#Wentworth x reader

[reallyromealone]

Title: visiting nana

Fandom: Wentworth

Characters: Jacs, Brayden (mentioned)

Fic type: fluff,

Pairings: -

Warnings: male reader, reader insert, child male reader, grandmother jacs

Notes: my boyfriend got me into this show

Summary: jacs grandson (reader) visits her and tells her about all the things his little three year old life experienced since the last visit

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

(Name) Was excited while being escorted by his 'uncles' to the visitors area, wearing the little outfit his grandmother had arranged for the boy to have. Only three years old and a ray of sunshine to everyone he saw with little waves and smiles.

Jac's smiled when she saw her little grandson beam at her like she hung the moon "Nana!" The boy giggled and ran towards her and hugged her legs "hello, you" jacs said to her grandson who pulled a picture out of his pocket "oh? Is this for me?" The elderly blonde asked her grandson who smiled "yeah! It's you me and mama!" He pointed to each person in the drawing and Jacs looked at it as if she were impressed.

"My... Didn't know we had an artist!" She exclaimed and (name) swayed happily "my crayon broke before I could draw uncle Brayden..." He mumbled and the woman chuckled "maybe we should upgrade you to pencil crayons" she teased and (name) giggled, crawling into the seat beside her "have you been good in preschool?" She dropped big coin to make sure her grandson had the best education and (name) nodded "we have a-a caperiller! His name's Marty!" He went into detail about the class pet that was (name)s favorite thing "mama said we can't get a caperiller but we can look at em!"

Jacs didn't care for much but she would and has murdered for her grandson.

"Our times almost up so be good for me, yeah?"

"Love you Nana!"

"Nana loves you too, bite size

[h4unted-d4rling]

I would be that one person in the town during Weirdmageddon where I’m like “is it just me or is that Bill Cipher guy kinda hot?” And everyone would look at me like

[enha-stars]

now where are the michael scofield fics

[inlovewithgreta]

could you do more governor!Joan and prisoner!reader? maybe some angst or more smut? I love your fics :)

Here's more Governor Joan and Prisoner reader just for you!! Thank you for the request as always, and thank you for loving the fics!! xo

Jealousy - Governor!Joan Ferguson x Prisoner!Reader

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Summary: Joan does not take you being near Franky Doyle lightly.

Warnings: degradation, semi-public sex, oral sex (r!receiving), once again not proofread in the slightest..

Word Count: 1.8k

Taglist: @celasteria @shslbunnylover @bellatrixsbrat @coffeebreath23 @janewaykove

© Do not copy, repost, or modify any of my works.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

You were confused as to why Vera had ushered you to the Governor's office so soon after you were just outside in the yard. The authoritative figure only called you in if she needed information, but nothing out of the ordinary had happened in which information would need to be given.

Your stomach churned when after a few hasty knocks, Vera announced your presence before the Governor herself sent the deputy off for the rest of the night.

Hands fidgeted in front of you as you stood behind the now closed door, unmoved. Big, brown eyes were watching you like a hawk as the older woman stood tall next to her desk.

"Come here," she demanded, arms folded over her chest.

She looked slightly annoyed, and to your knowledge, you hadn't done anything wrong or withheld vital information from her. Yet you still did as you were told, and walked until you were mere inches from her, eyes cast down in obedience.

A surprised gasp came from you when Joan grabbed a fistful of your shirt and pulled you flush against her body. Your hands involuntarily grasped at her hips to steady yourself as you finally locked eyes with the woman.

You took her all in, hair slightly disheveled as if her fingers were running through it constantly, ruining her usually perfect bun. Her eyebrows were knitted together, and her lips were formed into a small frown.

Those who didn't know her, would just assume she was acting her usual self. But you...well, you knew her more intimately, and knew something was clearly bothering her.

"What have I told you about Franky Doyle?" She asked, finally speaking out.

Your eyebrows knitted in confusion, not expecting her to bring up the brunette. "I— what?" You shook your head.

"Do not play dumb with me, slut. Answer my question. And answer it now." Her grip on your shirt merely tightened, and you knew moving would be impossible with her deathly grip.

"You told me to stay away from her..." you answered after a moment, recalling her previous words.

She had not asked you, but demanded you to stay away from her, knowing you were just Franky's type and not wanting the woman to lay her hands on you.

After all, Joan was never one to share her toys.

"And have you? Been staying away from her?" She knowingly asked, lifting a high brow.

"No, Governor..." you sheepishly lowered your eyes, cheeks growing a deep crimson at your confession.

"Such an attention seeking little whore.." she spat. "I leave for two days and this is what I come back to? You getting all handsy with her?!"

"I'm sorry..." you apologized, looking back at her with big, puppy dog eyes. "I won't do it again, Governor. I promise." Your hands gently stroked her wide hips, in hopes of soothing the woman.

That was a little trick of yours. You had quickly found out that Joan melted at your touch. Your soft, sweet, and tender touches would always ease her stress, and you used it to your advantage.

"Let me make it up to you." Your lashes fluttered as your hands eagerly wandered to her belt buckle.

"Someone's a little impatient," she noted, visibly relaxing as your hands crept under her shirt to touch her bare stomach.

"Can you blame me? Watching you get all hot and bothered with jealousy is kind of hot.." you admitted, digits roaming across her smooth skin. "Besides, I missed you so much these past few days. A girl needs some attention around here."

"Always such a little slut for attention," she growled, taking your lower lip between her teeth and tugging. Joan had no choice but to sink into your smaller figure, finally giving in to her desires.

She needed you just as much as you needed her. And yes, it was wrong. But God, did it feel so good.

Her tongue swept across your bottom lip to soothe her harsh bite as she took full dominance over your lips. Her kiss was demanding, and this time you felt yourself melting into her touch, allowing yourself to hum quietly when her hands groped your breasts.

"But Franky doesn't touch you as well as I do, now does she?" She husked against your lips, and you merely shook your head.

You hastily unbutton her shirt, needing to feel more of her. Joan would normally punish you for actions like this, but knowing how pathetically needy you were for her, she would allow it.

And when a hand found itself shoved into your pants, while the other gripped at the back of your neck, subtle moans fell past your lips as she touched all the right places.

"And she doesn't get the joys of fucking your pretty little pussy, isn't that right, slut?" She nipped at your lower lip once more.

"N-No, Governor!" You whined pathetically against her lips as you arched your back and gripped the cold wood of her desk behind you.

Joan tugged at the fabric of your clothes, only pulling apart for long enough to strip you free and leave you bare in front of her.

"You're mine. Do I make myself clear?" You gasp when Joan lifts you atop her desk, then kneels before you.

Your gaze is settled entirely on her, licking your lips at her unbuttoned shirt that showed off her perfect chest. Her eyes were blown out, and your fingers tugged at her messy hair in deliberation.

"Yes, Governor.. I'm all yours," You watch the movements of her tongue and quiver as she eagerly strokes up and down your folds.

You let out a quiet moan as you watched the woman shoving her face between your legs to devour your pussy like it was your last meal.

"Just like that, Gov. Taste me. Touch me."

You buck your hips as her tongue explores every inch of your cunt. Joan couldn't stay mad, not with you. You were her kryptonite. Her weakness. And she never thought she'd see the day where she would have any.

Just as Joan was to pay attention to your aching clit, the lights suddenly went out. You gasped at not only being surrounded by darkness, but the fact that Joan didn't stop.

Her movements only increased as she lapped at every inch of your pussy, licking a strip up your folds to then suck at your clit.

"G-Gov, the lights!" You moaned, but still didn't dare to move.

Joan chuckled between your thighs. The vibrations went straight to your core, forcing your back to arch as you threw a leg over her shoulder.

"And just like that, my little slut. Nobody will bother us for the rest of the night." You felt her smirk.

Even as the darkness enveloped both of you, Joan didn't let that stop her from finishing what she had planned to do to you. It was exactly what she was waiting for.

With everyone gone for the night, she now had a renewed determination to fuck you senseless. As a whine fell past your lips from her tongue leaving your cunt, Joan began to leave a fiery line of kisses on your thigh.

She was teasing you. Wanting to take her time with you.

You were sure your arousal was dripping down onto her wooden desk for you to clean up after, knowing Joan always made you clean up after yourself.

You let yourself relax as she explored your lower half, bracing your palms flat against the mahogany behind you.

"Fuck, you're so hot," you moaned out as Joan licked a strip up your core once more. "Fuck my pussy, Governor. It's all yours."

Her tongue circled your clit and decided now was the time to stop holding herself back. Joan's head dove between your spread thighs once more, using her tongue to ravage your pussy.

With Joan's strong hands holding you still, your head fell back as a string of moans filled the quiet room. The woman was greedy, stroking her tongue long and hard against your cunt. Hips bucked wildly.

"God, you taste so good," she hummed between kitten licks.

Both of you lost track of time as Joan, was working your body, and you were a moaning mess atop her desk. Every stroke of her tongue ignited a fire deep within you, heating you up from the inside out. Beads of sweat formed along your hairline as you chased your climax.

Heavy footsteps snaked you out of your thoughts, head whipping towards the door with wide eyes. You knew Joan had heard it when she sucked harder, only eliciting louder moans from you that you had to cover with a hand over your mouth.

"Be fucking quiet," she seethed, tightening her grip around your thighs so hard that would for sure leave marks in the future.

You jerk to move, but Joan's grip on you was deathly. She was going to finish what she started, no matter the cost.

You're on the edge and Joan can tell by your leg spasms. Your moans were muffled, but still loud, and your heart was thumping in your chest as you watched feet pass under the door, luckily not stopping.

As much as you knew you should've stopped, the thrill of them walking in sent you completely over the edge. Your body rocked into Joan's as you couldn't hold back anymore.

"Fuck!" You whined into your hands, legs merely closing in on Joan's head as she didn't let up on her tongue.

Taking your lower lip in your teeth, Joan ate your pussy through your orgasm as you came along her tongue. Hard.

You barely managed to hold back your cry as you shuddered. Body clenching over and over again as Joan swallowed every bit of come that came leaking out of your pussy.

Your body sagged against the desk, completely spent from your climax, and Joan hummed in approval before wiping her glistening chin with the back of her hand.

"Fucking janitors..." she mumbled, "Remind me to fire them for staying so late."

You hummed, and Joan couldn't help but let her lips twitch into a smirk as she finally took in your state.

Your legs were shaking, breathing was heavy, and sweat trickled down your forehead as you leaned against her wooden desk.

"What's so funny?" You asked, as Joan stood up and wrapped her arms around you.

"The fact that I know Franky could never fuck you like I do," she hovered over your lips.

You couldn't help but to playfully roll your eyes at her words. "Still on about Franky, huh?" You teased. "Jealous over little old me? I'm flattered," you smiled, pulling the woman in to a deep, lustrous kiss.

"Don't get cocky," she said, pulling your hair back and eliciting a sinful moan from you. "Now hurry up and get dressed, you still have a cell to get back to."

You heavily sighed, hopping off the desk, and surprisingly not falling on your face thanks to Joan's firm grip on your hip to keep you standing.

"What about you? It's my turn to take care of you," you asked, quickly pulling your clothes back on your body.

"I can take care of myself," she smirked, knowing the image she just put in your head at your dramatic groan.

You crossed your arms and stood rather impatiently at her door as she quickly fixed herself up in her mirror, the smirk not leaving her face at your dramatics.

Joan was nothing but a tease and a jealous woman, but she was loyal. And you knew she would wait however long it took for you to get out so she could take you wherever she pleased.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

general masterlist | pamela masterlist | taglist

[camillelespanayesbtch]

Haven't I Given Enough? (18+)

Governor!Joan Ferguson x reader

Content Warning: Graphic depictions of violence, blood, inappropriate relationship, sexual assault (?), drugging, emotional/psychological abuse, physical abuse, eventual smut.

Chapter One

You sink your teeth into the man’s neck, biting down as you pull back, tearing a chunk of his flesh and muscle from him. You let go of him, your arms falling to your side as you land on your feet, a bloody grin spreading across your face as you watch him stumble, bringing unsteady hands up to his neck to try and stem the bleeding but it was of little use- he wouldn’t survive. No real loss to anyone, although you’re certain his mother will be the first person to sob about the loss of her precious baby boy. “You should have listened to me when I told you to not fucking touch me. But men always think they’re exempt to a woman’s boundaries.” You give him a firm shove so he falls to the ground, his head hitting the hardwood floor with a sickening crack. You watch as blood starts to pool around him, bright red, fresh, the coppery smell soon hitting your nostrils, “What an excellent trial run for my recent dental procedure, don’t you think?”

You let out a laugh when you hear sirens, turning to look at the rest of the people in the bar, “You’re all fucking cowards. People like you are the reason people like him get away with it.” You gather up most of the blood in your mouth before spitting it onto the floor then bringing your hand up to wipe the excess from your lips. You hold your hands up when the police come in, not struggling against one of them as she brings your hands behind your back, slapping a pair of cuffs around your wrists tightly before he marches you out. You flash a bloody smile at the patrons as they watch you get walked out to the awaiting patrol car.

“Careful boys!” One of the patrons calls out, “She’s a freak!” The cops wave them off, telling them to head back inside for their colleagues to question. The door to the car open and you’re shoved inside, “You try biting us, and I’ll knock your fucking teeth out.”

You laugh, “Why would I? I hate pork,” you spit on the ground before the door slams shut. You sit back and close your eyes as the sirens flick on, a first-class trip to the station, lucky you.

You’re taken out of the holding cell after cuffs have been secured to your hands and feet so you couldn’t struggle as a bite mask is secure around your mouth. You couldn’t lie, the whole thing was rather exhilarating for you, being treated like such a high-risk person- how tantalizing. This was likely to try and reduce any temptation you may have to bite somebody, but you didn’t have that, not yet anyway. You smile at the officer, your mouth still visible through the clear cover, “This won’t do you much good, but I suppose if it’s of comfort to you then that’s all that matters, isn’t it?”  You chuckle and get into the back of the transportation vehicle, leaning against the interior of it once seated before turning to look at the other woman traveling with you, “Oh don’t look so frightened, if you’re not a rapist or a kiddy diddler, we’ll get on just fine.”

“I’m not scared of a freak like you. There’s far worse walking around the shit-hole we’re going to than you,” she replies, looking you up and down. “You won’t last a minute in there. Just because you got those fancy teeth doesn’t mean you’ll be able to do shit to stop anything.” She leans in to touch you, to prove that she could get to you, but when you move the smallest amount, the sound of the cuffs jangling startles her and she sits back, her face going pale. For someone who isn’t afraid of you, she sure is startled by the slightest of things. Maybe she took one too many pingers and it made her permanently jumpy.

“Looks like you’re the one who isn’t going to last very long in there. Snow white whose skin’s as fair as snow.” You chuckle and shift, getting comfortable in the seat as you watch the other woman. She wasn’t going to win. You were going to keep a mental note of every single person who tried you. It didn’t matter if you got them back immediately because sometimes the wait was far more thrilling, watching them flinch every time you were near, the way they were constantly looking over their shoulders to make sure you weren’t there, the way they’d rush to their next destination in fear of bumping into you. Did you actually ever do anything to them? Technically no. Psychological harm leaves no visible scars; their twitchiness could be brushed off as severe anxiety, perhaps even autism or ADHD. Nobody would believe them if they spoke about how you were intimidating them… Well, not before your face was plastered on the news for the brutal murder of that man. Oh you can hear them now, “I always knew there was something off about her. She has this dead look to her eyes. Only psychopaths have that.”  You chuckle and shake your head, leaning your head back against the wall and closing your eyes as you focus on the sound of the car on the road, and the absence of city noise. You were heading out to the whop whops, the middle of butt-fuck nowhere.

You don’t open your eyes until the vehicle comes to a stop, the woman you were riding with was banging on the door to be let out so she wouldn’t have to spend another minute with you. You can’t help but laugh when she falls out when the doors open, one of the awaiting correction officers pulls her up and leads her away. You move towards the opening, stepping down before stretching as best you could, turning your head to look up at the night sky and letting out a pleased hum, “Fresh air, so much nicer than in the city.”

When you look around, your eyes land on an imposing woman whose hair was slicked back in a tight bun, even in the dim lighting you could tell there wasn’t a single hair out of place, no fly-aways, no frizz, nothing. Her uniform was likely starched and freshly pressed, the buttons polished and the crowns on her shoulders perfectly symmetrical. You tilt your head slightly as you run your eyes up the buttons of her blazer to her face, your cheeks going pink when you notice the slight smirk on her face, and you notice- Oh, there it is, the same look in her eyes that you have, or perhaps the lack of something, the absence of life. The corners of your lips turn up in a predatory grin, and for a moment you felt devilish, your tongue coming out to run along the teeth you bared, “I feel like I’m the guest of honor having someone like you waiting here to greet me. Do you want an autograph? Or something more personal? I assure you, my bite doesn’t hurt that much.”

