#No copyright infringement is intended. All publicly recognizable characters settings etc. are the property of their respective owners. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

zia-saturn · 4 months ago

Text

Vibe [AU fic] Intro

SUMMARY: You offered to take Shigaraki's virginity. You wondered how he was going to fulfill your sexual appetite. You could tell he was eager to please. You roused something in him, an insatiable man that could not get enough of you. You had Shigaraki so sprung like crazy.

Virgin! Shigaraki/ Thicc! Reader

Virgin! Shigaraki/ Curvy! Reader

18+ readers only

❌MDNI❌

[DISCLAIMER: The characters respectfully belongs to the creator of 僕のヒーローアカデミア Boku no Hero Academia/My Hero Academia, Kohei Horikoshi.

All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of the respective owners. The author of the fanfiction is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No copyright infringement is intended.]

MATURE CONTENT WARNING: This fanfiction is intended for mature audiences only.

This story contains explicit adult sexual content. If you are easily offended or are under the age of 18, please leave now. Reader discretion is advised.

•••°°°°••••°°°°••••

"Where in the hell is he?" You stepped out of the doors of the lecture hall, tapping your thumb on the keypad to your phone. You checked what time it was on the screen. It was almost the late morning, going into the early afternoon hours.

As your last lecture came to an end that day, you had plans to meet up with your partner for your project that was assigned to the both of you by your professor.

Shigaraki Tomura was the person who you were partnered with. You tried to get a good look at him but his face was mostly obscured by his long, ruffled cyan hair and black hoodie. His head was panned down as his eyes stared at his notebook throughout the entire lecture.

If you were fast enough, you could find him.

Or so you hoped.

But still, you knew that there was a possibility that he couldn't have gotten that far in such a short amount of time. You underestimated his ability to slip away undetected into the crowd. Immediately, you could feel a hint of annoyance begin to grow.

The stress of having demanding courses, running an online side business, working a day job and graduating was getting to you. There was definitely a heavy load on your shoulders. You hardly had any time to sit down and blink your eyes for a lousy few seconds. Your life after graduation would be even tougher as you would be entering nursing school.

One of the few things that brought comfort to you was Spring Break. That was one of your most favorite times of the year. You along with other friends had the money saved up to travel to the Bahamas that year. Things always get wild each and every Spring Break vacation you go on. Just recalling the memories made you blush and a bit wet from time to time.

The previous year was a vacation that you will most definitely hold dear to your heart and your libido. It was full of exhibitionism, voyeurism and non-stop sex marathons day in and day out. You had most of your sexual crusades saved on video in your phone. Once in a while, you like to watch videos of yourself getting fucked as you spend your lone nights pounding yourself with your favorite ribbed dildo.

•••°°°°••••°°°°••••

You stopped at a cafe nearby the campus to grab yourself two strawberry cheese Danishes to go. The wait was about three to four minutes. You politely thanked the employees at the cash register and bid them a good day.

As you turned to leave the cafe, your eyes caught the sight of an individual sitting at the corner of the cafe, near the back. It looked like he had chosen that seat so that nobody would bother him, almost as if he was sequestering himself from the other patrons on purpose.

The first thing you noticed about him was his very pale skin. It was almost translucent. He was quite thin as well. He wore an oversized black hoodie that was pulled over his head so that you barely noticed his tousled locks of cyan hued hair.

You immediately recognized him from class. What a relief that you were able to find him without going through any kind of extensive searching and scouring around the entire campus. All of his attention was towards his phone that he had in his hand. He was so immersed in the screen that he did not even notice that you were walking towards him.

"Oh! Thank goodness I found you." You sighed, feeling at ease. "You left before I had the chance to talk to you. I wanted to discuss the group project that we were assigned earlier." You clutched your books against your chest. A cute taupe pleather purse was strapped to your shoulders with your pastries safely wrapped inside of it.

His head shot up as soon as he heard your voice. It took one second to gather your thoughts when his eyes met yours. You hardly saw a person with scarlet eyes before. You wondered if he wore contact lenses or if those red eyes were his natural eye color.

"Hmm? Oh yeah. I almost forgot about that." The blue haired young man muttered under his breath before turning his attention back to his phone.

You noticed how standoffish he was but it wasn't a personal snub towards you. He displayed the same behavior towards everybody he crossed paths with.

You were concerned about his flippant attitude towards the project because it would count for a huge chunk of your grade. It was important for you to graduate with an excellent GPA.

"So, you almost forgot about it? Well, I'm already stressing out about it and it's hardly been thirty minutes since class was dismissed. I need to pass the course with flying colors. I'm a senior. This is my last semester here. I graduate this coming May. I am going for my bachelors and after, I'm planning on going to nursing school to become a registered nurse." You explained to him, tucking a lone strand of hair behind your ear. He did not budge when he heard your statement.

"If you don't mind me asking, what year are you in?" You asked Tomura in an attempt to make small talk. Creating a sense of familiarity through constant communication was an excellent way to build a healthy partnership with another person. You genuinely wanted to get to know him. It was important that you were able to break the ice with him.

Tomura, on the other hand, felt the opposite. His prejudgments and assumptions lead him to believe that you were like all of the other ditzy whores running around campus. He was certain that you were trying to exploit him for resources or his intelligence. You seemed like the type. Otherwise, why would a pretty lady like you be talking to him? The bitter raging cynic in him told him to put all his emotional walls up around him.

"Sophomore." Tomura simply stated.

He really did not notice you in his class but he really did not notice anyone in general. His main focus was getting the course material, taking the necessary notes and then leaving before anyone had the chance to speak to him. He tried his best to avoid socializing because that was definitely not his strong suit.

However, that did not stop him from observing you from head to toe.

Plump glossy lips, doe shaped eyes, long thick wavy hair and hourglass shape? Even though you wore loose fitting hospital scrubs, your curves were still noticeable, especially your backside. Your ass was nice and round and your thighs were another story. They were thick and juicy. You were a whole snack.

You took a seat and sat in front of him. You had a few minutes to spare before your shift at the University's hospital were to start. "I don't mean to bug you but, I would just like to know our general plans for the project. We could worry about the details later."

Tomura's was so relieved that the project did not have any speaking parts. That part was optional. "Well, you don't have to worry about that. I'll do 90 percent of the work if that's what you want."

You frowned slightly at his assumption of you being lazy. The man did not know you from a can of paint. If he walked a mile in your shoes for just one day, he would know how much of your schedule consisted of non-stop work day in and day out. There was an itch inside of you that wanted to give him a piece of your mind and set him straight.

Tomura definitely lacked a lot in the personality and the socialization department. You wanted to be mature about this and find a way to reach some kind of middle ground with him.

"Listen." The tone in your voice was much stern than before but you were able to remain calm. "I really want to contribute to the project. I would feel like a failure if I just let you do all the work yourself. This is supposed to be teamwork. I'm willing to work with you if you would just give me a chance." As you finished your statement, you sat up straight and crossed your arms.

Tomura just blinked his eyes and observed your body language. His curiosity about you began to grow. There was something about the way you showed your confidence when it came to voicing your needs and expectations.

"I guess we could work together if you're willing to do your share. You seem genuine enough." He gave a stiff nod of approval.

"What makes you think that I wasn't being genuine in the first place?" Your tone was a bit softer.

"I don't feel like explaining myself but, women in the past usually left most of the workload up to me and just pretended as if I did not exist once they got what they wanted from me…" He explained with a hint of bitterness in his tone. It made him angry just recalling what happened in the past.

"So, you just assumed that I was going to do the same thing to you? Is that it?" Your eyes narrowed a bit, trying to remain sympathetic towards him.

"To be honest? Yes." He bluntly answered, crossing his arms.

"Well, I'm not like them." You rolled your eyes at his subtle hostility. "Not all women are the same just like all men aren't the same. I believe in the philosophy of 'treat others how you would like to be treated'. Like I said before, I'm willing to work with you if you're willing to cooperate with me."

"Ah. Smart, genuine and pretty. I don't see any of your types around here too often." Tomura tossed you a snide smirk your way.

"Trust me; there are plenty of women who are very beautiful and kind hearted out there in the world. It would not hurt to step outside more and socialize." Then, you checked your phone for the time. You had about two minutes before you had to leave for work.

Tomura made a grunt of annoyance and checked his phone too. He did not want anyone to tell him what to do or where to go. He absolutely hated going outside, not to mention his socializing skills were terribly weak, almost non-existent. He spent most of his free time cooped up in his dorm gaming and studying.

You quietly observed Tomura as he took his free hand to scratch his nails onto the flesh on the side of his neck to satiate the irritating itch that was bugging him ever since you began speaking to him.

It was apparent that he was dealing with some personal issues that had him in the state that he was in. Everything from his skin to his physical stature was in need of some positive modification of care. You wanted to give Tomura some advice on how to improve his physical health but, you decided that it would be best to keep your comments to yourself. That did not stop you from being concerned for him. It seemed like he could use a positive influence in his life. He could use a person who could help him get out of his shell.

However, you could definitely be of some assistance when it came to his skin care. Most of his exposed flesh looked so dry and flaky, especially around his mouth.

"I noticed that you have the habit of scratching your neck. Is there anything wrong? Is it a rash?" You asked Tomura.

"Um…" Tomura's eyes darted downwards, focusing on his foot as he tried his best to avoid making eye contact with you. It was evident that he was ashamed of his habit. "It's kinda…hard to explain."

Your observation wasn't meant to be taken as scorn or criticism against him and you wanted him to know that. "Sweetie. I would highly suggest that you stop because your skin could get infected or you might give yourself a permanent scar around that area. I could give you some of my custom made home remedies for skin care. They're all handmade and mixed by me. I usually sell them online just to make some extra cash on the side."

Tomura kept quiet as he glared at you with suspicion.

"Don't worry. It's not a pyramid scheme and I'm not trying to recruit you into anything. I am the boss of my own side business and I work for no one but myself. No one is working above me or beneath me. I am the sole proprietor. As a matter of fact, I will give you some of my products free of charge." You assured him with a friendly smile.

Tomura did not know what to think about your kind gesture. It really confused him for a moment and he had trouble finding proper words to say to you. "Oh really? I mean, you really don't have to—"

"I know I don't have to, but I want to." You reassured him, placing a hand gently on top of his. You wanted to show him that you meant well by him and that you actually cared for him.

This was a VERY rare occurrence of a beautiful woman showing enough interest to even help him with anything. You were so kind and patient towards him.

However, a hint of cynicism kept prodding his thoughts.

Then…

Those cynical thoughts spiraled and led him to accusing you of feeling pity for him as if he was a sad charity case that had no hope in life. Afterwards, there came a flood of self defeating thoughts. Those thoughts usually held him back from moving further in life as far as relationships and friendships were concerned.

This was feeling a bit too intense for him at the moment. He needed the time to process the events that just took place.

"I will let you know if I need anything." He stated in a curt tone.

You had the feeling that he was overwhelmed so you decided to leave him alone to have his space. Besides, it was time for you to head off to work anyway.

You stood up from your chair and bid him a good day. "Okay. I'll see you next week."

Tomura meekly waved at you and watched you leave the cafe. His scarlet eyes noticed how your hips and ass swayed from side to side as you walked out. He thought your little stroll was the sexiest thing he has ever seen so far. It had a natural seductive rhythm to it.

That was a vision that would certainly linger in his mind before he fell asleep tonight. It was the image that will be the cause of him waking up the next morning with his legs and thighs covered in his own cum.

•••°°°°••••°°°°••••

One week later….

You stood by the door of the lecture hall with your thumbs tapping away at your phone, waiting for class to start. Class would not start for another twenty minutes but you always liked to arrive earlier than expected. Your business e-mail was absolutely clogged with different requests, special orders and warehouse inventory related messages. It would take you forever to reply to all of them but, you had to pace yourself so you won't get so overwhelmed to the point of burning yourself out.

"So…you're quite early today."

Tomura's voice snapped you out of your little busy mental bubble.

"Oh. Hey there." You giggled quietly, your mind still preoccupied with your e-mails. You managed to rapidly tap out in the last reply to one of your messages before you gave your full attention to your classmate.

"I'm sorry if I seem distracted. Work is piling on me. I can't catch a break to save my life." You tried to laugh off the stress. A long nap was calling your name once you had the chance to reach your apartment that night.

"It seems like you have a lot on your plate." Tomura sighed, slowly taking a step towards you.

"I do. Lord, give me the strength." You looked up towards the ceiling and clasped your hands together before piteously giggling.

He just chuckled. He found your humor to be cute. It only intrigued him more.

"Um…" He began, but went silent.

A few awkward seconds of silence followed. He cursed himself for not being able to have enough balls to continue the rest of the conversation.

"How was the rest of your week?" You asked him.

"It was alright��I guess. I managed to gather some useful source material for the research part. Now, I just have to begin the written report."

"Oh? I was thinking that I could take care of that part."

"Are you sure? I don’t want to put any more workload on you. You seem really busy with other important things, especially with your other classes and your jobs." He scratched the back of his head, looking down at his own sneakers. He avoided making any eye contact for more than a second.

"Ah. That reminds me. Would it be cool if we could trade phone numbers?" You prepared your thumb to tap his number and confirm it into your contact list.

He felt shocked that you asked him for his number first. Then again, phones are the easiest way to keep in contact with anyone in this day and age. Besides, he did not want to read too much into your request. He reminded himself that this exchange was for academic purposes, not for anything personal nor romantic. "Yeah. Sure."

You called him to make sure your number appeared on his screen. It did and he proceeded to save your number with your name in his own contact list.

•••°°°°••••°°°°••••

An hour and a half later…

After class, you two agreed to meet up in the library to discuss the project in much greater detail. During that time at the library, Tomura felt more at ease working with you but his nervousness was still there. Your aura was so friendly and inviting which made it easier for him to become more engaging with you as time went on. It made it a comfortable environment for him.

In some instances, his mind dozed off and he stared at your face. You were so pretty to him. He zeroed in on your lips whenever you spoke.

They were so soft…

So supple…

He wondered how they would feel wrapped around his cock. Very dirty and sordid thoughts swirled around his mind and they did not stop. They just got filthier and filthier by the second.

Damn. What would it look like to see you beg for him to fuck you after he finished painting his cum all over those sexy lips of you?

Then, his mind as well as his eyes drifted towards your breasts. On that day, you wore a tight spandex long sleeve shirt with a bit of cleavage showing with a pair of tight denim jeans that complimented your hips, thighs and ass very well.

Would you beg for him to splatter his thick cum all over your gorgeous breasts? One could only imagine. How would your ass feel once you made yourself comfortable in his lap? It would feel so soft and warm. Yes it would. He decided it would feel soft and warm.

You noticed Tomura practically leering at you and you had to constantly remind the young man to stay focused on the project.

Of course, he would incessantly apologize for losing sight of the important task at hand. You forgave him but sternly warned him to pay attention to the project. He would gladly obey your instructions. There was something really enticing with the way you would take charge and give orders.

Your stay lasted for about an hour before you decided to call it a day.

Your partner just leaned back in his chair, stretched his arms before giving out a large yawn. “Fuck, man. I can’t wait till this project is done and over with. I hate class projects. I really hate working with other people because they annoy me so much.” He recited that statement with a tired sigh.

“Do I annoy you?” You gently smiled at him. “Maybe, I should be next time.”

“I’m just pleasantly surprised at how smooth things went today. I really enjoyed working with you and that’s not something that I usually tell anyone.” He scratched his neck again.

“Oh? Is that so?” You arched an eyebrow up in curiosity. You wanted him to elaborate and you waited for him to do so.

Tomura almost flinched when his hand was gently pulled away from his neck and nestled in yours. Your hand felt so soft and you smelled so sweet. Then, he recalled what you told him the other day about quitting his habit of scratching. The gesture you just displayed was a reminder to him to stop. Your thumb caressed the top of his hand.

“Well…yeah.” He stuttered. His heartbeat picked up a bit. You made him so nervous. At the same time, he felt a sense of comfort. Your presence gave him a feeling of solace. It was so confusing to him.

“I have something to give you.” You turned your back to him for a minute to retrieve an item from your purse. It was a brand new tube of lip balm. Specifically, it was one of your custom made lip balms. The packaging was simple yet appealing. It had your own company logo on it.

