflower's abuse. Leader Hailstar is soso sorry that he has to change Stormkit's name for some reason, in spite of leaders being unaccountable dictators the other 99% of the time, and Deputy Shellheart functionally does nothing to stop his own son from being abused or even do much parenting before or after the fact.

It's the way men's parental struggles are seen sympathetically, and they don't have to "pay for it" like their female counterparts (Crookedstar's PPD vs Sparkpelt's PPD, how Daisy and Cinders are held responsible for Smoky and Whisper being deadbeats, Yellowfang's endless guilt for killing her son vs Onestar's purpose in life to kill his own), even to the point where a father doesn't have to have raised their kids at all to have a magical innate emotional connection to them (Tree's father Root, Tom the Wifebeater, Tigerstar and Hawkfrost).

It's less speaking lines and agency for female characters, being reduced to accessories in the lives of their mates and babies, women getting less diversity in their personalities, with even major ex-POV characters eventually becoming "sweet mom" tropes.

You could zoom in on any one of these examples and have an amoeba try to argue with you that "Oh THIS makes sense because X" or "Ah well my headcanon perfectly explains this thing" or "MY mother/girlfriend was abusive/toxic/neglectful and I've decided that you are personally attacking ME by having issues with how a character was written or utilized," but the beleaguered point,

That I keep trying to hammer in, over and over, across books worth of posts,

Is that these are trends. More than just a couple one-off examples. It's the fabric that has been woven over years, showing a lack of interest in, or even active prejudice of, women on behalf of the writers.

LONG STANDING trends, which have only gotten worse as the series progressed. From Yellowfang being harshly punished with a born evil son who ruins her life in TPB and the mistreatment of Squirrelpaw that begins in TNP, all the way up to the 7 Fridgenings of DOTC and Sparkpelt's PPD being a major character motivator for her son Nightheart.

So, I would stress that in your paper, and structure it less as "the Sparkpelt slide" and "the Yellowfang slide," and more as "The paternal vs maternal abuse" slide, and "the violence against women" slide. They're really big issues, there's tons of examples for each individual thing.

Anyway to leave off on a funny, look at this scene in Darkest Hour that I find unreasonably hilarious,

"Everyone who matters to me; my truest friend, my sensible and loyal warrior, the wisest deputy I've ever known, and 2 women." -Firestar, glorious idiot

He can't even think of a single trait for either of them what the hell does "formidable pair" mean lmaooo, when I finished a reread about a year ago this line killed me on impact.

[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

Hiii my favourite Aemond writer!!Can we get some femdom for Aemond with praise kink and him begging to cum inside? 👀👀

Hi my favourite anon! You got it!

Just a quick note to add I have seven other requests in my asks currently and my turnaround time is around 2-4 weeks - if I haven't responded to your request yet, it means I am working on it.

Warnings: Smut. Word count: ~950

"So it is settled." Aemond decides, as he sits at the head of the long table in the Red Keep's council chambers. "Criston and I will gather an army and we will march against Daemon at Harrenhal."

Murmurs of agreement echo around him. 

When Aegon had become grievously injured during the battle at Rook's Rest, Aemond had taken over as Prince Regent in his stead, taking up the mantle of Protector of the Realm. As such, he had also asummed responsibility of making battle plans to defend his brother's claim to the throne against his half sister and uncle.

He has gathered the Small Council here today to discuss their next strategy of attack and all are now in mutual understanding of what needs to happen next.

"Criston, I trust you are able to make the necessary arrangements? We depart in three days. If there is nothing more to discuss then you are all free to go."

Criston nods in assent, standing and filing out of the room with the others, leaving Aemond sitting alone.

It is but a few moments later that she appears in the doorway and he visibly relaxes at the sight of her, his posture immediately becoming less rigid as she sweeps into the room. Her skirts flow elegantly behind her as she approaches him, never breaking eye contact.

His eye flutters closed, leaning into the warmth of her palm as she reaches out a hand to caress his cheek.

"You did so well today." She purrs. "Such a good boy."

He shivers at her praise, staring up at her, his pupil blown wide with lust. His hands reach needily for her, grasping at her hips.

"Have you had enough of playing fearless leader for today?" She simpers. "Need me to make it all better?"

Aemond swallows thickly, nodding his head. "Please." He whispers, pushing his chair back and allowing space for her to straddle his lap.

She sits astride him, her head bowing slightly under the weight of the iron and ruby crown as Aemond lifts it carefully from his own head to place upon hers.

"My Queen." He breathes, lips parted as he stares up at her with pure, unadultered adoration.

Her fingers trail playfully over the lacings of his breeches, smirking when she feels him straining against them. "My, my." She teases. "Who is this for?"

"You, only you." He grits out, struggling to control his breathing as her hand ghosts over his hardened length through his trousers. "Please..."

"Please, what?" She cocks her head. "Use your words."

"Please touch me." Aemond whimpers, bucking against her hand.

"I am touching you, silly boy." 

"I need more." He practically whines.

She shows mercy, freeing his erection and languidly running her hand up and down its thick length. "Like this?"

He screws his eye shut, the tendons in his neck straining under the effort to keep his composure. "Let me inside you. Please, my Queen."

She releases her hold of him, rucking her skirts up above her hips, revealing her bare cunt to him, already glistening with slick. "In here?"

He inhales sharply, a fresh wave of arousal causing his cock to ache painfully as he realises she's not wearing any small clothes. He reaches out to touch her, but his actions are halted as she grabs his wrist.

"Ah, ah, ah!" She chides. "You mustn't touch without permission."

He flexes his fingers before dropping his hand back to the arm of the chair. "Forgive me, my Queen. Please, please let me inside."

She giggles, it is a dulcet, playful sound. "Well, I suppose since you asked so nicely..."

She grasps his member once more, positioning it at her entrance and sinking down slowly.

Aemond's jaw goes slack as he feels her tight, wet heat envelope him. His nails dig crescent moons into the wooden arms of the chair.

As soon as he is fully sheathed inside of her, his fingertips reach up towards the top of her bodice, right eye flickering to hers. "May I? Please?"

"Take what you need." She says softly, her hand stroking through his silken strands of silver hair.

He tugs down the garment, freeing her breasts and immediately taking the taut peak of one greedily into his mouth.

She begins to rock her hips against his, feeling him groan around her as he slides in and out of her. Lewd wet sounds echo off of the vaulted ceiling, mingled with breathy gasps and moans as she bounces in his lap, fingers still tangled within his hair.

He releases her breast with a wet popping sound, quickly focusing his attention on the other. He can tell from the white hot sparks that lick at his stones and lower back that he will not last. His prick is already starting to pulsate.

"I need release." He whispers hotly against her skin.

"Already?" She asks, never faltering from the pace she has set atop his lap.

"Mmm. Please. Let me spill inside of you." His voice sounds strangled with desperation.

"And what makes you think I would allow you to do that?"

"I've been so good today, such a good boy for you. Please, please..." He babbles.

She chuckles, continuining to roll her hips against his. "Alright then. I suppose you have been. You may spend inside of me."

Aemond's entire body tenses before shuddering as he releases rope after rope of his pearly spend inside of her with a loud grunt.

She carries on stroking his hair, fucking him through his peak until he goes limp against her.

"Thank you, my Queen." He murmurs.

"Such a good boy." She replies, holding him against her chest.

Read on AO3

More Aemond fics

[merbear25]

Heehee, I'm sending you another immortal reader request, could you do it with 3 of the Nordics (your choice for which ones). Reading the immortal reader x hetalia is really tickling my brain! -🪽

Hello, lovely 🪽 anon! Glad to see you again :) I'm glad I'm helping tickle your brain. We all need that sometimes tbh. I tried so hard not to use elves in these because hot damn they're everywhere in Norse mythology. I hope you like what I've written for you 💜💜

a/n: I read a few slightly conflicting stories on the physical appearance of a Keiju (one being tiny, the other being a slightly smaller human) so please forgive me if it's a bit off.

pt 1, pt 2, pt 3

CW: fluff, headcanons, slight angst in Denmark's, these creatures are typically depicted as women in folklore but no pronouns are used for reader.

Meeting an immortal (Norway, Denmark, Finland)

Norway: Huldra Reader

Wandering the forests, you found a lot of solitude amongst the trees. With so many settlements popping up on the outskirts, your curiosity was piqued.

Observing the new people, you caught glimpses of a light-haired man who looked to be rather young in comparison to the others. It seemed they were organizing the layout of the soon to be village. Watching from afar, you thought of ways to work your magic on your unsuspecting prey.

He was scouting the area for good places to fish when you stealthily stalked him behind the trees. The lack of fortune he had fishing was beginning to wear on his patience. Coming out from behind the trees, he responded to you like all the others had—awe-struck.

His silence was telling, indicating that your charm was working. Eyeing his expression intently, you revealed your tail. Though glancing at it, he appeared unphased. Instead of being repulsed like the others, he surprised you; pointing out that your skirt was hiked up and you may catch a cold. A bit taken aback by his gentlemanly concern, you stepped a bit closer, taking more notice of where he was fishing.

“You may want to try fishing at that end over there.” You pointed at a spot at the opposite end of the lake. Giving you a blank stare, he nodded and thanked you for your advice. Every day he returned to that area, looking for something, fishing, or just enjoying the peaceful nature. You couldn’t help gaining interest in him. He seemed so much unlike the others, and naturally, you wanted to learn more about him.

You began exchanging pleasantries which eventually led to forming a friendship. He had so much knowledge of the world beyond yours, and you offered the same. His knowledge of your world and the creatures in it surprised you, but you felt even more intrigued. Who exactly was he?

Among one of your many meetings, you finally asked him why he didn’t age like the others. Informing you about the duties and existence of personifications, you felt a sense of relief blanket you.

Knowing he wasn’t going anywhere for a very long time brought you comfort. It brought the same to him, as well. Even though you would live for hundreds of years and him possibly outliving you, you were happy to know your dear friend would be around for many years. You got the feeling he was glad too.

Denmark: Mermaid Reader

The summer sun felt nice on your face. You were relaxing in your favorite cove away from the growing hustle and bustle of the towns lining the coast.

Every now and then, a straggler would appear—typically a man either exploring the area or rowing along the calm waters admiring the natural beauty of the cliff side. Sometimes you’d practice your singing on them. Most of the time you did so out of boredom or to get them out of your hair when they became a bit too interested.

On your way to your favored spot one day, you spotted a man walking along the beach. He was wearing a carefree smile as he soaked in that day’s rays, leisurely strolling down the unpaved path. Trying not to get too close in fear of him spotting you, you lurked behind, watching him.

You decided to take cover behind a rock, patiently waiting for him to do something. He appeared unremarkable, boring and a bit ditsy even. “Hey, there!” You jumped out of your skin at the overly familiar, flirtatious call coming from behind you. These men snatched the attention of the man you were observing, as well.

He came running, shouting at them to leave you alone. Feeling cornered, you thrashed about in the water, calling attention to your scaly form. Unfortunately, this only caused your distasteful suitors’ desire for you to increase—scheming to auction you off, no doubt. Just as one of the men threw a net over you, a large rock was hurled at his face, making full contact and knocking him back.

Focusing on trying to get out of the net, the sounds of the other men’s yelps of pain and eventual retreat were already fading off in the distance when you heard someone splashing in the shallow waters towards you. Panicking, you warned them to stay back.

“Let me help you!” His caring tone soothed you enough to stop thrashing. He untangled the net from around you, immediately in awe at what he was seeing—a mermaid. His face lit up with a type of childlike wonder, wanting so badly to talk to you, to get to know you. Despite being shy, especially around humans, you humored him. After all, he just saved your life.

With nearly daily conversations, you learned all about his experience as a personification: the good and the bad. When he mentioned how hard it was to get close to anyone who wasn’t also a country, you felt a twinge of sympathy. Even though you weren’t immortal, you’d be around for hundreds of years. You offered to stay with him for as long as this world would have you, which earned you the most sincere smile of gratitude you ever received.

Finland: Keiju Reader

As the mist kissed your skin, you wandered happily amongst the flowers blooming in the meadow. You adored taking the time to care for them, smelling their sweet petals.

Such serenity was becoming more and more difficult to come by in the modern world. The reality of it made a tightness in your chest appear, hoping that the inevitable would have been further in the future.

Unfortunately, you felt forced to frequent that meadow less and less, seeing as many humans were venturing out of towns and cities to explore more of nature. Generally speaking, you didn’t mind humans. However, you could feel a part of you die when you saw one of them disrespecting this lovely world.

Being painfully shy, you regrettably slinked away when an opportunity to confront them presented itself. Eventually, you retreated into the deep forest, finding peace next to a pond. You dipped your feet in it, your wings fluttering in response to the sensation of the cool water.

Closing your eyes for a moment to soak in the peaceful moment, you were jolted awake by a small tongue licking your arm. Letting out a startled shriek, the surprising greeting had come from a small dog. “Oh, hello there. Are you all alone?”  Your tone was soft, helping the dog regain its confidence after the sudden yelp you made.

“Don’t bother the nice lady, Hanatamago!” As the man came closer, it was apparent that he noticed you were no ordinary woman. Stood there with his eyes wide, he quickly apologized if his dog was bothering you and reassured you that he was very friendly.

You responded politely, saying you didn’t mind since you didn’t have the chance to see many dogs. Commenting on how much of a sweetheart his pet was, he used that as a segue of continuing the conversation. In spite of your bashfulness, there was something calming about him. You were starting to enjoy your conversation, even hoping it wouldn’t end. Learning more about each other, you shared stories and opened up to each other.

Learning about the other’s identity, taking the time to understand each other: you couldn’t have asked for a better first impression. You were comforted by the fact that he wouldn’t age. Even though you would, you’d be around for many more centuries; he was more than willing to let you know how glad he was that he’d have plenty of time to spend with you.

[sickeningly-sweet-letters]

Hello can give yandere actor x fem reader please 🙏 😊

hello! i hope i havent been gone for- wait what do you mean its 2024?! i’m so sorry anon, and everyone for vanishing for months!

i hope i can write more this year! requests are open but i can’t promise how long it’ll take for me to get to them!

looking back now, wow i made this maybe too long-

i hope you like bratty yanderes lmao, anyways, here we go!