The imposing woman lets out an amused chuckle and you felt flattered that you’d elicited such a response, “You’re a high-risk inmate, I have to ensure that you don’t cause any chaos in my prison.” She runs her eyes over you without moving her head, most of the other women were too scared to do what she needed done, fearful of retribution from other inmates, but that little bite guard around your mouth, and the chains ensuring you couldn’t attack anyone told her that you were what she needed. She was going to have fun with you, and she was certain you would enjoy every minute of it too. “Process her, and take her to protection for the night. Miss Bennett and I will assess tomorrow whether or not she is suited for general.”

“Protection?” You ask with a pout, almost upset you wouldn’t get to meet any of the other inmates yet, “I’m wounded.” You laugh when, who you can only assume is Miss Bennett ushers you into the prison to be processed. You had no doubt in your mind that there was a reason for you coming here so late in the evening, the absence of  the other inmates trying to intimidate new-comers was noticeable and it frustrated you that you wouldn’t get to experience it, but word travels fast in prisons so by morning you were certain that they would know there was someone special in their midst. “Miss Bennett,” you draw out the ‘iss’ and add emphasis to the ‘B’ of her name, a childlike smile on your face and glee in your eyes, “Is this where you feel me up and play it off as protocol?” The smile drops from your face when you’re stopped in a room, looking at her, “Because if your hand goes anywhere near my cunt, I’ll rip the fucker off.”

Miss Bennett falters slightly, her eyes narrowing slightly and briefly, “Which is why you’ll be remaining cuffed, Miss Smythe. We wouldn’t want you having any additional charges added to your docket now, would we? You’ll be patted down seeing as you’re already in a corrections uniform. I trust my colleagues at the precinct did a sufficient job in ensuring you weren’t concealing anything.” She goes to put on a pair of latex gloves when the door opens again, “I was just about to pat her down, Governor Ferguson,” Miss Bennett informs the much taller woman.

“I will be conducting the search, Miss Bennett. I do, however, would like you to uncuff Miss Smythe.” The governor watches as Vera tentatively starts to remove the cuffs from you, the mousy woman nearly jumping out of her skin when you scare her before you stretch, your bones letting out satisfying cracks. “Leave us.”

“But, Governor, she’s a high-“

“I won’t repeat myself, Miss Bennett, I find it tedious.” She replies dryly, her eyes never leaving yours. She pulls something from the inside pocket of her blazer, and at first you couldn’t figure out what they were until you watch as she pulls the smooth black leather gloves onto her large hands, fitting her snuggly and reflecting the harsh sterile lighting in the room. She pushes down between each of her fingers to make sure they fit properly, like a ritual. You notice her nostrils flare somewhat when she’s satisfied. Finally her eyes return to you, the dark brown almost black and you feel the air being pulled from your lungs, “Remove your clothes.”

“Want me to be sensual with it for you, Governor? Or do you prefer a quick strip?” You ask, running your hands over your chest then down your body before laughing although the sound is cut short when she slaps you hard across the face, her own features expressionless. “Rough,” you rub your cheek before removing your clothes, taking the time to fold them and neatly put them off to the side which greatly pleases the older woman although she wouldn’t admit it.

You unclip your bra, adding it to the pile along with your underwear once you’ve removed them. You hold your arms out to the side, standing still while she examines you. Her touch was methodical, making sure she didn’t miss an inch of you least she gloss over something you were concealing, although she doubted you would try to when your mere existence was a weapon. Her hands lift up each breast, her finger running underneath them to feel for anything before she lets go. You couldn’t help but feel like your breathing was too loud, or was it that the room was far too silent for your liking? The silence, you found, had always been particularly suffocating, and now it only seemed to be far worse. You try taking a quieter breath, but even that seemed piercing in this room. Her hand moves lower, causing every synapse in your brain to fire, and before you realize what you were doing, your hand was wrapped tightly around her wrist forcing it back, “Don’t fucking touch me or I’ll rip your fucking face off.”

“Unhand me, or I’ll make sure you never see the light of day again,” she replies cooly, “I don’t imagine someone like you prefers social isolation, no natural light, no interaction even from the guards.” She moves her other hand lower, running over the slight bump of your stomach, her fingers touching the curls at the top of your pubis, “Do you have something to hide, Miss Smythe?”

You feel your blood run cold, letting go of her hand out of fear and stepping back until you’re against the wall, “No- No, I don’t. I don’t need to smuggle anything in. It’s just my teeth- Just my teeth, Go- Governor, I swear.” Your fear intrigued her, was this the reason why you were so violent? Because someone had taken something from you when you were unable to defend yourself? She lets out a hum, she would have to re-read your file. Joan knew that fear was an excellent motivator, perhaps all she had to do was break you down and rebuild you. The thought thrilled her, reinvigorated her. How delicious. “Please,” you plead, “I swear I don’t have anything. They- they checked me before transporting me here. I- I didn’t trade anything because the bitch was frightened of me.”

You were scared, now what you needed was kindness. “You poor thing,” she says surprisingly softly, moving carefully towards you, “So much change in such a short span of time, no wonder you’re so on edge.” She reaches out to gently stroke your cheek, her thumb brushing across the swell of it, the cool glove a wonderful contrast to your burning skin. Her features had softened considerably, a tenderness in her eyes that had you, against your better judgement, leaning into her touch. “When you’re ready, how about you put your clothes back on, and I will walk you to your cell for the night, hm? I’m sure I can arrange for a hot beverage of your liking to make you a little more comfortable.”

“I-“ God, you didn’t realize how tired you were until she mentioned going to your cell, your eyes suddenly heavy, “I just want some sleep,” you whisper, your eyes drifting shut as she continues to caress your cheek, “I haven’t- I haven’t slept in a few days. I just- I can’t let my guard down-“

“I know you do,” she moves her hand from your face before helping you get dressed, her touch never lingering long as to avoid putting you on edge again. She smooths your clothing out, the action helping to soothe you further, “There we go, all better, hm? Come on, let’s get you to your new accommodation.” Joan offers you a brief smile which brings color to your cheeks, her hand resting on the center of your back as she guides you out of the room, “Once you’re there, I’ll remove that nasty little bite guard from you. I can’t imagine it’s terribly comfortable for you. What a nasty thing.”

“It’s not- It’s not terrible,” you reply quietly, “Safety is more important than my comfort, don’t you think? It’s why they put it on me. But-“ You giggle a bit, “I suppose it would make it difficult for me to enjoy the drink you were offering.” The only sound in the building was coming from your feet on the ground, Joan’s shoes making a delicious clicking that, you couldn’t deny, was something you thoroughly enjoyed. You wonder if the other staff’s shoes would make the same sound, if you would be able to differentiate between theirs and Joan’s. Not that you were already infatuated with the woman, you weren’t going to forget what she tried doing to you so easily, just for now you were going to put it to the back of your mind. Were you easily convinced? Bought off with a hot chocolate? Maybe just for tonight. Just for tonight.

When you arrive at your destination, Joan gestures for you to enter the cell, “You get comfortable, and I’ll return shortly with that drink- Does hot chocolate suit? I can have it made with chocolate sauce just this once.” She gives you that smile again and you return it with a slight nod of your head. The older woman lets out a satisfied hum before shutting the door and leaving. You weren’t the youngest woman in the prison by any means, but there was something about you that was so different to everyone else, something better and she was going to do her best to ensure that it flourishes. She adds the chocolate sauce to the mug, mixing in something special before adding the hot milk, putting a few marshmallows on top for good measure. Joan gives it another stir, tapping the teaspoon against the mug before putting it in the sink then returning to you. She focuses on the sound of her feet on the linoleum, counting her breath with each step, a steady pace, a confident stride. She draws in a deep breath through her nose, exhaling slowly and putting that warm, friendly smile on her face that you were receptive to. She knocks on the door to your cell before unlocking it and opening it, “One hot chocolate with marshmallows.”

“With marshmallows too?” You smile and take the mug from her with thanks, “You should be careful, Governor, too much tlc and people might get jealous, or think you have a thing for me. Wouldn’t such a thing put a target on my back?” You sit back, bringing your knees up and resting the mug on top of your knee as you watch her. You pluck out a marshmallow with your tongue before chewing on it, letting out a happy hum. You usually didn’t like marshmallows, but sometimes you have a hankering for them, and when you do finally get them, you love it- the soft chew, or in this case, the stickiness that comes from them being partially melted.

“It’s a one off, Miss Smythe. Just to make your first night easier on you.” She had taken her gloves off by this point, clasping her hands together at the front of her waist as she watches you. She wasn’t fond of marshmallows, finding the texture unpleasant especially as they start to melt. “I don’t imagine a woman like you would have any difficulty standing up for yourself given you had no issue doing it in a bar full of rowdy patrons.”

“I don’t make a habit of ripping people’s throats out, Governor.” You start to sip the drink, you were happy it was sweet as it helped to cut through the richness of the chocolate sauce. Your eyes shut briefly as you think back to the times where you had wanted to rip out more people’s throats, but at that point in time, your degree was far more important to you than immediate retribution. In all your time of having violent fantasies, the one thing that always stopped you from acting on them was your future- your dream, your goal. Psychologists had told you that this was narcissistic, anti-social behavior, but you simply didn’t care. Your future was far more important than other people’s feelings on the matter, on how you should behave and treat people because at the end of the day, you were the only one putting in the work, the only one cheering yourself on, not them. Not anybody. Just you. But of course, some man had to go and ruin a good thing, didn’t he? They just can’t help themselves. You let out a tsk before opening your eyes again, “I’d advise keeping the male staff away from me, Governor.”

Now that was interesting, perhaps a solution to a thorn in her side had just landed perfectly within her grasp- Fletcher. What a disgusting, pathetic excuse for a human being. “Don’t tell me you’re showing me your cards before the game has truly started,” Joan drawls, an amused look on her face, “I can’t have you threatening harm to my staff.”

“It’s not a threat, Governor Ferguson, it’s informing you of the inevitable should any be near. Now, that isn’t to say that I won’t be cordial if they are, but I won’t tolerate any man talking to me like I’m some object, someone’s property.” You drink some more, your head starting to feel foggy but you put that down to fatigue, “Shit-“ You go to put the mug to the side but miss the table, Joan moving quickly to help you put it on, murmuring a “careful.” You blink a few times, your eyes struggling to focus and now you were starting to put the pieces together, “You-“ You force your head up to look at her, “You drugged me?” You slur, trying to take a swing at her but you fall to the side, onto your bed, “Fucking-“

Joan moves you so you were laying comfortably, pulling the thin sheets over your body, “Yes yes, go on about how I’m a bitch. The usual diatribe gets rather tedious when it isn’t your first time hearing it. However, you will thank me in the morning for being able to get a good sleep your first night here.” Her face was so close to yours that you could smell her breath, peppermint, the kind that made your mouth hurt when you would drink cold water after. “Don’t take this small act of generosity for granted. You’ll think of it when I offer you deals in future, and if you’re good,” she uses a finger to brush a strand of hair from your face, “You’ll reap the rewards.”

Her words filled your head like molasses, but you didn’t have the energy to reply to her, your eyes rolling back into your head as the effects of the sedative kick in. A dreamless sleep was a blessing, you just wouldn’t be appreciative of it for a while- certainly if you were denied your antipsychotics. You did know, however, that this Governor Ferguson was an enigma that you wanted to crack. You just didn’t know if you would break first.

[hannahbarberra162]

Not My Monkey, Chapter 2

on Ao3

Link to Chapter 1

Dining with the Strawhats is just as you would expect.