You removed the protective plastic tamper seal of the small tube and turned the knob before slowly applying the smooth balm all over his lips. Every ingredient was natural. The ingredients were: Beeswax, Shea butter, Peppermint, Coconut Oil, Cocoa Butter and Vitamin E. The topical salve provided maximum conditioning and healing moisture to the skin.

“This is one of my balms that I made myself. There are many more flavors that I have in stock. I am going to give you some of my products the next time we meet.”

As you applied the balm, you noticed that there was a small mole near his chin. Many people regarded that mole as a 'beauty mark'. It really did fit him really well. "You're so cute. You know that?"

Tomura just blushed before he let out a chuckle to ease the tension. “Thanks. I guess.” The sensation on his mouth felt really odd to him at first but it soothed every parched and cracked crevice of his lips. That balm was quick to do its job. "It's pretty good. You actually made this yourself?" He rubbed his lips together, getting used to the tingling taste of the peppermint. His lips felt smoother than before.

"Yes, I sure did. I enjoy creating my skin care line. It's quite a lucrative field for me." You placed the tube in his hand before wrapping his fingers around it. "Take it. It's yours. Free of charge."

"Thanks. You're really kind. I usually don't care about any of this cosmetic bullshit. I normally don’t make a fuss about my appearance. I just don't see the point." Tomura just shrugged. He did practice basic daily hygiene rituals such as showering and brushing his teeth but, that's the most he's ever done.

"Well, I believe that you deserve to feel comfortable in your own skin. I think you're handsome and you have potential." You gave him a reassuring smile before checking the time on your phone.

"Oh! I need to get going now. I promised my friend that I would meet with them for dinner tonight." You packed up your things and stood up from your chair.

“So, I’ll see you in a couple of weeks? We could meet up after class to discuss the final draft of the report. Is that fine with you?” He asked you. If he were to be honest, he thought it was way too soon for you to part ways with him. It would be nice if you were able to stay with him and hang out a little while longer.

Or overnight.

In his bed.

Or him in your bed.

With your soft thighs wrapped around his waist.

He did not feel one ounce of shame when it came to his fantasies about you. You were really tempting him and it was not fair. If he had the opportunity, he would pounce on you in a heartbeat. And once he was done drilling you into the mattress he would empty his balls inside of you, filling you up with his warm thick cum that you so rightfully deserved. He would not let one drop go to waste. All of it would be inside of you, gushing into your womb. He’ll cum inside of that heavenly pussy over and over again.

“That sounds good to me. I’ll text you if I need anything before then.”

“Cool. I’ll see you later. Thanks for the balm. I’ll make sure to use it every day.” He gave you a small smile, showing his appreciation. Small beads of sweat formed on his forehead, feeling so much tension in his pants at the nonstop explicit thoughts that keep rattling in his mind. He prayed to God that you didn’t notice the small bulge that was underneath his jeans.

You did notice but you kept quiet. It was flattering to you that he found you so visually appealing enough that he was about to bust in his pants. “You’re welcome, babe.” You leaned over the table to pet him on top of his head. You made sure that Tomura could get a nice view of your cleavage.

If he didn’t know any better, you were trying to entice him. The pet name was a clear indicator of that.

You sensed that he was ogling and eyefucking you every time you walked away, had your head turned or became distracted by something else. Your suspicions were correct. It was then that you concocted a sneaky plan for the next time you were to meet up with him. This was a sexy game that you were willing to play. A game that you would for sure win.

•••°°°°••••°°°°••••

Two weeks later…

You spotted Tomura sitting in the student lounge flipping through the pages of one of his text books. You sat next to him on the plush cushion couches. "Hi darling." You greeted him with a sweet, gentle tone.

There weren’t that many people around at the moment except for one or two other people besides you. They were sitting at the other side of the lounge. You made yourself comfortable once you took a seat on the previously vacant spot next to him on the sofa. Maybe a little too comfortable.

"Hey." He slightly blushed at the affectionate pet name.

Tomura’s eyes widened at your choice of outfit. It wasn’t anything too revealing. All you wore was a white tank top and light blue jeans. It was a pretty simple outfit but it was so tight on you, tight in all of the right places. Your cleavage was much more noticeable. If you were to give a slight tug down at your neckline, those tits would just spill out in front of him with little to no effort at all.

You wore that shirt on purpose. You most certainly had his undivided attention. He was wrapped around your little finger.

“I’m sorry that I disappeared after class. I had to use the restroom.” You yawned, outstretching your arms as you did so.

He tried so hard not to gawk at you in front of your face. “Don’t worry. I wanted to get myself something to drink before we met anyway. I’m just glad that you received my text. I apologize for the sudden change for the meet up location.”

“It’s alright. Thanks for letting me know. I really wasn’t in the mood to play cat and mouse today. But, I’m glad I caught you.” You let out a small purr while gently clawing at his hoodie collar.

He gulped. A large lump slid down his throat as he swallowed. His body temperature rose a bit. He wasn’t used to being teased by any woman. It was hard to find his words at the moment.

You felt sinisterly playful on that particular day. “So, do you have the final draft with you?” Your breasts were pressed against his arm.

“Um…Yes. I do. I have a copy of it here with me. You can keep it so you could add your part in. We should compare notes and perhaps you could rewrite the report with your part included. I’ll send you another copy in an attachment through e-mail. Then, we should be good to go.” He stated, trying his hardest to remain composed in your presence.

You were about to make things so difficult for him.

Were your nipples hard?

They definitely were.

They poked out like pebbles underneath that white stretch fabric of your tank top.

“Thank you. You’re so sweet. You’re such a gentleman. Any woman would be so lucky to have you as her man.” You had a sultry smirk on your face.

“Well. I wouldn’t say that. I never had a woman to call my own. I don’t think that will ever happen in this lifetime.” He nervously scratched the side of his neck. This was so embarrassing for him.

"So wait. You mean to tell me that you have never been intimate with another person before?" You asked.

He was hesitant to answer that question for many reasons. One main reason was that he would face harsh judgment. "Um…well…no. No I have not."

"Aww~ Aren't you adorable?" You teased him as your fingers gently flicked and tugged the zipper of his hoodie. This was too good to be true. The hunt was much more delicious. You were like a lioness, on the prowl for her next capture. This one was about to be sweet and juicy.

Once again, Tomura's body temperature slowly rose to a higher temperature when he felt you tinkering with his collar and zipper. His pants were feeling a bit tight around his loins. Those pale cheeks of his had a faint pink tint to them and the tint only deepened when your face moved closer to his.

"What's stopping you?" You asked.

"I always had trouble getting a girl's attention."

"You have my attention." You winked at him. Then, you crossed your legs and leaned closer next to him.

Tomura just froze in place. ‘What the actual fuck ?!’ He sipped his coffee quickly, to keep himself from speaking.

"Well, you know. It would be such a turn on if I were to take IT from you. Would you let me be your first time?"

"Wait―WHAT?!" Tomura damn near choked on his hot caffeinated beverage when he heard your offer.

"I can see the look in your eyes. So can you. I know you want me." You cooed to him.

Tomura felt like the luckiest guy in the world at that moment. A beautiful woman who is willing to take his virginity and was so eager about it as well? He felt like he hit the jackpot.

"I'm going to have so much fun with you." You pressed your chest up against his. Both of his crimson eyes widened while his Adams apple bobbed from a harsh gulp. He thought this entire moment was unreal. This was too good to be true.

Both of your hands pressed on his chest. "We can indulge ourselves with some red wine. Some restraints and body oil and we can have ourselves an evening." You gripped his collar and roughly yanked him so his nose was touching yours. A hiss sharply escaped between your clenched teeth.

He felt like he was about to combust. His face was completely red. He just wanted to melt away from reality. He never knew how to flirt back because he never had the opportunity to. Most women did their best to avoid him as they considered him a weirdo.

You pouted. "What's wrong, darling? You look like a cherry. Is everything alright?"

He sputtered and mumbled. “Nothing’s wrong. It’s just—Are you sure? Do you really want to? Us? Together?” His eyes darted everywhere. His palms were so sweaty.

"Follow me to the parking lot. I want to 'show' you something." A devilish smirk stretched your face.

This was about to be good.

Notes: That's it for first chapter. I hope everyone enjoyed it. I originally posted this fic back in 2021 on my Ao3 page. I'm still in the process of writing the next chapter. Should I continue this?

142 notes · View notes

xreaderbooks · 2 years ago

Text

The Shadows of Our Love Masterlist | Sebastian Sallow

Sebastian Sallow x Reader (Platonic! Garreth Weasley x Reader, Platonic! Ominis Gaunt x Reader)

Navigation - Playlist - Wattpad and AO3 - Moodboard 1

Following the events of Hogwarts Legacy: Tension rises in the Hamlets as well as in the house of Slytherin as Sebastian Sallow has taken to avoiding Y/n since the beginning of the school year. The lack of communication causes a rift between the once-close friends, both yearning for the other yet never fully expressing themselves to one another.

This school year was meant for studying, friends, and trying to rekindle her friendship with Sebastian Sallow who is set on avoiding her.

Y/n L/n is back at Hogwarts for her fifth year, left with an insurmountable amount of guilt, trauma, and ancient magic that she has lost control of over the summer; she must learn how to overcome her internal battle while also fighting a new one this year. With talk of a high society group called Death Reapers; Y/n must once again find the strength to fight for the wizarding world and confront her love for Sebastian Sallow.

Aged-up characters: 17-18 (6th years)

Slowburn - Friends to Lovers

Warnings: Hogwarts Legacy spoilers! Language, Violence, Death, Torture, Angst, Implied sexual content (no smut), SLOW BURN ASF

Chapter 1 | In the Shadow of Return

Chapter 2 | In the Shadow of Potions

Chapter 3 | In the Shadow of Evasion

Chapter 4 | In the Shadow of Strength

Chapter 5 | In the Shadow of Truth

Chapter 6 | In the Shadow of Rumors

Chapter 7 | In the Shadow of Quidditch

Chapter 8 | In the Shadow of Promises

Chapter 9 | In the Shadow of Interest

Chapter 10 | In the Shadow of Letters

Chapter 11 | In the Shadow of Duels

Chapter 12 | In the Shadow of Detention last updated: 8/15/23

Chapter 13 | In the Shadow of

Chapter 14 | In the Shadow of

Chapter 15 | In the Shadow of

more chapters to follow...

Y/n’s 6th year schedule:

Disclaimer: This is a work of fan fiction, The author of this story has no ownership of any of the characters in the Hogwarts Legacy video game. Some dialogue is taken from the story set in Hogwarts Legacy. All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and some scenes where the original character is involved are the property of the author of this story. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No copyright infringement is intended.

304 notes · View notes

ninelives2 · 3 months ago

Text

#caryl #caryl fanfiction #carol peletier #daryl dixon

9 notes · View notes

autumn-grace · 1 year ago

Text

The Lingering Pain of Empty Hands

Summery: In 1793 Benedict goes missing at a fair. Twenty years later Eloise keeps running into the same man while investigating the case of one famous Lady Whistledown.

A story exploring the complexities of loss.

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, lyrics etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author of this story. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No copyright infringement is intended.

Author Note: This is the first time I post a story on Tumblr. I have a very small idea of what I am doing.

Chapter One: A dead child’s shoes

Rating: M Length: 5.2k

1/10

“I miss you more than I remember you.” - Ocean Vuong

Aubrey Hall, 1799

Violet knew something was different the very moment she stepped into the front hall. She stopped abruptly. Eloise, who was holding onto her hand skidded over the polished floor to a halt a foot in front of her. Sara behind them, with Francesca on her hip and Daphne by the hand almost walked into her.

Looking around, nothing seemed entirely out of the ordinary. A footman had quickened his step into an uncommon speed to disappear through the serving room. It made her notice the slight frown on Ranson's face which was otherwise perfectly under control.

“Ranson, where is the Viscount?”

“Upstairs, my Lady.”

She looked up as if she could see him through the ceiling. “Do we have visitors?”

“Let go of my hand, mama!” Eloise complained and began to tug at her hand.

“No, my Lady.” Ranson answered while she admonished Eloise with a raised brow. It did little, she just continued practising her will. Daphne shushed her in a perfect expression of their nurse, trying to grab her arm. Said nurse was somewhat distracted by the youngest girl, trying herself to escape.

Violet knew not how to put that nagging feeling in her stomach into words. But it made her let go of Eloise's hand and it made her pace to the staircase. Eloise was at her heels, emitting excitement with the sudden action.

“You stay with Sara!”

“But where are you going?” She continued her venture alongside her mother.

“Eloise!”

“Papa!” She quickened her step further, overtook her mother and climbed the stairs to where her father now stood, a few steps down from the landing.

“You are back early.” He addressed Violet, his tone flat. Eloise reached him and jumped towards him. Distracted by watching his wife, he pulled Eloise up to his arm, not listening to her as she began telling him of a herd of sheep. (The one which blocked their carriage for almost two hours on their way here).

“We are. Mother fell ill with a nasty cold. I did not want the children to catch it.” She explained, her voice stiff.

“I am sorry to hear she is not well.”

Violet walked towards him. Going left in order to pass him by, he drew a bit to the side, effectively blocking her.

“Where is Colin?” Edmund looked over her shoulder down to the foot of the stairs where Sara now followed them with Daphne and Francesca. He smiled at them and waved.

“Where do you think he is? Will you let me through?”

“How about we have some tea and refreshments? I was just on my way downstairs.”

She forced him to make eye-contact with her by fixing her gaze upon him. And she knew the moment he faltered and met her eyes. Knew he had done what she asked him not to do.

“What have you done?” She whispered, asking the question anyway.

“Nothing. Violet, I just... I...”

“What!” She enunciated, “Have you done?” She brushed past him. Started to run towards the north corridor. He was at her heels. Eloise screamed behind them, running, too. Sara, in turn, called after her.

It was chaos. First around her and then in the very centre of her heart the moment she fell through the door to Benedict's room.

His bed was gone, his dresser, his shelves empty, the carpet rolled up and pushed to the side, the walls painted in a dull, greyish white. The sunny yellow gone.

“No...” she breathed. Stepping inside, frantically looking around. She turned again to run to the door. She needed to find all his things. She needed to. Energy buzzing through her, providing her with enough strength to bring this room back to its former state.

But then there was Edmund blocking her way.

“Violet, I am sorry...”

“Where is everything? Tell me now. Tell me!” She pushed against his chest so he would step out of the doorway. He caught her hands instead.

“It's all packed away. Nothing is gone.”

“His clothes?” She demanded. “His animals?”

“Violet, I swear...” he started.

“I have never asked for anything much, have I? Have I ever been a difficult woman? Have I? Edmund?” It was desperation forcing her words.

“It was nothing but a museum of despair, my love.”

“You lost our son. You lost him and I not once blamed you for it. The least you could have done is leave me my despair!” She shouted now, certain her voice would break into sobs any second. Eloise, who had first pressed herself through the gap between her father's legs and the door frame, now retreated into the opposite direction, scared by her mother's rage.

“It's all I have left of him, my memory, my pain is the only thing that reminds me that he was real. And you take this from me, too. LET GO OF ME.”

She pulled away from him, from the hands on her arms, from the shocked expression on his face.

“What have I done to you that you punish me so? I asked you to leave me this room. I asked you only of that one thing...”

Now, she crumbled. A sob dragged through her chest and up her throat.

“How could you? That's all that I had left of him.” She cried. “Have you forgotten him? Do you no longer care?” She weeped and when he only looked at the floor, she turned around herself, once, twice.

She suddenly felt as if she stood in her little boy's tomb.

Bloomsbury, May 1814

Ben arrived at work a little earlier than he usually would.

His night had ended at five. Charles woke at least once every hour. Sophie was in and out of bed as many times. He had pulled Alex over to his side of the bed in order to act as a barrier between the commotion and him, but it made the little one restless, clearly feeling he was no longer beside his mama. As a consequence Ben spent all night awake behind closed eyes.

In short, the night was ruff and hoping he could leave earlier made him decide to leave half an hour earlier than usual.