🌻 yandere actor x fem! reader

- yandere actor who’s been in the industry since they were but a young child. an accomplished actor known for their emotional scenes and many tear-jerker appearances..

- so imagine your surprise when their real personality is cockier and confident than you’d ever expect from behind the scenes.. but imagine their surprise when a new actor shows up and threatens their newest film! how annoyingly cute and naive you were..

- it made them wanna crush you. what? this industry is brutal and it’d be kinder to break you in a little now! well, thats what they thought, but you only responded to their condescending comments and childish teasing with your increasingly dwindling patience and maturity.. maybe you could survive here after all.

- their teasing went from malicious to just trying to banter with you.. wait- why did you tell on them?! they got pulled aside and told to be nicer to the new actress.. you snitch! how could you? they came running towards you and started crying out an apology, in a familiarly childish and bratty way.

- unfortunately for you, their acting managed to sway your heart into forgiving them.. what a gentle girl.. they wanted to see more of your acting! they began asking you if you’d ever been in any other films or projects.. come on, y/n! tell them! tell them! they’ve daydreamed of so many possible scenes together and their imagination isn’t enough anymore!

- y/n, this cafe is super yummy, why cant you go get a nice bite to eat after filming? y/n, do you like your set outfit today? they can’t believe you’re wearing matching outfits this scene! y/n, why don’t we do behind the scene videos together? y/n, can they come hang out at your house? y/n! y/n!

Y/N! pay attention to them!

- you were exhausted after every shooting since they always asked to spend time with you, and even on free days when they blew up your phone with sending cute selfies of them.. how did they get your number? isn’t it obvious? they asked the film crew! besides, you’re lucky they even have your number on their phone!

- you weren’t free from them even after production ended.. because for some reason, all the films and shows you were casted to come on, they were casted as well.. its especially odd with how many times you’ve been offered to play the female lead of a romance movie, with them as your main love interest.

- but this was hardly a coincidence, their connections sure came in handy here. they made sure you either took all the roles they gave you, or none at all. you were just so unprofessional during that important first movie that nobody else would cast you! so just take these and act with them again! they didn’t wanna act without you as the female lead!

- they would lie, sabotage and cry.. whatever it took for you to hang out with them again. they even stalked all your social medias and wanted more of you. so they decided to make more content about you! they took as many photos as they could, during makeup and dressing, during filming.. during your daily life.. wherever and whenever there was a chance for a photo to be taken without you knowing. how could they not? you’re just so precious!

- they constantly nagged you to go out with them and they acted all cute to keep you from getting too angry at them.. and if it doesn’t work, they can always cry.. you had such a soft spot for their tears.. you’re too good for this industry, doll face. you should just move in with them so you can hang out all the time! they’ll bring in all money!

- they tried to be nice and ask politely but if you refused.. they’d use their last resort. they starting crying and insisted the two of you go get drinks again at the cafe they liked. because you made them cry! its your fault! dummy y/n!

- once they were calm again, they went through with their last resort because it just wasn’t worth letting others see your acting.. it wasn’t worth letting others see you at all! thankfully, they lovingly took you in after you passed out after you finishing drinking your favorite tea/coffee.

- they brought you to your home, your new forever home! isn’t that so kind of them? they have top security since they’re such a top-grade actor! theres no way you’ll escape now.. and its really your fault, doll face. they gave you the nice way but you chose the hard way!

- if you even suggest leaving, they’ll start crying and throwing a fit about you not loving them.. and if you actually try to escape.. well, they’re not above breaking your legs, only to tend to you like the sweetheart they are.. it was your fault, doll face.

its always your fault they have to go to such extremes. but why don’t you forget about this for now and cuddle while watching your fateful first film together again? you know they won’t take a “no” doll face.

[teaveetamer]

Hey guys so full transparency here because it seems things have blown up a bit while I've had my anons off and I've been doing other stuff.

Myself and some other people from Tumblr have been in direct communication with the mods of the Edelgard discord server over the past few weeks. We have been trying to hash out an agreement that everyone can come away happy with.

We asked them to please stop letting members of their server talk about us, link, quote, etc. our posts there, and in exchange we promised that we would do our best to stop people here from posting screenshots of their server.

This was done because nobody wants harassment or for things to continue escalating like how they have been. The best solution for that is to talk to each other and come to an understanding.

We also requested that they keep an eye on certain members of their server who have been lightning rods for the harassment, such as Raxis and Diaphin, and try to talk to them/potentially ban them if it became clear that their actions were causing friction.

This has been the agreement for the last few weeks.

When Raxis made his post about BWIIDT, Nilsh responded under the impression that the agreement had been broken. The mods of the server got in touch with us pretty quickly, and we asked Nilsh to take the screenshots down. We also had a long discussion with the mods about the things that were in the screenshots to try and come to an understanding about why many of us were so upset by them. We thought the situation was handled, but then Raxis made another post about one of Nilsh's old posts after Nilsh had already taken the screenshots down per our agreement.

This understandably led to some confusion and frustration on Nilsh's part, as the mods and us had stopped talking for the night and we did not know what they had done with regard to Raxis and the situation. Nilsh took the frustrated post down as soon as we were made aware of it and we talked to him about what was going on. We also talked with the mods about it. They have told us that they have taken action, and Raxis is no longer in their server because of his actions.

I would have never requested that the mods take action against him if I didn't think it was causing massive problems for both their server and the people who have been harassed by him. If he wants to call that blackmail then I suppose I can't stop him, but I think it's unfortunate that he can't see how his own actions have led to this.

I really, really hope that he can step away for a while, heal, and when he's ready to stop the harassment and stalking, then I hope he can be welcomed back into their community with full forgiveness and a healthier mindset.

I also want to be clear that I'm not trying to excuse what Nilsh did or apologize on his behalf, but I have spoken with him about it. He is taking a break from social media for a while to decompress and calm down. I asked if it was okay for me to talk about this, considering Raxis's current escalation, so I could clear up any confusion.

I didn't plan on doing this so soon, but I'm going to open anons again in case anyone has questions for me and they don't feel comfortable talking on main.

[singsweetmelodies]

Currently thinking about the lyric ‘wondering if I doges a bullet or just lost the love of my life’ with piarles and I don’t know what to do with this but thought you may enjoy

first and foremost: whatever Tumblr is doing to asks on mobile lately is TERRIBLE. it looks completely broken & i can barely read it!! *charles_wtf discord react*

anyways!! hello anon <3333 sorry it's taken me this long to respond! i saw this ask at work, didn't have time to reply, and then, predictably, forgot all about it. i am so sorry. BUT here i am now - better late than never, right?

SO. omg. this lyric!! 🙏 a banger... ngl it breaks my heart to think about it in a piarles context, but i also love it. "wondering if i dodged a bullet or just lost the love of my life" - i could see this as charles POV after a break-up. he's hurting and he's mad but he's also terrified that he lost the one thing that matters even more than ferrari...

ALTERNATIVELY - and you'll have to forgive me for bringing in something a little toxic/cursed here, but this is where my brain is at lately, i'm afraid - this lyric is still charles POV, but he thinks it about max. after a break-up with max (and, spoiler alert... he DID dodge a bullet with that one.) but it was a good dodge, because guess who is there to pick up the pieces and treat him a thousand times better than max ever could... 😉 pierre, of course. and THEY never break up - no, they have a "call it what you want" inspired romance <3333

either way: there is SO much potential for this lyric + piarles, and i adore you for opening my eyes to it!! tysm anon 🤩

[absolutelyfizzing]

cruel and spiteful

anon - If you take requests, can I have Zuko X reader, where Zuko tells them about his scar?

description - zuko tells y/n how he got his scar. he also has a very important question to ask her. (established!zuko x reader)

warnings - fluff, some tears, description of violence and abuse (no more vivid than is in the show), no connection to the content after the original series, some kissing, zuko is aged up (probably 20-24 years old)

word count - 1700

a/n - I tried on this one but I make no promises that its good

MASTERLIST

You stayed in peaceful silence next to your boyfriend as you read and he worked. Your leg was draped over one of his so you could have some contact but not enough that either of you would get distracted. You often thought about how thankful you were that you could have moments like this. That you had been together long enough and were comfortable enough with each other that you could spend evenings like this.

Zuko fidgeted a bit in his place and you glanced over at him. He had bags under his eyes and they looked red. You knew that he had been overworking himself lately and not getting enough sleep. Many nights he would come to bed after you had fallen asleep and then leave before you woke up simply because there was so much for him to do. You also knew that you wanted to take care of him and to let him know that his mental well-being was just as important as getting his list of tasks done. At that thought, you closed your book and sat up a bit.

"Zuko?" you asked quietly, not wanting to disturb the peace in the room.

"Hm?" he hummed out but he did not look up from his work.

"Zuko, honey, you have to stop working for a minute." You tried to reason but he just huffed. You didn't say anything else but you slowly moved to take his things off of his lap, giving him time to finish reading the paragraph he was on. He let you slip the papers into your hands and you placed them on his nearby desk. You stood silently and grabbed his hand to pull him up.

He didn't complain or make any indication that he didn't want to get up as you led him to your shared bathroom. You had him brush his teeth and you pulled his hair into a bun for him before you both headed back to bed, this time in your pajamas and with the intent of going to sleep.

"Actually, can you mess with my hair?" he almost whispered. He requested you touch his hair every so often because he loved the feeling of your fingers carding through it.

"Of course, my love," you assured and he smiled at you.

You sat on the bed, your back against the headboard. He laid next to you so his head was on your lap and you were looking down at him. You began to brush through his hair with your fingers, running your nails along his scalp. His eyes closed at the feeling as he sighed. You could tell that the anxiety of the day was leaving him.

After you had been brushing through his hair for some time and his breathing had evened out, you moved to run your fingers over the lines of his face. You just assumed that he was asleep from how calm and still he seemed. Your fingers traced along his brow lines and his eyes. You moved them down towards the shape of his nose and then his jaw. When you moved back up his face, you traced along the edges of his scar. You never asked him about it and you didn't actually know how he got it. You were from the earth kingdom and had never heard any conversation around the palace about it so you assumed that he was in some sort of accident. You knew that he would eventually tell you how it happened if he wanted to. As you were lost in thought you hadn't even noticed that his eyes were open, gazing at you from your lap. When you accidentally met his gaze, you flinched, like you had been caught doing something wrong.

"You can touch it, it's okay." He whispered out to reassure you and you hesitated before tracing it again. "Have you already heard the story?" he questioned. He knew that you hadn't known much about him when you met and that stories around the palace had ceased, mostly because it was old news and he no longer seemed self-conscious about it.

You shook your head shyly.

"Do you want to?"

You made eye contact with him. "If you don't mind telling it." You tried to make sure that he knew he didn't have to. He smiled up at you and sat up from your lap. He moved so that he was sitting in front of you, legs crossed under him to match yours. His knees were touching yours and he pulled your hands onto his lap. He looked up into your eyes and felt anxiety despite your non-judgemental gaze. He paused for a moment.

"My father did it." He started, looking at your face as you gasped a bit but you tried not to react, wanting him to continue uninterrupted. "When I was younger, I think I was thirteen, I sat in on a war meeting with my father and his advisors." His gaze had drifted down towards where your fingers were tangled with his.

"I disagreed with something, I spoke up. One of the generals had recommended sacrificing men as bait for a trap and I felt like I had to say something. It was seen as an act of disrespect so my father told me I would be fighting in an agni kai to settle the matter."

You kept your gaze on his face. You had only seen one agni kai in your time in the fire nation and it was not something you wished to see again. You struggled to believe anyone would expect a thirteen-year-old to fight in such a match.

"When I showed up, I had assumed I would fight the general, that was who I disagreed with. Instead, my father stepped forward to fight me. I knew I couldn't have won but I also didn't want to fight him because he was my father and I didn't want to show him violence. I got on my knees and asked him to forgive me but he saw it as a sign of weakness."

Zuko took a deep breath. He hadn't had to tell this story in a while and remembering the traumatic fight made him feel emotional.

"He burned me for my vulnerability. I was then exiled by my father, my scar a brand to let the kingdom know of my shame, and he sent me on my impossible mission to find the avatar. To find Aang." He finished, looking up to your gaze again. He was a bit surprised to see tears streaming down your face and he immediately cooed at you, shushing you and wiping your tears away.

You let out a broken sob and he brought his hand to the back of your neck to pull you into him so your face rested against his shoulder. Your fingers moved so that they were latched onto his shirt. You cried quietly for a few minutes, Zuko's hand soothing you by rubbing along your back.

"I'm so sorry." You whispered out. Zuko didn't respond immediately, thinking about his answer. For a while he would have said 'it's okay or 'i had it coming' but he now knew that it wasn't true. That it was cruel and he shouldn't have had to go through that.

"I'm okay now." He decided on and you nodded against him. You sat up a bit and moved your hand to cup his jaw on the side of his scar, your thumb just barely grazing over the edge of it.

"You are beautiful." You breathed out and Zuko was surprised by your words but they almost brought tears to his eyes. "Your father was a cruel and spiteful man and for him to have taken his anger out on his own child when you were just a kid is heartbreaking. I'm so sorry you had to go through that and I am so proud of you for having become such an amazing man in spite of your cruel upbringing."

You wiped away the single tear that trailed down his face.

"Will you marry me?" He whispered out, surprising himself a bit. He had of course been planning on proposing to you but he had a plan set up months from now. It was elaborate and romantic but as he sat in front of you, he wanted to be able to say he was your husband as soon as possible. Your face cracked into a smile and you giggled a bit. Zuko wanted to hear that sound for the rest of his life.

"Of course I will, Firelord Zuko." Your words reminded you of your future and your face paled a bit. Zuko was ecstatic that you said yes but worried as your face showed anxiety. "I'm going to be royalty." You choked out, your fear showing. You had, of course, hoped that you would be spending the rest of your life with Zuko, but you had never given your future rank much thought. Zuko let out a laugh at your realization.