The song the Reader hums and sings with Sanji is this ad: https://youtu.be/FbQt8pYUY6Q?si=qtAVuaC_wUggmSQd

~~~

You tore your gaze from Blue Maui to glance at the rest of the crew. Luffy was sitting and pounding his fists on the table, chanting for meat. Robin was sitting next to the android and chatting, with her hand on his oversized forearm. The green swordsman was slouching with his arms crossed next to a tiny…deer. Who was talking to a giant skeleton with an afro. Alright. Nami sat next to you and Usopp, with Sanji coming from the kitchen with a serving platter. A strange group of people, but hey, you were dead so it’s not like you could talk. 

Sanji served you first, even before the Captain, which surprised you. “A vegetarian meal for our dearest Reader,” Sanji said. He looked anxious and he was hovering over you. He clearly wanted you to try the food in front of him and give him a review. He gave you glazed carrots, a spring style salad, and a bean and mushroom stew served over rice. 

He didn’t need to be nervous, it all looked incredible. You weren’t the main cook in your previous relationship, that had been mostly done by your partner. You were satisfied eating the same boring things over and over daily, which you’d done for the past few years. You picked up your fork and sampled the glazed carrots. It was unbelievable, the carrots practically melting on your tongue. Your taste buds were singing, you didn’t think carrots could be so rich. You sampled each item he’d prepared while he flitted back and forth, serving the rest of the crew, starting with the women. 

“Sanji, this is outstanding! I’ve never eaten anything like this before, you’re such a talented chef.” The carrots, the stew, the salad, everything tasted like it had been made by a French chef. Sanji beamed at you.

“I apologize, we are running low on supplies right now. At the next island, I’ll buy more vegetables. Most of the crew prefers a more meat heavy diet.” This was him running low on supplies? You couldn’t wait to see what he whipped up with a fully stocked kitchen.

“MEAT! MEAT! MEAT! MEAT!…” Luffy continued to chant over Sanji speaking to you.

“LUFFY, SHUT UP! I’m speaking to our lovely Reader,” Sanji sighed and went to fetch food for Luffy. Once the food was placed in front of him, Luffy was like a vacuum. You made a mental note to keep your hands and feet away from his mouth during meal time. He reminded you of that game, Kirby, where the little pink guy would literally inhale food. Or a dog with food aggression. Luffy was using both hands, double fisting the meat and eating as rapidly as humanly possible. 

“Would you like to introduce our new Reader, Luffy?” Robin asked politely.

“Oh yeah, this is Misty,” Luffy said while chewing, gesturing to you with one meat skewer. It took everything in you not to chide him for speaking with his mouth full. Who raised this kid? 

“Actually, her name is also Robin, but we are calling her Misty to avoid confusion,” Robin clarified. “She is our new Reader, but she does not know any information about our world, including who we are. It's a fresh start for all of us, so let’s go around and introduce ourselves. Appropriately. ” Robin gave a look to the android and skeleton, emphasizing the last word.

“She’s obviously lying,” interjected the green haired swordsman.

“No, I’m not, I really -” you started to argue with him but were interrupted by Sanji, who already had his foot on the swordsman's shoulder. 

“How dare you accuse our newest, sweetest Mellorine of lying?!” He was in the green guy’s face on your behalf, it looked like they might fight again. 

“Thank you, Sanji, but I understand his hesitation. But I promise, I really don’t know anything about this world. I haven’t even been to the sea before. I guess that’s one thing off my bucket list.” Well, you’d already kicked the bucket so you weren’t sure that it counted. 

“Whaddya mean? Never been to the sea?” asked Luffy, still chewing with his mouth open. You shrugged.

“I mean, I’ve been in lakes and rivers and pools and things like that. I always wanted to visit the ocean before I died. Where I lived, the ocean was really far away. It was always a little too expensive to go so I never did.” It made you sad to think you'd spend nearly your whole life working and for what? You didn't get to the Pacific, you didn't travel to Fiji, you didn't get to do a lot of things you'd wanted before you apparently died.

“We’ve heard about their world before, others have shared similar sentiments. To Zoro’s point, I do not believe she is lying. I’ve been monitoring her interactions and she does not seem to know any prior information.” Robin had been watching you? You hadn’t seen her following you around. But at least she was corroborating that you weren’t lying. So the green haired guy was Zoro. He still hadn’t introduced himself.

“I’m Franky, the shipwright. It’s SUUUUUPER nice to meet you.” He had exquisite blue hair shaped like a sailing ship. Maybe wild hair colors were natural in this world. You hoped so, you absolutely loved it.

“I like your hairstyle,” you complimented. 

“Thanks, sis,” Franky responded, making a finger gun and running his hand along the side of his hair. It was clearly a source of pride for him, as was only right for such a good style. Next, the skeleton put down his cup of tea.

“I’m Brook, the Soul King. I'm the musician on the crew and I’d love to see -” Nami bonked him over the head before he could finish his sentence. Hard.

“Don’t you dare! Robin just asked everyone to behave!” She was quick, that was for sure. And based on his reaction, fairly strong.

“-your panties,” he finished despite the bonk. 

“No. Don’t ask again,” you replied. Ew. But also he was a nine foot tall skeleton, so his sense of decorum might have been off. He had kind of a Hendrix / Slash vibe going on, complete with afro. You really should commend whoever made this world, the hair here was fantastic.

The little deer put down his milk and said in a serious tone, “I’m Chopper, the ship’s doctor.” It would have been more impressive if he didn’t have a milk mustache when he told you this. Talking skeleton, talking deer, rubber people, dead people, this ship was like a haunted house mixed with Disneyland. At least your life was ending with a bang. “I can help you if you have a headache from the timespace travel, it’s happened to a few of our readers.” 

After thanking Chopper, the last of the group, Blue Maui, introduced himself as well. “I am Jinbe, the ship’s helmsman. It is a pleasure to meet you,” he said, giving you a bow. Your heart and face warmed. You knew it didn’t mean anything - it was basically the same introduction everyone else had given you as well. But coming from someone as good looking as Jinbe, you couldn’t help it. What, were you 12 again?

“Pleased to meet you as well,” you replied smiling. Luffy interrupted your very brief conversation with his mouth full.

“So if you’re shipwrecked on an island, and there were only animals there,” Luffy began as you inwardly groaned, already knowing where this was going, “would you eat one to survive?”

You laughed. “You know what’s funny? I die and come to this world only to be asked the same questions as the last one. I would. But it’s not something I worry about.”

“So who’s your favorite?” Luffy continued, beaming at you.

You weren’t sure exactly what he was asking. “My favorite what?”

“Your favorite Strawhat!” Luffy smiled, but you saw Sanji and Usopp tense slightly.

“Luffy, she doesn’t know us. She doesn't have a favorite like our previous readers,” Robin interrupted her Captain. “I do not know if she is even aware we are the Strawhat Pirates.”

Luffy shoved more meat into his mouth before replying, “oh, right. Well, we’re the Strawhats. Cus of my hat. And your favorites probably gonna be me. Or Zoro. Or Nami. That’s who everyone says.” Luffy grinned widely. You didn’t reply but it seemed kind of rude to pick favorites in front of the other crew members. 

“You’re not always everyone’s favorite!” interjected Usopp, the conversation hitting a nerve.

“I am! It’s my show! I’m the antagonist-” Luffy yelled back.

“Protagonist,” corrected Robin, now sipping on some tea.

“This isn’t a show, it's just life!” continued Usopp. “You’re not the main character, that’s not how it works.” Luffy pouted but kept eating.

“Let’s get a round going for the new reader!” exclaimed Nami, trying to change the subject. 

“Brilliant idea Nami-swan! Dearest Misty, what would you prefer to drink? We have some sake, wine, and ale. You are our guest, you choose first. ” Sanji came to your side immediately, like a waiter on demand.

“Oh, I don’t drink,” you replied, “but it doesn’t bother me if anyone else does.” Zoro (who still hadn’t introduced himself) snorted.

“What kinda life is that? No meat, no booze. What’s the fuckin’ point?” he scoffed. 

You laughed lightly. “I would have said the same when I was 20. Just not my style anymore.” 

“So go get the booze shitcook, she said we can drink,” Zoro turned to Sanji, already ignoring you. You could see Sanji puffing up for a fight already.

“If she’s not drinking, you’re not drinking either, you stupid mossbrain! You don’t get shit anyway for insulting her!” They were already in each other’s faces. No one else had paused their side conversations to listen or watch. You wondered how many times a day this happened. Zoro and Sanji went back and forth, though you noticed Zoro didn’t stop eating his food and Sanji didn’t put down his tray. Everyone else had returned to their side conversations, ignoring the two men completely. The crew seemed cohesive, like everyone was on good terms with each other. Even Zoro and Sanji's fighting wasn't disturbing the overall vibe of the dinner. It was loud, animated, chaotic, and reminded you of Sunday night dinners with your own family. You enjoyed it for a few minutes, eating your meal and watching the dynamics of the crew. 

Everyone was wrapping up their meals and finishing their food. Usopp and Nami got up to leave, but left their dirty plates on the table. “ Excuse me, take your plates to the sink. No one’s coming behind to pick up after you,” you snapped at them. The room went silent as they stared at you. Oops. Having several bad roommates and coworkers over many years had left a few ingrained habits. “Uh, sorry, didn’t mean that. Just tell me where I can put my plate.”

“Leave it on the table, Twirlybrow cleans up,” replied Zoro.

“Why? Didn’t he cook the food?” you asked, confused. It was basically a sin where you grew up to leave your plate on the table, much less for the cook. Didn’t they rotate the cleaning?

“So? He likes it,” Zoro was being petulant, probably because of whatever he had going on with the cook. 

“Again, sorry, I didn't mean to overstep. It’s just that where I’m from, if you cook, you don’t clean. That’s always how it is. But, not my circus,” you said, putting your hands up in apology. You didn’t mean to offend, but the man had just cooked a multi course meal for eleven, plated and served it. Surely he didn’t have to clean up everything by himself too. It felt unfair, but it wasn’t your place to change the way things were.

“Whassat mean? Not my circus?” Luffy asked, finally full of food. His belly was stretched comically large, seemed like being made of rubber had its benefits.

“Oh, it’s a common saying. ‘Not my circus, not my monkeys.’ Meaning, it isn’t my place to say anything. You know like, not my problem, not my business.” Luffy smiled at you.

“I am your monkey! Monkey D. Luffy! Thanks Sanji!” With that, Luffy got up and took his plate, putting it into the sink. Usopp and Nami did the same, bringing their plates with them after watching their Captain. One by one, the crew thanked Sanji and brought their plates to the sink until it was just you and Sanji left. You still had a lot of food on your plate and you weren’t done eating yet. 

“Sorry, I’ve always been a slow eater, especially when I’m in a group or talking with other people. I can finish this later.” You felt bad stopping him from beginning on the overwhelming amount of dishes he was going to have to do. 

“No, no. Please. Enjoy at your leisure mon cherie. It’s nice to see someone who doesn’t just shove everything down their throat.” Sanji was a little off, he wasn’t saying anything cringy or chivalrous in your honor, just clearing off the table.

“Sorry that I butted in. I didn’t mean to disrupt the way things are here,” you offered. 

“No, I - I appreciate the sentiment.” Sanji said, back turned to you.

“I can help you clear the table if you wish, or wash some dishes. I can’t fight and don’t have super-powers like everyone else but I definitely know my way around dish soap,” you tried for a light hearted approach. “My mom really drilled into us that whoever cooks doesn’t clean. It’s hard for me to watch you and not help, especially after you just cooked such an incredible meal.” Sanji smiled at you, but it didn’t reach his eyes. 

“It is no burden on me, mon coeur. Please, eat. You are a guest on the ship, and a lady besides.” You dropped it as the chef began cleaning again, clearing the table of serving platters and pitchers, bringing them to be washed. You watched him as you ate, asking him about the preparation of the dishes you were eating. Once you got him talking about food, he dropped a lot of the chivalrous talk and spoke passionately about his love of food and drink. He was calm and patient, answering all your questions. It was obvious he excelled in his field, both from your empty plate and the amount of knowledge he had. Once you were done, you stacked your silverware, cup and plate and brought them to the sink. Sanji was elbow deep in dishes, and he would be for a while. 

“C’mon, let me help you. This is gonna take you hours to do alone.” 

“Ladies shouldn’t have to life a finger -” Sanji began.

You cut him off. “I don’t have to, I want to. It would…make me happy?” You ended the sentence on a higher register. You figured that if he was really a chivalrous guy, he would take your wants and desires into consideration. 

Sanji blinked up at you with his one visible eye, surprise registering before it was hidden. “It would make you happy? But you only have precious little time left, you want to spend it washing dishes?” What was this guy’s deal? Did no one ever help him before? You’d never fought so hard to wash dishes in your life.

“Well, I want to spend every day eating more of your scrumptious food. Which means that the utensils, pots, pans, bowls, everything has to be washed and cleaned, right? Kind of goes hand in hand.” 

“Alright, just this once mon mie. If it would make you happy.”

“It would,” you replied firmly. With that, he moved over, giving you some space at the sink. You’d had a dishwasher at your house for years, but growing up everything was washed by hand. You had countless hours of experience doing the dishes, and there weren’t any differences between your world and this one on how to scrub a dirty fork. You and the chef fell into an amicable silence, working side by side.

Something you hadn’t anticipated was that there was no background noise on the ship. Sure, there were the sounds of the waves, of some sea birds, of the crew on board. But for the past few years you’d gotten used to always having something on to provide white noise - the television or YouTube mostly. You were used to passively listening to music or long form videos while you cooked, cleaned, did laundry, any basic repetitive task. So standing quietly next to the cook made your mind wander to music. 

Obviously, you didn’t have access to your music from home. You tried to think of songs to sing in your head to keep yourself busy. But, as it turned out, you didn’t know the complete lyrics to all that many songs, even though you listened to music constantly. You could remember bits and pieces, or remember the tune, but there weren’t that many songs you could sing from beginning to end. It seemed like the only songs you could remember the lyrics to were either Top 40s hit ending in 2012, songs from your childhood, or songs from the Disney movies your nieces liked. You were deep in your mind, trying to conjure up some songs to sing to, when the cook asked you what you were humming.

“Beg your pardon?” you hadn’t realized you were humming out loud.

“Oh, I was just wondering what song you were humming. I haven’t heard that one before. It’s always entertaining to learn new songs from Readers.”

“Ah. Sorry. Um, it’s nothing, just a commercial jingle, I’m sorry. I’ll stop,” you turned a little red. 

“No, no. I liked it a lot. Does it have lyrics?”

And so you taught Sanji the words to 877-CASHNOW. By the time the two of you were finishing the dishes, you were calling and responding to one another with gusto. It was quite fun, and you were glad the young chef was humoring you. When the last dish was dry, you patted him on the arm. 

“Thanks for indulging me, Sanji. You have quite a pleasant singing voice. We’ll do it again soon.” He didn’t know you’d be helping him a lot on dish duty. You’d tell him later, you had a feeling he was going to fight you on it. But you wanted to be useful, and it had actually been a fun way to pass the time. 

“The pleasure is all mine,  mon cherie. I’m done much earlier than I usually am, for which I have you to thank.” Sanji lit up a cigarette. You’d seen him smoking earlier, but not during dinner service. But you didn’t know any chefs who didn’t smoke, so you weren’t going to give him grief over it.

“Thank you for dinner, Sanji.” You patted his head like a little boy and left the galley. Outside the crew was relaxing and enjoying the cool evening air together.

“What’s a structured settlement?” Luffy yelled across the deck. You laughed.

“Oh, sorry. I didn’t know you could hear us. I’ll keep it down next time.” You hoped your singing wasn’t too off key.

“Why do you do that?” Luffy asked, walking towards you while picking his nose.

“Sing? I’ve always liked it. I’m not good by any means, but it’s fun -”

“No, apologize all the time. You’re always saying sorry but you don’t do anything you need to apologize for.” 

You fidgeted, rubbing the tips of your fingers together. “Oh, sorry, bad habit, I guess. I’ll try to stop.” Luffy flicked a booger onto the deck and sat down cross legged without washing his hands. Gross.

“You don’t need to be sorry for being here. We want you here.” Luffy said, his hands resting on his feet. For being a gross teenager, he was perceptive. You did worry a little about being a burden on the crew, even if it was only for a short while. You had always been a people pleaser, even when you were a child. It had gotten better for a little while in adulthood, but recently you’d fallen back into old habits. You didn’t like relying on other people without providing anything in exchange. Maybe that’s why you fought Sanji so hard on washing the dishes. It wasn’t like it was a chore you loved doing, it was something you knew you could do. You’d think about what Luffy said more.

“Thank you, Luffy. That’s kind of you to say.” You almost patted his head too, but you remembered the boogers. Maybe after he bathed. You noticed Nami had come up, waiting for you to finish your conversation with Luffy.

“Come on, I’ll give you a tour of the ship,” she said. “We can pop by the living quarters too, Robin’s set something up for you.” You agreed, following the orange haired woman. 

“So, the ship’s called the ‘Going Sunny,’ it’s like the ‘Going Merry’ and ‘1,000 Sunny’ mixed together. I don’t know how Franky did it, but he took the Merry and combined it with the Sunny and this is what we ended up with. A Reader once gave us a good drawing of the 1,000 Sunny and Franky used the best parts of both ships." You didn’t know what she was talking about but you nodded anyway. She took you around the ship, starting with the top deck and working your way down to the bottom. It was an incredible ship - there was a tangerine grove, the head of a ram on the keel, a huge fish tank, a spa level bathing area, even a library. You had never seen anything like it. Finishing with the crew quarters, Nami showed you where you would be sleeping. It was a small cot between her bed and Robin’s. Nothing fancy, but you hoped you wouldn’t need to use it too much. You only had three weeks left to live, and you wanted to make the most of it. 

[infiniteimaginings]

「𝘑𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘦」

Started: March 1st, 2024 Updated: March 1st, 2024

Characters I write for in the show 'Jessie'

Brooks Wentworth Emma Ross Jessie Prescott Luke Ross Ravi Ross Tony Chiccolini Zuri Ross

[musicallover0428]

I HAVE WRITTEN AGAIN!!!!!!

This is a little darker than any of my other fics with some rape/non-con elements but I tried to keep it minimal. (Don't like, Don't read)

So this is a Joan/Reader fic based on Prisoners around the 500th episode mark. If you haven't watched the show I suggest you do. It's really good and the complete series is on YouTube. And my lust for Joan Ferguson has only gotten worse after watching it.