He made it almost to the office building when a carriage came through the gates onto the courtyard, cutting off his path. At first he gave it little notice but then it stopped right by the door he had to enter. And it was when he planned to walk around it that something about the vehicle demanded his attention.

“Have I something in my face?” The young woman who had stepped out of the carriage barked into his direction. With a raised brow she waited for an answer.

“No, Miss,” tumbled from his lips eventually and she made a step closer, folding her arms in front of her body, tapping her index-finger against her arm.

“Then consider not staring. It's rude.” She leaned back into the carriage and pulled out a stack of books, turned and rushed away, her servant at her heels.

Ben had not stared at her so much as at the carriage she had arrived in and the crest drawn onto the dark, polished wood. It could not be. He must simply be wrong. He took a small step towards the vehicle. The coachman nodded at him, suspicion in his eyes.

But he was not wrong, was he? This had burned itself into his memory. It was the crest on the carriage which had driven away from him, had left him behind. After which he ran until his young legs had given out under him and his lungs protested strongly by constricting into desperate gulps for air.

He shook himself out of the memory. Took several steps backwards.

If it was the carriage he believed it to be, it did not matter.

And still, Ben found it impossible to form a clear thought as he made his way upstairs and to his desk. He was so early that he was the first one in.

Not being able to gather his senses proved his work rather difficult. And strangely enough, also a little dangerous as he soon learned, especially considering he was an illustrator. He tried to prepare his workload, gathering his materials and sharpening his pencils. He noticed not how his heart thumped all the way in his throat until the sharpening-knife logged itself against the side of his finger, leaving him bleeding.

Frustrated, with blood spreading over his tongue as he sucked on the wound, he shoved his chair back, creating an irritating sound as the wood carved into the floorboards.

“Are you alright, Mr. Atwood?”

He had not noticed Edgar entering the room. The young apprentice, barely sixteen, looked at him, part worried and part confused. Ben nodded, put the knife on his desk.

“I cut myself. No worries.” He explained a moment later. Edgar had found his desk since, put his bag on the floor to its side. He sat down on his chair and began to search through his things.

Ben in the meanwhile had stood up and made his way to the window from where he had a view over the courtyard and found the carriage still there. It was early morning, not many had started their workday yet. He wondered what that girl wanted here? Surely, she did not have an appointment. Public business started at eight. That was another hour and a half away.

“Mr. Atwood? My mother gave me this to give to you. It is for you and Mrs. Atwood.” Once again Ben tried to pull himself to attention, he turned his head and the boy stood only a few feet away from him. Had he paws for feet?

He held his hand out, a package in it. The brown paper was held together by a single string, Benedict smiled and shook his head as he took it. The thumbing in his throat lessened considerably. “Your mother is truly a kind woman, Edgar.” Making sure Edgar looked at him, he nodded in thanks.

Unwrapping it, his first assumption was proven true, this was for the boys, a cardigan, looking just about Alexander's size, with some room to grow into. It was held in a soft beige colour with a small rabbit stitched down to the front. He would love it.

“Mother says it's a light wool and will be perfect for summer.”

His shoulder softened and his nervous heart eased. The kind gesture warmed his insides and made it possible to get his thoughts in a line. “Tell Mrs. York how very grateful we are.”

“Gladly,” Edgar nodded and smiled before taking a seat on his desk. Ben tied the cardigan into the paper again and as he looked out of the window before returning to his desk as well, he found the carriage gone.

That night he dreamed of nothing but running after the carriage. His eyes snapped open every time that he fell to the ground in his dream, unable to contain the speed needed for it to stay just barely out of his reach. Forcing himself to inhale and exhale and with the sensation of his son's hand firmly logged into the material of his nightshirt, he drifted off to sleep after. Over and over and over.

It was the forth or fifth time that night, when opening his eyes the room was brightened by a little bit of light. He was unable yet to contain and deal with the terror running through his veins before he looked to the side and met directly with Sophie's worried gaze. She was feeding Alexander, who was still half asleep. Charles on the other side of her, not yet awake.

“It's not real,” she whispered and he swallowed, lifting his hands to his face to rub it, rub some sense into him. Seeing little stars dance in front of his eyes made him stop, his hand then reached out until he found Sophie's.

He rolled to his side and into her, his hand slid under her nightdress, up the top of her leg and then to her swollen belly.

“You tease.” She breathed and clicked her tongue softly. He grinned as he buried his face into Alex's back, searching her skin for any traces of movement underneath.

Thinking only one thing: but what if it was true?

And then he forgot about the carriage. He forgot about the dreams. As he always did.

It was only weeks later that it was coaxed to the surface again.

Usually it was months and years between those instances. And usually it brought about only a fleeting emotion, an understanding, a few nights of nightmares. Ben could file it away under confusing childhood memories and recognise that it no longer held any power over him, and then go on about his life.

After all, it was twenty years ago. He had been a boy then.

At this point, he had a life, it had become his own. That thing that was his childhood nothing more than a distant memory, one that sometimes, rarely these days, clenched at his heart.

He might never forget the sheer panic of watching the carriage with his father in it drive off without him, but he remembered it today as through thick, coloured glass. That and mostly everything else from before as well. He had a brother, Anthony, that had always been true, he was always sure of that and how he had been his best friend. He remembered an enormous garden and a large forest and sometimes it all was so clear he could wander through it in his imagination. He remembered always holding onto his mother's hand.

But how it came to it, his father leaving him behind, pushing him to the ground and going home without him, the years had washed that away, corroded his memory into something fragile, something unreliable. Trying to reconstruct what happened nowadays led him to a different conclusion every time. So he tried to let it rest, let the joy of the presence direct his course. His father might not have wanted him then, but the same was not true for his wife or his sons now. Nothing else mattered.

Still, he found it a sheer impossibility, that thought. Sometimes, when he indulged in it. How could someone not want their child? Every time the memory fought its way to the forefront of his mind he could not fathom it. They would have to go over his cold dead body in order to get to his sons, and then there was still Sophie to fend them off. No question asked. He would protect them, would never let any harm come their way, he had sworn that.

Naturally, he was not a naïve man, had seen children suffer alongside himself. Had shared the last bit of his dry bread with a little girl that showed him a warm place to sleep. Two days later he watched a man throw her body on the bed of the carriage which picked up the dead every morning. Throwing her shoes into the alleyway for the next poor thing. (It was how he had gotten his own pair of shoes only mere weeks before that. They had belonged to a boy named Peter, who was very good at stealing apples.)

He had seen a woman sell her son. He had witnessed a father beat his daughter until her skull creaked. He had seen it all and more. He was not naïve, but it still rendered him incapable of understanding the how. Not when he loved his own so much it made his chest hurt.

It all boiled to the surface again when he needed to return to work late on a Friday night to bring in a revision to go into print early on Saturday. He went past Mr. Atkin's house to gather his final approval which cost him an extra twenty five minutes of polite conversation with the man's daughter in law, he would much rather have spent with Sophie. Ultimately he would have stayed an hour or two if it meant a raise.

It was then almost half ten when he excited the master lithographer's office.

He took on a quick step through the cold spring air. With his hands in his pockets to keep them warm, he watched the cobblestone under his feet. His bag dangled in his back and as he did so often these days, he used the way to calculate their current expenses and how the new baby would influence them. They could not wait for their new little one, it was a firm and undeniable truth. But it would mean that a new suit had to wait for at least another eight months to a year and Sophie needed new shoes, it was a priority.

Being distracted by numbers, he nodded to the night-guard and crossed the street with a quick glance in every direction. He considered taking a shortcut when it happened, he crossed a puddle in a confident jump and ended up swinging backwards as he almost but not quite ran into a woman standing in the shadows of a house.

She raised her hands and shrieked as he tried to regain his balance and not tumble to the pavement. It was in vain, he landed on his behind.

The woman exhaled in a huff. “You again!” She stepped out of the shadow and looked down at him and he looked up at her, raising a brow as he too recognised her. “What are you doing here?”

“I shall rather ask you that question, Miss.” He drew his knee in and climbed back onto his feet, rubbing his hands together and looking at his shoes hoping not to have scratched the leather... or, and he tried to look around himself to see, destroyed his trousers.

“I am an independent woman, my reasons are my own.”

“I see...” he bit the insides of his cheeks so as not to grin, these words could come right from Sophie's mouth.

She raised her chin, responding to the humorous challenge in his words. Their eyes meet and had it not been for the moonlight casting down on them, it would have been impossible to tell, but her eyes were red and swollen and there was still some wetness to her cheeks.

The sadness in her eyes jolted through him because he felt as if he recognized it.

“Who are you, anyway? So I know which name to give to my best friend in case you plan an abduction!”

Something rattled in his soul. “I, Miss. I do not plan an abduction. In fact I am very much interested in you finding your way home safely.”

“Your name!” She repeated and rubbed her thumb under her eye.

“Atwood. My name is Ben Atwood. I am an illustrator for Atkin's Press”

“Ben Atwood. Well then, nice to make your acquaintance. I must be on my way.”

She took a hold of her frog and took off. “Stop. Miss. Tell me your name!” She made a full spin, danced around another puddle. “Bridgerton is my name, Eloise Bridgerton. Remember it well!”

It was Sunday afternoon when Ben sat on the floor of their small flat in order to think hard and clear about everything he knew about his childhood. Despite the sun flooding the room, most of the occupants napped. On the sofa their two boys slept soundly. On his thigh rested Sophie's head winding herself halfway around him, making sure every part of her body was warmed by the sun.

His hand rested absent-mindedly on her belly and her fingers were folded around his wrist from the last time she had moved his hand to where she felt the baby move. On his other knee lay a notebook and in his hand he held a pencil.

He was almost sure to have been born in the winter of 1786. He assumed that his family lived in London, or at least most of the time. He was firmly sure that he had two brothers, one older and one younger. He was seven when it happened. He could not with certainty say what exactly happened.

On the open page stood the name Bridgerton. Nothing more.

Bridgerton.

Admitting that it sounded familiar frightened him and so instead of exploring that familiarity not only around the name but also within the face of Eloise Bridgerton, he tried to come up with a reason for why all of it was but a coincidence.

His eyes wandered through the room and he inhaled sharply when his sight rested on his youngest with that same nose and those distinctive brows and oh, if his eyes were to open, he would look right into the very same orbs he had identified in that girl on Friday night.

Sophie's palm stroked up the length of his arm, pressed her thumb into the muscle of his shoulder and went all soft as it ran up his neck and landed just at his jaw. He followed her hand and he took her wrist in his and kissed her palm, only to place it where it had been on his jaw in order to lean into the touch.

“Tell me where your mind is at,” she whispered.

He closed his eyes. “I cannot for the life of me remember how it came that I ran after that carriage.” Her fingertips caressed over his forehead and then into his hair, combing through them. “I don't think my father left me there on purpose. And I know not why. I try so hard but I cannot reconstruct the course of events.”

His dream went like this without a fail: His father shook him, his angry face right in his, screaming at him, he saw it happening but there were never any actual words, and then he pushed him, kicked him when he was already on the ground. Ben then scrambled to his feet and ran for all he was worth, he ran and ran and ran until he woke up the moment he collapsed and understood there was no catching up with it.

His understanding of what actually happened, any possible memory had since suffered drastically. Once, when he was younger, he had understood that this dream had not been the reality, but the reality had been what slipped from his mind. It was the weaker opponent. And not only that. If he thought about it today, a father himself, he doubted the reality was any better than his dream, that it had occurred under less brutal circumstances, that his father had treated him less poorly. For if he cared, would he not have felt his son’s heart and soul shaking so feverishly through his whole body, emitting from him in waves? Should not a father have felt that and be driven to act with love and kindness?

While Ben contemplated his past with gritted teeth, Sophie picked up the notebook on his knee.

“Bridgerton,” she read in a soft voice and his attention turned to her so easily. “Ben Bridgerton.”

“Benedict,” The name fell from his lips in nothing but an accidental sigh.

“Benedict!” Sophie repeated and set up as fast as her pregnant body allowed. Their eyes met. His breath quickened. His heartbeat, too. And while emotions rushed through him he found impossible to name, she smiled at him. Her other hand landed on his chest.

“It's alright,” she tried to sooth him as he knew not where to with his hands. He found the notebook that had fallen down between their bodies and he wrote it down as if he was afraid to forget it again. He put down Benedict right over the Bridgerton and his heart thumbed audibly far up in chest. He almost felt sick with the sensation.

“I don't understand why I cannot remember it,” he whispered as her arms wound around him. His chin rested against the side of her head. “I was there. I did not fall on my head.”

“I know. It must be frustrating. It will come back. But you cannot force it.”

But he wanted to. With irredeemable impatience.

He wanted to will it into existence, needed it.

Then Sophie's lips found his jaw and she pressed an open, wet kiss against it and he succumbed to her love. Some of the winding frustration eased from him.

“It's alright. We will figure it out,” she whispered. “Just not now. It needs to come to you, not the other way around.” She was right. She was. It did not change that inkling deep in his bones that it never would.

Her hand drove along the inside of his thigh. “Sophie,” he breathed and lowered his head to catch her lips with his. His eyes closed. Her lips against his the most familiar feeling, her love, her calm, her presence, all at his fingertips.

She was able to distract him in a matter of seconds. He was easy in that way.

There was nothing calming about the storm that followed. He crawled to his knees and he drew her up to her feet and they fell into the bedroom and against the door within two heartbeats. He let her open her church-dress fearing he might rip it, but it did not stop him from falling to his knees in front of her, lifting her leg up over his shoulder while holding her strongly with his hands against her hips.

“Sophie,” he mouthed against the inside of her thigh and she panted in something he would describe as helplessness. But she was not helpless. She was his wife, the strongest woman he knew, the cleverest, too and the most loving. “Soph,” he breathed, air gulping through her lungs.

“Shhh,” she begged, shakingly. The dress fell away over her shoulders but she was so unsteady despite his strong hold that her hands fell on top of his head. The heavy smell of her arousal filled his nostrils and she gasped just as loudly as he had called her name a moment ago when his lips closed around her pearl.

“Ben! Oh.” He took two fingers to her middle, gave her warm, swollen lips a caress, gave her no warning before driving them up into her. And her accompanying scream was just barely contained by her hand falling against her mouth. Her hips began to chaise his movements. Within a mere minute she came apart above him.

He put her foot back on the ground and he stood up and her hand was still over her mouth, but it was shaking and tears short from overflowing. As he pulled her hand away, words overflowed her lips. “I need you. I am all empty.”

He needed to close his eyes and steady himself against the door so weak did her utterance make him. Deep in his stomach the already tight knot of arousal twisted into something primal and his hips twitched in answer. He kissed her hard.

“How I need you, too,” he growled, his voice deep, almost guttural. As he already turned to their bed and drew her with him, she had the sense to lodge a chair under the doorknob while simultaneously trying to draw her dress away over her head.

Ben let go of her hand, snapped his braces free and let his trousers fall to the floor before he fell backwards onto the mattress, the wood giving off a highly offended creak and Ben raised a brow. Come August this bed had to hold another little body. Then she stood before him, freeing herself of the half corset which bound her soft breasts into a firm hold.

The afternoon sun hugged her body as she regarded him, a smile graced her lips and joy sparkled in her eyes. She looked like a true goddess as she opened the braid her hair was confined in. It fell over her shoulders in cascading golden silk and touched down to her protruding belly. The wetness between her legs glistered and he arched his shoulders into the bed as lust shook his whole body and made him infinitely harder, impossibly even. He needed to take himself into hand and give himself a stroke to calm the peaking of deep and utter arousal burning in his thighs and his stomach and over his whole skin. It did not calm his panting breath.

Only Sophie was able to do that after she crawled over his body and rubbed her wet middle right over his hard, pulsing length and he forgot how to breathe. Their hands found each other holding onto the other, a single lifeline, making them one being.

She rubbed her pearl against the weeping crown of his cock and she sighed so visceral he almost thought it had made her climax again. Their intimate locks tangled and rubbed together and he felt how her wetness seeped onto him, he rutted upwards, once, twice, his head beginning to spin.

She handled it, managed his lust driven clumsiness and took him into her hand, guiding him into her. Her hand was back over her mouth but it did not prevent her throat from whining or her chest from vibrating with the moan that followed as she took him into her.