"You already are." He added and you quirked your eyebrow in question. "You are the person I care for the most in the world, you are my closest advisor and you help me in all of my decisions, you are under my protection at all times. You are already queen in practice, just not in title. You will rule by my side as an equal as you already do. As you have done for the last 2 years."  

You smiled at his reassurance and leaned forward to pull him into a searing kiss. You hoped that he could feel all of the emotions you were trying to express through it. He hummed against your lips and brought his hand up to rest in your hair. When you both pulled away, out of breath, he leaned his forehead against yours.

"I love you." He mumbled out and you smiled.

"Nowhere near as much as I love you." you replied easily.

[witch-hazels-musings]

Okay okay, I’m super excited and nervous bc i’ve never requested anything but: can I request some headcanons of Dainsleif, Scaramouche and Tartaglia falling in love with a god? I’m the anon from that ask 😅

archons of my heart

this might have been the most different set of short little stories i’ve ever written - each character responds so differently to this scenario! (note: based on what we know about these characters, I stuck true to their values* - it might not be what you were intending, and I keep things true to their character) <3 

Warning -> angst (Dain), fluff (Childe), genera/fluff?(Scara - mention of long hair)

Character X GN Reader | Anthology 

Includes: Dainsleif, Scaramouche, Childe

Dain

Devastated, conflicted - these words have never resonated more in his mind than the day he found out about who you were, what you were 

What does he do … he dislikes, no hates the archons and yet … you were one of them - you’d always been one of them and the whole time you hid this fact from him knowing full well the feelings he had for them 

He couldn’t really hear as you desperately tried to explain to him why, he only heard the shattering of his heart as your face turned into something he no longer recognized 

He stood there, his hands balled into tight fists at his sides, eyes tracking your movement as you paced back and forth in front of him, your feet wearing down the grass with each passover. 

“I know you’ll never forgive them for what happened …” You begin, your voice somehow distorted now that he saw you for what you really were. He didn’t have words to respond, he felt out of his body. An observer rather than a participant, how he wished that were the case. 

You stepped closer to him, hands reaching for his arm - the arm that had been tainted for so long - and without noticing he recoiled from your outreach. It was the first time he had ever deliberately refused your touch and, although he understood the pain it caused you, it was clear from the reaction of your face, he couldn’t bear your hands on him. Not now, not when the whole world was crumbling down around him. 

You stood there, just the way you always did, incredible, perfect, beautiful and reverent in a way no-one ever looked before - he loved you, he thought he loved you 

You were so different than those gods that destroyed everything he ever knew, everything he ever cared for, fought for 

If only you hadn’t tried to save him then maybe he could have gone on living in the delusion of this relationship .. though, it was only a matter of time before he found out anyway - one day he’d notice how you never aged ... it was inevitable 

To love you, to love you so deeply and intensely; to love you after keeping his heart sealed up for so long, to love you with the passion that burns like the stars in the sky only to know this truth - he felt that light burn out in a painful flash 

An eye for an eye - he will maintain his beliefs  

“Dainsl…” 

“Do not …” His voice caught in his throat, it was the first time you’d heard him be taken over by his emotions, “ … do not speak my name.” 

“Please, I love you.” Your hands pressed against your chest, body bent forward as if to beg him, plead with him to reconsider. 

“I owe you nothing but the repayment of the life that you saved. I shall spare yours to conclude my debt.” For one final time he gazed upon your face, burning into memory the cheeks that he once touched, the eyes that held his breath, the lips that lingered against his skin and were capable of transforming into the most incredible smile. He looked, he lingered, he tried so hard to will the power in him that would whisk him as far from you as he could go but each time he tried he stalled, like a stubborn fool he hesitated. 

Your wet cheeks moved as you studied at him with a hopeful, supplicating smile, your head shook and your lips parted as if to call out to him and the power he lacked to leave you filled him suddenly. Like a flash of lightning in a storm he disappeared from your eyes. 

Citizens will often recall the days when it rained with an intensity of a woeful god, and can’t help but notice the mysterious man who would leave the room every time your name was mentioned. 

Scara

Cool -- cool, cool, cool - you’re a divine being - bet

It’s very likely that Scara will be excited about this revelation - he already thinks so highly of himself that knowing that he has captured the affection of a god only swells his pride more than it already did

He’s so smug when you tell him, when you spill to him what you are - he doesn't believe it either and will make you demonstrate that power to him and if you look back at him after your display, you’ll see him with a devious grin 

Be careful, he may manipulate you to act as an extension of his wishes -- and if he has any vengeance to enact on the people who harmed him, you’ll have to be very strong in your convictions (though, you can do whatever you’d like honestly, you a god) 

“Again.” Scara commands, his arms crossed over his chest, head tilted up so he can look at you from his perch on the rock and a smile stretched so far across his face you wonder how his lips don’t steam in pain. 

“I’ve already shown you multiple times. Do you still not believe me?” You huff, resting your hands on your hips, adamant that you won’t comply with his request. 

“Okay okay, I’m convinced.” He shrugs, hoping off of his stoop and walking toward you. “So how long have you been a god?” 

“I don’t know, it’s hard to keep track of the years … though I’d say around 500.” 

“Interesting. Can you make me a god?” 

“No, I don’t have that authority.” 

“Disappointing, but oh well.” He stopped just before you, he was shorter than you so you looked down at him, thankful that he removed his hat otherwise you’d have a hard time seeing his face. He reached for a strand of your long hair, his fingers twirling around it before sliding down the silky strands and repeating the process. “So, why did you decide to tell me this secret of yours?” 

“I …” Why did you tell him? You knew what kind of person he was, you knew the actions that would follow - his greed and selfishness would motivate him to use this information for his own advantage. “Against my better judgement, I told you because I love you.” You cover your face with your hand, embarrassed by the confession. It’s the first time you’ve ever fallen in love with a human before, Scara was your first and that notion electrified your skin. 

“You love me?” You didn’t need to see him to catch the cocky attitude spilling from him. 

“I do …” You replied with a sigh. 

“Who would have thought that?” “Listen, if you’re going to make fun of me then I’ll just …” Your voice was cut off by Scara pulling you toward him and pressing his lips against your own. Your knees nearly gave way at the contact and you reached to his arms to stabilize yourself. His lips are thin and the power he uses, the pressure of the kiss tells you what kind of man he is. 

“This is excellent news, don’t think I’ll let you get away from me now.”  He hummed, his lips dancing over your own as he spoke, his breath warming your skin. Was this really the best human that could have stolen your heart? Well, you were sure it wouldn’t be borning. 

Childe

He’s likely indifferent to your real status - to find out that you’re an archon or a god - he’s almost unsurprised by the news  

You wonder if he didn’t already know that you weren’t human, you wouldn’t put it past him to have done some digging on you and after being alive for so long it was bound to be suspicious that you knew things that many people didn’t anymore -- it was also suspicious that Zhongli seemed to recognize you pretty quickly, his eyes shining as if he saw an old friend  

“You could have just told me.” Childe emphasized, crossing his arms and leaning against the large pole behind him. 

“I know … but, well I wasn’t really planning on sticking around.” 

“Oh, so you’re one of those.” 

“Ah, no! That’s not what I meant.” For being of reverence, you always found yourself stumbling over your words when talking to Childe. “Ugh, I meant that I didn’t think that … well that I’d fall in love with a human.” You picked at your clothes and shook your head. 

“If there was ever a human for you to fall head over heels for, I am the best candidate for that.” You looked at him, laughing at the way he pointed his thumbs at his chest and grinned from his own joke. 

“I don’t know … maybe I made a mistake?” You express, rubbing your chin with your hands.

“Hey now!” 

“I’m joking of course … so, you really aren’t … upset?” 

“Why would I be upset?” He asked, eyes furrowing and head tilting to the side. 

“I don’t know … my timeline is different from yours for one.”

“So. That doesn’t matter to me.” 

“There will be a day when you’ll be old and I won’t have aged a day.” 

“Don’t care.” You huff and take a few steps away from him. He didn’t seem to grasp what it meant to be in love with a god. This was the reason you rarely took human companions, the guilt in your heart at watching them age and the pain of losing them was all a strain on your heart. 

“Childe …” You begin again but as you turn to face him you notice he’s moved from his place and is now standing in front of you. 

“I don’t care who you are, what you are, or what you’ve done.” He takes your hand and brings it to his lips, his breath of humanity filling your very soul. “I love you, and I don’t take that feeling lightly.” 

“I don’t want you to regret choosing a partner who cannot live a normal human life.” 

“If I wanted a normal life, I wouldn’t be where I am to begin with. What I want is you, and I’m pretty good at getting what I want.” He smirked and kissed each knuckle on your hand. How was it that a man could bring down a god so easily? 

“Now, the real question …” Childe’s tone shifted, his body extended to his full height which made you tilt your head to look at him. “Do you still have your divine powers or whatever?” 

“Like …?” 

“Like, can you summon lightning or manipulate the earth with a snap of your fingers?” 

“Haha, oh, I still have my abilities, yes. There were times I had to fight, so I’ve adapted them for those purposes.”

“Excellent.” He grabbed your wrist and pulled you along after him. “Let’s fight, don't hold back.” 

“Childe! That’s dangerous.”

“Even better.” He gave you a quick wink before dragging you to a place where the two of you could engage in the battle of his dreams.

[glowingbadger]

Hey, strange ask, but that ask that compared Dimitri to a retriever inspired me to request either headcannons or a drabble of Dima magically being turned into a dog but his S/O doesn’t realize it’s him but he still follows them around and is super protective of them and hijinks ensues.

Y'know what, Friend Anon? This is fucking adorable.

This really ended up as more 'fluff' than 'hijinks' lol but I had fun with it, so there you are~

SFW - Gender Neutral Reader

What to make of this situation. Not only are you completely unable to track down Dimitri, but when you go to check his quarters, one of the monastery dogs has gotten into his room and is making an absolute scene. He's a lovely golden color, with blue eyes the likes of which you've never seen on a dog, and the moment you enter the room, he bounds up to you and circles around your feet until you're practically dizzy.

"Woah, hey there! How in the world did you get in here I wonder..." you mutter as you lower a hand to pat his head, "Have you seen Dimitri around, buddy? I can't seem to find him anywhere..."

Having only taken a moment to nudge his head into your touch, he rapidly becomes alert once more and begins an absolute fit of barking. At this rate, he'll disrupt the whole monastery.

"Hey, hey! No need for that, sshhhh, come on, everything's okay-" you try to soothe him, speaking softly as you kneel down to pat his head. He whines softly, but his tail is twitching back and forth just a little, so he must be at least a little comfortable with you. "Listen," you say, standing upright and straightening your clothes, "If you can behave, you can come with me while I look for Dimitri, okay?"

He barks once, and comes to stand directly beside you, almost throwing you off balance. You smile and scratch his ear for a moment, glad to have a companion on your quest.

And it quickly becomes evident that your companion took this quest very seriously indeed. On your way out of the dorms, you see a shock of red hair ahead, and wave down Sylvain to ask for any leads.

"Hey- I haven't been able to find Dimitri all day, have you seen him?"

"Hm? Not recently, sorry to say. Who's your friend?" he says with a smile at the dog beside you, "What a cutie! No comparison to you though, of course."

You slide past that last bit and say,

"Yeah, he was in Dimitri's room when I went to check for him, and he's just kind of... fond of me, I guess?"

"And who could blame him?" Sylvain says, smirking as he leans against the wall beside you, "Say, if you're still looking for Dimitri, why don't we go look for him together in town-"

He doesn't get to finish his suggestion- your canine ally is on him in a second. Up on his hind legs, he jumps against Sylvain, nearly winding him and sending him stumbling back a couple steps. The dog barks and snarls relentlessly, even as you do your best to calm him.

"Sorry, Sylvain! I- I think I should just keep going for now- thanks anyway!"

"Yup- yeah, no problem," he replies, doing his best to regain his easy smile, "Man, your new friend is a protective guy, huh. Take care of Y/N for me, alright?" he tells the dog as you two part.

It's not long before you run into Ingrid on her way out of the dining hall, an admittedly delicious looking meat skewer in hand. The dog trots ahead of you and barks to her- though not aggressively, so you figure she must have made a good impression on him somehow. Once again, you ask about Dimitri, and once again, you have no luck. Ingrid does slide a piece of beef off of the skewer in her hand and hold it out to the dog. He glances back at you. You nod, as if to tell him it's okay, and yet he looks hesitant. With some goading from both you and Ingrid, he very carefully takes the meat from her hand between his front teeth, then chews at it slowly.

"What a strange dog," Ingrid says with a furrowed brow, "I've never seen one so... reticent about food."

"Yeah, he's an odd one," you muse as he finishes his treat, "He's a good boy though, so it's nice having him along."

Maybe all he understood were the words "good boy," but regardless, his tail is now wagging so fast it seems to blur before your eyes.

You bid Ingrid farewell, and continue on your search.

By the time you think to check with Dedue, you've spent an embarrassingly large portion of your day aimlessly wandering and questioning guards and knights. Frankly, he should have been your first guess. Meanwhile, your canine friend has become a comfortable fixture in your day. You find yourself mindlessly chatting with him, and maybe it's just because he recognizes that you're speaking, but he tends to bark back in reply. But when you finally muse aloud that you ought to check in with Dedue, the dog circles you, letting out excited little yelps and barks.

"Okay, okay, I'm going!" you say with a laugh, and head towards the greenhouse side by side with your companion.

And yet, you're not expecting the darkened expression that crosses Dedue's face when you explain that you've lost Dimitri. Sure, you could understand a bit of concern- you're plenty concerned, and the longer this goes on, the more you worry that this could be a serious matter beyond a mere missed connection. But Dedue's voice and bearing are grave as he sets down a watering can and says,

"His highness had offered to help some of the magic students this morning. If anything has befallen him as a result of this..." he trails off, but the malice in his eyes is plain to see. Only the dog whimpering beside you breaks the uncomfortable silence that follows. He pads forward and nudges Dedue's hand with his snout. This small gesture seems to lighten his expression just the slightest bit- but it's something. Dedue sighs and looks to you again,

"I will help you search for him. You continue to look throughout the monastery grounds, and I will check likely classrooms and inquire among the mages. We will cover more ground this way."