Anyways the Summary: Your worst nightmare has come true when a figure from your past has come back only to hurt you. You are sent to prison, the very prison your girlfriend works at. You have to lie and keep secrets to survive. But will your relationship survive too? Or are the pains of the past too strong?

[morganxwritess]

‧₊˚❀༉‧ 𝐝𝐞𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐧𝐞'𝐬 𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟.

benedict bridgerton x fem!reader

summary: your father has promised you to a much older man, but benedict refuses to let you go without a fight. He is determined to win your heart, even if it means making a fool of himself by boldly throwing rocks at your window warnings: smut ahead, 18+ mdni, slight degradation (like barely any it could be so much worse), praise, dirty talk, fingering, p in v sex, fluffy smut note: this is my first post!!! i’m so very excited to share this with all of you. season 3 benedict had me weak in the knees, and when this idea came to me after he told john to go throw rocks at francesca's window, I knew I had to write it. lots of love!! let me know what you think!!! word count: 7.4k (not sure how that happened lmao)

As the second eldest Bridgerton child and next in line for the title of Viscount, any eligible woman with intelligence sought to secure Benedict Bridgerton as their match. Unfortunately for them, Mr. Bridgerton was not looking for a wife this season, nor the last, nor any season before that. It appeared that Benedict had no desire to marry, and it was doubtful that would ever change.

Yet, that did not stop the mamas of the ton from setting their daughters upon him as if they were nothing more than dogs and he was their meal. The thought was unsettling, making you nauseous, but you tried to ignore their classless attempts to negotiate a marriage with the Bridgerton boy. At this point, however, what the fathers were offering Benedict to take their daughters' hands in marriage was no longer negotiation. It was simply bribery. Lord Ellington had offered Benedict land in the country. Lord Wentworth did the same, but he included the staff to his land as if they were slaves he could barter and sell. Lord Haverford extended a tempting proposal that Benedict almost entertained, offering a one-of-a-kind masterpiece painted by Thomas Gainsborough. While Benedict considered it for a mere moment, he ultimately declined, asserting that no work of art, however exquisite, is worth the cost of compromising one's spirit for a union with which one cannot bear.

Everyone desired to be Benedict Bridgerton’s wife. Everyone thought they knew him and could force their way into his heart and capture his attention. But you knew him intimately, which is how you knew this would never occur. You knew precisely how he took his tea. You knew his favorite artist, and while he admired Thomas Gainsborough’s work, it was not he who held the place of honor. You knew his favorite sibling, even when he insisted he had none. You knew what ignited his passions and recognized the look on his face when he felt his creativity had been compromised. You knew everything about Benedict Bridgerton, which is why you knew he would never marry without love. And Benedict has never been one to fall in love with anything other than art.

While you admired the determination and resilience of the young debutantes vying for his attention, you also resented it, for their pursuit often kept him occupied during balls, leaving you at the mercy of your mother's desire to showcase you to any willing suitor. The social scene was unbearable to you. Men gawked and whispered about young women as though they were mere commodities. It was infuriating, but thankfully, you found solace in knowing you were not alone in this sentiment. Your closest friend Eloise shared and understood your frustrations more deeply than anyone else, and when Benedict was occupied, she did a decent enough job of sheltering you from your mama.

“Has your mother lost her head?” Eloise nearly shouted, earning glares from nearby onlookers as you stared at the floor, trying to keep the blush creeping up your cheeks at bay.

“I suppose it’s not too bad,” you mumbled, not believing your statement whatsoever.

“Not too bad?” Eloise asked as if speaking to a stranger and not you, her best friend whom she’d known since childhood. “You cannot marry him.”

“He hasn’t proposed yet. I believe it is just an option.”

“An option you're entertaining, tell me not.”

“Lord Kensington is not a cruel man, Eloise. He is very wealthy and will allow me to spend my days reading alone while he tends to his business. It seems like an appropriate match.”

Eloise scoffed and crossed her gloved hands over her chest. “Lord Kensington is nearly three and seventy. You are a child in comparison. This is the furthest thing from an appropriate match.”

“This is my third year on the marriage-mart. I’d rather be a widow than a spinster who’s a burden to her family.”

“Is that what you think of me? A burden?”

Your eyes widened. “Eloise, no I—”

“I’m going to seek some refreshments. Perhaps when I return you’ll no longer be behaving in such an unbearable manner.”

With that, Eloise stormed away, her dress flashing through the crowd like a river of blue. You took a deep breath, attempting to ground yourself and regain composure. It was not as if you were excited to potentially marry Lord Kensington. He was simply an option. One that disgusted you and made your skin crawl, but an option nonetheless. You were only confiding in a friend, but leave it to Eloise to blow things out of proportion and not give you the opportunity to explain.

“Is that a frown I see?” The blue-eyed devil whose company you were praying for teased as he stood to your right.

“Eloise is upset with me.”

Benedict smirked as if what you said was an insufficient reason to be emotional. “Eloise will be Eloise. What have you done that has destroyed her life, ruined her future, and perhaps changed the course of history itself?”

You couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled in your throat. “Your sister is not that dramatic.”

“We are speaking of the same sister, correct?”

You rolled your eyes, and he moved to stand in front of you, capturing your complete attention. He looked exceptionally handsome tonight, his deep navy tailcoat contrasting elegantly with the crisp white linen shirt beneath. The maroon cravat, tied with exquisite precision, drew the gaze of any unfortunate soul who dared to look his way. His hair, styled almost artistically, gave him the appearance of a portrait subject moments before the painter's brush touched the canvas.

Other than the mass of invalids gathered at these balls, what you despised most was how impossibly handsome the man standing before you appeared when you finally got the chance to speak with him. He was, of course, handsome every day, but there was something incomparable about his appearance when meticulously dressed for the social event of the season.

“You truly are upset,” Benedict stated as he stared into your eyes, realizing the extent of your worry. “Tell me, what is it that you and my sister were arguing about?”

“I am to be engaged.”

Benedict’s eyes widened, and his large, goofy smile was replaced by a stern, thin-lined frown. You paused, staring at his hardening features. Why was he upset? He had not even heard the worst part yet.

Clearing his throat, Benedict tried to force a smile. “Congratulations. Who is the lucky husband-to-be?”

“Lord Kensington.”

His eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “You must be mistaken. Are you speaking of Lord Kilmartin? I believe he fancies my sister Francesca, but I could be mistaken.”

You shook your head. “No, I am not mistaken. I am to be engaged to Lord Kensington. He and my father are speaking tonight, but he has already declared his intentions.”

Benedict's face contorted with many emotions, but only one seemed clear to you as you studied his burning blue eyes. Anger. Was he angry with you for finding a husband? While yes, Lord Kensington was many years older than you, this sort of thing happened all the time. Just last week, Miss Radcliffe, who is your age, married Lord Pennington, who is nearly eight and sixty.

"Lord Kensington is older than the combined ages of your parents," he argued. "By the time you marry him and bear him an heir, he will likely be dead. In fact, he may not even live to see the child born."

“Benedict—”

“This is unacceptable,” he exclaimed, looking around the room like a madman. “Where is your father? I will speak with him.”

“And do what, Benedict? This is my third year on the marriage-mart. The longer I wait to marry, the more undesirable I become.”

“You can wait one more season. There must be someone else—”

"There is no one else, Benedict!" you exclaimed, your voice echoing through the room and drawing the attention of onlookers. In this moment, it felt as though you were the only souls in existence. Nothing else mattered—not the curious gazes nor the threat to your reputation. With unwavering resolve, you met his gaze, channeling every ounce of strength within you. “And frankly, I am tired of waiting. This is a suitable match, and the union will be short enough.”

“I will find you someone else to marry,” he whispered under his breath to avoid the attention of the rest of the ton.

Firmly, you shook your head, not wanting to argue with him. “Mr. Bridgerton, I apologize for my outburst. I must be feeling unwell. I believe I will turn in early.”

You began to walk away to find your mother and father and convince them to take you home when he grabbed your gloved arm, forcing you to face him once more.

“Y/N, please—”

“There is nothing left to be done, Mr. Bridgerton. Now please remove your hands from me.”

Reluctantly, Benedict released you. “Then I suppose the next time I see you will be at your engagement celebration.”

Holding back tears, you nodded. “As always, I’m looking forward to it, Mr. Bridgerton.”

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That evening, upon returning to your residence in Mayfair, your lady's maid assisted you in preparing for bed before retiring for the night herself. Your father was absent, likely in discussion with Lord Kensington, finalizing the arrangements for your impending engagement, while your mother, deep in slumber, dreamt of the wedding preparations ahead. Meanwhile, you lay wide awake beneath the canopy of your chamber, clad in your nightgown, yearning to be anyone but yourself.

In that moment, the faintest tap at your window caught your attention. Initially, you dismissed it as a figment of your imagination��surely, no one would seek to contact you at such a late hour, especially considering your residence on the second floor. Yet, the sound persisted, growing more insistent with each repetition.

With cautious steps, you rose and approached the window, uncertainty weighing heavily upon you. Slowly, you drew aside the voluminous pink curtains that had obscured both moonlight and the view of the street below. There, you observed a small pebble making contact with the glass, producing a gentle, persistent knocking sound.

Who on earth was throwing rocks at your window? Especially at this hour?

Delicately, you released the latch securing the window and eased it open, peering down to the street below to discern the identity of the visitor. From your vantage point, you observed a figure below, stooping to retrieve more stones, his movements deliberate yet furtive. As he straightened, your gaze locked onto his face, and in that instant, you recognized the familiar features of the culprit.

“Benedict?” you whispered down at the man.

Upon hearing your voice, Benedict dropped the rocks in his hand, and a relieved sigh escaped him.

“Y/N, I must speak with you. I attempted to enter the house, but the door is locked.”

“Because it is exceptionally late. Benedict, you cannot be here. This is rather improper.”

“I will not leave until I get a word with you, and I will only get louder as you make me wait.”

You could not let him in. You were dressed in your nightgown. Your hair was not done nor your makeup. Not to mention, if anyone were to see him come inside, your family would be cast out of society. While you all were wealthy, respected, and had titles, you were no Bridgerton. You could not get away with such a feat.

“Why are you here, Ben?” you asked, your voice full of defeat.

You observed a softening of his features from hearing the nickname you had given him all those years ago. Despite wearing the same attire from the ball, his hair was now disheveled, evidence of repeated runs of his hand through it—a nervous habit of his. He gestured with open arms, as if inviting you to leap into them—an implausible notion, surely.

“I am here to be bold and declare myself,” he declared, ever so confidently.

“You are not being bold,” you whispered, looking up and down the street for any passersby. “You are making a fool out of yourself and my family.”

“I am calling upon you—” he began to shout before you quickly shushed him and caved to his demands.

“Fine! Fine! I will be down in a moment,” you hissed, shutting the window in your wake.

You hastily raked your fingers through your tousled hair, attempting in vain to tame the unruly strands that betrayed a night of restless tossing and turning in bed. Eventually conceding defeat, you reached for your baby blue robe hanging on the door and descended the stairs with purposeful strides. Benedict Bridgerton's unexpected appearance bewildered you—had he lost his senses? His unannounced visit threatened to disrupt everything.

You grasped the gilded handle of your front door, turning it with utmost care to avoid arousing anyone's attention to Benedict's presence. The door swung open slowly, revealing Benedict poised outside, patiently awaiting your invitation inside that would not be coming.

“What are you doing here, Benedict? If anyone were to see you—”

“I have found you another option,” he stated breathlessly.

You frowned, confused by his words. “What are you talking about?”

“You said you must marry Lord Kensington because there is no other option. I have found you another one.”

You could not help but roll your eyes at his audacious statement. “And who might that be? My father has looked for other men for me to marry, and his search has been fruitless. I doubt yours would be much different.”

“You will marry me.”

A ringing sensation echoed in your ears, accompanied by a wave of nausea that threatened to overwhelm you. Surely, he could not mean what he was saying. Perhaps confusion had clouded his judgment. As you gathered your thoughts, uncertainty gripped you tightly.

“Are you drunk?” you asked hoarsely. Your eyes widened momentarily, realizing the potential rudeness of your question. “I apologize. I meant—No, I meant what I said. Are you drunk?”

The same goofy smile you had come to love appeared on Benedict’s face. “Believe it or not, I have never been more sober.”

You shook your head, alarmed by this whole situation. “Well then, are you mad? That’s the only excuse for you to come here at this hour asking for my hand in marriage.”

“You are one of my dearest friends. I will not let you marry a man on his deathbed,” he stated firmly, reaching for your hands and holding them in his.

Still unconvinced, you scoffed, “What about Eloise? Surely your sister would not be fond of you marrying one of her closest friends.”

“It was actually her idea,” he stated, creating only more confusion for you. “We were on the swings discussing how unfond we were of your fiancé when she said that she wished I were marrying you instead.”

Realizing the gravity of this conversation, you ripped your hands from his. “You do not even wish to be married, and I will not let you marry me out of pity.”

As you reached for the door to slam it in his face, he asserted himself, pushing it open and pressing you gently until your back met the doorframe. Your chest rose and fell with heightened emotion as you gazed up at him, but before you could react, he captured your lips with his own. A rush of warmth enveloped your entire being, causing you to pause, unsure of your next move. The sensation was entirely new to you; while you had read about such moments in the pages of Jane Austen’s novels, experiencing them firsthand was another matter altogether. Benedict's kiss felt unlike anything you had ever known—a gesture filled with a fervor that seemed to imply he needed your very breath to survive.

As you drew back from him, a swell of emotion threatened to bring tears to your eyes. Leaving his embrace was painful; you longed to linger, yet the reality of the situation weighed heavily upon you. With the door ajar, vulnerable to prying eyes, the impropriety of the moment loomed large in your mind. It felt unjust and heart-wrenching—to share such a tender kiss with the man you loved, only to face an impending marriage to another that you could not stand.

“This is cruel, Benedict,” you whispered, your voice trembling and your lips quivering. “I did not take you to be a cruel man.”

“I am not marrying you out of pity,” he declared firmly, his gaze intense as he wiped away the tears threatening to spill from your eyes. “Or obligation,” he added, his touch gentle yet resolute. “Or convenience.”

“Then why would you do this?” you asked, fighting to maintain composure before him. “Why come here, demanding to marry me when you know I have loved you for years?”

He hesitated briefly, taken aback by your words, before gently cupping your cheeks with both hands. “Because I will not let the woman I love marry a man who is not me.”

You gasped involuntarily as his words replayed in your mind. Benedict's face broke into a triumphant smile, akin to winning a hard-fought duel. The revelation felt almost surreal. Benedict Bridgerton loves you? It seemed impossible to comprehend. You'd known him since childhood, and despite the few years' difference in age, you would have expected him to declare his feelings long before the eve of your arranged engagement.

“Do not lie to me, Benedict, or so help me God—”

“I have never lied to you, my love,” he interjected, pressing a tender kiss to your right temple as he continued to cradle your face. “And I never will.”

Overwhelmed by your emotions, you pulled away, your voice rising in frustration. “Why did you not say something sooner?” you demanded, no longer caring about your mother asleep upstairs or the servants resting elsewhere in the house. “Why tell me now?”

“Because, I—” he began, his frustration evident as he ran a hand through his hair. “I thought I had more time. I convinced myself that if you chose to marry another man, someone of substance, I would step aside. But this…I cannot let you marry Lord Kensington. It would be a fate worse than I could endure.”

“You wanted more time?” you asked, exasperated. “More time for what? To visit brothels? To sleep with whores? To continue being a rake? You wanted more time to be selfish before you had to force yourself to settle down?”

He scoffed. “Do you even know the meaning of the words you say? Or are they just judgmental statements you’ve heard your father make about me to your mother?”

“I love you, Benedict. I always have, but I will not be second to the life you want for yourself. I will not become a regret of yours when you are my entire world. It would break me, so I would rather become the wife of a man who disgusts me than marry you and have you disdain me.”

Forcefully, he seized your bicep, pulling you close until your chest pressed firmly against his with every breath. Benedict had always been so kind, so gentle, so transparent, but as you gazed into his eyes now, you saw a different man entirely—a beast poised to devour its prey.

“Do not presume to know my desires or what I will regret,” he declared, his voice a low growl as he towered over you. “You may love me, but you do not know me better than I know myself. What I know is that I want you, in every sense of the word. I want you to be my wife, my partner, the woman with whom I share my life. I want to wake up each morning with you in my arms. I want to possess you, and I want the world to know that you belong to me.”

Your eyes blinked heavily as you stared up at him, tears beginning to fill them. "I want nothing more, Benedict, but my father has most certainly already promised me to Lord Kensington. You’re too late."

Benedict shook his head, refusing to accept your words. "You will come with me now to Bridgerton House—"

"I cannot leave the house at this hour in this attire with you!" you gasped, horrified by the idea. "I’ll become the biggest scandal in Lady Whistledown’s next issue."

"You will not interrupt me," he stated firmly. "Do you not trust me?"

You sighed, "I trust you. I’m just questioning your judgment. Have you truly thought this through?"

"Listen to me, Y/N. You are coming with me to Bridgerton House now. We will not keep this quiet. The more people who see us, the better. Tomorrow morning, I will go to your father and declare my intent to marry you. Perhaps we may even obtain a special license to wed quickly, avoiding further scrutiny."

"That will not change the fact that my father has promised me to Lord Kensington."