He swallowed and grunted his teeth together, finding footing against the mattress simultaneously and he moved up into her as she moved up as well and fell down in answer. Their rhythm was confused and chaotic until it was not and he sat himself up supported by one hand to meet her kiss which became frantic before it became urgent. It swallowed some of the noises, but not all.

And when they both neared their climax, their eyes wide open, their expressions wild, they shushed each other in some strange idea of reason and when it then happened their jaws clenched shut, Ben wound upwards and Sophie cramped down over him. Their bodies possessed a life of their own as they tensed and then spasmed through the aftermath.

At some point Sophie had fallen into his arms and they both breathed heavily, open mouthed, their eyes locked, and they did not blink as in fear something could rip their souls apart if they did.

Ben did not need to be anybody but who he was at that moment. So deeply in love and utterly grateful for his children. He made a living for his family and did not despite the way in which he did it. If he served only that purpose for the rest of his life, he would one day die a very happy man. Would know that the hardships of his early years had brought the greatest gift imaginable to him.

And yet.

Something deep in his heart was in unrest. Something worked along the unconscious lines of his mind. There were hands that held his, once, a long time ago that he longed to take again, if only to shake them in a proper good-bye.

Here is part TWO

#bridgerton #benedict x sophie #benophie #au #benedict briderton #sophie beckett #fanfiction #violet x edmund #not beta read #previously posted on ao3

18 notes · View notes

spnae · 1 year ago

Text

Spike/Buffy

Rated M- Adult content.

Summary: It all started with Spike having nightmares about the woman he loves prompting him to go to her; before a demon got there first. Now where will it lead them? What new challenges will they face in a world with multiple Slayers? Nearly all major characters will eventually make an appearance. Essentially this is a very Spuffy centered continuation of the series.

Rated for sexual content. Canon typical violence and themes. I will try to add appropriate warnings as needed although I think these should suffice for the majority of the story. Stunningly gorgeous banner created by cd85

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

A/N: I am in the process of updating this story. Links will be added as updates are made.

Master List: Table of Contents

Chapter 1 To Paris with Love and Demons

Chapter 2 Demon

Chapter 3 Date Night

Chapter 4 Take the Last Train to Scotland

Chapter 5 A New Leaf

Chapter 6 The New Girls

Chapter 7 Movie Night

Chapter 8 Ghosts and Stockers

Chapter 9 Awkward Moments

Chapter 10 Electric

Chapter 11 Vampire Dust Will Get Ya

Chapter 12 Hospitals Man

Chapter 13 Home Again

Chapter 14 Out For A Walk

Chapter 15 Love a Handyman

Chapter 16 Have a Little Faith

Chapter 17 Underground

Chapter 18 Ohhh Baby

Chapter 19 Baby Blue

Chapter 20 House Guest

Chapter 21 Our Expert

Chapter 22 It’s Complicated

Chapter 23 Bye Bye Baby

Chapter 24 Dance Magic

Chapter 25 Oh What a Night: Part 1

Chapter 26 Oh What a Night: Part 2

Chapter 27 Punk Love

Chapter 28 Changes

Chapter 29 Twisted Sister

Chapter 30 Aftermath

Chapter 31 Third Times a Charm

Chapter 32 Open Up

Chapter 33 Coming Clean?

Chapter 34 Skid

Chapter 35 The Talking Dead

Chapter 36 Redemption

Chapter 37 Sins of Omission

Chapter 38 Living Dead Girl

Chapter 39 When the Levee Breaks

Chapter 40 Couples Retreat

Chapter 41 Time

Chapter 42 Breathe

Chapter 43 Cabin Fever

Chapter 44 Recovery

Chapter 45 Birthday

Chapter 46

Chapter 47

Chapter 48

Chapter 49

Chapter 50

Chapter 51

#buffy the vampire slayer #buffy fanfic #fanfic #spuffy #bound #fanfiction #spike x buffy #buffy x spike

6 notes · View notes

ao3feed-spuffy · 1 year ago

Text

A Slayer's Fortune

by VoronaFiernan

After Buffy stands up for Tara when her family tries to take her away, Tara shows her gratitude by offering Buffy a reading from a special Tarot deck she has had in her family for generations. Buffy chooses to focus on relationships, and Tara proposes a series of three-card (Past, Present, Future) readings over the course of three days, to evaluate three separate possible relationships. After each reading, Buffy meditates on the cards, and learns additional information leading to an unexpectedly happy new relationship.

Written for Tarot Cards and Christmas Carol challenges on Elysian Fields. Complete story is posted there. Will post this here one chapter per week.

Words: 1610, Chapters: 1/5, Language: English

Fandoms: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV), Angel: the Series

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Categories: F/M

Characters: Buffy Summers, Spike (BtVS), Angel (BtVS), Riley Finn, Tara Maclay, William Pratt, Buffy the Vampire Slayer Ensemble, Anne Pratt, Drusilla (BtVS), Darla (Buffy the Vampire Slayer), Samantha Finn

Relationships: Spike/Buffy Summers

Additional Tags: Tarot, Slayer Dreams, Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV) Season 5, Minor Riley Finn/Buffy Summers, Torture, Swearing, Smoking, Non-Explicit Sex, Minor Kink, Happy Ending, Reference to Canonical Attempted Rape/Non-Con Outside of Buffy/Spike

source https://archiveofourown.org/works/48431128

#ao3feed #ao3feed-spuffy #spuffy #buffy x spike

5 notes · View notes

klaine-a03-feed · 9 months ago

Text

50 Shades Of Klaine

read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/KNr6uS1 by msgoodbar2257 Summary: Blaine volunteered to interview his sick roommate, an interview that will change his life forever. Warning: Lite BDSM, Dominant/Submissive Alternate Universe World. Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended. Rating: M for Mature *****FSOK**********FSOK**********FSOK**********FSOK* Words: 59660, Chapters: 18/18, Language: English Fandoms: Glee, Fifty Shades of Grey (Movies) Rating: Mature Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Categories: M/M Characters: Finn Hudson, Burt Hummel, Carole Hudson-Hummel, Paul Karofsky, Sebastian Smythe Relationships: Blaine Anderson/Kurt Hummel Additional Tags: Love, Sex, Romance, Klaine, Glee - Freeform, 50 shades

#IFTTT #ao3feed #klaine #klaine fanfiction #klaine fic #klaine fanfic #kurt hummel #blaine anderson

2 notes · View notes

sunnydaleafterdark · 1 year ago

Text

Latest Story: the dry river brims, Chapter 1 by Cosmic Tuesdays [NC-17]

Read it here: https://www.sunnydaleafterdark.com/viewstory.php?sid=1424&chapter=1

Thanks to alittlemoretime, andtheyfightcrime, kelasparmak, Niamh, petra, VesperRegina, the_big_bad, and Yummyshushi17 for encouragement and beta-reading, with the hopes I haven't forgotten anyone. Thanks to scratchmeout for the absolutely fantastic banner. The girl who recognizes Spike comes from Step Lightly. Written in commemoration of the third anniversary of my first fic posted at this site. Title taken from the poem “Moving” by Gary Soto.

0 notes

thedreamdepository · 1 year ago

Text

The following disclaimer applies to the content of this blog:

All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. Original characters and plot are the property of the owner of this blog; any similarities are purely coincidental unless otherwise stated. The [blog] owner is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No copyright infringement is intended. No profit is being made.

If you have any comments, concerns, or questions, let me know. Thanks!

Minors DNI. Do not copy, modify, or repost my work. I do not permit translations either, so please do not ask.

#✨thedreamdepository✨

0 notes

carrionbeast · 3 years ago

Photo

Part 1 of my @daredevilexchange Daredevil + Defender Exchange Piece for @hehearse! Part 2

Also available on Ao3 once the collection is revealed! Prompt used: talking about lost opportunities, lost chances

Image IDs are on Ao3, separately in chapter 2 and also under the cut!

[Image description: 6 images containing 11 Daredevil fan comic pages and 1 cover

Cover:

Daredevil is written in the bright red, tilted lettering of the classic logo. In the upper left corner is a box with a black outline, split in two. The top half is a red box with white lettering, reading DDE, mimicking the marvel logo should be and under it, in a white box, is the number 1 in black lettering. Under these two boxes is the name of the author and artist, Neon Brutalism.

The cover features a large empty hourglass, tilted towards the upper left of the page. Trapped in the bottom of the hourglass, we see Daredevil and Foggy. The glass is too small for the both of them and they’re tangled in each other’s limbs. Matt’s sitting with his knees bent, uncomfortably on his tailbone. The toes of Matt’s boots are pressed up to the glass and his hands are pushing up against it above him and to his side, the red fabric of the gloves lighter where it’s tight against the curved glass. He’s blushing under his mask, tilting his head away from Foggy. Foggy, dressed in a suit with bow tie, with his legs up in the air, has one hand between Matt’s boots and one above his head, against the glass. The bottoms of Foggy’s shoes are up against the glass, right leg across Matt’s lap and his left leg behind Matt’s back. Foggy is also looking away from Matt and blushing deeply.

At the bottom of the page, the title, “The Glass of Sand and Fog” is written in white lettering with a thick black outline. /end image description]

[Image Description: Interior cover:

No art but text in the center that reads:

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of Marvel. The original characters and plot are the property of the creator of this story. The author and artist is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No copyright infringement is intended.

In the lower left corner of the page, more text, that reads:

“For Heherse, Daredevil and Defenders Exchange 2021�� /end image description]

[Image Description: Page 1

Panel 1 - Inside a warehouse. The moon glows through the warehouse’s glass-block windows, casting a sharp light on the room. The camera is pointed up at the villain, a thin, short-haired man, half-hidden in shadow. His right eye is obscured by a large monocle and he has a triumphant expression on his face. He is standing on top of a giant clock with a large battle-axe replacing the hour-hand. The axe-hand is pointing to the number twelve in roman numerals. The man is dressed in high-waisted riding pants with suspenders and an old fashioned button-up shirt. In his left hand, he holds a staff with a small hourglass on the top.

The Villain: “Don’t worry, Mr. Nelson! You still have one more hour for Daredevil to come save your miserable life! But beware, the Axe of Time may be the end of you both!”

A speech balloon coming from below the panel’s edge.

Off Camera Voice: “What the hell is the axe of time?”

Panel 2 - The camera pulls out to reveal the full shape of the clock. It stands solitary on a short platform in an empty warehouse. The villain leans over the clock to glare downwards with an offended expression.

Sitting on the platform, positioned at the 6 on the clock, under the axe, is Foggy. He’s wearing a bowtie and a slightly rumpled suit. His hair is parted in the center and slightly messy. His hands are bound together at the wrist and his feet at the ankles but he does not seem very distressed.

The Villain: “Well, not all of us can afford the giant hourglass needed for a sands of time trap.”

Foggy: “It’s just really thematically confusing.”

Panel 3 - Medium zoom in on the villain. The camera right side of his face is hidden in shadow and his grin is toothy and threatening.

The Villain: “You should be more worried about your dear friend Daredevil -”

Panel 4 - Same zoom. The villain is confused and raises a single eyebrow.

The Villain: “Wait. Friend? Associate? Client? I’m unclear on the nature of your relationship.”

Panel 5 - Medium zoom in on Foggy’s face. He rests his chin on his bound-together hands and stares forward in resignation.

Foggy: “Yeah, you and me both.” /end image description]

[Image Description: Page 2

Panel 1 - Pulling back into the shadows a little, the villain grins, still gripping his staff.

The Villain: “Well, no matter…”

Panel 2 - The shadows behind the villain have shifted into the silhouette of a figure with horns. Enormous, bright red eyes glare ominously forward into the camera.

The Villain: “Once your companion shows up to save you, he’ll meet his grisly-”

Panel 3 - The villain’s speech balloon continues into the next panel but his sentence is cut off as the shadows materialize into Daredevil. Daredevil punches the villain in the face, fist flying towards the camera. We see the villain’s full face at last as his monocle goes sailing off his face and out into the gutters between the panels.

The Villain makes a distressed noise.

Panel 4 - A bird’s eye view down at the floor from the top of the clock. We can see Daredevil’s boots standing on the top of the clock. The villain lies unconscious on the floor, his monocle next to him, cracked and his staff out of reach.. Still sitting on the platform is Foggy, who looks up at the camera with a fond expression.

Foggy: “My hero.”

Panel 5 - Camera at ground level, Foggy watches as Daredevil jumps towards the ground. Daredevil: “I’m guessing this was a me-related kidnapping?”

Panel 6 - The camera is over Foggy’s shoulder. Daredevil is facing away from Foggy as he unties Foggy’s hands. His expression is regretful and apologetic and the far-side of his face is slightly cast in shadow.

Foggy: Well…

Daredevil: Sorry... /end image description]

[Image Description: Page 3

Panel 1 - Daredevil sits on his knees as he unties the ropes around Foggy’s ankles. He’s still regretful. Foggy reaches over to pat Daredevil on the shoulder with a comforting expression.

Foggy: “Really, don’t get pouty. This guy wasn’t exactly threatening.”

Panel 2 - Daredevil and Foggy are both standing now. Foggy is holding the remnants of the rope in his hand and examining it with a dubious expression. Behind him, Daredevil looks confused.

Foggy: “He didn’t even tie me to the clock.”

Daredevil: “That’s a clock?”

Panel 3 - Far zoom out at ground level. Foggy and Daredevil walk away from the camera towards the double-doors of the warehouse. Light from the street casts a shadow behind them as they move towards the light.

Daredevil: “Why’s there an axe on it?”

Foggy: “His theme is inconsistent.”

Daredevil: “Hm.”

Panel 4 - Pull back and reveal the outside of the warehouse, a square brick building with a low, flat roof. The full moon hangs low in the sky. The streets around them are empty and a bright streetlamp casts the warehouse area in light, reflecting off the power lines and windows of the warehouse. Daredevil climbs a rickety ladder next to the warehouse door, leading up to the warehouse roof as Foggy stands on the ground and watches him climb.

Daredevil: ”To be honest, I think time is scary enough without a giant axe clock.”

Panel 5 - Foggy grins up at Daredevil as he climbs up the ladder towards the camera.

Foggy: “What, worried about getting old? Daredeviling getting hard on your knees?”

Daredevil: “No, no…”

Panel 6 - As Daredevil’s boots retreat out of the top of the panel, Foggy starts to climb up after Daredevil.

Daredevil: “It’s hard to explain.”

Panel 7 - At the top of the warehouse. The roof access door visible over h’s shoulder, Daredevil is standing on the flat roof and reaching over the ledge to pull Foggy the remaining distance up the ladder.

Daredevil: “Maybe it’s the idea of stuff slipping away, missing chances, that sort of thing.”

Foggy: “Let’s not talk about slipping when you’re pulling me up a rusty ladder?” /end image description]

[Image Description: Page 4 -

Panel 1 - The New York City skyline lights up the horizon as Daredevil and Foggy sit on the ground of the roof, their backs to the ledge wall surrounding it. Daredevil hugs his knees and Foggy has one leg stretched out and one bent slightly, more relaxed. Foggy looks at Daredevil.

Foggy: “So, what slipped away from you?”

Panel 2 - From behind, Daredevil pulls his cowl up and off, revealing Matt’s hair. It’s static-y and wild from being under the cowl.

Matt: “Oh…”

Panel 3 - Matt grips his knuckles and faces down, blushing brightly as Foggy, with a determined expression, runs his fingers through Matt’s hair trying to smooth it down.

Matt: “Just… Stuff.”

Panel 4 - Matt in profile, gently wincing. The blush has receded and Foggy is smiling at him.

Foggy: “Oh. like how I still wish I had tried out for the Hell’s Kitchen community theater production of The Scarlet Pimpernel?”

Matt: “Ha, kind of.”

Panel 5 - Meta panel, borderless with a white background. Cartoon-y versions of Matt and Foggy pop up from the edge of the lower panel’s border, standing next to an elaborate image of Foggy dressed in a French Revolution era military outfit, reminiscent of Norm Lewis’s from the 2006 revival. Cartoon Foggy is looking at the version of himself in costume thoughtfully, cartoon Matt has his arms crossed and is nodding.