You nod, but your canine friend seems agitated. Perhaps it's only Dedue's sullen mood- this does seem like a uniquely empathetic dog, after all. You pat his head gently and say,

"Well, let's try to think of anywhere we might've missed."

You say that, but reflecting on it, it's hard to imagine anywhere you haven't checked and re-checked. You'd done well to bolster your mood thus far, but the more time goes on, the more insidious anxiety starts to take root in your heart. Absently scratching at the dog's furry ears, you let out a sigh, which he seems to respond to by whining softly and nuzzling his face against you.

"I know, I'm sorry, I just... what if something's happened to him?" You say softly, barely more than a whisper.

You're merely wandering at this point, letting your feet aimlessly take you where they will. Eventually, you've found yourself at the training ground, and figure you may as well check here again. Unsurprisingly, Felix is here, among a small handful of other knights and soldiers. Careful to skirt around the edge of the grounds and not get in anyone's way, you approach him, and do your best to greet him cheerfully. Felix huffs and sheathes his sword, wiping sweat from his brow as he scrutinizes your expression.

"You look like a mess." he says, blunt as ever, though you know this is his way of expressing concern.

"Yeah, I- I can't find Dimitri anywhere- I feel like I've looked everywhere twice by now, and no one's seen him since morning, and-" you can't help rambling a bit, a hint of a crack in the back of your throat, "I just couldn't forgive myself if something happened to him- so..."

"I haven't seen him, if that's what you're getting at," Felix says with a hand on his hip. Then, he sighs at your crestfallen expression, "Cut it out, will you? You look ridiculous when you sulk like that. And if the Boar sees you like this, I'll have to watch him sulking too."

You manage an awkward half-smile,

"You're right- thanks, Felix."

You hear your name from across the plaza and turn to see Dedue with Annette in tow. As you turn to meet them, you could swear you hear Felix say something to the dog that trails a few feet behind you. While you're none the wiser, he mutters,

"If you're planning to hang around Y/N all day, you'd better look out for them, got it? They look more like a lost puppy than you do. That stupid Boar had better show up soon."

The dog gives a soft little whine, and gently nuzzles Felix's hand. With an exasperated sigh and a roll of his eyes, Felix in turn scratches at his neck, his expression softening just slightly.

Then, those golden ears perk up at your voice,

"Dimitri?!"

He turns and immediately bounds towards you, jumping up and licking at your face with his tail wagging at full speed. You laugh and ruffle his fuzzy head, then turn back to Annette and say,

"Well, he responds to it, so maybe you're right! But... you're sure the only thing we can do is wait for it to wear off?"

"I'm afraid so..." she replies, coming to stand beside you, "Say, Dimitri- if this is really you, could you please walk in a circle around me and then Dedue, then come back and stand in front of Y/N?"

He follows her request without question. Her instructions are far too complex to follow without extensive training, and with no gestures or encouragement to guide him, it seems almost certain that this dog is in fact your lovely Dimitri. You're eyes burn with the threat of tears, and it only now occurs to you how worried you'd been all day.

"Well, Dimitri, it seems we've had quite a day together," you say fondly, kneeling down to wrap your arms around him, "You make a really cute dog, but I think you'll be cuter when that magic wears off- so come back soon, okay?"

[minniepetals]

Hi!! I have maybe a dumb question? But what do you think happened after the car accident in butterfly? I’m assuming the other guys found out and Freaked but I’d love to hear some headcanons about that if you have any from when your wrote it? 🥺❤️ it’s one of my favorite series (honestly everything you write I love) so I’d love to know more about that moment ❤️ hope you’re doing well love!

not a dumb question at all bub! if anyone's wondering what anon means, you can find the butterseries here and the chapter butterfly here! honestly it does sound intriguing doesn't it? i should've added a little bit of it in the main story but perhaps it'd go a little like this...

warning: spoiler for butterfly if you haven't read it yet

.

.

When Hoseok got the call about the situation from Taehyung, of course he was panicking but he knew that while the younger one was freaking out and could put himself in danger due to recklessness and the overwhelming of his emotions, he had to be the one to act as calm as possible.

When the call ended, he was quick to turn to his assistant who stood a few inches behind. "Cancel the meeting," he ordered and although last minute cancelations weren't the best action to take especially when there were only ten minutes left before the meeting would take place, one look at the hard expression on his boss's face which did his best to hide his true emotions, Hoseok's assistant couldn't talk back and simply nodded to take care of the matters at hand.

When he knew he could trust his assistant with the task to handle that for him, Hoseok quickly dialed for Namjoon who picked up one the fourth ring.

"Mr. Jung," his secretary answered for him instead and Hoseok inwardly cursed. "Mr. Kim is in the middle of a meeting with the Yoon corporations, would you like me to forward a message after it is over?"

"No, this is an emergency, forward it to him immediately," he responded instantly with a grave tone that let his secretary know that the situation at hand was far more important than any meeting the CEO of the company was holding.

After that was over, Hoseok turned to his assistant again. "Let the others know what happened," he said, knowing it'd be faster that way, and without waiting for a reply, the man rushed to leave the building.

Word was quick to spread to the rest of the men who were in the middle of their work. The second the news reached their ears, however, everything came to a standstill as their hearts escalated with fear and work was immediately set on hold.

Meanwhile Taehyung who had reached you first had carried you into his car so that he could drive you to the hospital. The ride was silent, almost deafening in a way that he didn't like.

While he knew he had to focus on driving, it wasn't easy to ignore you who sat in the passenger seat, eyes staring blindly at nothing before you as harrowing thoughts walked into your head.

You were quiet, so quiet, but the grip you held onto the blazer he had draped around your shoulder was knuckle white, trembling, until Taehyung couldn't take it anymore and pulled over to the side of the road.

"Y/N." His voice didn't reach you until you felt his touch, which at first caused you to instinctively flinch, before you quickly apologized for reacting that way. How small your voice was, so weak and frail, and Taehyung's heart shattered at the state you were in.

"Please don't apologize," he begged. "There's nothing for you to apologize for." He took ahold of your hands which wouldn't stop shaking no matter how much you tried, enveloping them in the palms of his large hands in order to give you warmth and comfort. "Can you look at me?" He asked, softly, sweetly, so how could you ever refuse when he was the only thing keeping you sane and was your saving grace?

The tears that escaped your eyes fell a little more when you met Taehyung's gaze who looked almost as broken as you were.

"You were scared, weren't you?" He held your face with gentle hands. "But you did so well, sweetheart. You're alive," he whispered. "You're hurt and we have to get you to the hospital but you're alive, and that's all that matters right now."

"I...I-I...-" Words caught up in your own emotions through the hiccups that followed, Taehyung waited patiently for you to speak. "Tae..." You cried, tears spilling further more as you leaned against the palm of his hand and squeezed his hold so tightly. "Tae, I-I'm so scared."

"I know, I know," he acknowledged with a nod before unbuckling the seatbelt which strapped you to the seat. "Come here." It took a few seconds but he eventually got you over to his side, sitting you securely in his lap so that he could hold you and protect you from all harm. "You're alright," Taehyung promised so softly as he allowed you to lean against his chest, listening to the sound of his heartbeat. "You're okay now. I'm right here, I'm right here."

He should have prioritized this before trying to rush you off but who could blame him when your health was just as important? You were hurt after all. Though he'd never forgive himself if he wasn't there to make sure you knew you were safe again when he was the only husband there for you at the moment.

It took some time to calm you down but if it was for you, Taehyung would wait for a hundred years staying in that position just to make sure you felt okay again.

After a long session of crying, you finally fell asleep due to the overwhelming emotions you had just gone through. He brought you back over onto the passenger seat with careful consideration of not wanting to hurt and wake you up before checking his phone for all the missed calls and missed messages that were left from the other boys.

"Taehyung? Where are you?" The second he decided to call the leader, panic was clearly heard on the other line of the phone. "I've arrived at the scene and the police said you were on your way to bring Y/N to the hospital so the others went on ahead while me and Yoongi are taking care of things here. But the others have already arrived at the hospital and you're not there yet. Did something happen? Please tell me you're alright."

"Sorry." Taehyung let out a sigh, calmly ready to explain the situation unlike the panicked Namjoon. "I couldn't just bring Y/N over with the state she was in so we took a moment to let her calm down and breathe again."

"How is she?" Concern filled his voice.

With one glance your way, the younger one pressed his lips before replying. "She's asleep now but I'm sure it won't be long until she wakes from a nightmare." He adjusted his blazer on you, acting as a blanket, and put the seatbelt on you again. "I'm gonna head over now, I'll let you know any news but by then you'll probably arrive at the hospital with Yoongi."

You did wake up again, but only after Taehyung had already taken you to the hospital and you were moved to get treated by the doctor. So when you woke up to find yourself in an unfamiliar room, you began to grow scared once again and even the doctor couldn't help you calm down.

"Please, get Taehyung," you pled at her with trembling hands that held onto her lab coat. "I-I want to see Taehyung."

Where was he? He told you that he wasn't going to leave you alone so where was he? Why wasn't he there when you woke up?

"Please. Taehyung, where is he? Where is my husband? Where—"

"Y/N."

Your head instantly perked up at the familiar call and tears were quick to fall when you saw not only Taehyung but the rest of your husbands walking in through the door.

Taehyung rushed to hold you in his arms being as he was the last person you were with and restlessly calling for him when you woke. You sighed shakily in relief at the familiar feeling of his arms around you but it wasn't enough to keep the tears away.

They hated seeing you in the state you were in, hearts breaking into tiny pieces at the sound of your cries and the sight of your trembling body as you held onto Taehyung so tightly as if afraid he was going to disappear before your eyes if you didn't hold onto him tight enough.

It took a while but eventually you remembered the rest and was quick to reach out to them as well, panic and fear filling your eyes as you sought for their presence just to make sure they were there, right there, and that they weren't leaving any time soon.

Your legs were too shaky to walk on your own when the hospital discharged you that night so Jungkook had to carry you to the car in order to head home.

You fell asleep right there in his hold before he even reached the vehicle, hand holding tightly onto the blazer of his suit even through your dreams.

"She looks so worn out," Seokjin worried when they arrived back in the drive through of their home, the door of Jungkook's car opened ajar with you still deep in your slumber.

"She was shaking so uncontrollably," Jimin remembered.

"Can't blame her. Our little one was so scared," Taehyung said as Yoongi kept a steady gaze on your figure which leaned against the passenger seat, your under eyes red with a flushed nose and flushed cheeks along with trails of dried tears to remind them of how hard you had cried.

Namjoon walked up towards the open door, leaning in to unbuckle the seatbelt around you. He took a moment to caress your face, pressing a kiss to your cheeks, before taking ahold of you to carry you in his arms.

They followed him in while Taehyung stood still for a moment, retracing his memories back when you had been happily talking to him on the phone before the incident occurred. Did he do good enough being the one to have been by your side through it all? Or could he have done better?

"Whatever you're thinking, stop it."

He looked up at Hoseok's voice who stood a few feet away, looking back at him while the rest of them had already gone into the house. The older man had his brows creased, eyes sincere with a grave intent lying behind them.

"You did well by her side, Taehyung, we're thankful you had been there for her." He walked on over to him, taking long strides his way and stopping to stand right before the younger man. With hands held at either side on Taehyung's face, Hoseok rested their foreheads together with closed eyes and whispering words.

"Losing Y/N would have been horrible," he said, "I don't want to ever imagine a life without her. And losing you too? You'd break us, Kim Taehyung. So thank you, thank you for keeping calm and thank you for being the one to have been by our wife's side."

Taehyung's face contoured into a grieving mess, his walls broken down as he's finally able to let his emotions pour out whereas when he had been with you, he knew he had to stay strong for your sake.

But right now it was just the two of them, just him and Hoseok, so he no longer had to worry about staying strong and simply let his walls down while the older one held him tightly in his arms, holding onto Taehyung as he cried at the thought of having almost lost you.

[junko-and-riri-domain]

₊·˚♤˚· inconvenient | lhs ˚₊·˚♤˚·

↬ part of: 500 followers event <33 ↬ pairing: lee heeseung x reader ↬ genre: fluff | slight angst (happy ending dw) | idol!au  ↬ warnings: slight angst in that reader feels as if hee doesn’t have enough time for them bc of hee’s busy schedule and heeseung calls reader’s efforts inconvenient w/o realizing the weight of his words :( ↬ w/c: 1.4k ↬ requested by: anon, no specific name

As your eyes settled on the screen of your phone, reading Heeseung’s text message, you couldn’t help but scoff at it. You looked out the window of the cafe you were supposed to meet your boyfriend for your lunch date but he sent a text, canceling for what felt like the hundredth time this month. You could feel him slipping away from you with the other half of the bed empty almost every night, your dates constantly canceled, and your texts going unread. You decided not to respond to Heeseung, after all, what was the point? As you finished the remainder of your drink, you decided that you were going to enjoy the day to yourself regardless of whether or not Heeseung was going to be with you.

And that’s exactly what you did.

You explored the city and took your own pictures, found a new favorite trail to walk on, and bought yourself a new bag. Despite all the texts and calls from Heeseung, you ignored them all to give him a little taste of his own medicine. When you got home, you were more surprised than anything to see Heeseung waiting for you.

“Where the hell have you been?” he asked. You looked at him, noticing how his eyes narrowed in on you and his arms crossed over his chest which caused his biceps to bulge out.

“Oh, so you care about me?”

“Of course I care, why wouldn’t I?”

“Well you canceled for the hundredth time today, I decided to have fun by myself.” His eyes cast to the floor, unable to look at you. You heard him let out a sigh as he muttered,

“I’m sorry.” You knew that when Heeseung became an idol, he’d have a busy schedule. You supported his dreams, had been there from the start but what good was your efforts when right now it felt as if you weren’t even in a relationship? Sure, Heeseung was sorry but you had heard the words thousands of times that you felt nothing anymore.