"What changes is that if Lord Kensington discovers you stayed the night unchaperoned with me, he will not want to marry you."

Pausing, you realized the sense in his logic, though you were still confused. "But why not?"

“Because he will think I have bedded you, and he will not marry a woman whose purity he believes is not intact,” Benedict explained.

“Oh... So, you’re not planning to bed me? We're tricking him?” you asked, sounding more disappointed than you intended.

A broad smile spread across Benedict's face, lighting up the foyer where you stood. “Do you want me to bed you, my love?”

Heat rushed to your cheeks, and you tried to look down, but he gently lifted your chin, compelling you to meet his gaze.

“I just assumed that you would eventually. It is my marital duty, after all,” you mumbled.

Benedict shook his head. “In our marriage, the only duty will be to love each other with every ounce of our being until our dying breath. I will not make love to you unless you ask me to.”

“But when my mother explained the marital duty, she said—”

“Your mother is wrong,” he interrupted firmly, his grip on your chin steady. “You will be my wife, and as your husband, I promise that I will never force you into intimacy. You will come to me willingly, as I will to you, or not at all. I will not coerce you.”

With a gentle embrace, you wrapped your arms around his neck and rose onto your tiptoes to meet his gaze. “I’m not wearing shoes, my handsome fiancé. How will you manage to get me to your bed?”

He tapped his chin playfully, a mischievous smile lighting up his face. “I’ve got it!” he exclaimed teasingly, eliciting a laugh from you. Without warning, he swept you into his arms bridal-style, prompting a squeal of delight as he started towards his home.

“Benedict, we must close the door,” you laughed.

He shrugged nonchalantly, his stride toward his house unwavering. “Your father can handle it when he returns from his meeting with your now ex-fiancé.”

“He was never my fiancé. He was almost my fiancé.”

“And who do we have to thank for that?”

“How would you like me to thank you, Ben?”

"I have many ideas in mind, my love, but I'm curious to see what you're thinking," he smirked devilishly.

Now it was your turn to foolishly tap your finger against your chin as he had done before. "I've got it!" you exclaimed, teasing him, which prompted him to tickle your underarm with the hand that rested on your back. Your laughter filled the air, and Benedict couldn't help but note that he had never heard a more liberating sound.

"You're not getting your reward anymore!" You gasped, squirming playfully in his arms.

“Oh no!” He pouted, placing his head in the crook of your neck, and you couldn’t help but feel the movement of his soft smirking lips, “How may I get it back? Tell me, my love. I promise to be on my best behavior.”

“I believe I rather prefer you on your worst behavior, Mr. Bridgerton.” You teased.

Benedict’s head snapped up to meet your gaze, his pupils dilated with lust and desire, “Is that so?”

“You are ever so enticing when you wear that dopey mischievous smirk that you are sporting this instant.”

“And you are ever so desirable when you look at me like you wish for me to fuck you, my dear.”

A surprised gasp escaped you, but before you could finish it, Benedict captured your mouth in another kiss. The kiss started out soft and lazy as his steps began to falter, it is then when he maneuvered you so your front is facing him and he is carrying you by your thighs. Unintentionally, you began to grind your body against his length with each step he took as you sat beautifully atop of his clothed member. His grip tightened over your nightgown, and your hands pulled at his hair as he continued to devour you.

“Ben.” You moaned, pulling him closer if there were even such a possibility.

“What is it, beautiful?”

“I need more. I need you.”

Benedict smirked, his lips never leaving your neck, “I see. I never dreamed of you being this desperate for me especially in such a public place. If I were not as desperate as you, I would see it as pathetic.”

“Be nice.” You pouted, throwing your head back as he ravished you.

“Of course, my dearest. I know you want nothing more than to behave as an absolute angel, and I must act in a manner that is befitting to accompany you. God forbid, I scare my good girl off before I have the opportunity to ruin her.”

“Yes!” You moaned, almost bouncing in his arms having no earthly idea why the feeling of him against you was as ethereal as it is. “Ruin me, Ben. I’m all yours.”

If it were up to Benedict, he’d lie you against the dirty ground beneath him and fuck you until you were both unmoving and drenched in sweat. And while he supposed he could make that decision for the two of you and lie you down right now, he did not want your first time to be where anyone could see. When he took you intimately for the first time, he wanted to cherish you, and he wanted to be the only one who knew the look that appeared on your face when you discovered just how beautiful making love could be. When you realized that the action should never be a duty, but a gift.

“My love, if you do not behave, I will not be able to compose myself.” He stated, as he grinded his teeth together, attempting to hide just how far gone he was.

Before you even had the opportunity to whine or protest, Benedict threw you over his shoulder like a rag doll. You were instantly met with disappointment at the loss of contact, and you were about to argue with him when his hand playfully smacked your bottom.

“Benedict!” You shouted as his walking began to speed up, and you could sense from your surroundings that you were almost to Bridgerton House.

“I apologize, dearest, but I cannot wait a second longer to claim you, and this is the fastest way to get us to our destination.”

“By treating me as a child?” You argued. He slapped your bottom again, and once again, you shouted after him, “Benedict Bridgerton.”

“If you are going to behave like an ill-disciplined child, I will treat you as such. Now, keep your voice down. This isn’t a secret, but we do not need the entire ton to know I have stolen you away.”

Your ribs bounced against his shoulder as he took you up the steps into Bridgerton House, and you couldn’t help but smirk as you whispered, “You only want me to be quiet, so I do not wake your mother. You could not care less about the rest of the ton.”

Not answering you like the stubborn mule he was, he slapped your ass once more, and not willing to admit that you enjoyed the sting of his affection, you slapped his back in return.

You felt his stifled laugh before you heard it as he swiftly maneuvered you into one of the few rooms of Bridgerton House that you have never seen: his bedroom. You weren’t given the chance to look at your surroundings and see the room where the man you would be marrying laid his head each night. As soon as you saw the door swing closed behind him, your vision shifted to his ceiling. With a swift motion, he threw you onto his mattress, your back bouncing against the soft surface.

Before you could tease him for his impatience, he was already on top of you, his lips on your neck with a hunger akin to Dracula's. How had you resisted his charms for so long? Why had you denied yourself the fulfillment of tasting his lips? What had you done to deserve the intense pleasure he now bestowed upon you? Amidst all these unanswered questions, one thing became clear: there was no going back to a life where Benedict didn't kiss you so sweetly and speak to you with such desire.

He nibbled at the smallest bit of skin below your ear, eliciting a moan from you that he now has deemed the sound of the Lord calling him home. Surely, there was nothing more heavenly than the sound your body made when it called for him.

“Ben, please—” You begged.

He moved from your neck to your swollen lips, pecking them ever so gently, “You are alright, my love.” He said in between kisses, “Do you wish for me to continue?” 

Nodding your head rapidly, Benedict couldn’t help but smile down at the sight, “Are you certain, dearest? There will be no turning back.”

You placed one hand on his shoulder and the other behind his head as you pulled him down to meet you, “Don’t ever stop.”

With your consent, Benedict removed your baby blue robe and began to bring the bottom of the skirt of your simple white nightgown up to rest at your hips, leaving your bottom half exposed. You moved to close your legs, feeling slightly insecure from the display, but Benedict stopped you placing his hands on your thighs.

“Do not hide from me, my love.” He stated, tenderly as he gently squeezed your thigh.

Your eyes widened and with them your legs, accepting his strong manly presence. 

“Have you touched yourself here?” He asked, ghosting his hand between your legs, almost making contact, but immediately pulling back before you could feel him.

You shook your head no, “Why would I?”

Mumbling against your hip bone, he replied,“Because it brings you pleasure.” 

“Just as you are doing now?” You gasped as his fingers finally made contact.

He chuckled almost sinisterly as he planted delicate kisses across your hips and lower stomach while rocking his fingers back and forth across the button between your legs, “Exactly as I’m doing now.” He murmured, “In fact, when you try it, I want you to think of this moment. Do you understand?”

You nodded your head desperately, and he lowered himself further into the valley that was your thighs, “Are you certain you understand?” He asked, dastardly kissing your cunt for the first time while his fingers continued their calculated movements. 

Throwing your head back in desperation, you shouted, “Yes! Yes! I will think of you Benedict!”

“And only me?” He asked with the fakest pout, jutting his lip out like a fool. You were too busy enjoying his fingers and tongue to entertain his teasing.

“Of course you! Only you! God, Benedict. Do not stop!”

“Does it feel good, my darling?” He asked rhetorically, inserting one finger, to carefully begin stretching you out for his cock

A peculiar warmth enveloped your abdomen, radiating to that intimate place between your legs. This sensation first stirred upon seeing him for the first time tonight and has only grown the longer you lie here in his bed. Your thighs felt sticky and moist, your breasts tingled and rose with each heavy breath, and your mind became blissfully empty. It was an unusual feeling, yet undeniably welcome.

The stretch of the single digit inside you stung at first, but that pain quickly morphed into pleasure as he moved it in and out, sliding it against your walls, eliciting a feeling you had never felt before.

Benedict groaned merely at the sight of you beginning to come undone around his finger. He inserted a second and you reached for his hand, gasping, not necessarily in protest just in desperate need for a pause.

With one hand still inside you, he planted the other beside your head and slowly climbed up your body, kissing every inch until he reached your jaw. He gently sucked on the edge of your neck while you reached for his hair, causing him to smile against your skin. A slight tug unintentionally escaped you from the overwhelming sensation of him between your legs, eliciting a growl from him into your throat, pushing you further over the edge.

He suddenly pulled away from you and tugged at the cravat around his neck, tossing it to the floor. You moaned at the loss of his fingers, but it was then when you realized he was still fully clothed and you were almost completely naked. He continued pulling at his clothing, throwing his shirt and tailcoat to the floor before reaching for his belt. Realizing where this was heading, you pulled the remainder of your nightgown over your head, leaving your entire body on display for him before you placed it gently in your lap unsure of what to do next.

Sensing your uncertainty, he took your nightgown from you and tossed it to the floor, taking charge. He climbed on top of your body while he pushed his pants down his legs and planted himself on your chest. His lips enveloped your right nipple while his large hand twisted and grabbed at your left breast. Benedict had seen the tops of them over the years in the countless corsets you had worn, but seeing them bare as they are now, he felt like the luckiest man in London.

As he kissed your chest, it only created a desperate need to be inside you. He was dying to watch your breasts bounce as he pumped in and out of you, fucking you like he had always dreamed of. Your body was a dream in its entirety. How Benedict got so lucky to claim it was beyond him, but he knew better than to question God’s gifts.

“You are breathtaking, my love.” He moaned, rutting against you as he switched directions and kissed up your neck, “You are a goddess, and I am only a lucky mortal who gets to bear witness to your beauty.”

“Benedict—” You begged, cutting yourself off as you reached for him, “I miss your fingers. Put them back inside me.”

You were addicting and those words only ensured your future husband that he would never let you leave him. He would never be able to survive another day without seeing the glow that your face currently held. He buried his head into the side of your neck and reached for his cock knowing you were ready from the wetness that soaked in between your legs.

“I am going to give you something better than my fingers.” He stated, hungrily. Your brain is too foggy to comprehend what he means by this statement. What could be better than his fingers? “I am going to give you my cock, and it is going to hurt for a moment at first, but I promise you it will feel better after a while.”

“It will hurt?” You asked, sounding frightened. 

“It is nothing you can not handle, my dear.” He smiled, kissing your temple not wanting your nervousness to interfere with your pleasure, “I love you, and I guarantee this will bring you pleasure. It just takes a moment to get used to the size, but you are wet enough that it should not hurt exceptionally bad.”

You grabbed at his biceps anxiously, stopping him for a moment, “My mother said that the marital duty—“ You interrupted yourself as his eyebrows narrowed at you, and you knew the reason for his confusion was that with him, there would be no marital duty. You had a feeling that your marriage would be entirely different from your parents because unlike your parents you and Benedict were a match made of love, “She said that making love was painful and unpleasant for the first time. One of the worst pains imaginable.” A tear pricked at the corner of your eyes, “I am frightened.”

“Oh, my love,” He cooed, tucking a piece of your hair behind your ear, “You may not need to be frightened with me. Yes, sex can hurt if you are not properly prepared, but I have ensured that you are ready for this experience. The more you think about it, the worse you will build it up in your head. Just relax, dearest. The more you relax the better it will be.”

You nodded your head, but you did not remove your hands from Benedict’s large biceps, you closed your eyes almost as if you were bracing yourself for him. Wanting to bring you as much ease as possible, Benedict leaned down to kiss your temple before moving to your lips. Your hands moved from his arms to his face, and while you were occupied with the feeling of your lips on his, he grabbed his cock in his hand, stroking it twice before pushing only the head inside,allowing you time to adjust.

A quick gasp escaped you and in an instant your hands were back on his biceps. It took every ounce of strength that possessed Benedict to not push into you further, but he wanted this to be a good experience for you, and he refused to put you in more pain than he had to.

“You just tell me when you are ready for me to move, and I will, dearest. This is all up to you.”

“Ok,” You murmured breathlessly, nodding your head. The sting inside you had dulled to an aching need for him to move, “You may move.”

At that, Benedict pushed further in, slowly seating himself completely in your heat. The pain worsened slightly, but with the way he whispered sweet nothings to you and kissed you so softly, you were too overcome with emotions to comprehend the pain. He sat inside you for a moment, not wanting to rush this time with you and not wanting it to be over so soon. You were so tight and squeezing him like a vice that he needed a minute or else it would all be over before it began. 

Once you both had adjusted to the feeling of eachother’s warmth, Benedict began moving. He slowly started pulling his length out until he pushed back in before he could slip out of you, continuing pumping in and out as you got used to the feeling. It was almost enough, but you knew you needed more. 

“More, Ben,” You moaned, breathily, “Faster.”

A lazy smirk fell on Benedict's lips as he placed his forehead against yours, “Look at my needy girl. She’s begging for it like some common street whore. It's ok, my love. I will take care of you.”

Your eyes widened at his statement, and you wished you could say that his words had no effect on your body, but with the way your head unintentionally fell back and your lips gasped for more of him, you knew it would be nothing but a lie.

Benedict ravaged your body like you were his for the taking, which you were, and it made you realize that you could not have lived another second without having Benedict this intimately. You were not meant to be any man’s wife but his. You were not meant to bear any child that lacked the last name Bridgerton. As your childhood best friend gave you everything you had always wanted, you knew that he was your destiny in every life, and you couldn’t fathom how you almost let him go.

As Benedict kissed your lips, your neck, your cheeks, and every inch of your face while he pounded in you, he placed one hand on the bottom of left thigh and lifted your leg over his shoulder, resting it there as he picked up his pace. The feeling instantly left butterflies in your stomach, and a loud moan escaped you as you relished the feeling of this new angle.

“Oh, Benedict! You must not stop. I have a feeling I cannot name—” You shouted and he placed his large hand over your mouth to keep you quiet.

With sweat dripping off both of your bodies, Benedict leaned down placing his mouth by your ear without slowing his pace in the slightest.

“That is called an orgasm, my love, and I want it to rip through you like a flood. Just tell me when you are there, and I will finish with you.”

You nodded your hands gripping his biceps as he pummeled into you until you simply could not hold it any longer. Sensing your closeness to the edge, Benedict somehow managed to speed up as he stared at your breasts, watching as they bounced every time he thrusted into you. His hips became sloppy as he felt how close he was as well.

“Ben—” You gasped, unable to even finish a sentence.

“I know. I know. I’m right there with you.”

In that moment, it felt as though fireworks exploded between you, your body convulsing in bliss and your mouth parting with cries of ecstasy. Benedict, equally overwhelmed, carefully lowered your leg before collapsing onto you, mindful not to crush you. The sensation was indescribable. Although Benedict had been with other women before, he knew he could never return to those empty encounters, for nothing compared to being with the one he truly loved.

As the euphoria gradually subsided, you both lay there, tangled in each other’s embrace, feeling the warmth of your shared connection. Benedict gently brushed a strand of hair from your face, his touch tender and affectionate. His eyes, filled with a mix of satisfaction and devotion, met yours.

"You are heavenly," he whispered, his voice husky and sincere.

You smiled, feeling a surge of happiness and contentment. "So are you," you replied softly, your fingers tracing patterns on his back.

For a while, neither of you spoke, savoring the intimate silence and the steady rhythm of your breathing. It was in these quiet moments that you felt the depth of your bond, stronger and more profound than ever before.

Eventually, Benedict propped himself up on one elbow, his gaze never leaving your face. "I love you," he said, the words carrying the weight of his heart, “I will never leave you, and if I have to duel Lord Kensington or your father to have you as my wife, I will do so happily.

"I love you too," you replied, your heart swelling with emotion.

You both knew that this was just the beginning of something extraordinary, a journey of love and passion that you would navigate together, no matter what challenges lay ahead. No matter what the morning brought, no matter what your father said, whether he cast you out or forbade you from marrying Benedict, it didn't matter. You knew in your heart that you were meant to be Benedict Bridgerton's wife. It was always you. This new and sacred union would withstand the scrutiny of the ton and any obstacles thrown your way. Your love was destined, and nothing could change that. As long as you had each other, you could face anything the world decided to challenge you with.

[warnersister]

“Tea in the Cotswolds” Michael Gray x Reader