Foggy: “Well, it’s not too late. They’re doing Les Mis in the fall. What do you think, should I try out for Fog Valfog or Fog-vert?”

Matt: “Oh, Fog-vert, one hundred percent.”

Panel 6 - Tight on Matt, his face is half-hidden in shadow. He’s smiling slightly but is more sad than anything else.

Matt: “I think I’m too late for what I’m thinking about, though.”

Panel 7 - Panning over to Foggy, who is reaching for Matt’s shoulder.

Foggy: “Oh, come on, Matty, don’t be so broody.”

Panel 8 - Tight on the lower half of Matt’s face and his shoulder, where Foggy’s hand is resting. Matt is blushing again. In the background, Foggy is prattling on about something unclear but Matt isn’t paying attention.

Panel 9 - Matt in profile, his head cast down and shadows cover the top half of his face. He’s hesitant to explain.

Matt: “Foggy I - …” /end image description]

[Image Description: Page 5 -

Panel 1 - Pull out to see Matt facing the camera and Foggy next to him. Matt isn’t facing Foggy and is still blushing. Foggy’s excited and has taken his hand off Matt’s shoulder.

Matt: “... Do you want a ride home?”

Foggy: “Oh hell yes, I do!”

Panel 2 - The lights of the New York buildings around them blur as Matt swings through the city on his billy club, Foggy’s arms tight around his neck.

Panel 3 - Foggy’s apartment, small amongst the New York skyscrapers. Scattered lights are on in the windows of the buildings, but Foggy’s apartment is dark.

Foggy: “So, uhhh…”

Panel 4 - Inside Foggy’s apartment, the lights are off. Matt stands stiffly with his arms crossed in the corner, next to the window, staying in the shadows. Foggy, in the foreground, is pulling off his dress shirt, revealing his undershirt. His belt is unbuckled and hanging loosely. He’s not looking at Matt.

Foggy: "... So you think Javert? Its a good role. I'm - I mean, I'm not sure I can carry it but ..."

Panel 5 - Matt’s blushing bright red under his mask again and he points outside, leaning towards the window, slightly panicked. Foggy’s a little disappointed.

Matt: “I - um, sorry. I need to go. Because - I … Crime.”

Foggy: “Oh, sure, no proble-”

Matt: “Bye.”

Panel 6 - Foggy frowns as a red blur leaps out the window.

Panel 7 - Cut to a bright day. Foggy, wearing a dress shirt with vest and tie, is sitting at a restaurant table across from Kirsten, who is wearing a blouse and slacks. The table has a glass of water and an uneaten burger and fries in front of Foggy and fried shrimp and salad in front of Kirsten Foggy has his eyes closed and arms crossed, frowning. Kirsten is leaning back, resting her left arm on the back of the chair and holding her drink casually in her right hand.

Foggy: “And that is the longest I’ve seen him in two weeks.” /end image description]

[Image Description: Page 6

Panel 1 - A restaurant patio on a New York street during the day. Foggy buries his face in his hands.

Foggy: "I had the perfect opportunity there. He was talking about - things he wished he'd done. UGH- Kirsten, why did I have to keep talking about musicals?"

Panel 2 - Close on Kirsten. She smirks and rolls her eyes.

Kirsten: “Hm, changing the subject to avoid being honest about something? Sounds like you've been hanging around Matt plenty to me.”

Panel 3 - Foggy holds a french fry and scowls at Kirsten while she takes a sip of her water through the straw.

Foggy: “Hilarious. I'm pretty sure he knows how I feel anyway.”

Panel 4: Foggy, chewing, rests his cheek in his hand and looks away from Kirsten, pouting.

Foggy: “He turned red and panic-jumped out the window before I could finish talking about Javert."

Panel 5 - Pull out to a bird’s eye view. A graffitied truck rumbles by the patio as Foggy takes a bite of his hamburger. Kirsten has put her drink down.

Kirsten: "Well, is that better or worse than an actual rejection?"

Panel 6 - Foggy is glaring down at his burger as he chews, annoyed.

Foggy: "At least an actual rejection has catharsis. Avoiding me is just him being a selfish dick." /end image description]

[Image Description: Page 7

Panel 1 - The camera shifts slightly, pointing up from under the table, revealing the restaurant name behind Foggy and Kirsten; The Dog Track, and in the corner of the sign, the disclaimer “No longer associated with the New York Gaming Commission”. Kirsten is keeping her face carefully neutral as Foggy’s expression is more irritated.

Kirsten: “That’s a little uncharitable.”

Foggy: "Just because I'm in love with him doesn't mean I don't know what he's LIKE."

Panel 2 - Kirsten tilts her head and holds a fried shrimp on a fork in her right hand.

Kirsten: "And you can't just skip all the drama, pick up your phone and call him right now because...?"

Panel 3 - Tight on Foggy, who isn’t meeting Kirsten’s eye and is blushing.

Foggy: "It's ... complicated!"

Panel 4 - Pull out on Kirsten and Foggy. Kirsten is grinning and Foggy is hunched over, eating his hamburger and looking annoyed and embarrassed.

Kirsten: "You know you're about 15 years late for this high school shit, right?"

Foggy: “You’re 15 years too late.” /end image description]

[Image Description: Page 8 -

Panel 1 - Another warehouse at night, large shadows cast around the room.There’s no moon lighting the windows tonight. An enormous hourglass stands on the dirty floor, a few old crates are up against the wall and some of the pipes nearby are leaking water out onto the floor. There’s a human figure in shadow within the top section of the hourglass and another one on the floor, pacing. All the sand within the hourglass is in the bottom section.

Shadowed Figure in the Hourglass: “So did you get a grant or what?”

Shadowed figure on the floor: “Silence.”

Panel 2 - Foggy, of course, is the one trapped inside the hourglass. He’s annoyed but sitting comfortably like he’s in a hammock. He throws his hands up, gesturing to the hourglass around him.

Foggy: “It's just this is kind of a big budget upgrade from two week ago! I thought you spent all your money on that tranquilizer you hit me with.”

Panel 3 - Foggy frowns, skeptically and taps the glass with a finger.

SFX: Tink-tink

Panel 4 - Close on the villain, still cast in shadow. His monocle has a crack down the middle and he is wearing a waistcoat over a dress shirt and he’s furious. The hourglass is visible behind him and as Foggy pulls his cell phone from his pocket, watches the villain from within the hourglass.

Foggy: "... You know I need to be in the bottom part of this, right?"

Villain: “I know how an hourglass works.”

Panel 5 - Over Foggy’s shoulder, within the hourglass, we see his phone. There’s a series of unreadable text messages sent to and from a devil emoji, but the latest one, sent from Foggy, simply reads “Halp”.

Foggy: “Touchy, touchy…” /end image description]

[Image Description: Page 9 - 5 panels.

Panel 1 - Foggy is still reading his phone, more or less bored with the villain’s theatrics and waiting for a return text.

Foggy: “So, what, you forgot you needed a way to flip it over?”

Panel 2 - The villain crosses his arms and glares up at Foggy, offended.

Villain: “I’m sorry, do I come into your place of business and tell you how to do your job?”

Panel 3 - The camera faces Foggy within the hourglass. He throws his hands up in frustration, still gripping his phone.

Foggy: “Sorry, this is an even less deadly death trap than the first one!”

Panel 4 - Super tight shot on the villain’s eyes. The cracks in his monocle gleam and his visible eye makes him look deranged with the rest of his face in shadow.

Villain: “I am perfectly content to just push the hourglass into the river, Mr. Nelson, and let Daredevil find your bloated corpse when it washes up."

Panel 5 - Foggy smirks, looking profoundly unintimidated and reading his phone.

Foggy: “I’d be more intimidated if I thought you could afford to replace it.” /end image description]

[Image Description: Page 10 - 6 panels.

Panel 1 and 2 - The villain furiously points up at Foggy.

Villain: “I will have you know Mr. Nelson, I”

The villain is suddenly cut off when a red billy club flies in from the left side of the panel, hitting him in the side of the head. His monocle goes flying and the villain himself drops like a sack of bricks.

Panel 3 - Daredevil in silhouette jumps down and lands gracefully on the silhouette of the hourglass with Foggy inside.

Foggy: “You know I don't think this guy thought this supervillain thing through.”

Panel 4 - Foggy looks up and watches as Daredevil perches on the edge of the hourglass and pushes it open at a hidden hinge. He faces down at Foggy.

Daredevil: “I don’t think any of them do.”

Panel 5 - Free of the hourglass, Foggy stands in the background next to the exit of the warehouse, one hand on his hip and the other rubbing the back of his neck. He eyes Daredevil as Daredevil scowls, fastening ropes around the villain’s hands.

Foggy: “So, we haven't really had a chance to talk at the office lately…”

Daredevil: “Well, we’ve been really busy.”

Panel 6 - Daredevil faces the exit, his face hidden and looking away from Foggy, who stands in the foreground.

Foggy: “I, uh, do need to talk to you about something -”

Daredevil: “Sure - yeah, sure, just uh….” /end image description]

[Image Description: Page 11 - 6 panels.

Panel 1 - A red blur as Matt takes off, leaving Foggy in silhouette behind him.

Panel 2 - Matt’s office, during the day. Matt is sitting in a leather chair behind his desk. He is wearing a suit and tie and his eyes are hidden behind his rectangular, red sunglasses.. Kirsten is there, sitting on the edge of Matt’s desk, half-turning to look at him as they talk, she’s wearing a pair of high-waisted slacks and a flowy blouse. Matt’s office is tidy, with a long filing cabinet in the corner with a braille printer on top. His desk is clean aside from his braille reader, hooked up to his closed laptop and a mug next to him. Other buildings are visible in the window behind him. Kirsten’s expression is slightly skeptical and Matt is wincing, embarrassed.

Kirsten: “So you left a devil-shaped dustcloud.”

Matt: “Look, I’m not proud of it.”

Panel 3 - Matt leans back in his chair, smiling weakly.

Matt: “I just need some time. I’ve been actively pushing this down for years, it just… comes back up sometimes.”

Panel 4 - Kirsten is skeptical and Matt smiles grimly. Behind Kirsten, we see Matt’s office door which reads Murdock (in reversed letters).

Kirsten: “And that’s why you’re hiding in your office.”

Matt: “And that’s why I’m hiding in my office.”

Panel 5 - Zoom in on Matt. He’s half-smiling, but clearly sad.

Matt: “I just… I know he won’t be a dick about it. But it’ll make him uncomfortable and I …”

Panel 6: Matt slouches all the way down in his chair, the office around him having vanished into a white void and leaving him alone to sulk.

Matt: “I’ve put him through enough.” /end Image description]

#daredevil #mattfoggy #fan comic #long post #daredevilexchange #matt murdock #foggy nelson

395 notes · View notes

bluewritinghood · 1 year ago

Text

Petals

Rusty never gets sick, like ever, so he’s surprised to say the least when he feels a burning tickling sensation building in his lungs. He sighs pops a coff drop in his mouth and chalks it up to the cold whether. Then it builds into a slight but nagging cough, that cough quickly enough becomes persistent.

“Hey Rus?” Danny says stopping him in the hallway on their way to play poker he doesn’t have to actually ask the question on his mind Rusty knows it’s about his coughing.

“Don’t know it just won’t go away.” He tells him.

“You don’t.” Danny says confused.

“Get sick?” Rusty finishes. “Yeah I know.”

“You think it’s the…” Danny says.

“Probably, it hasn’t gotten above thirty two degrees in over a week.” Rusty dismisses Danny’s concerns.

“But we’ve pulled jobs in whether colder than this and you never…” Danny points out.

“Yeah, I know.” Rusty sighs earning himself a few short coughs.

“Not to mention we’re not even working right now.” Danny continues.

“Maybe I’m allergic to downtime?” Rusty jokes.

“Hmm?” Danny says skeptically.

Rusty dissolves into a coughing fit one of the worst he’s had yet and has to hold onto Danny’s shoulder for support. When he can breathe again there’s three tiny petals in his palm.

Danny furrows his brow. “Are those…?”

“Marigold petals.” Rusty confirms.

“Your… in love?” Danny asks astonished.

“Apparently.” Rusty says grimly.

“And it’s unrequited?” Danny’s eyebrows very nearly meet his hairline.

“It would seem that way.” Rusty agrees.

“But you…” Danny trails off

Rusty looks hard at the petals in his hand “Don’t do love.”

“Exactly.” Danny looks thoughtful for a minute. “So who?”

“Marigolds are October.” Rusty says mentality going through everyone he knows with birthdays in October.

Danny gets there first. “Linus was born in the beginning of October.”

“Damn, it’s Linus isn’t it?” Rusty asks and it sounds more like a statement than a question.

“You have always been fond of him.” Danny says. “And you both are here for the month over the holidays.”

“You can’t tell him.” Rusty looks from the petals to Danny. “He won’t understand.”

“Give the kid some credit Rus.” Danny persuades.

“No. Even if he understands he doesn’t feel the same I watch him enough to know that.” Rusty says firmly. “I won’t put that pressure, that guilt on him.”

“You watch everyone and think you know what’s going on in their heads.” Danny says but Rusty cuts him off.

“That’s because I do people are open books. Worse than that actually their audiobooks at full volume.” Rusty says as though he’s stating a core fact of the universe.

“But Linus isn’t so simple, he’s not as easy to read as everyone else, you don’t always know what’s going on in his head Rusty. So maybe…” Danny suggests.

“He’s not.” Rusty cuts off Danny’s line of reasoning.

“Alright if you don’t want me to tell him I won’t.” Danny promises.

“Thank you.” Rusty says.

“You gonna be okay for poker?” Danny asks worriedly.

“Danny it’s literally a game centered around bluffing I’ll be fine.” Rusty dismisses him heading to where Linus is setting up the poker table forcing him to drop the subject.

“Hey.” Linus says sitting down in his chair. “Who’s dealing?”

“I’ll do it.” Danny offers motioning for Linus to hand him the deck.

Linus places the cards in his palm his attention drawn to Rusty who is persistently clearing his throat. “You okay Rusty?”

“Yeah, just a persistent tickle.” Rusty says pointing to his throat.

Linus stands up and disappears into the kitchen. “Where do you think he’s going?” Rusty asks as Danny shuffles the deck.

“I don’t know.” Danny shrugs as they hear the sounds of dishes being moved around in the kitchen.

“Awfully trusting with his cards though.” Rusty comments.

“He knows we won’t cheat him.” Danny pokes Rusty’s chest. “It’s one of the reasons you’re coughing up salad.”

Linus returns a few minutes later with a mug of something warm in his hands little wisps of steam rising from it, he hands the mug to Rusty. “Here, this’ll help with the tickle.”

Rusty takes a sip of the drink. “Lemon tea?”

“Good for your throat.” He says sitting down.

Linus worry continues to grow as Rusty’s coughing doesn’t subside instead worsening as they continue their poker game.

“Okay.” Linus says laying down his cards in the middle of the third hand. “This isn’t just some tickle in the throat is it?”

“I’m fine it’s just this cold weather.” Rusty protests.

Linus gives him a look that says he doesn’t believe a word coming out of his mouth. “Try again you’ve visited me In Chicago when it was minus four degrees outside and didn’t so much as clear your throat.”

“It’s probably just a cold.” Rusty dismisses.

Linus crosses his arms over his chest. “If it was that the tea would have helped not made it worse.”

Rusty sighs screwing his eyes shut and whispers. “It’s Hanahaki disease.”

“Hardly anyone gets that these days.” Linus says surprised. “Is it Isabel? I know you really loved her.”

Rusty shakes his head. “The breakup was mutual.”

Linus furrows his brow. “So they tuned you down?”

“Didn’t have to it’s obvious they don’t have feelings for me.” Rusty tells him.

“You haven’t even tried?” Linus asks astonished.

“No point.” Rusty says simply.

“Your just going to give up just like that?” He turns to Danny. “He’s kidding right?”

Danny shakes his head. “Afraid not.”

Looking at Danny he asks. “We’ve pulled off some of the craziest con’s I’ve ever seen surely between the three of us we can get some one to fall in love with Rusty.”

“It’s not happening Linus.” Rusty says firmly getting up and leaving the room.

“He’s got to be kidding.” Linus says throwing his hands up in the air.