“How many times am I supposed to forgive you?” you asked, voice barely above a whisper.

“Babe, I’ve just been busy. You know how important promotion season is, I just don’t have the time for things like I used to.”

“I know that but you can’t even go on one damn date the entire month?”

“We spend all night practicing for performances that I’m better off spending the night at Jay or Jake’s instead of coming home. With the events we have along with the dates you wanna go on and your constant texts, it’s just inconvenient.”

“Inconvenient?” It was with Heeseung’s words that you realized, you had had enough. If your constant attempts to keep the relationship, well, a relationship turned out to be inconvenient to Heeseung then there was no point to it. If all the time you spent checking up on him turned out to be inconvenient then you had no reason to put in any effort anymore. You knew that work and his dreams were important but so were you.

“I didn’t mean it like that, there are things that I need to do and responsibilities I need to focus on-”

“Am I not important to you anymore?” As your ears were met with silence you felt your breathing caught up in your throat. Waiting for Heeseung to answer only to be met with no reply, through his hesitance you found your answer.

“Baby, I-”

“Forget I asked.” You walked past him, heading into your room and in the process shoving his shoulder. As the door slammed and you flopped onto the bed you waited. Waited for Heeseung to knock on the door, waited for him to say something, anything, but waiting only led to self-given heartbreak. You heard the opening of a door ringing throughout your ears but it wasn’t the door you had hoped. After hearing the key, you came to a realization. Heeseung decided to walk out.

Following the next few days, you and Heeseung entered a stage of your relationship you weren’t quite sure what to label as. It wasn’t that you broke up per se, but you weren’t exactly together either. Sure, you exchanged a few messages here and there but you could feel Heeseung slipping away or maybe it was you slipping away, you weren’t quite sure. Throughout the week, you found yourself unable to sleep. But one Friday night, that inability to sleep turned into a 3 am movie marathon spent on the living room couch curled up under your blankets and one of Heeseung’s shirts. You heard the front door open, glanced over to see the light turn on and Heeseung taking off his shoes.

“You’re up?” he asked, slight worry filling his tone.

“Couldn’t sleep,” was all you could bring yourself to say.

“Should I make us some ramen?” he offered.

“Yeah, if you want.” You stayed in the living room while Heeseung made his way to the kitchen. You didn’t know what to say, how were you even supposed to start? With your eyes settled on the tv, you entered a sort of daze where your head felt heavy and clouded with thoughts but your throat was unable to get any words out. It wasn’t until Heeseung was in front of you, blocking the tv that you drifted back to reality. You let out a small “thank you,” as the warmth of the bowl of ramen met your palms, couldn’t hold back your small smile as you saw that Heeseung had given you one and a half soft boiled eggs. When the both of you finished eating, you found yourself almost scared to talk to Heeseung about what went on that night. Your relationship was either going to continue, or it was going to end. As Heeseung reached towards the coffee table, about to take the bowls to the kitchen, your hand reached out to hold his arm, stopping him.

“Stay,” you whispered. Heeseung only nodded, settling himself so that he was laying on the couch with you. Face to face with him, you moved so that your head was laying on his chest. His heartbeat was calming, embrace comfortable, and scent making you feel complete. The next step in your relationship, or its end, whichever it was, you’d find out tomorrow. Closing your eyes, all you could do was wait.

When you woke up, your ears were met with a slight groan and the hold around you tightened. As you lifted your head up, a hard sort of knock was heard paired with an,

“Oww, what the hell?” from Heeseung. You brought up a hand to massage his chin while you felt him kiss the top of your head,

“Sorry, I wasn’t expecting you to be here when I woke up.”

“I, uhh, have something planned for us today. If you’re up for it?” Heeseung seemed kind of nervous as he spoke, avoiding your eyes and rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.

“You do?”

“A date, as an apology, because I’m sorry.”

“What about work?”

“I told our manager that I was taking today off.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re important to me and I hate that it’s taken so damn long for me to show it to you.”

While you got ready for whatever it was Heeseung had planned, he was making breakfast. After breakfast, he brought you to a festival you didn’t even know was going on. While you walked past the stalls set up, occasionally stopping to look at something that caught your eye, Heeseung’s hand stayed intertwine with yours. You had missed it, being with Heeseung, and feeling loved by him. When lunchtime came around, you ended at the park. There were both couples and families with a towel, eating food they had packed, but all of a sudden, Heeseung was leading you to a towel with a picnic basket.

“This is our spot,” he said. Your eyes went wide,

“You set this up?”

“Mhm. I know how much you love picnics and I figured… let’s go on one.” You sat down, unable to hold back your smile as Heeseung sat next to you. You really did love picnics, but more so with Heeseung. After eating, you laid down and looked up at sky feeling as if the world was so vast and wide. You found yourself looking at Heeseung,

“Y’know, keeping my head on the ground is really inconvenient right now.” Heeseung’s eyes filled with alarm,

“I’m sorry, I never should’ve said that.”

“It’s ok,” you said. And you meant it. “It’d be less inconvenient if I could use your arm as a pillow though.” As Heeseung’s arm extended, you rested your head on it while you wrapped an arm around his chest. Waiting often led to self-given heartbreak, but sometimes, it was worth it.

❦ written by riri ( @enhykkul ) | main blog masterlist | 500 followers masterlist 

tagging: @bloom-bloom-pow | @markleepooh​ | @sunshineshouchan​ (permanent taglist open if anyone wants to be on it !!)

[nichoberri]

hii are reqs open hfjfh if so, can i ask for scenarios where enhypen uses ur insecurity in an argument and how they will make it up to u ? thank you

thanks for requesting anon, this will have taken a while to do because my requests were closed❤️

warnings- vague mentions of insecurity, so slight angst

➽───────────────❥

heeseung

- heeseung realises what he has said almost immediately after he says it

- so he just stops for a second

- and then he apologises in a really serious tone

- like “y/n, i am so so sorry, you know i think you’re perfect. please forgive me.”

- and then he leaves the room for a while so you can both think

- after a little while, he comes back and CLINGS onto you, like he’s attached to you with superglue, but he doesn’t say anything

- he just holds you close and you can tell that he was just caught up in the argument earlier

jay

- jay is so heated in the moment

- so he literally doesn’t care what is coming out of his mouth, he’s just taking all of his anger out on you

- storms out of the room, so he doesn’t even see that you’re crying at his harsh use of your insecurity

- but he does know exactly what he has done by weaponising your insecurity

- he just needs time to calm down before going to apologise

- after a couple of hours, he finds you laying on the bed, sniffling

- he explains how wrong he was, and either gives you space or cuddles you to sleep

jake

- he lets the words come out of his mouth due to his anger

- but not even a second after, he’s apologising like crazy

- like he’s rambling his apologies

- all while engulfing you in his arms, so tight as if you would slip away if he loosened his grip

- “I’M SO SO SO SOOOO SORRY...OH MY GOD WHY DID I SAY THAT?!?!?!?! YOU KNOW I DON’T MEAN THAT RIGHT?!?!?! I ABSOLUTELY ADORE YOU BABY!!!!”

- he literally looks more upset than you

- it kind of clears up the situation because you’re trying not to laugh at his ridiculous over exaggeration, even though you’re still slightly mad at him

sunghoon

- he’s aware of what he said

- but still doesn’t hit him until hours later, how much his words could have damaged you

- he’s sat in his bedroom, after he stormed out earlier

- and he just gets a look of pure panic on his face

- rushes to find you, so he can apologise profusely and give you cuddles, even if you’re not having it at first

- he ends up doing anything you want him to do for the two weeks

- he feels extremely guilty about it for so long, because he didn’t mean a single word he said, and he knows it was a low blow to go for your insecurity

sunoo

- he responds a bit like jake at first

- screaming apologies at you in sheer panic

- and literally lays on you so you can’t escape

- but then he just gets up and leaves the room for a little while

- he then comes back, having made a full powerpoint presentation on how he was wrong and why you should forgive him

- the final slide would be full of compliments and him hyping up just how fantastic you are

- *pouts* “y/nnnn! you have to forgive me now...pweaseeee. i love you so much, and i d i d n o t m e a n a w o r d.”

jungwon

- he did not want to lose the argument, so clutched onto the first thing that he thought would hurt you...which unfortunately was about your biggest insecurity

- when he realises what he has done

- he is terrified at what you will think of him

-will you give him the silent treatment? will you not want to be around him for a while? will you leave him for good?

- so he turns around and leaves

- without. a. word.

- leaving you very hurt and confused because you never thought he could act that cold towards you

- but he eventually comes back with tears in his eyes, food and a literal essay on why he’s sorry and shouldn’t have insulted you like that

-he also feels quite hesitant to be near you at first, so he sits at the other end of the sofa or only places a hand in your shoulder, until you say it’s okay to come closer or you bury your head into his neck, hugging him

ni-ki

- he finishes his anger fuelled rant with a comment on one of your insecurities

- and then there’s a beat of silence

- before you rush out of the room as soon as possible, so that niki can’t see you cry over his stupid comment

- you know deep down that he never meant what he said, but it still stings a lot

- at first niki has a very ignorant thought process

- because he thinks to himself ‘why are they that angry? they should know i don’t mean it. i tell them how amazing they are every single day.”

- but it soon sets in how horrible his words would have sounded to you, especially because they target your greatest insecurity

- so he sincerely apologises over and over again, handing you your favourite food that he bought you, and holding your hands gently

[iliveiloveiwrite]

When He Sees Me // Benedict Bridgerton

Request: Hey! I've just finished reading all of your Benedict fanfics and it's like, "let me have more!!!" *-* Could you maybe write something where the reader and Ben meet at Mr Granville's house? Where the reader is lower class and mocks him for with his lord manners, and eventually they get along well and all that? And he falls in love with her but she's just a seamstress and is scared he fetishizing her poverty and the "starving artist" lifestyle... Thanks in advance, love your writing xxx - anon.

A/N: Thank you so so much! This is such a sweet message. Thank you for requesting something from me; I can only hope I have done it justice. This is a really long fic, I know that - it really did get away from me. Nevertheless, I hope you enjoy and I hope you are all well!

Title: Waitress - When He Sees Me

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x Fem!Reader

Warnings: mentions of alcohol and nudity, making out, amorous activities,  light voyeurism (very light), class divides, pining, mutual pining, fluff, light angst, humour, Bridgerton family feels. HAPPY ENDING.

Word count: 6.8k (this is so long, I am so sorry)

“Bridgerton!” Henry Granville calls, a large smile spreading across his face as he spies Benedict by the front door. “I was hoping you’d make it.”

“Here I am,” Benedict laughs, spreading his arms wide in evidence.

Granville chuckles, grabbing a glass from a nearby tray and handing it to Benedict who takes a healthy sip immediately. “Come,” Granville gestures, “Let me show you around.”

Benedict follows the man he already classes as a friend. He hums at the appropriate time, eyes dancing around every room he is taken into, taking in the numerous pieces of art and the growing number of people.

Finally, Granville leads him to a room bathed in studious silence. Five people stand in the room; four stand behind easels – the picture of concentration as brushes scratching on canvas is the only sound in the room. The fifth person stands proudly before the back wall; posing elegantly, a lady stands completely naked save for an apple held delicately in the palm of her hand.

“This is Ariadne, our life model for tonight,” Granville introduces, smiling at the model without an ounce of care that she stands naked in his living room.

“Ariadne,” Benedict nods, doing his best to look anywhere but her naked body. He wasn’t usually this awkward around women, but the last thing he expected tonight was a life model. His usual influences for art came from clothed members of the public.

Granville takes a seat at an easel, studying Ariadne with great care before picking up a thin brush. As he runs it through the nearby oil paint, he calls to Benedict, “Join us!”

Benedict shakes his head, heading towards the door. Granville nods understandingly; it was a lot for a person’s first time at a soiree such as this. “Another time perhaps,” Granville says as Benedict leaves the room.

Closing the door, Benedict leaves the artists to their muse. His fingers twitch for his sketchpad, thinking of the images he could create; he had seen the empty seat in front of a spare easel, but he couldn’t bring himself to sit down and create the art he saw in his mind. Another time, he thinks to himself.

He turns away from the door where his attention is immediately tethered to a couple across the hallway.

The couple are in the middle of an embrace; connected at the mouth with hands beginning to wander clothing. The stays to the lady’s dress are loosened, the relieved gasp quickly swallowed by her partner’s mouth. Hands continue to wander; moans swallowed by joint mouths. It’s a sight to behold even as the position is changed; the woman straddling her partner, beginning to move her hips to the rhythm of music only they must be able to hear.

Unable to tear his stare away from the couple, Benedict feels his mouth drop open at the impropriety before him.

“Come now, Mr. Bridgerton,” A feminine voice teases, “Surely you’ve seen worse.”

Benedict bristles; unhappy with the tone of her voice and the accusation lightly punctuating the air. “Not that it is any of your business, but I have seen worse.”

Her eyebrows fly into her hair, clearly not expecting the rebuff. Benedict represses a smile at the expression on her face; his eyes dance around the hallway, not knowing where to look without fear of landing on the amorous couple. Benedict had never been one to shy away from love and lust and where it can lead you, but he had never been witness to such an event. The last thing he needed for himself (and his family) was to be classed as a voyeur.

“Follow me,” She announces, crooking a finger at Benedict before walking away.

Helpless and out of his comfort zone, Benedict follows the nameless lady. His eyes pour over her figure as he walks behind her like a lost puppy; her dress is finely made, the fabric clearly new. Benedict keeps his eyes fixed head, refusing to let his gaze drop any lower as she opens a door, standing to one side to let him enter first.

The room is adequately sized; enough room for a fireplace already blazing, a couch big enough for two and a small table and chairs. It’s comfortable; the room is well lit from the candles around the room and the large fire.

The well-dressed lady follows Benedict into the room, leaving him standing in the centre as she heads towards a drinks cabinet. She grabs two glasses and a decanter of liquid that Benedict cannot decipher. Scotch, whisky, brandy – all three would fare him well at this point.