Michael Gray x Reader

When Thomas has business with Archibald Wentworth, a prestigious delegate in the Cotswolds, Michael is tasked with occupying the man’s adult daughter - getting more acquainted than expected.

The Blinders had expanded their business - all the way to the Cotswolds, Tommy had taken John and Michael for the ride; leaving Arthur back in Birmingham as he didn’t find this the right environment for any sort of negative articulation to be breaking out; especially at Wentworth Family Manor.

The houses became progressively larger as the carriage rolled down the cobbled street, some with drives too large to be able to see the house it belonged to at all. But eventually, the vehicle came to a stop at the looming house; substantially larger than all others. In his head, the only similar build Michael had seen to this was Buckingham Palace - large and awe-inspiring enough to be the encasings to a proud museum, contents sacred and protected.

But potentially Michael’s imagination wasn’t too far from reality.

“Right,” Tommy began, eyes flicking between the two men whom had accompanied him. “Today is a very important meeting. And i need to leave a good impression on the Wentworth’s. So we leave our egos and our guns in the car.” John’s brows creased in confusion. “Leave our guns?” “They’re not dangerous. This is legal business; real estate - dabbling a bit in the illegal side of things but not enough go start a fight. Mr Wentworth is an extremely prestigious man, as is his wife and daughter.” He told them calmly. “I’ll talk with Mr Wentworth, John you’ll talk with his missus and explain what we do: nicely. Michael - I’ll leave you to get acquainted with his daughter, yn.” “You’re leaving me with the child?” He asked, confused. “Yn is twenty.”

They were welcomed into the home by several butlers, two to open the grand doors - three to take their caps and the others to lead the family to their guests. “Thomas Shelby.” They heard, and a dignified gentleman descended the stairs, an unnecessary cain in one hand, the other wrapped around his wife as they descended the central staircase to the visitors, a young lady trailing behind.

“Archibald Wentworth.” Thomas smiled at the man and nodded out of respect. The man walked up to him and shook each of their hands firmly. “How longs it been old chap?” He asked Thomas. “Too long, old friend.” Thomas replied, and they engaged in friendly conversation as neither had seen each other since their fathers dealt with similar business in their own youth. The elder woman approached John who kissed the back of her hand and she curtsied, him remaining respectful as their shared introductions. You however, approached Michael who looked back at you fondly. You curtsied to him and he bowed slightly. “It’s a pleasure Mr Gray.” You say, voice soft and unbroken. He took your hand and kissed the back of it gently. “All mine, Miss Wentworth.”

“And please, do call me Michael.” He told you, smiling gently. “Well in that case you’re compelled to call me Yn.” Michael studied your face; never in his twenty one years of existence had he seen such beauty before. Your skin was fair and undamaged - soft to the touch. Your nails were clean and manicured with a neutral colour. Your hair was cascading down by your ears, as if instructed to sit perfectly, framing your face. You eyes were innocent yet appeared all-knowing - your mouth formed into a graceful smile. And you carried yourself with such proper dignity; it was admirable.

“Yn my darling?” Your father spoke from beside him and you turned to face him on command - trained to do this. “Yes father?” “Please will you accompany Mister Gray into the living area? I’m sure you’ll both be quite comfortable in there.” You nodded once at the man. “Certainly, father.” “It was a pleasure to meet you gentleman, and see you again Mister Shelby.” You say to the other two, before leading Michael into the living area - which was nothing short of double the size of his childhood home.

“May i offer you some tea?” You ask, as you settle in the room. “That’d be lovely, thank you.” You nod as the maid by the for stepped out to grab tea. “Normally I’d make it myself, however it is improper to leave your company unaccompanied.” You joke and he laughs in response. Soon, the tea arrived and you served it for Michael, who took the cup and saucer thoughtfully and nodded in thanks.

“It’s a lovely home you have.” You smile up at him. “Thank you, I’m sure my father works tirelessly to afford it.” “You’ve no job?” He asked, awaiting the words that he was utterly and totally in love with you. “No, I’m trained in etiquette - to be polite, to cook and to clean.” Michael listened to you thoughtfully. “So you’re kept awfully busy then?” You nod. “Busy however I don’t mind it, I get to live in this glorious building with a loving family and life skills. What more could a girl want?” You confirm and he was sure his eyes were forming hearts.

“And I’m sure you have quite the line of suitors with your beauty.” You giggled but tried to compose yourself. “No sir.” His eyes widened in mock surprise. “Surely you’re already married, how has a man not captivated a lady such as yourself. I’d do it myself if it wasn’t for the line of men ahead of me.” You looked down, blushing, before looking back up at Michael. “There is no line and there are no suitors. It is simply me, myself and I.” You tell him.

“And you Michael? Have you a wife?” You asked, batting your eyelids. “No, in your words it is simply… ‘me, myself and I’.” “And what business do you do yourself, Mr Gray?” You ask. “That is not the sort of information for a lady’s ears. It is not good business.” He almost scolds and you nod. “Oh I understand, my father is not too dissimilar. Staying safe in your business, I hope?” He basked in the way you simply understood, didn’t pry. “Not quite.” He said, raising an eyebrow. He rolled up his left sleeve slightly and you gasped. “Oh you poor man,” you say. “You must treat these with oil, that way they shall heal better.” You scold, touching his skin gently. “Well if you were my wife you could sort it out for me.” “Oh certainly Michael, I wouldn’t allow you to come home damaged as such without properly patching you up.” You say, seriousness written all over your facial features.

“And what do you do with the rest of your time, this afternoon per se?” He ponders, sipping his tea. “Well as you said yourself I’m quite a busy person regardless of what I occupy my time with.” You peer down at the dainty wristwatch wrapped around your wrist, Michael estimated the small device at a hefty sum. “At two o’clock I have etiquette lessons.” You say “and at three?” “At three I read in my library” “how about four?” “At four I have a date.” His face dropped. “A date? With who?” “William Wordsworth.” You giggled at his expression which sighed a breath of relief. “Oh I see, she lives the poems she could not write.” He says, quoting the famed poet. “More like she writes the poems she could not live.” You reply, and Michael notices a longing stare as you probably imagine the life you would have, if not the heir to an infamous delegate.

“And no man has yet compared me to a summers day.” You admit. “You have not yet met your Shakespeare.” You smile, enjoying how he understood your references. “Nor my Victor Hugo” “ah but you have not yet died so nobody may quote ‘Demain, dès l’aube’.” He spoke matter-of-factly. “For I am always the poet, never the poem.” You speak; in words of your own. And Michael cannot stop himself from reaching up with his free hand to caress the soft skin of your cheek gently. “It is impossible. How can a man write anything short of a novel about a maiden so fair?” He question, and you find yourself absentmindedly leaning into his light touch.

“You’re a charmer, Mr Gray” you speak, voice barely above whisper “I’m no charmer, just a man who knows what he wants” he leans to whisper in your ear “is it working?” He meets your eyes with a cheeky grin on his face. “Certainly.” You both finished your tea and the trolley was taken away, miscellaneous chatter arising from each of your lips.

“Madam?” A voice squeaked from the door behind you both. You spun on a pivot to look at the young maid by the entrance. “Yes Beth?” “Mister Wentworth has requested you and Mister Gray return to the foyer” she said, avoiding your stare. “Thank you Beth, we shall be there shortly.” The woman nodded before clicking the door shut behind you to allow you to make your own way there along with the company. Michael’s face contorted: annoyed, but relaxed it when you faced back to him.

“I believe it is time for us to depart.” You tell him. “When may I see you again?” He asks, holding your hands in his own. “Whenever you wish, Mister Gray; should my father allow.” You tell him, before slowly leading him back to where you originally met. There, the rest of the men along with your parents stood as you’d left them - engaged in unwavering chatter. “Ah, Mister Gray - treated well I hope?” Your father asks and Michael nods at the man. “Certainly.”

After some goodbyes and a hug for your father’s old friend Thomas, Michael smirked at you and kissed the back of your hand and whispered promises that you shall meet again.

The men walked back to the car in silence, Thomas lighting a cigarette once inside. “How’d you like her?” He asked, eyeing Michael before nicotine smoke billowed from his lips. “She’s a lovely young lady.” Michael tore his eyes away from his cousin and back to the house, hoping to catch a glimpse of you as you drove away; but to no avail.

“She’s a gentle lass. Innocent and proper.” Thomas continued and Michael squinted at him, wondering what the man was getting at. “Doesn’t need corrupting.” “I know that Tommy, what you on about?” “We’ve come to a business agreement with Archibald Wentworth. They in exchange for protection and a good deal of Shelby business, his daughter would marry a gentleman.” Thomas stubbed the last bud out on the leather of the car. “I trust you can fit that role?”

[1-imaginary-girl]

Happy Birthday

Leonard Snart x Reader

Summary: It's Leonard's birthday, and you have a special gift for him. Reader is gender-neutral. (This takes place in The Flash universe, before Legends).

Warnings: Pure fluff!

Word Count: 1552

A/N: I keep adding new men to my master list but I can't help it! Wentworth Miller is just a beautiful individual and I've been obsessed with him as Captain Cold from the start.

It wasn’t the sun shining through his windows that woke him up. It wasn’t even the hustle and bustle of Central City. No, instead, Leonard woke up to the feeling of kisses peppering his face.

He immediately smiles before even opening his eyes. “G’morning,” he says in a husky voice. He hears you giggle. He opens his eyes to the most beautiful sight he’s ever seen. You’re next to him on the bed, leaned over so that your faces are close together. You have the brightest smile on your face, that lights him up from the sight of it. He doesn’t know what he did to deserve you, an angel in human form, but he’ll be damned if he gives you up.

His attention falls back to you as you speak. “Happy birthday!” you say excitedly, trying not to be too loud as he had just woken up. He looks confused before remembering. He had completely forgotten. But it seems as if you hadn’t.

“Thank you, sweetheart.” You lean down and plant a kiss on his lips, thoroughly waking Leonard up. He brings his hand up to hold your head but then you pull away giggling. He’s left looking jokingly dejected which gets him another quick kiss on his pouty lips. “You seem very excited.”

“Well duh! It’s your birthday. Birthdays are fun,” you say cheerfully. 

“As long as you don’t throw me a surprise party, I’ll have fun.” You look offended.

“I think I know my boyfriend a little better than that,” you say which makes him smile. He takes you in, positively vibrating with joy and narrows his eyes.

“What is it?” he asks suspiciously. This only makes you smile wider.

“I got you something,” you say and before he can even comment, you’re off the bed. He instantly misses your warmth.

“You didn’t have to get me anything,” he says, missing you but simultaneously drinking you in as he sits up. Your hair is a little tussled from the night before and he notices that you’re wearing his shirt which looks much better on you.

“Oh hush, of course I did!” you call from the closet. You quickly find what you’re looking for and turn with it behind your back. You’re biting down your grin, trying to contain your excitement now, but it’s all over your face. He thinks it’s the cutest thing he’s ever seen.

You make your way back over to the bed and place the gift in his lap. “I have a card for later,” you say. “But I need you to open this first.”

Leonard looks down at the delicately wrapped gift. The wrapping paper is dark blue with white polka dots. As soon as he touches it, he hears you take a sharp intake. When he looks back over at you, your excited energy has turned nervous. You’re rapidly looking from him to the gift. He reaches over to squeeze your hand, trying to help your nerves. It works, as you take a deep breath.

He returns to the gift and begins to unwrap it. Underneath the paper, is a plain white box. He glances over at you again and your eyes are trained on the box. Slowly, he opens it.

There, sitting on a sheet of parchment paper, is a hat. Not just any hat. It’s a dark blue winter hat, and it looks as if it’s been hand-knitted. He’s staring in disbelief, wondering why he’s tearing up at something as simple as a hat.

“Did you make this?” he whispers in awe, slowly reaching in and taking the hat into his hands. It feels comfortable and soft.

You clear your throat. “Y-yeah I did,” you say and Leonard looks at you with stars in his eyes because he can’t believe that his kind-hearted partner took the time to make something for him. You won’t meet his eyes, but if you did, you would see the love he has for you plastered on his face. “I, uh, I tried to match the colour to your coat.” You quickly add, “N-not that you would wear it on the job or anything, but it matches if you wear them together. Or it should.”

He noted that, the choice of colour syncing with his signature coat. “Y/N…” he says, for once at a loss for words. Unfortunately, you take his silence to mean something else.

“I-if you don’t like it, I can get you something else! It’s not that great considering it was my first time knitting, you know I wanted to try something new, but if you don’t like it I would totally under—”

Before your nervous ramblings got worse, Leonard leaned over and pulled you into a fierce kiss. You hesitate, confused for a moment, before leaning into it. You pull away, looking at Leonard for the first time and seeing an absolutely giddy smile, which confuses you even more but puts a smile on your face.

“I love it,” he says, looking into your eyes. You can tell he isn’t lying.

“Really?” you ask with tentative hopefulness. He pulls back to look at it some more.

“Yes!” he says and relief crashes down on you. He sees you smiling again. “In fact…” Leonard takes his new hat and puts it on, instantly warming his head. Your eyes widen.

“You don’t have to wear it—”

“Of course I do, it’s my new favourite hat,” he says with a smile. The thought of wearing something you made special for him warms his heart. He can tell that you’re still not entirely convinced. You set your lips into a straight line before leaning over to take the hat off. But Leonard’s quicker and he leans back, causing you to fall onto his chest. 

You giggle as he says, “Are you trying to steal my hat? On my birthday of all days?” This causes you to giggle harder which makes him chuckle. You look up at him with nothing but love in your eyes and his heart still manages to skip a beat after all this time.

“I’m glad you like it,” you say, finally accepting his words to be true.

“How could I not? It’s from you,” he says softly. You bury your face in his chest as you blush which makes him laugh again. Then you lean up and plant kisses all over his face as you did before. 

You pause as your faces are inches away from one another. “Happy birthday Leonard,” you say again. He smiles and before he can respond, you lean in and press your lips to his. It’s soft and slow and full of love. When it starts to become more passionate, you pull back biting your lip.

He tries to reconnect your lips but you turn away. “We have to save some for later,” you say with a wink. He groans but gives up as you settle on his chest. As he looks at you, he realizes that you’re the best gift he could ever receive. He wonders if that’s too corny to say out loud. Either way, he sighs in content. He could stay like this, the two of you in bed together, for the rest of the day—

You suddenly sit up, taking your warmth away from him. “Time to make your birthday breakfast!” you say excitedly. You start to move off the bed but he wraps his arms around your middle.

“Can’t we just stay like this in bed all day?” he asks, leaning his head against your back and planting a kiss there. But you wriggle your way out of his grip.

“As nice as that sounds, no can do. I have a whole day planned for you.” As much as he protests to getting out of bed, he really appreciates what you’ve done for him. “So up and at ‘em!”

You skip out of the bedroom towards the kitchen and he groans again, hearing your giggle echo from down the hall. But then he smiles and climbs out of bed, slowly following you. He almost forgets he’s wearing the hat but doesn’t want to take it off. He has a feeling this might be his best birthday yet. 

Bonus scene:

The next day at work, one of the rogues is talking with Mick when Leonard walks in. His appearance causes both of them to stop, and not just because he’s in charge.

Along with his infamous blue jacket, Leonard Snart is wearing a new, knitted blue hat. At first, they don’t know what to say. They just stare as he walks by. But then the rogue decides to speak up.

“Hey boss, what the hell are you wearing?” the man asks. Leonard pauses in his tracks and slowly turns to face him with a glare set on his face.

“A hat,” he says, obviously. Then his hand moves to his cold gun and powers it on. “Care to comment on it?”

The man’s eyes widen. “N-no, it looks great,” the man says with a nervous smile. Leonard says nothing more, slowly removing his hand from the gun before walking away. Once he’s out of hearing distance, the man turns to Mick. “You think Y/N made it for him?”

“Oh absolutely,” Mick responds.

From that day on, the hat became a part of Captain Cold’s look.

[inlovewithgreta]

Hi, if you’re requests are open could I please request something with governor!joan Ferguson and prisoner!reader. It’s such a problematic power imbalance lol but she was soooo hot in her governor era.

Thank you if you do 💖 lots of love

Y'all have no idea how much I LOVE writing for Joan, keep the requests coming!! Thank you anon for the request!! Hope you enjoy more Joan smut! xo

A Night In The Slot - Governor!Joan Ferguson x Prisoner!Reader

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Summary: Joan comes to visit you once again in the slot.

Warnings: praise, dirty talk, oral sex (joan receiving), power imbalance, etc...

Word Count: 1.5k

Taglist: @celasteria @shslbunnylover @bellatrixsbrat @coffeebreath23 @janewaykove

© Do not copy, repost, or modify any of my works.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Your head snapped towards the door when you heard the familiar sounds of a card swipe to unlock the heavy door to your enclosure. You had been slotted without warning, and had yet to know why this time.

Usually when you were 'slotted' it was all for show, so the prisoners wouldn't suspect you had a deal going with the Governor. You were her eyes and ears in the prison, and you relished in the fact that she always needed you.

Your 'slot' time usually ended in one of you getting fucked. As of today, nothing particular happened. Nothing happened... at least that you were aware of.

You couldn't help the smirk that formed across your lips as a familiar tall figure entered the room and shut the door briskly behind her, ensuring to leave a small object in the way so the door didn't lock her in. You sat with patience, not saying a word, knowing her next move was to cover the camera before anything was said or done.

And once she did, she cut you off before you could speak.

"I want you to make me forget last night ever happened. Do I make myself clear?" She demanded, with a hint of annoyance in her tone.

Your eyebrows knitted in confusion. Last night? Nothing happened last night. It was quiet. Normal. Nothing out of the ordinary.

Joan sighed, "I fucked a man last night. Or let me rephrase that, I attempted to fuck a man last night but the bastard didn't know how to pleasure a woman even if they told him exactly what to do." She rolled her eyes, making her way towards you with a scoff.

"He sounds awful," you reassured her. You always did. Hands immediately grasping at her hips as she towered over you. "I can only assume I'm here to help you relieve some pent up...stress?" You smirked, tugging at her belt.