“Linus I know it bothers you to see him like this but you’re going to have a tough time pulling a name out of him.” Danny tells him gently.

“He’s my friend Danny, you and him are my family. I can’t stand to see him suffer.” Linus whispers.

“He’s like family to you?” Danny asks with a crease between his eyebrows.

“Yes.” Linus says emphatically. “So help me help him.”

“I’m sorry Linus he’s my best friend and I have to respect his wishes and feelings on the matter.” Danny say standing up.

“His wishes are going to kill him.” Linus pleads.

Danny shakes his head and goes to find Rusty.

“Hey.” Danny says finding Rusty sitting in his room on the edge of the bed.

“What are you doing here?” Rusty asks.

“I’m sorry.” Danny says sitting down next to him.

“What did he say?” Rusty asks.

“He said your his family.” Danny tells him.

“So you see how pointless telling him would be?” Rusty asks.

“Yes.” Danny admits. “I do.”

Rusty dissolves into a coughing fit leaving him holding a handful of blood speckled marigold petals. “I love him so much it’s going to kill me.” Rusty whispers.

———

Linus didn’t give up he spent the next two weeks coming up with plans and begging Danny to do something, anything about what was happening to Rusty.

Most of his appeals had been to Danny trying to leave Rusty in peace with his worsening condition, he had gone from coughing up a few petals to coughing up whole marigolds which wasn’t doing anything to help Linus’s anxiety. So now Linus was taking his appeal to Rusty because he honestly wasn’t sure how long he had left.

“Rusty?” Linus asks knocking on the door to his room.

“Come in Linus.” Rusty’s voice sounds from the other side of the door.

“I need to talk to you.” Linus says sitting down on edge of the bed next to Rusty.

“There’s nothing you can do.” Rusty tells him.

“There has to be.” Linus chokes hot tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. “I can’t watch you die Rusty, I can’t loose you.”

“There’s nothing you can do.” Rusty repeats.

“Your really just going to lay down and die?.” Linus asks angrily.

“It’s my life.” Rusty counters.

“Your un fucking believable!” Linus finally breaks. “Your Rusty Ryan damn it! You always have a plan and you never just give up. I would sell my soul to Terry Benedict or the Devil himself if it would save you but you’re just going to do nothing when something as simple as words could save your life!?”

“Linus you don’t understand…” Rusty begins.

“No Rusty you listen I understand more than you could ever possibly know I’ve been in love with someone for so long and it’s been cutting away at my heart for a long time now so don’t you dare say I don’t understand.” Linus growls.

“You should tell them your a great person Linus they would be lucky to have you.” Rusty tells him leaning back on his pillows.

“Yeah well it’s you Rusty it always has been and you’re making me watch you die. I would rather see you with someone else than see you die but yet here you sit slowly dying because you refuse to tell someone you love them.” Linus half yells half sobs at him.

Rusty just stares at him for so long Linus asks him. “Are you okay?”

Rusty opens his mouth to say something but promptly shuts it again.

“I didn’t mean to upset you.” Linus lowers his voice back to his usual gentle tone. “I just can’t stand to see you hurting like this.”

“Your in love with me?” Rusty asks in an astonished voice.

“Yes, I don’t know how you couldn’t have seen it.” Linus whispers.

“You told Danny we’re your family.”

“And you are but family can mean a lot of things.” Linus explains.

“Linus..” Rusty is interrupted by Danny coming into the room.

“Hey Rus?” Danny starts but stops upon seeing Linus.

“Just try and think about what I said?” Linus pleads walking past Danny out of the room.

Rusty moves to go after him but Danny walks fully into the room shutting the door behind him. “How are you feeling?”

“Cured.” Rusty tells him.

Danny raises his eyebrows. “Mind saying that again?”

“Linus is in love with me.” Rusty tells him.

“Is that what?” Danny asks pointing over his shoulder with his thumb in the direction Linus had left.

“Yes.” Rusty answers.

“And does he know you are…?” Danny begins.

“No, you kinda walked in just as I was about to.” Rusty tells him.

“God the kid is going to give himself a panic attack. Go, go tell him.” Danny shoos Rusty towards the door of his room.

Rusty finds Linus just sitting in the kitchen staring at the wall.

“Can I talk to you?” Rusty asks pulling a seat over near Linus’s.

“Uh, yeah.” Linus sniffs wiping the back of his hand over his red rimmed eyes.

“You still want to know who this is all about?” Rusty asks.

“Yes.” Linus sits up straight.

Rusty takes one of Linus’s hands in his own and kisses the back of it. “You Linus, I’m in love with you.”

“I’m the reason you’ve been in all this pain?” Linus asks a tear slipping down his cheek.

Rusty wipes the tear away. “No, your the reason I’m healed. The reason I was in pain is because I was stubborn unwilling to say how I felt.” He cups Linus’s chin with the hand that’s not holding Linus’s. “And blind apparently.”

Linus laughs sniffing as he does so. “I wish you would have told me so much sooner.”

Rusty smiles. “Me too.”

Rusty leans forward gently kissing Linus lips and pulling him onto his lap, Linus straddles Rusty’s hips sitting on his lap kissing him back deeper.

They stay like that kissing in the kitchen until Danny walks in and yells into his cupped hands. “Get a room you two!”

The break apart laughing and Rusty drags Linus upstairs.

They were happy in each other’s company even if Rusty could never quite look at a marigold without clearing his throat, Which turned out to be especially fun when they got roped into a con involving an industrial sized greenhouse filled with marigolds, but that’s irrelevant the point is they lived as happily ever after as they could for a pair that thieves.

Ao3 link

#ao3 author #hanahaki #hanahaki disease #rusty ryan #linus caldwell #Rusty Ryan x Linus Caldwell #oceans eleven #danny ocean #fanfic #fandom #Disclaimer: I do not own Ocean’s eleven nor do I claim to #This transformative work has been created purely for entertainment purposes #. No profit is made or sought. No copyright infringement is intended #All publicly recognizable characters settings etc. are the property of their respective owners.#The original characters and plot are the property of the respective owners #I am in no way associated with the owners creators or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.#fluff #happy ending

11 notes · View notes

zia-saturn · 4 months ago

Text

TIME. [AU fic] Chapter 1: Reunited

SUMMARY: Frenemies becoming lovers later on in their adult years. A while after you and Dabi moved in together, becoming roommates, he comes across your diary and reads your deepest and filthiest of fantasies. It was certainly an invasion of privacy but, you were glad that he was able to get an idea of how sexually curious and experimental you could be. Dabi was willing to teach you and allow yourself to express yourself the way you wanted to with him. He wanted to experiment with you.

Soft! Dabi x Virgin!Reader

Sweet! Dabi x Virgin!Reader

18+ readers ONLY

❌MDNI❌

[DISCLAIMER: The characters respectfully belongs to the creator of 僕のヒーローアカデミア Boku no Hero Academia/My Hero Academia, Kohei Horikoshi. All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of the respective owners. The author of the fanfiction is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No copyright infringement is intended.]

MATURE CONTENT WARNING: This story contains explicit adult sexual content. If you are easily offended or are under the age of 18, please leave now. Reader discretion is advised. This fanfiction is intended for mature audiences only.

Another day. Another dollar.

It was only five minutes into the bus ride and your head was throbbing.

The back of your neck had so much tension from the added stress. You hardly had any time to sleep. The most sleep that you were lucky enough to get was about four hours. Your body requires more sleep. Your job was stressful but the payout was certainly worth it in the end. You looked forward to the money arriving in your bank account. You had many plans on how you would spend that money. Of course, the rent would be number one on your list of priorities.

You retrieved two pain reliever capsules from your purse and swallowed them with the help of a gulp of water that you purchased from the little mom-and-pop corner store located nearby your place of business.

It was difficult for you to take any medication dry. There was a time not too long ago that you made an attempt in doing so but, it resulted in you almost choking. After that, you swore never to try that method again.

The bus trip was silent and peaceful for the majority of the time you were on it. Most of the ride was spent with you scrolling through your phone, mindlessly checking your e-mails and social media. Afterwards, you logged into your online bank account and noticed that the payment from your job was posted as the most recent transaction. You felt satisfied about that.

You were so occupied with your screen that you weren’t able to hear your name being called out by someone that was on board the bus.

It wasn’t until you heard your name the second time that you brought your attention back to your physical surroundings.

“[Name]?” A very raspy voice called out to you. It had a strong hint of smoke and grit laced with it.

The voice tingled your ear just by the tone alone. You did not know anyone with a rough voice such as theirs. It felt strange and you did not feel comfortable acknowledging the person who kept calling you. With a shrug, you turned your attention back to your phone with the hopes that this random individual would take the hint and leave you alone.

“[Name].” There was that voice again. This time, it was a bit louder.

It caught the attention of a few passengers for a split second. The bus was almost empty except for about six people.

“[Name].” The voice grew sterner, as if this person was intent on getting your attention.

You lifted your head up to look around for the source of the voice. Your search ended in a nanosecond when your eyes landed on a rather tall young man. The first traits you noticed about him were his white tank top and tattooed covered arms. You were almost eye level with his steel skull belt buckle, which held up a pair of loose fitting black denim jeans.

Your eyes slowly panned from his belt buckle, up to his stomach, from his collar bone before your vision finally landed upon his face.

He had full sleeve tattoos that were inked from both of his shoulders to his wrists. And the tattoos did not stop at his arms. His entire upper chest was decorated with tattoos as well. Each piece of his body art was very well executed.

The 'stranger' stood in the open aisle right next to you where you were seated. He had the most vibrant turquoise eyes. They had slight dark bags underneath them. His eyelids were partially hooded over his eyes, giving him this sleepy 'laid-back’ vibe to him. There were three tiny nose studs and three upper helix piercings on both of his ears.

"I'm sorry. Do I know you?" Your [color] eyes met with his. His stare did not waver from yours, not even for a second.

The man's head tilted to the side. The corners of his lips curled into a sly smirk. "Really [Name]? Is that how you treat an old friend when he's trying to get reacquainted with you?" He leaned closer to you by approximately an inch. "C'mon, girl. Don't act like you don't know who I am."

At first, you assumed that this was some kind of manipulation tactic to get you to engage with him in order to persuade you to let down your guard. You were not about to fall for any of his tricks. You were too exhausted to deal with anyone's nonsense.

You squint your eyes as your brain rapidly files through your memories like a rolodex. Different names and different faces of the many people you crossed paths with were trying to make their way to your consciousness.

"Yo. It's me. Touya." A fox-like grin stretched his face. "Touya Todoroki. From our old high school.”

You squinted harder, observing his appearance from head to toe. Then, as you made eye contact with his teal blue eyes once more, that's when the pieces of those scattered memories came together. It definitely was Touya.

His natural spiky red hair that he once had was now dyed to a midnight black. It really complimented his features really well. He looked more mature and rugged.

There were noticeable muscular definitions to his previously scrawny physique. He buffed up while still maintaining his slender frame.

His voice was much deeper and raspier than you remembered. The man that stood before you was so fine as HELL.

Scratch that.

He was more than 'fine'; his new appearance made him look so damn sexy. He had this natural sex appeal to him that wasn’t contrived.

'Well, I'll be damned. It really IS him.' You thought.

It was a shame that he recognized you but you did not recognize him. However, he did not blame you one bit. So many life changing events happened to the both of you in all of those years since you parted ways.

You shook your head before you exclaimed, "Oh! Touya!"

"Yea…well….I go by the name 'Dabi' now."

"Oh? You changed your name?"

"I guess you can say that. It's a long story." This 'Dabi' individual yawned and rubbed the back of his neck, craning it in his hand.

Cordially, you offered him a seat next to you.

Dabi previously sat a couple of seats away from you, near the front. You guessed that his stop was coming real soon, compared to your destination which was about forty five minutes away so you had plenty of time to converse with him and catch up on old times. He accepted your offer and sat next to you with a gruff, "Thanks."

You could not believe that it was really him. You would be lying to yourself to say that you did not miss him because you most certainly did. There were so many things that you wanted to know about him and his life.

"Well. Well. Well. Little Miss [Name]. I didn't think I would see you again." It was Dabi's turn to eye your entire physical form.

You wondered what happened to Touya or — 'Dabi' throughout these past recent years. There was about thirty minutes left to your ride so it would have been a good idea to allow him the opportunity to catch up on old times. Maybe share a couple of brief laughs and casual jokes between one another.

And, Oh Boy! You were about to hear more than you bargained for.

He reached over your shoulder to rest his arm on the top of your seat.

There was a scent of spicy deodorant, mixed with cigarette smoke and a faint hint of his sweat that wafted past your nose. You sort of liked the odd mix.

Dabi managed to get a solid minute worth of a stare at you. It was amazing how much you blossomed from a dorky, adorable and shy girl into a beautiful poised woman.

A blushed warmed up your cheeks as you watched Dabi's long inked-up arm maneuver itself over your head to position itself on top of your bus seat. You could have sworn that he wanted to wrap his arm directly around your shoulder.

Nostalgia made its way back into your memories when you were both in high school. You remembered those days very fondly. The individual that you used to know as: 'Touya Todoroki' was your ex-classmate. He wasn't your friend nor was he an enemy either.

You were both 'frenemies'.

The dynamic between you two was hard to define.

There were times that the eldest Todoroki targeted you just for the sole purpose of antagonizing you. There were various instances where he did things to annoy you. Everything from snapping your bra strap from behind, flicking and pulling on your hair as he sat behind you in class, mimicking your voice whenever you spoke to him or throwing small pieces of paper towards you for no reason other than to cause constant aggravation in you.

However, there were times he would shield you from the other students that made an attempt to bully you. He would kick the asses of anyone who would even think to lay a hand on you. Touya's sudden switch from protector to nemesis and back to protector really confused the hell out of your little younger self.

Touya's emotions regarding you were very hard to pinpoint. He really liked you but it annoyed him at the fact that he had possessed those amorous feelings for you. It made him frustrated that he could not express his thoughts and words the proper way so, he usually unloads his confusion and frustration out onto you. During Dabi's later years, he realized that he was such an asshole to you.

As a matter of fact, Dabi would sometimes recall those moments and those memories made him cringe so hard. He would slap the shit out of his younger self for treating you the way he did.

Dabi's changed so much since you last saw him. It was almost seven years ago since he vanished from your life. He wasn't able to graduate high school with you.

And there was a reason for that…

A couple of months before graduation, he suddenly stopped coming to school. At first, you thought he ditched school to hang out with his friends as he usually did. But those days stretched to an entire month. That's when you grew a bit concerned.

Was he ill?

Did he pass away?

Out of concern, you tried to get answers out of the teachers, the principal and your other fellow students. None of them ever gave you a straightforward answer. They either gave you vague statements or cut the conversation short by pretending they were busy and had somewhere else to go.

You even tried to ask two of Touya's 'friends' of his whereabouts. They refused to talk about him at all. They acted as if he was some kind of non-existent entity, like a ghost. Any time you crossed paths with them, they would scurry off in the opposite direction. Their behavior was so skittish and shady that it made you feel so uneasy for a while.

Did they have something to hide?

It was a mystery that plagued your thoughts for a while after that.

NOW!

Onto the truth…

"Well, what the hell happened to you? I was so worried. You just up and left. Here one day and completely gone the next." You blinked at him, waiting for an explanation. The bus hit a couple of potholes and cracks in the road, making the entire vehicle rock and bounce up and down.

Dabi sat silent and stared ahead, looking at nothing in particular. He made a deep exhale as he rubbed his forehead and the bridge of his nose. You noticed his shifty and agitated body language and did not want to back him into a corner if he wasn't ready to talk. You were patient. "I mean, I understand if you don't feel comfortable and I won't pressure you–"

"No." Dabi just sighed and shook his head. "It's okay. I guess its time I told you the truth anyway. You're very astute and I know that I cannot keep secrets from you for too long. You could read me like a book."

Then another sigh came from him before he revealed what ACTUALLY happened to him before the high school graduation took place.

Dabi (or Touya as you knew him), went to jail for arson and armed robbery. He torched an old abandoned warehouse for unknown reasons. It was his idea. Him and his friends used that same warehouse as a hideout spot just in case the police searched for them. They were trying to rob a convenience store while wielding a couple of switchblades towards the owners, demanding the victims to give the thieves all of the cash that was in the register.