Wordlessly, she hands Benedict a drink. A knuckle’s length of amber liquid swirls in the glass, lit up by the roaring fire. “You have me at a disadvantage,” Benedict starts, “You know my name, but I do not know yours.”

She smiles; eyes crinkling from the force of it. “You can spy a Bridgerton by the colour of their eyes,” She snorts, shaking her head at the ridiculousness of it, “I’m (Y/N).”

Benedict bows his head; the very picture of gentlemanly politeness. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

If possible, (Y/N)’s smile grows larger, trying her hardest to repress the laughter bubbling inside of her. “This isn’t your usual scene, Mr. Bridgerton.”

Benedict shakes his head. “I’m a friend of Henry’s and call me Benedict please. After being witness to the couple outside, I think we can forgo formalities.”

Laughter escapes her mouth, powerless to help herself. Benedict frowns at her reaction, but (Y/N) waves a hand in apology. “I remembered your face,” She offers in explanation, “You mentioned that you had seen worse, but you still looked so scandalised.”

Benedict huffs, crossing his legs, sipping at his drink before answering. “I didn’t know what to expect from tonight. Henry is an artist! I just never expected that.”

“We’re all artists, Benedict, in one form or another. We’re practically bohemian.”

“Does that happen often?” He asks, nodding towards the door where Benedict holds no doubt that more clothing will have been lost between the enamoured couple.

(Y/N) lifts a single shoulder in a shrug. “More often than not. The intimacy that is required with art combined with the amount of alcohol consumed tends to lead to such things.”

“Have you ever taken part in such things?” Benedict asks before realising the extent and implication of his words. “Forgive me,” He coughs, “I’m not usually so forward. You don’t need to answer.”

“No, I don’t think I do,” (Y/N) answers honestly, amused at the lack of filter from the Bridgerton. “Why don’t I ask the next question?”

“Please do,” Benedict responds, loosening the cravat at his neck, deciding to take it off altogether.

“Tell me,” She begins, eyes on the skin now bare to the room, “Do you prefer paints or pastels?”

“Neither,” Benedict answers, “I prefer graphite or charcoal.”

“Interesting…”

“Is it?”

“It is! But I cannot think of a reason why.”

Benedict snorts, draining the last few amber drops in his glass. Silent for a moment, Benedict hums before asking, “Do you draw?”

“Heavens no,” (Y/N) responds, “I’m a talented seamstress, but landscapes and watercolours are not for me.”

“Then why are you here?” Benedict asks; the words unintentionally sharp. He cringes before offering (Y/N) an apologetic smile.

“My friend invited me,” (Y/N) defends, “You met her earlier.”

“I did?”

(Y/N) nods. “You did. She was the life model you were trying your hardest not to ogle.”

Benedict flushes; heat spreading from his neck to his cheeks – partly fuelled by the alcohol in his system, partly fuelled by the knowledge of being caught out. Benedict clears his throat, unable to hide his embarrassment. “I didn’t think anyone had noticed.”

(Y/N) smiles widely. “They didn’t, but you don’t make it habit to frequent such parties. It was clearly a shock to your system.”

Benedict exhales with a laugh; all the while wishing he had another drink in his hand. “I’m not new to art,” He confesses, “But I am new to this… environment.”

(Y/N) leans forward in her chair; her eyes sparkling in the dim candlelight. A coy smile crosses her lips and Benedict idly wonders what she would taste like as she asks, “And what do you think of this new environment?”

Benedict drags his gaze away from (Y/N)’s mouth to look her in the eyes. Evenings like this are something he could quickly get used to so long as he had her company in the early hours of the morn. A wicked grin spreads across his face as he answers, “With your company, I’m fairly certain that I could come to enjoy this new environment.”

“Only fairly?” (Y/N) murmurs, sipping at her drink before continuing, “I think we’re going to have to turn ‘fairly’ into an absolute.”

Benedict tips his head to one side, wondering whether it would go against societal customs to offer his hand in marriage after only knowing someone for an evening. The thought lingers at the back of Benedict’s mind as he replies, “I have complete and utter faith in your ability to do such a thing.”

(Y/N)’s answering smile has Benedict wondering about marriage for a second time in less than two minutes. What would be the appropriate time to ask someone for their hand? He thinks. A powerful enough thought that Benedict has to look away from her; desperate not to ruin a newly budding friendship.

The clock strikes one; the chimes making (Y/N) jump as they ring through the tension-filled room. A sad sigh leaves her lips as she stands, placing her glass on a nearby table.

“I’m afraid I must go,” She declares, biting her bottom lip, lingering in front of the Bridgerton.

Benedict rises from his seat, his voice close to wobbling as he murmurs, “Must you?”

(Y/N) smiles wistfully. “Not all of us have family money, Benedict. I have two dresses to finish for tomorrow evening and I need to sleep.”

“Will I see you again?” He asks, unable to keep the hope from his voice as his mind spins all sorts of fantasies of their next meeting.

(Y/N) nods; Benedict’s heart soars.

“Thank you for a lovely evening, Benedict Bridgerton. I’m sure I’ll see you soon.”

“The pleasure was all mine,” Benedict replies a second too late. She’s gone and Benedict is left to wondering how many seamstresses there are in London.

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

If Benedict was thinking logically, he knew that there wasn’t thousands of modistes and seamstresses across London. He knew that the number was much closer to hundreds, but to him that was still too many. He thinks back over the interactions from that night, examining the conversations, trying to find a hint of whether (Y/N) had given him the address of her shop. The more he cross examines, the less evidence he finds.

At this point in his investigation to her whereabouts, Benedict was no longer thinking logically. He was thinking with his heart – desperate to see her again so soon. He didn’t want to have to wait until another party where she just might show up. No, he wanted to see her in her own environment where Benedict had no doubt she would flourish.

He makes himself wait three days before beginning the task of tracking her down. His first port of call was to Henry Granville, asking whether he knew anything of the lady accompanying the life model. Henry knew of her by face, but not much bar her first name. He leaves Benedict with a word of encouragement and a promise of another party soon; Benedict thanks the man heartily, knowing that Henry had tried his best.

However, it left Benedict in a predicament that meant he had to bring in reinforcements.

“I need your help,” Benedict pleads of his dear sister, Eloise Bridgerton a day after starting his hunt for her.

“Whatever for?”

“I need to find someone… a friend.”

“A friend?” Eloise asks sounding very much as if she didn’t believe a word leaving her elder brother’s mouth.

“Am I not allowed to have friends?” Benedict asks of his sister, exasperated at her curiosity. Eloise raises a single eyebrow, and it isn’t a minute later that Benedict begs of his sister, “Please do not tell mother.”

The laughter that leaves Eloise lasts for the next three streets, her chuckles grating on Benedict’s nerves. “Where did you meet her?” Eloise eventually asks, much calmer now that she had gotten the laughter out of her system.

“At Mr. Granville’s if you must know.”

Eloise doesn’t answer; she casts her gaze across her brother’s face, reading eh expression there and the hopeful look in his eyes. Whoever she was, she had done a number on her brother for him to be this desperate to find her.

“Why not wait for the next party?”

Benedict huffs, “She may not go to the next party, then I would be back at the beginning.”

Eloise falls silent again. She watches her older brother, watches how he fiddles with his fingers – a nervous tic he’s hand since he was a boy apparently, it happened more when he was itching to reach for his sketchpad in an attempt to keep his mind quiet.

“She’s really made an impression on you, hasn’t she?”

Benedict sighs, peering up at his sister as he calms his hands. “Please?” He asks quietly, not daring to voice the beg any louder than it needs to be.

Eloise reaches across the gap between them, covering Benedict’s hands with hers. For a moment, he isn’t the elder brother but a man in need of help. “I’ll help you, Benedict.”

“Thank you,” He replies; the relief in his voice evident as his whole body relaxes.

-----------

The tightness in his chest that has plagued him for the last week lifts as soon as his eyes land on her. She hasn’t seen him yet; too busy with another client gushing about their latest dress. (Y/N) looks flattered as she takes in compliment after compliment and Benedict can see why; she is clearly a talented modiste. If it didn’t raise suspicion on his end, he would suggest his mother come here instead of the seamstress just off Grosvenor Square.

The customer soon departs leaving Benedict and Eloise the sole clients in the shop. (Y/N) brushes down her dress, collecting herself before greeting her newest customers.

She freezes when she finds the tall stature of Benedict Bridgerton in and amongst the countless mannequins of her shop. Plastering on a polite smile, she steps forward, “How may I help you today?”

Benedict remains frozen; his stare solely focused on (Y/N). Eloise steps forward, nudging her brother in the side with her elbow. Eloise smiles at (Y/N). “From my brother’s reaction, we have found who we were looking for.”

“Pardon?”

“I’m in the market for a new dress,” Eloise states, elbowing her brother once more.

“Yes!” Benedict coughs, brought out of his stupor, “Eloise needs a new dress.”

(Y/N) glances between the siblings; the awed expression on Benedict’s face combined with the knowing smile on Eloise’s doesn’t settle her nerves. Instead, it heightens them. (Y/N) turns to Eloise, flashing her a friendly smile. “If you wouldn’t mind, could I borrow your brother?”

Eloise snorts. “You may keep him if that helps.”

(Y/N) laughs, covering her mouth before grabbing Benedict’s hand, leading him to the back of the shop. “What are you doing here?” (Y/N) questions; her eyes wide as she closes the door behind them. This was a conversation to have in private; not one to be had in front of Benedict’s sister.

“Accompanying my sister to buy a new dress for an upcoming ball,” Benedict replies smartly, his tone innocent as he applauds himself for asking Eloise to join him on his mission.

(Y/N) fixes him with a flat look, not believing a single word leaving his lips. Benedict flounders for a second before smiling bashfully at the seamstress. It wasn’t often that Benedict was left speechless, but (Y/N) reduced him to such manners.

After a moment, Benedict sighs, deciding honesty to be the best policy. “I wanted to see you again.”

(Y/N)’s face softens at Benedict’s confession, unable to fend off the growing fondness for the Bridgerton. If she was being honest with herself, (Y/N) hadn’t stopped thinking of the man since leaving Mr. Granville’s party.

Just as quick as the fondness set in, so does the worry on Benedict’s behalf. Gesturing between them both, (Y/N) offers Benedict a sad smile. “Nothing can come of this, Mr. Bridgerton.”

“What do you mean? Call me Benedict, you did the other night.”

“There were no class lines the other night,” She all but cries, “Outside of Mr. Granville’s home, we cannot be friends, Mr. Bridgerton.”

“Benedict,” He emphasises, “To you, I am Benedict. Not ‘Mr. Bridgerton’.”

“Benedict,” She whispers, giving in to the pleading look in those blue eyes of his.

“Why can’t we be friends?” He asks quietly as if scared to voice such a question louder out of fear of the response.

“You’re the son of a Viscount. I am a seamstress. Outside of my making dresses for your female relatives, where do our paths cross socially?”

“I want them to cross,” Benedict protests almost childishly, crossing his arms as if they were the personification of the budding relationship blooming between (Y/N) and himself.

(Y/N) laughs without humour. “Think of the fallout, Benedict. You would lose friends and contacts. I would be reduced to the rumour of a mistress and lose clients.”

Benedict purses his lips; trying to find fault in her argument but he comes up empty. Class lines were so rigidly drawn in current society and Benedict knew that (Y/N) was more than deserving to be thrown to the vicious rumour mill of London ton.

“What about Granville’s parties?” Benedict offers as a solution. “You say we cannot socialise so openly so let’s meet there with every party.”

“You would go to that extent to win my friendship?”

He nods. “I had the most fun the other night than I had in a long time and I have a very strong feeling it was down to you. You say we cannot be friends so openly, so this is the next best thing. Do I feel go about keeping you a secret? Not particularly, but London society can be unforgivably cruel, and I’ll be damned if I see you suffer at the hands of it.”

(Y/N) blinks rapidly, ridding herself of the tears that grew throughout Benedict’s impassioned speech. “Mr. Granville’s it is, then.”

Benedict smiles; relief flooding his system at your words of agreement. Impulsively, he takes your hand, squeezing it once before letting it drop. The very action sets his veins alight with emotions he has not felt in a very long time, but he doesn’t not let them distract him as he whispers, “I’ll send a messenger with the date and time of the next soiree. Will I see you there?”

“You will,” (Y/N) murmurs, “I promise you.”

Benedict flashes her a handsome smile before returning to the front of the shop, knowing full well he has been too long to be acceptable.

Eloise greets him with a superior smile. Crossing her arms, she asks, “Did you find what you were looking for?”

Turning back to face the back of the shop, Benedict smiles to himself. “Yes, I think I have,” He answers, offering Eloise an arm, departing the shop once and for all.

-----------

28th April, 9pm. Mr. Granville’s home. I hope to see you there.

The missive arrives not four days later. (Y/N) reads and rereads the small piece of paper, memorising Benedict’s elegant handwriting. Anticipation curls in her gut making it hard for her to focus on the task at hand; she had three dresses to finish all for next week. If she didn’t focus now, nothing would get done. She would end up wasting the evening by daydreaming of a Bridgerton and their handsome smile.

She hadn’t expected him. He had entered her life so suddenly. After their initial meeting, she hadn’t expected to see him again; had accepted that it was a one-off meeting that Benedict would soon forget, soon taken with the newest fascination in his life if he wasn’t married off by the end of the season.

That didn’t happen. Instead, he had shown up in her shop with his sister in tow. He had begged for a friendship, to see her again. He kept surprising her at every turn, kept startling her when she least expected it.

Yet, she knew she had to be careful. Not only of her heart, but of her reputation. If the two were caught and things misunderstood, it would not be Benedict to suffer. It would be her; she would be reduced to rumours of impropriety, labelled a ‘fallen woman’ whilst Benedict would most likely suffer a harsh word from his mother and a clap on the back from his brothers.

Society, in general, was cruel. London society, however, was punishing when it wanted to be.

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

The 28th April rolls around quickly. (Y/N) losing herself in her work, sewing until the late hours of the night and the early hours of the morning to ensure that the gowns are ready and that she is free enough to attend the party.