"Don't tease me, you little minx. You know exactly why I'm here." Her hands found yours at her hips and held onto them firmly, as if you dared to pull away.

You never did. You never would. And that's why Joan liked you so much. Sure, it was heavily inappropriate, but she just couldn't help herself around you. You were the best she's ever had.

A one-time deal soon turned to two, then three, and now it happened so often that you've forgotten how many times by now. Not that you would complain of course, Joan was intoxicating.

Neither of you could ever get your fill of each other.

"So impatient tonight..." you tsked. "He must've touched you in all the wrong ways. You must be so.... starved." Your skillfully fingers were able to tug her closer by her belt to swiftly undo her clasp. "You didn't get to come, did you?"

Joan shivered as your cold, bare hand, untucked her shirt from her pants and touched the skin across stomach.

Her voice was low and husky as she responded, "And if I didn't?"

"Then I must do something about it right away, Governor." You bit your bottom lip, tugging her zipper down to slide her pants down her thick, luxuriously milky thighs. "Wearing this just for me?" You asked, looking up at her through your curled lashes with a foax innocent look as your fingers grazed her black stockings.

"Do you see anybody else in here?" She asked sarcastically. Her chest rising and falling as she grew impatient.

"No, Governor." You shook your head, getting lost in her dark, brown eyes.

"Then you have your answer... now get on with it before one of my daft officers notices I'm gone." She ordered, doing her best to hide her smile as you eagerly unbuttoned her shirt.

"Yes ma'am."

Joan grabbed the back of your head as she shrugged out of both her pants and her shirt, leaving her in just her sheer undergarments that went perfectly with her heels that made the woman even taller.

You placed slow, gentle kisses across her plush stomach, ensuring to leave your usual trail across the subtle stress marks at her hips. Joan couldn't help but close her eyes at your softness.

Men always just dove right in, whilst you took your time to cherish her. Every inch in of her. You knew what she liked without even having to ask. It was all just a matter of watching her movements.

Your hands trailed lower, rubbing down the side of her legs as you kissed your way to her other hip, ensuring it got the same attention.

As she visibly relaxed in your presence, you palmed her heated sex and heard a faint gasp at the subtle contact. You truly underestimated how needy she actually was.

"Yes, keep going..." she whispered, playing with your hair with one hand while the other took hold of your wrist, sliding your hand back and forth across her clothed cunt.

You felt her push herself against your palm with a partially frustrated groan. She needed more.

"Anything for you, Governor," you placed one last kiss to her hipbone before turning your attention to her clothed center. Joan felt your hot breath in front of her cunt and let your hand go, allowing your hand to move freely back to her thigh.

Your teeth grabbed onto her panties, before letting them go with a 'snap' and earning another groan from the woman.

"Stop the fucking teasing," she seethed.

"I know you like it, Governor." You stated, finally sliding the fabric down her thick legs. "Otherwise, you wouldn't be so wet for me," you bit your lip as you eyed her dripping core.

Joan merely shook her head, knowing you were right. She was too stubborn to admit it, but her silence was the only answer you needed.

The first lick of your tongue fluttering between her legs had her hips involuntarily jerk in your face as a spark ran through her entire body.

"See? Proof right here... you're so wet for me, Governor." You flatted your tongue against her folds again. "I bet you weren't this wet with him, were you?"

"Definitely not..." Her fingers tugged at your messy strands, keeping your face against her needy cunt.

"He didn't get to taste your sweet little pussy like I am right now, did he?" You keep your touches light and shallow, following them up with gentle pressure along her swollen clit.

"He didn't even care to.." she admitted, letting out a small hum when you began to suck. Small goosebumps formed all across her otherwise smooth milky skin.

"Stupid man..." you retorted, diving into her pussy once more.

"Very," she agreed, holding your hair behind your hair in a makeshift ponytail as you happily lapped at her cunt. "You're much.." she let out a small hum as you sucked harder. "Much better."

Her words drove you crazy. You gazed up at the woman through your lashes, knowing that your eye contact would drive her crazy too. As it always did.

Her lips fell agape as she peered down at you, letting out a shaky breath when a finger easily slipped past her entrance. Joan always started quiet, making you work to hear even just the slightest of noises from her.

You roll your tongue over her bud and elicit the smallest of hums from the woman. "Fuck.." she mumbled under her breath.

After inserting a second finger, the grip on your scalp grew rougher as she started slowly grinding her hips to match both the rhythm of your tongue and your fingers.

"Just like that, God I'm already close.." Joan was suffocating you between her pillowy thighs, chasing after her high.

"Come for me, Governor.." you told her. "You always taste so good on my tongue," you praised.

Her walls fluttered around your fingers as you repeatedly hit her spongey g-spot. You could barely breathe, but you were relentless, ensuring Joan got what she so desperately needed.

A husky, drawn out moan and warm liquid dripping down your fingers let you know Joan has finally reached her peak. The woman was panting above you, weight visibly lifting from her shoulders as you helped her ride out her high.

"Christ— you're always so good," she admitted, readjusting her shirt.

"I know," you smirked, placing one last kiss to her plush thigh before slowly removing your fingers from her.

"Always so smug too," she rolled her eyes. "Now you know the deal.." she handed you her handkerchief to wipe your face and hands which you accepted eagerly.

"Yes, yes... we've been over this multiple times before," you reassured Joan, handing her back her handkerchief.

"This is the last time, you know."

"Because I get out of here soon? Governor, that just means we can do this more freely. Unless you want to go back to fucking men who can't even make you come.." you shrugged.

Joan all but rolled her eyes, swiftly pulling her underwear and pants back up. "Don't get your hopes up," she stated as she tightened her belt back around her waist.

"Oh, I don't plan on it." You smirked devilishly, leaning yourself back on your hands. "See you on the outside, Gov'!" You chuckled as the woman left you without another word, only giving you one last glance with a familiar glint in her eye that told you that you definitely would.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

general masterlist | pamela masterlist | taglist

[neewtmas]

12 days of Christmas // A Lockwood & Co Advent Calendar

DAY 6

Welcome back! It's currently 01:16 am on the 13th, which means I'm technically a day late but we'll just ignore that bc I gave my absolute best to get this finished in time and it simply got out of hand.

After the Lucy x reader I wrote for day 2 thought that I couldn't possibly forget about the Lockwood girlies, and since we're at the halfway point I wanted to do something extra nice, so here is a very long (4.2k??) Lockwood x reader with a some enemies to lover-ish dynamics and reader as Kipps' little sister. Hope you enjoy!

A Mission For Two

pairing: anthony lockwood x Kipps!fem!reader

wordcount: 4.2k

masterlist

advent calendar tags: @givemea-dam-break @wellgoslowly @maraschinomerry @losticaruss @oblivious-idiot @uku-lelevillain @avdiobliss @strawberryloveyyy @strawberrycowgirly @demigoddess-of-ghosts @thefriendlyneighborhoodmomfriend @boookfreeak

day 1 day 2 day 3 day 4 day 5

"4 pm, my office. There's no excuses, I know you don't have anything else to do." Lockwood grumbled a half-hearted yes into the telephone, before slamming it down, harder than necessary. He walked back into the kitchen, where Lucy and George sat with a cup of tea each. His tea was probably cold by now. Lucy furrowed her brows. "Who's calling?" "Barnes, who else", Lockwood replied, snatching his cup of tea and emptying it in the sink before pouring fresh hot water from the kettle. "Says he has a job for us." "That's good", George remarked. "Business has been a little slow." Lockwood crossed his arms and huffed. Unfortunately, George was right. Business had been slow the past few weeks. What irked him most though, was that Barnes seemed to know all about it.

A little before 4 pm they entered the DEPRAC building, an ugly structure in the middle of London, with a hideous interior to match. No wonder all DEPRAC agents they came across at their jobs seemed to be in a perpetual bad mood. The route to Barnes' office was well known to them, as it wasn't the first time by any means they had been called in. Lockwood adjusted his tie and coat before knocking on the door twice. Barnes' assistant opened the door seconds later, and the three of them stepped in. But almost immediately, Lockwood froze on the spot, causing George to run into him.

"What are they doing here?", Lockwood inquired, gesturing to the group of people already seated in front of Barnes' desk.

The person closest to Barnes' desk turned around. "Tony. Great to see you around here. Business is going well, I hear?" Lockwood narrowed his eyes at Kipps, hand already on his rapier. "Just sit down", Barnes said sharply. "We have more important things to talk about." Lucy and George could tell that Lockwood was of a different opinion, but a rather forceful push from Lucy caused him to take a seat and postpone the inevitable fight, at least until they were out of there.

When they were finally all seated and quiet, Barnes leaned forward, his hands clasped together. "I want to be here just as much as you are", he began. "If it were up to me, this wouldn't be happening. But unfortunately, it's out of my control." He leaned back in his seat, nodding at his assistant. She stepped out of her corner and placed a print-out of a newspaper site on the desk. "Are you familiar with the Wentworth family?"

"Don't they host these ridiculously fancy balls? What do we have to do with this?", Kipps asked. Barnes sighed, and it was obvious that he had already spent much more time than he wanted on this. "The next one is supposed to be held at Wycliffe Hall Estate." Silence. "Haven't there been ghost sightings?", George asked, pushing his glasses up and leaning forward to grab the article copy. "Yes." Barnes sounded tired. "I have tried everything to mitigate this, but to no avail. They have been adamant that it has to be there. Lady Wentworth's daughter - or was it her niece? - is engaged to Wycliffe's son. And the possibility of a ghost adds the certain 'flair' they are looking for."

Lockwood and George shared a look. Lucy scoffed. "Rich people", she mumbled under her breath and Barnes sent her a reprimanding look but it was not hard to see that he thought just the same. "And what are we here for?", Kipps asked, sounding somewhat impatient. "DEPRAC tasked me with providing agents to mingle among the crowd and keep their eyes out for any disturbances." He gave Kipps and Lockwood a pointed look. "Don't think for a moment that you are my first choice for this. But we are understaffed and I need someone."

He pulled his chair closer to his desk and leaned forward again. "I need you - together - to go to this ball. You will form pairs - couples if you will - and mingle. I and a few other colleagues will be present as well. If anything happens, if anyone gets hurt - I will lose my job. So don't mess it up." He took his time to look at each one of them. "You're dismissed, he finally said.

The two groups walked in silence until they stepped through the huge glass entry doors. "Tony -" Kipps began and Lockwood's hand flew to the hilt of his rapier. Kipps raised his hands. "Don't be so defensive. Let's just get this over with, alright? Everyone does their research and at the event, we work separately." He offered his hand to Lockwood, who didn't take it immediately. Kipps being so good-natured was out of character - maybe Barnes had had a word with him on his own. Lucy nudged Lockwood and he slowly let go of his rapier to take the hand Kipps offered him.

The next two weeks were spent with unspectacular - exceptionally boring really - cases every few nights. There hadn't been any more communication with Kipps and his team, something neither Lockwood, Lucy or George had any issues with. Three days before the big event, Barnes called 35 Portland Row to give further information on the dress code. "This whole endeavour is just ridiculous", Lockwood said as he recounted the talk with Barnes to George and Lucy. "We are allowed to carry our rapiers, but only minimal other equipment. Can't have us ruining the aesthetic, he says." George shook his head. "This is a suicide mission. For the adult attendees at least. Why would you ever willingly spend a night somewhere that has reported and confirmed ghost sightings?"

"They are bored. They live their whole lives locked up in their mansions, so that's a night of freedom. They have no idea that a few agents won't do much if a ghost is gonna make its appearance", Lockwood replied. "Also the Wentworths are known for their elaborate parties and events. A ball in a haunted mansion is the perfect way to stand out." Lucy raised her eyebrows. "So you know the Wentworths?" Lockwood grinned at her. "They are regularly on the cover of my gossip magazines. If you read them, you'd know them." Lucy grimaced. "No thank you. I'd rather not."

Three days later, on the morning of the ball, Lockwood and George sat in the kitchen, already two toasts deep into breakfast, when Lucy staggered into the room. She was pale, wrapped in two sweaters and a scarf and still wearing her pyjama bottoms. "You look like death", George said dryly as Lucy flopped down on a chair. She wanted to say something, but instead, she was caught in a coughing fit that shook her entire body. Lockwood watched her with furrowed brows. "Guess it's just us tonight, George", he said, pushing a cup of tea in front of Lucy. She grabbed it and took several sips, before clearing her throat. "I don't know where this is coming from", she said with a hoarse voice. "But Lady Wentworth would probably kill me if I were to cough around her esteemed guests." "Barnes would do that before she even had a chance to see you", George remarked while buttering his third toast. "Can you cough on me? Maybe I'll get sick before tonight as well."

George did not get sick, and so he and Lockwood sat alone in the cab that would take them out of London to the Wycliffe Hall Estate. They were both wearing a suit - usual for Lockwood, very unusual for George. All available pockets were filled to the brim with salt bombs and silver nets, which made them both look a little less elegant. When the cab pulled up to the front of the estate, Kipps' team as well as Barnes already stood by the stairs to the entrance, waiting for them. The gravel crunched under the soles of their shoes as they made their way over. Barnes looked them up and down with a less than favourable expression, but they seemed to pass his expectations, because he didn't say anything about their appearance. Instead, he asked: "Where's Miss Carlyle?"

"She came down with a bad cold."

"Unfortunate", Barnes said. "Really unfortunate. That doesn't make this easier. Mr Karim - you're going with Mr Vernon and Mr Shaw." All three opened their mouth to protest, but Barnes wasn't having it. "I don't care, whatever you have to say. None of you could be a very convincing couple. That's why you'll pose as waiters. Ms Channing will show you the basics."

All three of them were less than excited about the prospect of handing out champagne to the elite of London, and George mumbled something rather rude under his breath that Barnes either didn't hear or chose to ignore. The three boys were led away by a young woman in her early thirties.

"Alright." Barnes eyed the four agents in front of him. "Mr Kipps, you'll go with Miss Godwin. Mr Lockwood, you'll pair up with Miss Kipps." "No way he's going with my sister!" "Mr Kipps, we talked about this", Barnes said sternly, his patience wearing thin. "You'll do as I say, or you'll deal with the consequences. But I promise you, they'll be worse."

Kipps was red in the face, huffing and puffing, but he didn't say anything else. Lockwood suddenly wished that Lucy's cold had befallen him instead. (name) Kipps was almost as bad as her brother, and he could not stand her. Since she became part of her brother's team, they had crossed paths a little too often for Lockwood's taste. And every time everything she did only aggravated him. Tonight (name) was wearing a dark red, almost floor-length dress that swished around her legs as she walked over to Lockwood, following Barnes' instructions. She didn't look at Lockwood, and he did his best to train his eyes on Barnes instead of her neck and shoulders that were exposed by the neckline of her sleeveless dress. Leave it up to her to dress entirely distracting and inappropriately. Who could fight ghosts in this?

"I need you to blend in seamlessly. I have arranged to fill the room with as many iron decorations as possible, to hopefully seal it off to any supernatural disturbances that might occur. Lady Wentworth was very clear to me about the fact that she doesn't want you to look like agents to the other attendees, she wants you to look like guests. That means I expect you to dance and at least act like you want to be there." Barnes looked more tired than he did two weeks ago. No one said anything, so he took a deep breath and turned around. "Don't disappoint me", he said over his shoulder.

They watched him disappear behind the imposing door wing. While they had been talking, the first guests had started to arrive. Every car was fancier than the last, the men that emerged wearing expensive suits and the ladies draped in luxurious gowns and glittering diamonds. Kipps offered Kat his arm, following the example of the couples ascending the stairs. Lockwood went to follow them, but (name) didn't move and instead cleared her throat. "Don't you have any manners, Mr Lockwood?" Her mocking tone was already working to raise his blood pressure. The way she said his name was almost worse than Kipps calling him Tony. He bit his tongue to not say something he would regret in the first five minutes of them working together and turned around to offer her his arm. He didn't look at her as she looped her arm around his and they walked up the stairs together. The other attendees either ignored them or looked at them with something akin to disdain - this was an exclusive circle they were not part of.

It was quite early, so any disturbances would take a while to occur. Lockwood dreaded what that meant. Kipps and Kat were already on the dancefloor, and Barnes stood at the side, next to a tall blond woman in an emerald green gown. Lockwood immediately recognized her at Lady Wentworth. She turned to whisper something to the man on her other side and Barnes took the opportunity to wave at Lockwood, gesturing down to the dancefloor. He rolled his eyes and tugged on (name)'s arm, and together they descended the stairs. They reached the very edge of the dancing crowd and Lockwood stopped. "What? You don't know how to dance?" Again that mocking tone.

The ballroom was bigger than expected, with high ceilings and a row of huge windows on one side. It was already bustling with people, some dancing, some in conversation. Lockwood and (name) stood atop some stairs that led down to the dancefloor. Kipps and Kat were gone, but as Lockwood let his eyes wander over the crowd, he spotted George. He had to bite back a laugh at the sight of George with a tray of champagne flutes and a scowl on his face that deterred anyone he walked past from taking something off his tray.

Lockwood grabbed her hand and placed the other one on her waist. As they started dancing, rather slow and awkward, Lockwood again wished that the illness that had befallen Lucy had chosen him instead. He did his best to not look at (name), or think about her hand on his shoulder, or her hand that laid in his. This was the worst. "Is this all you have to offer?" "We're dancing", he said curtly, still avoiding eye contact. "What else do you want?" She giggled, and a shiver ran down his back. That was new. "Well for starters, we need to be closer together. Much closer." Her next step wasn't to the side, but instead towards him, which caught him off guard. He almost stumbled over his own feet, but her hand gripped his shoulder and she continued the sequence of steps so that he could get back into it. "Also, you are supposed to lead me."