Touya and his accomplices got the money and they knew that the police would soon be on their tail. The surveillance footage caught the images of the 'would be burglars' and the law enforcement was able to catch them within a matter of hours.

Fortunately, there were no fatalities.

"But, those phony, pussy ass motherfuckers snitched on me. They were with me but they decided to throw me under the bus. They only got a slap on the wrist while I took all the heat." Dabi sucked his side teeth. It infuriated him even just talking about them.

So, that explained his friends' avoidant demeanors.

Dabi continued his small tirade. "Fuck those sons of bitches. They can go choke on a sick dick for all I care. If I see their sorry ass faces again, there's gonna be problems. Big problems."

You felt the anger coming out of his voice, even though his demeanor was mellow. There was so much heat laced with his words.

Instead of picking out a corsage and tuxedo for the senior prom, Touya went back and forth between his holding cell in the county jail and standing before the judge inside of a courtroom as twelve jurors decided his fate. The only thing he wore was a set of steel handcuffs and an orange jumpsuit to those occasions. A huge feeling of regret painfully kept looping through his thoughts.

Since Touya was eighteen years of age at the time, he was tried as an adult.

Touya was about to be locked away for years to come.

Seeing you in a beautiful dress as you dance the night away? Touya will never be able to experience that.

Him wanting to walk the grass with you during graduation was also something that he would have loved to do as well. The plan did not stop there. After the ceremony was over and after all of the graduates tossed their caps in the air as they cheered loudly in unity, he would give you a kiss as a way to apologize for all of the trouble he put you through.

But alas, these moments never came…

Those opportunities were snuffed out…

He would be ordered to serve a five year prison sentence. The pounding of the judge's gavel made the situation all too real.

He thought that he would never see you again.

After graduation, you never received the closure that you were looking for.

Both of you went completely opposite paths in life.

You tried to find him on every social media that was out there on the web but results showed absolutely no signs of his presence.

The one that he used to have was deactivated.

You would not hear from him in nearly seven years.

Not until that moment at your unexpected reunion riding on the city bus together.

Dabi missed out on so much of his youth…

….all because he was locked up….

He realized that he took so many things for granted. Most of his family pretty much shunned him for life. He brought so much shame to the Todoroki family. His father Enji, bitterly scorned him, telling Dabi that he was 'dead' to him. It was as if his own flesh and blood child did not exist to Enji in the first place. Prison was a very, VERY hard life lesson for him.

Dabi had a great amount of time to reflect on his life during the five year prison sentence. It took him some time to adjust to the outside world again once he was finally released. Everything felt so foreign to him.

He knew that he had a lot of work to do in order to rebuild his life. He was willing to invest the necessary time and energy into accomplishing his goals. Being a convicted felon meant that there were many opportunities that were closed off from him. His road to redemption was a tough one. He had to prove to so many people that he could be trusted to fly the straight and narrow path. Everyone from his parole officer, to his social workers, to his landlord and employers.

He told you all of that, making sure to not leave any details out.

Your eyes sprung wide for a second as Dabi finally revealed the truth about his disappearance and the questions that you had regarding his association with his so called ‘friends’. "So you were locked up this whole time?"

Just great. You were sitting next to a convicted felon. You tried not to cast judgment on him and write him off so quickly. Of course you thought he deserved a second chance at life but that did not stop you from feeling anxious and uncomfortable. You scooted closer to the window, tightly clutching your purse towards your tummy.

Your blood ran cold in your veins.

Yes. Cliffhanger. I originally posted this fanfic about three years ago but, I wasn't able to complete this story due to personal issues. But now, I'm thinking about returning to writing. Yes, there will be smut in the story. I hope I can make it super spicy. How do you guys like this story so far? Should I continue this? I also posted this fic on AO3 as well. Feedback is definitely appreciated. I thank you all so much for stopping by and taking the time to read this story.

46 notes · View notes

xreaderbooks · 3 years ago

Text

Masterlist

fandoms/characters i write for

rules for requests

my Wattpad and AO3

HP/Wizarding World Masterlist

Percy Jackson/Heroes Of Olympus Masterlist

ACOTAR (A Court Of Thornes and Roses) Masterlist

Outerbanks Masterlist

Julie and The Phantoms Masterlist

MCU-

Bucky Barnes

Come Back To Me

Summary: You’re in love with your best friend, Bucky, who’s going to war. You might’ve run out of time to tell him.

Word Count: 2k

Warning: Fluffy/ Soft Bucky (yes It is that serious), Jealousy

Steve Rogers

Peter Parker

Pietro Maximoff

DC Comics-

Dick Grayson

Jason Todd

Tim Drake

Damian Wayne

Wally West

Teen Wolf-

Scott Mccall

Stiles Stilinski

Theo Raeken

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and some scenes where the original character is involved are the property of the author of this story. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No copyright infringement is intended.

#harry potter imagine #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy imagine #cedric diggory x reader #cedric diggory imagine #siriusblackxreader #sirius black x reader #marauders x reader #acotar x reader #azriel acotar x reader #nicodiangeloxreader #nico di angelo x reader #luke patterson x reader #jj maybank x routledge!reader #jj maybank x you #jj mayback x reader #bucky barnes x reader #cassian acotar x reader #cassian x reader

283 notes · View notes

ninelives2 · 3 months ago

Text

#caryl #caryl fanfiction #carol peletier #daryl dixon

8 notes · View notes

autumn-grace · 1 year ago

Text

The Lingering Pain of Empty Hands 3/10

Chapters One, Two

Summery: In 1793 Benedict goes missing at a fair. Twenty years later Eloise keeps running into the same man while investigating the case of one famous Lady Whistledown.

A story exploring the complexities of loss.

Author Note: Edmund lives a little longer in this story. Well everything is a bit different, so. Yes. Have fun reading.

Chapter Three: Growing Pains Warnings: character death, mention of physical abuse towards children Rating: M Length: 5.9k

[@hopepaigeturner]

“Ben?”

“Mmm?” Her husband looked up only slowly from the sketches that he was working on. But when he did, had shifted the candle away from him, it was his full attention that she had. He turned himself in her direction.

She was sitting crossed legged on the armchair, with William in the makeshift cradle her dress over her legs created. She had read page 98 of the book she was reading three times now without processing any of what was written there.

“Something strange might have happened today.”

“Other than Charles declaring to marry Miss Eloise?”

“Yes, I think.” The boys had told him every single detail the very moment they heard him coming up the stairs. Had opened the front door which they were not allowed to, arguing that they knew exactly their Papa's footsteps from others.

“I was thinking. What if...” she interrupted herself, “I know you have decided to give it no further thought, but I was just wondering if this Eloise was the same one you met back in May.”

He frowned as he watched her. His eyes wandered away when he answered:“I am sure there exist a hundred women named Eloise in London alone. Have you asked for her last name?”

“I did not.”

Both of his brows flicked up and then he nodded, smiling softly.

“It did not come up. She did not ask for mine either.”

He shrugged and almost wanted to turn back to his work. “I am sure it was someone else.”

“She looked just like you described her. And well. It was hard not to see the resemblance.”

For too long he looked unseeingly at his work. Sophie never stopped regarding him, waiting for a response. “And what if?” She had him.

He stood up and sat down on the edge of the sofa, facing her. His chin landed on his fist. “If she was the same woman, what could it possibly mean?”

“I asked first,” she declared and lifted her chin somewhat. “The very same question, in fact.”

He sighed deeply and rubbed his hands over his face. “I know,” he mumbled into his palms.

“She was so nice and the boys had so much fun with her. Would it not mean something if she were your sister?”

“She might be a woman of the same name, or in fact of the same last name. She might be a distant cousin or stranger who looks a bit like me.” He tried to argue.

“Is this not a bit far-fetched?”

“Is this not all entirely far fetched?” A deep frown formed on his forehead and his mouth formed a line to suppress the emotion she knew were rising in his throat as his Adam's apple bobbed. “Recently, I cannot stop wondering if I might have had a sister, a baby still. But she was not named Eloise. It was something starting with a D.”

“D... Diana?” he shook his head. “Danielle? Dorothea?” He shook his head. She reached over to take his hand and in answer, he slid to his knees and came to land before her. His arms found rest on her knees and he leaned down to kiss William's head.

“Anthony, Benedict, Colin, D and Eloise. It would make sense.” She whispered as she began to drive her fingers through his short hair. When he looked up, she saw the hint of a tremble along his lower lip and she leaned over to kiss his forehead. And still she went a step further. “She told Charles she had three older siblings and three younger ones.”

“And what now?” He whispered and reached for her wrist, drew it from his hair to intertwine her fingers with his. “What if?” He asked very quietly.

“Don't you simply want to know?”

It took a while before he answered: “I am happy as it is. I don't want anything else.” As the words lingered between them they both watched their baby sleep.

She should leave it at that. She should take his words at their value. But it was hard, his expression had turned so sad. His eyes watched their son but what he saw was something entirely different. She wondered if his parents one night sat over Ben the way they sat over William right now, with their hearts so full of love for the tiny worm that they had made together.

There was an imaginary line she had to cross in order to imagine what it would be like to lose one of her children and on the other side of that line lay madness. Her heart ached for Ben’s mother.

Her dear husband began to blink rapidly and he lowered his head just so. He wanted to retreat, she felt him shift and the muscles in his hands tensed in order to let go of her hand. She swallowed.

“I need to finish my work. It is due tomorrow.” A soft whisper around a thick obstacle in his throat.

“Ben...” She asked, trying to keep him close by any means.

“Let us talk another time, I will think about it.”

And he would think about it and decide that he was happy. She was happy that he was happy. She was happy, too. They had a good life. But Ben's past plagued him and it did not show most days but it did most nights.

Mayfair, November 1814

“She sends letters there, she had the carriage bring her there. Colin, she had the poor errant boy go there twice through the pouring rain.” Anthony gesticulated with his hand as he walked up and down the length of his writing table. Colin watched him with a raised brow.

“For one, she had him take the carriage, and two, he is not so much a boy any more...”

“Not the point, Colin!” He landed with his hands on the table. “How did father do this? How could he remain so calm in the face of her... of her,” Anthony looked up to his father's portrait, and then down to his brother, who sat in his chair, “freedoms, as she calls them.”

“I gather he was too ill to care much… at the end at least” Colin argued, lifting the corner of his mouth a little, daring the new Viscount to voice an objection. He did not.

Anthony sight, truly frustrated. “True, I guess.”

He thought for a moment and then said: “What if she has an affair?”

“We are talking about Eloise!” Colin huffed, half delighted, half scandalised.

“You said yourself, she was seeing that boy in Bloomsbury...”

“Anthony...” Colin interrupted him. “No.” He shook his head and Anthony exhaled dramatically.

“Well, it seems, I have no other choice.” He nodded sharply, he pulled his coat from the hanger by the door and he stormed out. He would simply have to go there and see for himself. Colin stood up, and called his name twice before the door to the study closed behind Anthony.

“My Lord,” a voice called from the stairwell. He turned just before he slipped out of the front. There stood Mrs. Nathanson, his mother's lady's maid.

“Yes?” He asked, walked towards her as she ascended the last few steps down into the hall.

“It's your mother, I think you should come.”

“What is it?” The woman, around his mother’s age, turned as he reached her and they walked upstairs together. There was a rather sad expression in her eyes.

“She has one of her episodes.” He stopped. Mrs. Nathanson made it a few steps further before looking at him over her shoulder. Her shoulders sank a little as she watched him.

On the tip of his tongue burned a sentence. 'Then please find my father.' He swallowed it, needed to try more than once, and shook his head, before he took two steps at a time and caught up with her.

“What happened?” he asked, his voice thin, nerves beginning to prickle along his skin.

“I would like to say it's the usual. But this time she is much more there.”

“Were the doors to the attic not properly locked?”

“They were, My Lord. I cannot say with certainty how she got up there.”

As they walked down the corridor to the door that led into the attic he heard her. “Go and get your father!” She shouted, clearly talking to someone. Anthony looked at Mrs. Nathanson.

“Francesca found her.”

He rushed up the flight of stairs. Barely any daylight found into the long room with the low ceiling. It was cold up here and the air dusty and old. But he found them right away, over by the old armchairs. Francesca stood with her back to him, their mother sat on the floor, almost instantly taking notice of him.

“There you are!” She got up, supported herself on a chest that stood open in front of her. He stopped abruptly. Francesca tried to grab her wrist but Violet drew her arm out of her grasp. “Where have you been? I have been searching for you all day!”

For the fracture of a second he wondered what <em>much more there</em> was supposed to mean. But then she had reached him already.

“Mother,” he swallowed as she pushed her hand against his chest, then folded her fingers into the fabric of his shirt and his waistcoat.

“Mama!” Francesca called.

Violet retreated her hand instantly, she went a step back, then two. Then she shook her head and her hands flew to hold it. “No, no, no,” she muttered. “No.” A pitiful wail worked itself up through her throat and Francesca drew her against her the very same instant.

“Mama, it's okay!” She tried to soothe her.

“It's not,” she argued. “It's not!” She cried.

“How could he?” She sobbed and wound her arms around her daughter. “How could he leave us?”

Pain and pity to equal measures run hot and cold over Anthony's skin. He closed his eyes and an exhausted huff left his nostrils. How could he indeed.

“He was very sick...” Francesca whispered and rubbed her back. “He held on for as long as he could,” she continued. Violet shrieked and visibly tightened her grip on her daughter. “Mama,” she whispered, almost breathless in her attempt to speak up.

Anthony stepped towards them. “Come, sit down.” He took a firm hold of her shoulder in order to pull her away from his sister. Oh, how she did not deserve to witness such misery.

“I am sorry, Anthony.” Violet hiccuped as he directed her to sit down.

He produced a handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to her. “It's alright. Just breathe.” He squatted down in front of her and rubbed her arm. “Take a deep breath.”

Anthony had no idea what he was doing. Had no idea what his father had done in order to help their mother through her delusions. Edmund had always made sure to keep all the children, him included from their mother when she entered into one of these episodes. In retrospect it made him a little angry himself. That he had left them, had left him with no instructions whatsoever of what to do.

As Violet sobbed into her hands, Anthony simply watched her as if he could prevent her from falling apart further if he only did it with enough rigour.

“Whose are these?” His heartbeat plummeting, he turned to his sister and looked at her as if she had lost her mind. Was it not obvious? She had a face of curiosity on her face, as she in turn observed a pair of boy shoes in her hands.

Violet quieted as she regarded her daughter. Then she took a deep breath, closed her eyes for a second “These your father found, they were Benedict's,” Violet whispered “A man in the east end sold them to him”.

Anthony frowned at her and then at his sister. “It is all there was. Only his shoes.” She pulled a hand to her mouth and she inhaled in a sob, but then she tried to exhale more calmly. “It's why his search was ended. They told us he was most certainly no longer alive.”

“Mama,” Francesca whispered in shock. Violet nodded. “That's not fair.” She shook her head in agreement.

“Perhaps he simply grew out of them.” Anthony feared Francesca was going too far, but seemingly she was not.

“I believe so, too. It happens so fast sometimes.” She slowly found her voice.

“I think,” Francesca started with a soft smile on her face, “I think whoever took care of him made sure he had a pair which fit him and not hurt his feet, and then sold these.”

Violet almost nodded desperately. “Only the night before it happened, he could barely sleep because his legs hurt him so, he was right in a growth spurt.” She turned to him then and cupped the side of his face. “You had them badly as well when you were little, do you remember?” He needed to think, in all honesty he did not. “Well, I hope of course you don't.”

“I think I do not.”

She smiled now and rubbed her thumb over his cheek.“Oh, my son.” she held his gaze now, the ghost of a smile ran over her face but was soon replaced by sadness. “I wish we had taken better care of you through all of it.”

He was so stunned by her words that even while he wanted to look away, he could not.

“You were hurting, too. Benedict and you, you were so close. And we just... we were afraid to tell you what happened. It was as if we hoped you would just forget him.”