Stepping out of the carriage, (Y/N) steadies herself for a moment, taking a deep breath to settle the butterflies exciting her. She felt ridiculous, letting herself be this affected by the man after only one meeting. Yet, he had shown up at her shop, after searching for her for however long.

(Y/N) felt in two minds. On one hand, she wanted the friendship of Benedict Bridgerton for the simple fact that he was entertaining. On the other hand, she despised the idea that she may be a project for the man – their opposite places in society becoming a barrier between them.

The atmosphere in Mr. Granville’s house is heady as (Y/N) enters the premises; the party very much in full swing as she sheds her shawl and leaves it on a side table. She smiles at those she recognises, waving quickly at Ariadne who she finds modelling for many artists once more. Ariadne smiles back but doesn’t move; her eye on a particular artist, a female she knew she would be going home with that night.

(Y/N) shakes her head fondly at the antics of her friend; having known Ariadne for years and loved her proclivity for men and women. (Y/N) admired Ariadne’s lack of shame for who she is, who she wants to be. She doesn’t let the law stop of her from loving who she wants to.

Arriving at the door she entered through last time, (Y/N) hesitates, feeling unsure of herself. A small flash of doubt lances through her mind as she reaches for the doorknob; how long was this going to last before Benedict got bored? How long did she have with the man that was no doubt going to change her world?

The very thought haunts her as she enters the room, finding Benedict in the same spot as last time. He stands when he sees (Y/N) standing the doorway; his suit elegantly rumpled as if he had been sat there for some time. His blue eyes sparkle in the dimly lit room; the only light coming from the fire in the grate. His smile brightens as he takes in her appearance.

“You came,” Benedict breathes, his voice relieved as if he was worried that she may not attend the party after all.

“I promised you I would,” (Y/N) replies, taking the offered glass from Benedict. Their fingers brush and (Y/N) tries exceptionally hard to ignore the jolt of electricity that passes between them. Friendship, she snipes to herself, nothing more.

“I know,” He whispers, “But I’m glad all the same.”

Something in (Y/N) melts at the stark honesty of his words; she found herself being knocked off her axis and it was only their third meeting.

“I have to know,” (Y/N) starts, her voice amused as she takes a seat across from the brunette, “How many shops did you go into before finding mine?”

Benedict averts his gaze, distracting himself from answering by taking a long sip of his drink. “Too many,” He eventually answers.

“You don’t know the number?”

“I know the exact number, I could even tell you their names, but I hesitate to tell you.”

“You have to tell me now,” (Y/N) prompts, leaning forward in her chair, resting her elbows on the table. “Please?”

Benedict sighs a war-weary sigh; acting as if (Y/N) had worn him down to his very last nerve. With a light blush dusting his cheeks, Benedict admits, “I visited close to fifteen shops with Eloise before finding yours.”

“Fifteen?!” (Y/N) all but shouts, laughter soon falling from her lips as rain would fall from the sky. The very sound sets Benedict’s heart racing within his chest making him wonder whether it was going to run right out of his chest any moment.

“Eloise was very grateful when we found you. She despises dress shopping.”

“Yet she went to fifteen dress shops with you in order to find me.”

“She’s my favourite sibling, but don’t tell the others.”

“How many do you have? I’ve heard of the famous Bridgerton brood but never focused long enough to find out how many children there were.”

“Eight of us in total,” Benedict laughs at (Y/N)’s gasp, “We’re named alphabetically too. My father used to joke it was so he could keep track of us easier.”

“A wise idea,” (Y/N) murmurs.

“He was a wise man,” Benedict states, thinking of his departed father with a keen sting of grief. It didn’t matter how long his father had been gone, the wound would never heal. He would miss his father until his very last day on this earth; Benedict would spend the rest of his life trying to emulate Edmund Bridgerton’s life lessons.

A pensive silence descends only for a moment before (Y/N) asks, “Why did you look for me?”

The blush returns to Benedict’s cheeks. “Would you believe me if I said I wanted to see you again?” He asks sheepishly. He had prepared himself for such a conversation but having it in real life was no comparison to the fantasy in his head.

“Why did you want to see me again? Why not wait for the next party?”

“I wasn’t sure you would attend the next party,” Benedict reasons, “And I really did want to see you again.”

(Y/N) smiles bashfully, ducking her head as his words wash over her. She fiddles with the stem of the glass in her hand before taking a long sip; the worries from earlier had returned with the conviction behind his words. She had to know; if she didn’t ask him, she would never know and she would never be prepared for the day he would inevitably grow bored and move onto the next project. “Can we be honest with each other for a moment, Benedict?”

“I thought we have been so far.”

(Y/N) smiles despite herself. Schooling her face into a mask of polite interest, she tries to cover the concern and worry steadily rising in her gut. “This isn’t a saviour moment for you is it? Befriending a poorer seamstress, getting to know her before eventually getting bored?”

“I haven’t thought of it as that for one moment.”

“You haven’t?”

“I haven’t, but the fact that you have says more about my character than I care to admit.”

“I didn’t mean to insult you,” She hurries to say, worried about losing the friendship that had only just begun and scared of hurting Benedict’s feelings.

“You haven’t insulted me,” Benedict promises with a small smile.

“I can’t help but worry,” She admits in a small voice.

“I would socialise with you in public, but you made such a sound argument the other week that I couldn’t find fault. You’re right, it could lead to all sorts of trouble, but I want you to know that I do not have a saviour complex. I just enjoy your company.”

(Y/N) relaxes, sagging further into the chair as she lets herself breathe freely since the worrisome thought entered her mind. Now that it was out in the open, she could smile more without worry. “I enjoy your company too,” She confesses, “You’re quite refreshing.”

“Refreshing?” Benedict asks, sounding close to laughter.

(Y/N) rolls her eyes at the older gentleman. “Yes, refreshing. I deal with meddlesome mothers and droll daughters all day. You make me laugh… it’s refreshing.”

“I’m glad I can provide refreshment,” Benedict laughs, his smile wide with his happiness.

Happy smiles are exchanged as the worries leave (Y/N)’s mind. She was wanted here by the man sat across from her; he had no plans to leave any time soon. For now, her mind is settled and as she raises her glass to the Bridgerton across from her, she briefly wonders whether her heart would soon be settled too.

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

The friendship continues for weeks; neither of them the wiser to their growing feelings for the other. If they are, they remain silent, not wanting to disturb the status quo but rather, pine from a distance.

They continue to meet at Mr. Granville’s, sneaking away to their room where they talk for hours about anything and everything.

At one point, (Y/N) manages to convince Benedict to bring his sketchpad with him where he fills pages with drawings of her. She doesn’t realise it; she doesn’t know that the small sketch of hands holding a champagne flute is Benedict’s study of her.

Time passes and they become attached to the other; saving pieces of information and stories of friends and family for when they finally get to see each other. The time they have together filled with laughter; the class lines that separate them outside Mr. Granville’s home practically invisible as Benedict chokes on his drink at the scandalous nature of (Y/N)’s story, unaware such language could leave such a woman.

It’s easy, it’s natural. It’s all Benedict has to fill his time between the mind-numbing balls and luncheons set up by his mother in order to find him a wife. Little does Violet Bridgerton know that Benedict has found someone he would devote the rest of his life to but whether she would be willing, whether she loves him as wholly as he loves her is another matter entirely.

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

He starts to haunt her dreams from their very first meeting. The colour of his eyes combined with the brightness of his smile chased her from sleep much faster than she would have liked.

Sitting up in bed, she rests her chin on her knees, feeling the helplessness that often accompanies the swift descent into love.

In the short time she had spent in Benedict’s company, (Y/N) had to admit that she had fallen head over heels for the brunette. Sighing heavily, she tries to pinpoint the exact moment her feelings turned from platonic to romantic but finds herself unable to do so. At this point, she cannot help but wonder whether she had fallen for him the first instance she saw him. He looked so out of depth in his perfectly pressed clothes; it was adorable.

(Y/N) runs a hand across her face in an attempt to dispel the lingering tiredness but to also ride herself of thoughts of the man who had so readily captured her heart without knowing he had done so.

How could she explain this feeling? Her heart refused to calm in his presence, beating away in her chest as if ready to take flight. Benedict smiled in her direction and her mind ceased to form coherent thought. She didn’t tell anyone how in the darkest hours of the night, she stretched a hand across the empty blankets of her bed, imagining what it would be like to have Benedict lie next to her. Would he snore? Was he an early riser or did he prefer to sleep in?

Such questions would travel the expanse of her mind until the birds began to announce the arrival of a new day. Her mind creating daydreams that left her heart aching in her chest when she came back to earth, reminded harshly of the barriers that divided them.

What scent did he prefer? Did he favour scotch or brandy?

Endlessly she tortured herself with such questions. Spinning fantasies in which she woke up every morning with Benedict by her side. She would wake to find him already watching her, as if in disbelief that she would choose to love a man such as him.

A single tear escapes (Y/N)’s eye as she forces herself back to the present. Eyeing her small rooms, (Y/N) thought that she should be fortunate that a man such as Benedict Bridgerton would give her the honour of his much requested time. It would do her no good to fall in love with him now.

Straightening up and running a hand through her sleep plait, (Y/N) vows to rid herself of her feelings for the second eldest Bridgerton.

However, as the vow is sealed, a small voice in the back of (Y/N)’d mind casts doubt on her ability to do such a thing.

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

“Eloise has been asking after you,” Benedict comments; choosing the line of conversation for this section of the evening. At this point, they’ve been at Granville’s home for hours, covering all topics of conversation conceivable. (Y/N) had updated Benedict on Ariadne’s clandestine love affair with a daughter of a prominent member of His Majesty’s Navy to which Benedict spent over an hour trying to guess which officer and which daughter. (Y/N) delighted in announcing his incorrect guesses.

“How is she?” She asks, feeling a distant fondness for the woman who had shown up in her shop so many weeks ago.

“Distracted if I’m being truthful,” Benedict murmurs, “Her hands are always covered in ink. I think she has an admirer.”

“And why shouldn’t she?” (Y/N) demands, crossing her arms. “Eloise is a beautiful young woman. Any man would be lucky to have her.”

“She’s turned down the last three marriage proposals so I’m curious to see what type of man has captured her attention.”

“Siblings and their nosiness,” (Y/N) admonishes though there is no heat behind it.

“I want what’s best for her,” Benedict defends.

“I know you do,” She whispers, fondness for the man sitting across from her surging through her. It leaves her quiet; it leaves her breathless as she fends off the heart racing, stomach turning affection she feels for the second eldest Bridgerton.

Benedict closes his eyes, kicking up his heels and resting them on the table. A happy, content smile crosses his lips as he lets himself enjoy the moment they find themselves in.

I could do this for the rest of myself, (Y/N) thinks to herself, I could sit with him for the rest of my life.

It’s with that thought that (Y/N) knows she has broken the vow she made only a few days ago.

“You’re different tonight… quieter. Is something the matter?” Benedict asks, a note of concern in his voice.

(Y/N) shakes her head, refusing to look the man in the eye. Instead, she focuses her gaze on her glass, swirling the liquid around as if it were the most fascinating thing in the whole world.

Benedict sighs, reaching across the table, taking her glass from her hand and placing it on the table in front of them. He stops himself from covering her hand with his; that is a luxury for couples. As much as Benedict wanted more, he would settle for being her friend.

“You can tell me anything, (Y/N),” Benedict murmurs quietly, breaking her resolve clean in half.

“I broke my vow,” She whispers, voice close to breaking.

“What vow?” Benedict asks, panic beginning to rise internally. “Are you promised to another?”

“Nothing like that,” (Y/N) reassures, “I broke a vow that I made to myself which somehow makes me feel worse. I would rather I broke a promise of marriage.”

“I don’t understand what you mean.”

(Y/N) sniffles, wiping a hand under her eyes before laughing humourlessly. “A few nights ago, I made myself a promise and it seems that I am unable to keep such a vow.”

“Would you tell me that vow?”

(Y/N) sighs, seeing no point in lying to him. “I vowed that I would rid myself of my feelings for you.”

“And have you?” Benedict asks warily; he needs to know whether he has a chance to love her the way he wants to. He wants to be her everything; he wants to kiss her goodnight and then kiss her good morning hours later.

She shakes her head; wisps of hair flying loose from her updo. “I don’t think I ever really tried. I don’t think I want to lose my feelings for you.”

“I don’t often make grand declarations, I don’t believe in over the top displays of affection,” Benedict begins; his eyes fixed on her face, on every movement of her lips, “But I love you, (Y/N). I love you and if I need to, I will make a grand declaration, I will shout it from the rooftop of Buckingham Palace.”

“Please don’t do that!” (Y/N) gasps, an amused smile on her face. “I love you too, I love you with everything I am, but aren’t you worried?”

“Worried?”

“Of the fallout? It could never work, Benedict. See sense, please,” She pleads; eyes wide.

“Why wouldn’t it work? We love each other, surely that should be enough.”

“It is enough for me, Benedict,” She reassures quickly, “But it isn’t enough for the rest of society.”

“Why do you care what they think?”

“My entire business relies on such things, Benedict! Whether I earn an income over the season is down to what the ton think.”

“It is so easy to get lost in the wealth, the titles and the balls,” Benedict whispers, “You bring me back down to earth; remind me that I could happily live without the grandeur because I would have the love of the woman I have come to adore.”

The words have her argument crumbling into ash before her. There was no arguing with that; he was prepared to live a simpler life with her.

“You would do that for me? Live a simpler life?” She asks because she has to know; she has to know that she isn’t something he would come to regret in the weeks, months, years that pass. She couldn’t live with herself if he harboured any resentment towards her for his loss of societal ties; the very thought terrified her.

“Darling,” Benedict states, “I would give it all up for you. As long as I have you, I do not need the life in London and everything else that comes with it. We can live in the country; I have a cottage there that I am sure you’re going to love.”

“What about your family?”

“They’ll love your almost as much as I love you.”

“They won’t hate me?” She asks, voice timid as she thinks of the matriarch of the Bridgerton family, knowing she was not a woman to cross.

“They could never.”