“I did not.” His voice was weak and he felt strangled by a heavy, pressing pain in his throat. “Never.” He had truly felt alone in a world he no longer understood, a world in which nobody was speaking to him about all that pain that lingered in the thin air, in everyone's face, in his heart.

She lowered her head to his and with closed eyes she kissed his forehead. “I am unspeakably sorry.”

Something cracked open in him and a tear slipped from his eye, Violet brushed it away as if she had sensed it.

Anthony marvelled at his sister. A little later when they had together gone down again and their mother had retreated to her rooms.

“How did you do that?”

“Don't you think everybody simply worked so hard at not talking with her about Benedict, and now father, that she simply went mad with needing to?”

He thought for a while. Got up and fetched himself a whiskey.

“I feel it is much more complicated than that.”

“Of course it is.” She paused, letting her words ripen in the air between them. “It <em>is</em> so much more complicated.”

Anthony postponed his investigation regarding Eloise’s ‘freedoms’ and thus stood in front of the door to the address on his slip of paper three days later.

Behind that door he heard children's voices, loud ones. He wondered if he was at the right door. But he had checked twice already. And the old man down in the hallways assured him the Atwoods lived all the way up, second door to the left.

He was all the way up, at the second door, to the left.

Oh well, he thought and knocked.

It was hard to imagine what Eloise was doing here. Colin was right, frankly, this was not an affair she was having. (He hoped dearly.) He should have brought Kate.

“Charles, what is the rule?”

“But Mama, you are right there!”

“And that is why I will open the door!” He listened intently and it should have been a warning but he did not take it as one, before he could step back, the door opened.

He straightened his shoulders. “Mrs. Atwood?”

“Yes. How may I help you?”

“That is indeed a good question.”

“Is it?” From behind the door peaked the head of a little boy. He assumed this was Charles. Mrs. Atwood pulled the door ajar behind her while she stepped forward a bit. Blocking his view into the flat. “My husband will not be home for another half hour if you wish to speak to him?”

“Mama! He did it again.” Another voice called from the inside. “Mama!” Again.

“Just a moment dear,” she called over her shoulder.

“If you give me your name, I can tell him you stopped by.” She pressed further and it was what Anthony needed to hear, in order to be reminded of his manners. But he was so confused.

“I apologise, Mrs. Atwood. I am not here for your husband, in particular. I am Viscount Bridgerton, it is nice to make your acquaintance.”

The woman's eyes grew as she fixed her view on his face. “My young sister seems to frequent this address on a more regular basis, and as she is my responsibility, I am here to ascertain myself this is all right and proper.”

“My Lord,” she found her words eventually. “I... I do not know what to say.”

“I assure you, you have to say nothing. It seems quite innocent, all of it. I must apologise for the interruption of your afternoon, Mrs. Atwood, I hope you can forgive me.” He took a step back and he wanted to turn, but the woman's eyes were no longer on him, she was watching the man who claimed the stairs.

It was clear instantly that this had to be the husband, for their gazes found each other and an exchange happened for which there were no words needed. Anthony stepped further back and to the side. Ready to introduce himself and explain why he was here.

“Good evening.”

“Good evening,” Anthony greeted back and stretched his hand out for the other man. There was just the shortest moment of hesitation, but then Mr. Atwood took his hand and gave it a firm shake.

And he wanted to introduce himself. And saw how Mrs. Atwood was also short of doing that for him. Also he should let go of that hand. But something else was happening at the same time, something shifted in him.

The two men had met eyes and they had both inhaled and they were both holding their breaths and they were both tightening their grip on each other instead of letting go.

Anthony felt light-headed. His mouth fell open. His heart pumped all the way in his throat.

As if they were hit by lightning the moment was over and they stepped away from one another.

“I must apologise. For the smallest moment I was certain I knew you.” Was the only thing he found to say. For a second everything had shifted. For a second he was eight years old, looking out of the carriage driving away from Bridgerton House with his cousins and Aunt Ginny. Benedict stood there between their parents and waved and he wanted nothing more than for Benedict to come with him. He did not want to go to Bath on his own. He had never been. He had never gone anywhere without Benedict.

Then. Then, “Anthony?”

His heart missed a beat.

“It cannot be...” he whispered. Mrs. Atwood reached over to her husband. Gave his arm a squeeze and then she retreated inside, closed the door with a soft click.

No. No. This was not... could not be... now that father was dead. Now. No. He took another step back and then, then he rushed forwards, crossed the space between them, the physical space but also the metaphysical one, the years and years in between and all the pain and all the desperate longing. They crashed together and Anthony could not imagine to ever let go once their arms clawed at each other. “Benedict,” he whispers, and again: “Benedict.”

He noticed not that he battled for composure before it became hard to breathe.

“Is it truly you?” He gasped.

“Anthony?” It was still the same question. But his brother's fingers now dug deep into his arms and he wondered if he knew himself what he was asking for.

“Where have you been?” He rasped.

But he did not answer. Nothing made sense. Did Eloise know? Was that why she came here? But why would she. She never met Benedict. He felt suddenly how their chests pressed so tight together that Anthony was uncertain if it was his own heart that he felt galloping, or his brothers.

“How dreary life was without you.” There was no reviewing the words spilling from his lips. “I missed you more than words know to express.” And it was only then that Benedict's breath caught and a desperate, painful-sounding sob broke through him

“Anthony?”

“I am here, brother. It's alright. It's all alright.”

But nothing was alright. Because their father was dead, eventually succumbing to a broken heart. And their mother still wore a black veil and barely spoke a word a day. Hyacinth spent all her days in her room. Gregory, fresh home from Wales, still pretended that their father's death left him undisturbed. There was a wedding, too, his own, postponed indefinitely.

It came the point that they should let go of one another. But the fear running through him was at once childish and more real than he knew to say. He could not let go of him again. What if the moment he did, he vanished in thin air, gone, forever this time.

What if this was but a dream?

“Brother.” He whispered. And perhaps this was a start. He took his face between his hands and stretched back to look at him. It was a naïve notion, but he felt that all that was out of tune for so long, had clicked back into place.

His hands shook.

And because he knew not what else to do and Benedict seemed so deeply disturbed by emotions he asked to meet his family and Benedict just nodded. He grabbed Benedict's shoulder as he took the lead and he did not let go of it before the door shut again behind him and confined them within the same room.

He was rattled by disbelief.

The door across opened and Benedict's wife pushed her head through. She turned back into the room. “You stay in there. Watch out for Will. Charles, I look at you!”

“Yes Mama,” came a small voice and then she drew Benedict close by the wrist. And even though she was shorter by quite a bit, she was able to cradle him effortlessly. It was for only a moment, and then his brother swallowed and stroked a shaking hand over the side of her head.

“Can I introduce you to my brother?” He asked and she smiled suddenly, lightening up her whole expression. “Sophie, this is Anthony? My brother.” She stretched her hand for him to take.

“Anthony, this is my wife, Sophie.” They shook hands and he lifted them afterwards in order to kiss her knuckles.

From where Benedict stood he could open the other door. “Let me...” he slipped away and Sophie's expression turned serious, she watched him intently. He knew she had things to say and no time to say them.

Because then the boy from before walked into the room first and reached his mother's side, looking at him with sharp interest written all over his expression. He smiled at him and instantly he smiled back. Anthony wanted to laugh with the joy it brought to his heart.

Benedict came to a stop beside his wife, too. There were arms hugging his right leg and a little body hiding behind it. He tried to wave in that very short second that they tilted to see around the leg. Oh, and there was a baby on his arm. In him something melted at the sight.

“I am Charles! I am five!” the oldest of the three announced then.

Anthony squatted down and stretched out his hand. “Hello Charles, I am Anthony.” Grinning, the boy took his hand. Anthony nodded and Charles imitated him. “Nice to meet you.”

The other child had since studied him with interested and curious eyes. Anthony tried not to push.

“And who might this be?” He asked and prompted Charles to look at his sibling.

“This is Alex, he is a bit shy.”

“I am not shy!” A small voice announced and courage, too, vibrated in the words and suddenly he stepped away from behind Benedict's leg. Benedict caressed his fingers through his hair.

“I am Alexander!” He exclaimed and reached for his father's hand simultaneously.

“I am very excited to make your acquaintance, Alexander!” He looked just like Benedict. All of him. It itched a scratch in his soul.

“And this is William,” Benedict explained, pride very imminent in his voice. He turned him a bit and the moment the baby made eye contact with him, or well, something akin to that, both their interests seemed to raise. “He is four months old.”

“Can I hold him?” He addressed that question to Sophie, who leaned over, kissed his little head and took him from her husband's hands only to transfer him into his arms.

“He is usually very relaxed.” She explained. And he was, he made big eyes and began to explore his cravat and when Anthony made a face, it took but three seconds before he giggled.

“I am still at a loss for words,” Anthony then admitted. “I feel as if I cannot leave here. I am afraid that if I close my eyes, then you are gone again...” They both nodded at that. “And I have so many questions.”

“I am not sure I can answer them.”

“Can I return here?”

“Of course.”

“Good. Everything else is secondary” He looked around. At Charles whispering to his mother who shook her head, making the boy pouted. Alex was playing with his father's fingers. And Benedict was, for a lack of a more appropriate word, still somehow lost. And of course the darling little boy in his arms.

Mayfair.

Anthony heard his siblings bellowing before he even stepped through the door. With a raised brow he met Ranson's gaze who showed not a single emotion except for a glint in his eyes the Viscount interpreted as amusement.

The voices came from the ballroom. In long strides he walked towards the doors which stood ajar, amplifying the sounds towards the outside.

“What is going on in here!” He called as a footman helped him with a dramatic entrance by pushing both doors open for him.

Screaming, laughing, tumbling, bodies hitting the floor, more shouting.

“What in heaven and hell...” he whispered to himself.

“Brother!” Hyacinth screamed.

“Join us!” Colin called and already came his way.

“Should you not all sit at dinner?”

Nobody was wearing shoes, there were two discarded mattresses laying by the windows. Eloise sat in the middle of the room, rubbing her elbow. All the girls (including Miss Featherington!) had their skirts tugged up over their knees and secured there.

“The oven is broken! Mrs. Ranson is having to make soup...” Gregory explained.

“A soup! In the fireplace,” Hyacinth added, nodding vigorously. “Can you imagine!”

“Excuse me, the oven is broken?” He turned over to their butler who had followed behind him, now standing in the open doors. “Ranson, is that true?”

“Most unfortunately, the young Master is quite right. The oven has broken down. A mechanic is already looking after it.”

“And what is this?” he gestured to one of the mattresses, intently watching Colin for an answer. In his eyes he tried to inquire whether Colin had regressed in age and lost all his good senses in the process.

“It's just a bit of fun, My Lord. You cannot mind that, can you?” Colin teased. “Back to the starting line!” He called and all his siblings jumped to the wall, getting ready to run. “THREE, TWO, ONE!”

And all of them ran a few yards to an actual line on the floor done hopefully in chalk, jumped and slid on their stocking covered feet. Francesca came to a stop right in front of him, clearly losing because Colin and Hyacinth both had ducked down and made it almost to the opposite wall.

“We tried it with the mattresses, but it worked so well, Gregory has a lump on his head now because he rode right into the wall,” she grinned.

“Yes, see!” Gregory was full of excitement, something so uncommon in the boy for a while now. He pulled his hair back and showed him an actual yellowish lump on his forehead. Instantly he replaced Gregory's hand with his own to take a closer look. “We will try at Aubrey Hall on Christmas. The Ballroom is much larger. What fun!” He explained while Anthony had drawn his head close and held it between his hands.

Eventually, Gregory clicked with his tongue and pulled his head away. “It's fine!”

“Well then,” he said and looked down to his feet. Then he looked up. Looked into the expecting faces of his siblings... all except for Daphne and, and...

He looked at his feet and he almost leaned down to open the buckles on his boots. Almost.

“Miss Featherington? May I ask you to wait in the dining hall for a moment?” Colin rolled his eyes and took a step towards him.

“Truely, Anthony, if you want to scream at someone, this is my responsibility. I made them...” Anthony waved the sentence away and Colin's expression turned confused.

“Greg, Hy, will you accompany her?” Irritated, Hyacinth stepped to Penelope who took her hand in hers and as they passed him by, she smiled. He nodded.

“But I don't want to! I want to hear what you have to say.”

“Gregory, I am asking you nicely. I will inform you personally in due time of what we are about to discuss.”

“But...”

“Gregory, please.” He rushed from the room at that and perhaps, Anthony considered, that was a mistake. “Ranson, can you close the door? From the outside?”

“But of course.”

And then they stood there, all a bit confused, waiting for him to say something. He looked from face to face. How was this real? It made no sense. The information would not set. It did not arrive where it needed to arrive. The idea of Benedict swirled through his head, somewhere towards the top, unruly, very much demanding loudly to be spoken. He took another look at Colin and Fran and wished Daph was here, suddenly he considered postponing this until she was.

“What is it!” El huffed and let her head fall back, looking at the ceiling.

“I have no idea how to say this...”

“Is Mother alright?” Fran came so close she could lay a hand on his arm. He closed his eyes shortly and nodded. “Kate?”

“Everyone is fine.”

Eloise rolled her eyes and that was when he fixed his gaze on her.

“Did you know?” He found a thread to follow.

“What exactly? I know a lot of things.” She grinned at her own words.

He inhaled sharply and closed his eyes for a breath. “Your trips to Bloomsbury. Did you know?” She grew at least an inch as she straightened up and her expression suddenly turned serious.

“What exactly would you want me to know?” She whispered.

“What interest do you have in visiting the Atwoods?”

“I... I. Anthony, I can explain. I met Mrs. Atwood at the market, months ago, and she did me a huge favour and and...” she gesticulated wildly with her arms and seemed not to notice that she inched towards him. “Then their little boy got ill, just some weeks ago and I tried to help as best as I could. I send broth and tea... I even told Mother about it!”

Anthony lifted his hand to his forehead and rubbed his thumb over his brow.

“Eloise Bridgerton, have you any idea what you have done?” He whispered. Her eyes grew wide.

“I did nothing... not on purpose... ”

“I am sure we can find a way to rectify...” Colin interrupted, lifting both his hands as if he expected they were about to jump each other's throats.

“There is nothing to rectify, Colin. She, she.... I cannot believe my own words...” He gave a pause, trying still to gather any understanding of the situation.

“Now say already, what is it?” Francesa urged.

And yet it took another moment until he found a way to say it. “Eloise. You have found Benedict.” Even though the words were so easy.

The silence in the room was louder than their shrieks from earlier.

“That is a strange joke to make,” Colin said, at some point, perhaps hours later, maybe minutes.

“It's not a joke.” He still would not break eye contact with Eloise.

“No.” Colin whispered then.

“I had a feeling... I... no, not even that, just, an inkling and I would not let myself explore it. Forced myself not to consider it. There were moments when I thought I looked at a little Hyacinth when I looked at Alex...”

He nodded listening to her words, understanding them well.

Francesca had started shaking her head in disbelief. Colin's emotions seemed to change by the second, flying through his eyes and tucking at his mouth and his brows.

“No.” he said again.

“I will call for Daphne in the morning and we need to think how we tell mother without driving her truly mad.”

“Should we not include Ben in this?” Eloise argued.

“Obviously we will include him,” Anthony said, nonplused.

“Then we cannot do it in the morning, or the afternoon. He works for a living.”

“No.” Colin.

“Colin!” Anthony turned to him. “Snap out of it!”

And then one of the emotions stuck and what was a chuckle at first, turned into a full-blown laughter. It turned all their eyes to him. It made them all grin at first but then it did not catch and they looked on in irritation.

“Father is dead!” He pressed forward eventually, inhaled in a stutter and laughed more. “He is dead now!”

It was truly cynical of God, so much was true.

And then his laughter stilled and with eyes full of tears he stared at them, it was impossible to say whether the tears came from laughter alone. And while Francesca had found Eloise's arms, Anthony opened his for Colin to land in.

“Father is dead.”

“I know.” He whispered.

“Nothing was as important to him as finding Benedict...”

“I know.”

#Bridgerton #Fanfiction #Sophie/Benedict #benophie #sophie beckett #benedict bridgerton #benedict x sophie #au #bridgerton fanfiction

5 notes · View notes