(Y/N) begins to nod; slow at first before growing more rapidly with a smile breaking out across her face. “Okay,” She breathes, “I love you, Benedict Bridgerton. I’m not scared anymore.”

Benedict gathers her in his arms, finally getting to hold her after dreaming of such an action for so long. Better than his dreams, he thinks to himself as he glances between her stare and her lips. Silently, she nods, smiling softly as Benedict takes that final leap, pressing their lips together.

(Y/N) sighs against his mouth; a noise he could happily hear for the rest of his life. Her hands grasp the lapels of his jacket, pulling him even closer. She feels like heaven against him as Benedict continues to taste the remnants of her drink on her lips.

Her hands leave his jacket, reaching up to card through his hair. (Y/N) tugs lightly at the dark brown locks, smiling into the kiss at the sound of the low groan in the back of Benedict’s throat. (Y/N) loses herself in the feel of the man against her; all hard lines and muscles, he feels like a Greek god and she a mere mortal getting to experience the heady passion written about in epic poems and plays.

Desperate for air, but not desperate to leave the arms of the man she loves so wholly, (Y/N) breaks the kiss. Panting, Benedict kisses her lightly once, twice, three times before pressing his forehead to hers. A moment of peace before the rush of the future began.

Boundaries, divides, lines really meant little when you had found the one who truly saw you.

****

Bridgerton Taglist: @heloisedaphnebrightmore​ @dreaming-about-fanfictions​ @janelongxox​ @now-its-time-for-a-breakdown​ @aspiringsloth20​ @wallwriterstuff​ @magicalxdaydream​ @darkestbeforethedawn16​ @gryffindors-weasley​ @spideysz​

[noforkingclue]

Angst prompt #11 with bones? ❤️

Of course anon! I love writing angst!

Prompt 11, angst: “Nobody’s seen you in days.”

Star Trek tag list: @strange-old-worlds

Everything tag list: @greenrevolutionary

“I think we should talk.”

Bones had been expecting you to say those words for the past couple of week but actually hearing you say them was another thing. He put down his pen and ran a hand over his face, not daring to look up at you. You shut the door to his office and say down in the chair opposite.

“Are you ok?” you asked eventually

“I’m fine. Why.”

“It’s just…”

“Just what?”

“Nobody’s seen you in days.”

This time Bones glanced up briefly but he looked away just a quick. He couldn’t stand seeing your distraught face for too long.

“We’re getting worried,” you said, “Jim, Scotty, Uhura. Hell, even Spock is mild concerned about your absence.”

“I’ve been busy. That’s all.”

“And what about me?”

“What about you?”

“Haven’t you taken my feelings into consideration?” you snapped

When Bones still didn’t look up you stood up angrily and marched around to his side of the desk. You turned his chair around and stood directly in front of him, giving him no choice but to look at you.

“I miss you,” you said, “I miss spending our evenings together. I thought we had a good thing.”

“We do.”

“Then why the ghosting,” you sat down on his desk and looked at your hands, “If you don’t want to be together then at least respect me enough to tell it to my face. Just tell me what I’ve done to upset you.”

“Fuck,” Bone stood up and ran a hand through his hair, “You really think that you’ve upset me?”

“You haven’t given me an indication otherwise.”

Bones paced around his office and you looked up at him. Eventually he said,

“I need a drink.”

He pulled out a bottle of scotch and without saying anything poured the two of you a glass. He handed you a glass and you took it wordlessly. He turned his back on you and looked out of the window. After a moments silence he said,

“Out of all the men in Starfleet, why did you chose me?”

“What do you mean?” you asked

“It’s just,” Bones sighed again, “There are younger men, better looking men that you could have. I’m just an old man and you can do better.”

You glared at Bones’s back before slamming down you glass. The sudden noise made Bones jump and you marched over to him and poked him in the back.

“Do you really think that?” you asked, “That I can do better?”

Bones did respond and just took a sip of his drink. You gritted your teeth and put your hand on his shoulders and turned Bones to face you. He looked down at your face before quickly looking away again. You sighed and rested your head on his chest.

“You can be very stupid sometimes,” you muttered, “Even for someone so brilliant.”

“You think I’m brilliant?”

You didn’t need to look up to know that he was smiling.

“Of course,” you replied, “The best doctor in Starfleet. No one else can make me laugh as hard as you do or make me feel like the most important person in the world. When I’m with you I know that no one else can love me as much as I do. Do you really think I give a fuck about our age difference?”

When Bones remained silent you sighed. You took his glass from his hands and put it next to yours. You wrapped your arms around him and eventually Bones returned the embrace.

“I don’t care,” you said, “If I cared that much do you really think I would’ve agreed to go out with you? I love you Leo and I don’t give a damn what other people say about us. Ok?”

Bones tightened his grip on you and pressed a kiss against your forehead. You smiled at the contact and looked up at him.

“I’m sorry,” he said, “I’m so sorry. I never should’ve doubted you.”

“Correct.”

“I’m an idiot.”

“Also true.”

“Can you forgive me?”

“I don’t know,” you said teasingly, “I have something in mind.”

You wrapped your arms around Bones’s neck and walked backwards. You sat down on his desk and Bones smirked as he stepped between your legs. You pressed your lips to his as he wrapped his arms around your waist. You didn’t care what other people thought about your relationship. All you cared about was the man you were currently kissing and weren’t about to let go of any time soon.

[bailey-reaper]

Hhhhh could you write a sequel to the hades fic???? it was SOO good!!!!!!

For Dear Life (Hades & Persephone AU)

Notes: (continued from here) Hello anon, I'm very happy to hear you enjoyed the Hades/Persephone fic! As I've said before, I love mythologies!

S/O is gender neutral (they/them pronouns). Barok refers to them using petnames.

Content Warnings: abducted / hostage situation; power imbalance; intense emotions; Tia seriously screws around with Greek mythology. Like really REALLY screws around...; I'm sorry historians (again!) and mythologists

It was impossible to say whether or not the underworld met their expectations, because such things were normally so abstract and not a subject they really thought of; so, to be suddenly confronted by the literal domain of the dead, was utterly mind-boggling.

All they really remembered, as the chariot dove deep into the bowels of the earth was the feeling of the God of the Underworld holding them close and partly shielding them with his long cloak of darkness. It had surprised them to hear a heart beating in the deity's chest – surely that was something of an oxymoron?

With a firm shake of their head, they quietly wondered why they were dwelling upon that precise detail; it seemed like such a trivial thing...

They had been escorted to a garden within the deity's palace: the plants were unusual colours and shapes, no doubt thanks to the lack of sunlight they enjoyed, but it was a soothing space nonetheless and one that helped their racing thoughts to calm. As they looked around and overhead, it struck them how easy it was to forget this was a subterranean domain given how high the vaulted cavernous ceilings were.

"It is a pleasant garden, is it not?" a familiar, but terrifying, voice remarked as the tall and imposing Lord of the Dead entered the space.

Instantly the feeling of calm abandoned them and they stood with a small yelp of shock, "........" even if they'd wanted to speak, it was as if their voice was stuck in their throat.

"...." the God's expression was momentarily odd, they might have taken it as him being wounded or even disappointed, before he cleared his throat and sat on a bench fashioned from black marble, ".... I have no intentions to harm you. It may be difficult to believe that, but it is the truth... won't you come here?" he held out a hand, "I have shown you a great deal of discourtesy thus far in failing to properly introduce myself... My rashness can only be attributed to the passion you make me feel. It is... very out of my usual character."

And it was, for the Lord of the Underworld was known among his brethren as a level-headed judge who maintained utmost composure at all times. In fact, they often described him as being 'cold as a corpse' and brutal when it came to matters of logic or strategy. Impulsiveness was an unknown concept in his mind, until now...

"...I... am fine here," they replied, settling back down in grass that appeared to be more peacock blue than green.

"... Very well," once more he wore that wounded expression, but the God seemed willing to respect their reluctance, "I am the God of the Underworld, I believe your kind call me 'Hades'."

"... Hades," yes -- that was what humans called the stern God beneath the earth, but it sounded to them as if that might not be his real name, "Is... that not your name, then?"

A smile graced and lifted his features for a moment, brightening them in an unexpected way, "You are as astute as I thought... that is correct: my 'true' name is not Hades, though, mortals may call me whatever they wish."

"Then... what is your real name?" this topic of conversation made them curious: where had the names of the Gods actually come from? Were they brought to the minds of men in a dream? Or did the Gods themselves provide false identities, if so then why?

"Mmm," he looked momentarily pensive, "That is a secret, for now... a God's true name holds great power. To entrust it to another is akin to making a vow."

Their eyes widened, "Oh... I... I see."

"You will forgive me if I do not offer up something so personal at this delicate juncture, I am aware that your presence here is entirely of my doing and that you are... unhappy about it. I will not keep it a secret any longer than I must."

"...." it made sense that a God would not trust a relative stranger with something that seemed to hold a great deal of power. They wanted to ask more about it: what did it mean to know a God's true name? What kind of 'vow' did it create? But, it seemed more prudent to leave the topic for now, "... Please won't you let me go home?" they asked, eyes pleading, "I am... flattered to have caught the eye of a God, but I am a mere mortal. I cannot see what lasting intrigue I would have to a divine being such as yourself."

The Lord of the Underworld tilted his head, "Do you think me a shallow man who saw your beautiful face and thought only of that?" he shook his head, "I appreciate that we Gods have a less than glowing image among mortals, and that we have a reputation for treating humans in a superficial manner, but, that is not why I have brought you here. I do not see you as some pretty trophy to keep until I tire of you. Though you are beautiful, yes, it is not simply your appearance that has captivated me so."

"What...?" for some reason his impassioned words made their heart thud in their chest; did he really meant to say that he, a God, had fallen in love with them?

"You possess a quality of character and strength of spirit that has quite simply dazzled me... I have watched you from afar, seen how you have helped your fellows and maintained your grace and resolve even in the face of adversity. I was blinded by more than just your looks."

They blinked a few times, going over his words again and again in muted silence. How could they respond to such a heartfelt answer? It was clear that the God of the Underworld was sincere, if nothing else-- but, this was too much to take in.

"... I'm sure it must come as a surprise to hear a God's confession, but I cannot yearn from afar any longer... that is why I have brought you here. So that I might marry you and take you for my spouse."

"This... it's... this is far more than a surprise... it's shocking. I'm a simple human, surely there are other Gods and Goddesses that are better suited to wed one such as you?"

The God chuckled, "Gods and Humans aren't so different you know... We're possessed of the same diversity of thought and feelings, the same irrational sensibilities and yearnings... it is not as if for every God there is a comparable divine partner. In fact, I find a number of my divine brethren to be a noisy, irksome lot and ill-suited to my temperament. I gladly opted to rule the Underworld for it lessens the time I have to spend with them."

".... huh?" suddenly, they couldn't help but giggle, "... Are you... saying that you view the Gods as annoying relatives?"

"...." he pursed his lips, "Well... they are."

"Oh... I had no idea... So, you came here willingly?" he nodded, "That's not what our books say: apparently you drew lots with your brothers and received the underworld having drawn the shortest straw."

"...?" he looked genuinely bemused by that account, "... I've... never heard something so ridiculous in all my life... drew lots? By the Gods, no. The last thing I would want is to rule the Gods and endure the constant politics of Mount Olympus. Truth be told, I have no idea how my brother manages it..."

Once more they were laughing, for the God of the Underworld --Hades himself-- looked utterly aghast, "Oh! But what about the sea then? Wouldn't you have preferred your brother Poseidon's domain?"

"First, Poseidon is not my brother, he was a 'brother-in-arms' who assisted me and my brother... second, the sea is not much better than Olympus given its relative proximity. I find that my brethren are far slower to make the trek down into the bowels of the earth than any other place."

"I... had no idea the Lord of the Underworld was so anti-social," they mused, smiling to themself having almost entirely lost their nervousness, "But... I suppose it makes some sense, given that your domain is that of the dead. Have you... always been like this?"

"Like what?" he cocked his head.

"... Disagreeable to spending time with other Gods."

"I suppose so," he folded his arms, as if trying to recall some divine equivalent of childhood, "There are so many irksome and tedious Gods in the world, I discovered that during the wars with the Titans."

"Oh... so those wars actually happened then? Our human books are right about that much at least?" he nodded, "So... are the myths about your brother, Zeus, true?"

"What myths about Zeus?"

"That he's the most terrible womaniser who forces himself upon anything that catches his eye?"

"What?!" he stood up, clearly flustered, "Who dares to tarnish my brother's name so?! He's not some philandering hedonist! He's a man of the utmost integrity and happily married! Not to mention his wife would punish him severely were he to hold such callous disregard for the mortals..." suddenly, he stopped his ranting and looked apologetic as he sat down, "... Forgive me, that outburst was uncalled for..."

"I'm... surprised," they said, "Because our myths suggest that you and Zeus do not get along... but you seem incredibly fond of him... oh... and what did you mean that Poseidon is not your brother? Aren't all the Gods related?"

"Of course I'm fond of him," the God said, "He's my brother... and as for your other questions.... what kind of inbred bedlam do you think the Gods live in? We are not begat as generations of mortals, we all issued forth from the black waters of Chaos..."

"But how are you and Zeus related if all Gods are not born?"

"I... was a weak little God when I emerged from the primordial darkness, in fact it was questionable whether or not I would survive. Zeus took pity on me, and shared with me his ichor.... that sustained me and breathed life into me. We are brothers who share the same blood, literally."

"Oh... wow... I had no idea..."

"Why would you? It is not as if we Gods are at pains to correct the fantasies that mortals dream up to explain the world around them," he folded his arms, "I'm... glad you seem a little less nervous in my presence."

"Ah..." they blinked, "Now that you mention it, I do feel a lot calmer."

"That's good... I hope, with time, that perhaps you will... take a liking to me."

"...." funnily enough, seeing more of the God's character had endeared him to them, "I... can't make any promises," they said, while looking down and smiling.

He seemed to pick up on that coyness, "Hmmm... that's better than an outright no. Now, I should like to show you my domain. Do you feel up to a chariot ride? I won't burst up from the earth this time and grab you..."

"In that case, yes."