He made the mistake of looking at her. She was much closer than he anticipated, which made him lose his footing again. Only briefly though, because for whatever reason she seemed to know exactly what she was doing. And probably made him look like a fool. He wanted to scream. What was she doing to him? How could a person make him so angry and flustered at the same time? "If you fence how you dance, I have no idea how you ever beat Quill." He just huffed. No matter how hard he racked his brain, he couldn't think of anything clever to say that would shut her up - and that just wasn't something that happened to him. Ever.

A few hours later, they stood with Kipps and Kat on the side of the dance floor. The room had filled up even more, and no one seemed to be concerned that the clock was nearing midnight. Out of nowhere, George appeared next to Lockwood. "This has been the worst night of my life", he breathed out, looking around restlessly. "I dumped the champagne into one of the flower pots and have been hiding from Barnes ever since", he whispered to Lockwood. "How are you holding up?" Lockwood looked over to (name), who was talking animatedly with Kat and her brother. "She's driving me up the wall", he said. "Somehow she manages to push buttons I didn't even know I had." He missed George's knowing grin as he looked around the room. "Have you noticed anything else?"

"The corners got progressively colder as the evening went on. I checked the temperature every now and then. I bet if there weren't so many people in here, we would feel it even more. But all the iron is probably holding it off so far."

It didn't take long for Barnes to appear and hurry them back onto the dance floor to 'keep up their cover' - not that this was working that great to begin with. They looked too young, their dancing was too awkward and the rapiers at their side didn't help either. Lockwood and (name) were standing close to the walls, far away from Barnes. They had parted as soon as he was gone. (name) had complained about her feet for the past hour, and Lockwood just about had enough. The whole thing gave him a headache and he wanted to get far away from her as soon as possible. Especially because with time, dancing closely with her had turned out to be not that bad. He didn't like that at all.

He was picking on a stray thread on his sleeve when suddenly a cold feeling washed over him. He jumped when (name) roughly grabbed his arm. "Do you hear that?" she hissed and he tried for a moment to shut out the sounds of conversation and heels on hardwood floor from the crowd and just listen. Nothing. "I'm not a good listener," he said quietly to not alert the few people standing closest to them. It irked him to have to admit this to (name). She stood there with her eyes closed and her head tilted to the side. For the first time this evening, Lockwood could take a closer look at her, even though part of him violently fought against it. Her hair was pulled back, away from her face. She was wearing a thin necklace with a pendant that laid a few inches above her dress's neckline. He briefly wondered if it was a gift from someone, but immediately shut that thought down. This was ridiculous.

Suddenly she opened her eyes again. "I can't describe it. It's like a whisper… and a scream… all at once." She took a look at her watch. "It's almost midnight", she said quietly. Lockwood patted over his pockets. "I don't have a thermometer with me. That's George's job usually. But don't you think it's gotten really cold just now?" She nodded, and he noticed her slightly shivering. Taking a look around, no one besides them seemed to have noticed anything out of the ordinary. Lockwood took a few strides to the set of doors closest to them. When he touched the handle, he almost pulled his hand back immediately. The metal was ice-cold to the touch. Surprisingly, the door was unlocked, and he looked around once before opening it carefully and peeking around. The corridor that laid in front of him was almost entirely dark, only illuminated by the streak of light let in from the open door. The air that hit his face was dry and much too cold. (name) appeared next to him. "Let's go", she said. "Let's get it over with." Lockwood thought for a moment that maybe it was better to get the rest of the agents, but then again, what could go wrong? If George's research was correct, there should only be one ghost. They just had to find the source. And this corridor seemed promising.

The two of them slipped through and Lockwood closed the door. Immediately they were enveloped by complete darkness, and now that the door separated them from the warmth and the light and the perceived safety of the ballroom, Lockwood could feel the malaise creeping up on him. He fumbled with his jacket to pull out the flashlight he had stuffed into one of the pockets inside. He switched it on on the lowest setting, and when his eyes had adjusted to the light, he started to move it around to get an idea of their surroundings. (name)'s dress almost looked like blood in the dim light, and as they slowly moved down the hallway, she reached into a fold of the skirt and swiftly pulled out a rapier. "Hidden pocket", she said as she noticed Lockwood's stare. Something about the way she had just pulled that out of nowhere - his brain felt jumbled.

The temperature was dropping rapidly now. (name) was now really shivering, and Lockwood felt the urge to offer her his jacket. But no, that was a stupid idea. He'd make a fool out of himself. They were walking close together now, arms brushing against each other as she tugged at his sleeve. "Can you turn off the light for a second", she whispered. "I think I heard something." It took a few seconds for their eyes to adjust to the dark. "There it is again. Do you really hear nothing?" Lockwood noticed that her tone was normal - she wasn't trying to mock him anymore. He closed his eyes well. There, far in the distance, he heard something. But nothing he could put a finger on. "There was a door right there, right? I wanna see what's behind it."

"Do you need the light?", he asked. "It should be fine. His stomach did a little flip as he suddenly felt her hand slip into his. "Just so we don't lose each other in the dark", she whispered as she pulled him forward. The door creaked as (name) found the handle and pushed against it, her rapier scratching against the wood. The air that came out was even colder. The room could almost be described as well-lit in comparison to the hallway, a big window opposite the door letting in the cold blue light of the moon. They stepped inside. Lockwood did not close the door. While taking a look around, he noticed that (name) had not let go of his hand - even though now there was no risk of getting lost in the dark. Then something in the corner caught his eye. "A deathglow", he whispered, pointing over. "Right above the bed. About the size of a small child." "That checks out. I think one of the nannies - " "- murdered the child", finished Lockwood. "Looks like we read the same articles." She smiled at him, and he realised it was the first genuine smile she had ever shown him. He was reminded of the fact that they were also still holding hands.

"What do you think the source could be?", she asked. He looked around the room, all senses heightened. Until now, nothing had materialised. "It was a small child, right? There's a stuffed teddy sitting next to the pillow. Maybe…" As if the ghost had heard him, the atmosphere got heavier. It was like the air itself got denser and heavier, weighing on him and making it harder to breathe. "I think that might be it. Are you feeling it?" (name) just nodded. Her hand slipped in the front of her dress and Lockwood quickly averted his eyes. "I have a silver net", she whispered. "Give me cover and I'll throw it. If we're lucky, that's it." Lockwood did not argue with her. A pulsating headache had started in the back of his head. He drew his rapier and watched as (name) crept slowly towards the bed, silver net at the ready in one hand, rapier in the other. Basked in the pale light of the moon, with the gleaming rapier and the red dress that flowed around her, she looked like a vengeful ghost herself, and Lockwood had to remind himself to stay aware of his surroundings.

Then, everything happened all at once. (name) threw the silver net, and in the same moment, the supernatural scream that Lockwood had only heard at the very edge of his perception swelled to a volume that pierced through his head like a dagger, and a gigantic blast of wind threw (name) back, catapulting her through the air before she crashed into Lockwood with full force. His rapier was blown out of his hand and out of reflex he wrapped his arms around (name) as they both hit the ground.

It took a moment for Lockwood to gather himself. His ears were ringing and all of the whirled-up dust made it harder to breathe. (name) was lying half on top of him, her hair covering her face. "Are you okay?", Lockwood croaked out. For a moment she didn't move, and he already started to feel panic creeping up on him, but then she coughed and slowly pushed herself up in a sitting position. She raised her hand to her forehead, only to gasp at the blood on her fingertips as she lowered it again. "Is it bad?" "It looks small." He managed to stand up slowly, extending his hand to her. She took it without hesitation. "And pretty cool, might I add", he said as she stood next to him, making no moves to let go of his hand.

Suddenly, the door that the blast of wind had thrown shut burst open again. In the doorframe stood Kipps, followed by George and Kat. He looked at Lockwood and (name), then at the bloody wound on his sister's head, and finally to her hand that was still holding Lockwood's hand. And he looked ready to explode.

thank you for reading, feedback is appreciated :)

[nocturnalnella]

Veil of Shadows ( Chapter VII )

Words: 2280. Warnings: None. Pairing: Dracula x female reader.

Chapter VII - Threads of Shadows.

The air felt thick with anticipation, much like her heart, which beat wildly as she pored over a myriad of newspaper clippings sprawled across her dining table. Articles detailing the mysterious disappearances of Lady Camilla Wentworth and Lord Ashcombe seemed to haunt her, their faded photographs staring back as if urging her to uncover the truth.

Y/N adjusted the locket around her neck, its cool metal resting against her skin, a constant reminder of the gala where she’d first met Dracula. She traced its intricate design with her fingers, recalling Dracula’s casual mention of its connection to Lady Camilla. But why had he given it to her? And why did it feel like a key to something more sinister?

As she shifted through her notes, a particular article caught her eye: “Lord Ashcombe Last Seen Near Dracula's Estate.” Her breath caught in her throat as she read the details, piecing together the timeline of events leading to their disappearances. A chill ran down her spine. The more she investigated, the more certain she became that her charming acquaintance might hold the key to unraveling this mystery.

The room was quiet except for the rustle of paper and the distant hum of traffic outside. Y/N stood up, pacing the small space, her mind racing. What if Dracula was not just an enigmatic figure but a vital piece of the puzzle? Her instincts told her there was something darker beneath his polished exterior, something he wasn’t willing to reveal.

Determined to find answers, Y/N grabbed her bag and headed out the door, the weight of the locket a reminder of her connection to the mystery that was consuming her. The streets were lively with the morning rush, but her mind was elsewhere, fixated on the chilling details of her investigation.

Just as her thoughts spiraled deeper into uncertainty, a knock echoed through her apartment, breaking the silence like a thunderclap. She opened the door, her heart racing at the sight of him: tall, dark, and impossibly handsome, Dracula stood in the threshold, his presence commanding yet intimate. His eyes sparkled with mischief, and the corner of his mouth curved into that infuriatingly charming smile.

“Lost in thought again, are we?” he teased, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation. “What could possibly hold your attention when you have my illustrious company?”

Y/N rolled her eyes, trying to suppress a smile. “Just a little research.”

He leaned over the table, his presence overwhelming. “Research? I do hope it’s not about me.” His voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. “I prefer to be a delightful enigma.”

“More like a suspect,” she shot back, her heart fluttering at the proximity between them. “You seem to have a habit of showing up wherever the disappearances are.”

Dracula chuckled, leaning back against the table, his gaze piercing. “Perhaps I enjoy the thrill of the chase. Or perhaps you simply attract danger.”

She met his gaze, feeling a mixture of fear and exhilaration. “Maybe you’re the danger.”

“Ah, but danger can be so exhilarating,” he replied, a teasing glint in his eyes. “Tell me, Y/N, what have you discovered about our dear Lady Camilla and Lord Ashcombe?”

Y/N felt her pulse quicken as she steered the conversation toward the heart of the matter. “I found an article that mentioned Lord Ashcombe was last seen near your estate just before he vanished. Why were you at the gala?”

Dracula’s smile faded, replaced by an intense curiosity. “And you believe everything you read? A witness is only as good as their own perception, my dear.”

“Stop deflecting,” Y/N pressed, feeling a mix of frustration and fear. “Why are you so evasive?”

“Perhaps I’m simply trying to protect you,” he replied, his voice dropping to a low, sultry whisper. “The world I inhabit is far darker than you can imagine.”

Her heart raced at his words. “Protect me? From what?”

“From the truth,” he replied, his tone laced with an intensity that made her heart race. “Sometimes, ignorance is bliss.”

Y/N took a step back, feeling a surge of conflicting emotions. “You’re avoiding the question, Dracula.”

“Am I?” he mused, stepping forward, closing the distance between them. “Or am I merely playing a game with you? I enjoy our little dance of suspicion.”

“Stop it,” she warned, her voice shaking slightly. “This isn’t a game to me.”

“Isn’t it?” he countered, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “You’re drawn to the mystery, Y/N. You’re not just a journalist; you’re a thrill-seeker, and I am your greatest adventure.”

She felt the air thicken with tension as they stared at each other, caught in a moment that felt charged with electricity. Y/N couldn’t help but wonder how much of this was a game for him, how much he truly cared about her.

“Perhaps I am,” she replied finally, her voice barely above a whisper, “but I also want the truth.”

Dracula’s expression darkened momentarily, a flicker of annoyance crossing his features. “You think I have something to do with their vanishings?”

“I’m starting to think you might,” she retorted, trying to maintain her composure. “You know more than you’re letting on.”

“Ah, but knowledge is a double-edged sword,” he replied, a playful glint in his eyes. “What would you do with the truth if you had it?”

Y/N hesitated, feeling the weight of his words. “I want to help them. I want to know what happened.”

He regarded her for a moment, his gaze intense. “And what if the truth is far more dangerous than you imagine?”

“Then I’ll face it,” she declared, determination hardening her resolve. “Just like I’m facing you right now.”

Dracula’s lips curled into a smirk. “You’re brave, Y/N. I admire that.” But there was an undercurrent of something darker in his tone, an edge that sent a shiver down her spine.

The tension between them crackled like electricity, an undeniable force that neither could ignore. Y/N felt her breath hitch as Dracula leaned closer, his presence intoxicating. “You can’t deny there’s something between us,” he murmured, his voice low and sultry.

“I’m not denying anything,” she replied, her heart racing. “But I need answers.”

He studied her for a long moment, his expression inscrutable. “And if I told you what I knew, would it change how you see me?”

“Yes,” she admitted, her voice steady despite the fluttering in her chest. “But I need to know. I need to understand.”

Dracula’s gaze softened, and for a fleeting moment, she saw a glimpse of vulnerability beneath his cunning exterior. “You may not like what you find, Y/N. The truth can be... unforgiving.”

Y/N swallowed hard, feeling a mix of fear and excitement. “I’m willing to take that risk.”

“Risky behavior,” he said with a playful smirk, “is not always rewarded with the desired outcome.”

“Then what’s the point of living?” she shot back, her pulse quickening. “If we don’t chase the truth, what are we even doing?”

Dracula’s smile widened, revealing a glimpse of his charming, flirtatious nature. “You’re truly captivating when you’re passionate, you know?”

Her heart raced at the compliment, but she couldn’t let it distract her. “So, what about the necklace? What does it really mean?”

“The locket?” he mused, his tone shifting to something more serious. “It’s a connection to a world long forgotten, one filled with beauty and darkness. Lady Camilla was a remarkable woman—her presence lit up every room. But shadows linger, and not all that glitters is gold.”

“Is that a warning?” Y/N asked, narrowing her eyes. “Or a clue?”

“Perhaps both,” he replied, the playful smirk returning to his lips. “But you must be cautious, Y/N. Curiosity can lead you down a treacherous path.”

As their conversation deepened, the air around them grew thick with unspoken tension. Y/N felt a magnetic pull toward him, the attraction undeniable. She took a step closer, her heart racing as they stood mere inches apart.

“Dracula,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “What if I’m not afraid of the darkness?”

He studied her, a mixture of admiration and something darker flickering in his eyes. “You should be, Y/N. The darkness can be all-consuming.”

Before she could respond, Dracula closed the distance between them, his lips brushing against hers in a soft, tantalizing kiss. Y/N gasped, her mind racing as she melted into him. The kiss was electric, sending waves of heat through her body, igniting a fire that had been smoldering beneath the surface.

But just as quickly as it began, the kiss deepened, a hunger sparking between them that left her breathless. It was a kiss filled with urgency, a promise of what could be—dangerous yet intoxicating. But as the world around her faded away, Y/N felt a sudden wave of dizziness wash over her.

“Dracula?” she murmured, pulling back slightly. “What—”

Before she could finish her sentence, everything spun around her, and darkness enveloped her.

-

When Y/N awoke, it was to the soft glow of sunlight streaming through elegant drapes. She blinked against the brightness, confusion washing over her as she sat up in an unfamiliar room. The decor was lavish, far more opulent than her modest apartment. Panic surged as she took in her surroundings, realizing she was in Dracula’s mansion.

Her heart raced as memories of the night before flooded back. The kiss, the intoxicating heat, and the strange sensation of losing herself. What had happened? Where was Dracula? She swung her legs over the side of the bed, her feet landing on the cold, polished floor.

As she explored the mansion, a sense of unease settled over her. The ornate furnishings and dark, rich colors spoke of a history steeped in mystery, but something felt off. The silence was oppressive, echoing the questions swirling in her mind.

She wandered through the grand hallways, her curiosity piqued by the lavish decor. But as she turned a corner, her breath caught in her throat. There, nestled in the shadows of a dimly lit room, lay a coffin.

Heart pounding, Y/N stepped back, fear gripping her as she stumbled away from the sight. What did it mean? Was it real? Had Dracula truly been hiding something so dark and sinister? Panic set in as she fled the room, her mind racing with thoughts of what she had seen.

Once outside the mansion, the cool air hit her like a wave, grounding her in reality. Y/N rushed back to her apartment, her heart racing as she recalled the sensations of the previous night—the kiss, the thrill of being near him, and the lingering questions that threatened to consume her.

What had happened between them? Why had he brought her to his mansion? And what did it mean that she had seen him in a coffin? The weight of uncertainty pressed down on her, a heavy cloak that seemed to shroud her thoughts.

Back in her apartment, she sat at her desk, the remnants of her investigation scattered around her. She couldn’t shake the feeling that Dracula was at the center of it all, and yet she was still drawn to him, despite the darkness lurking beneath the surface.

Determined to find answers, Y/N made her way to the library.

Y/N skimmed through the dusty tomes, her fingers brushing the spines of books with ornate gold lettering. The librarian had given her a curious glance when she requested materials on folklore and legends, but she’d shrugged it off. Now, seated at a secluded table, she flipped through the pages of a particularly ancient-looking volume titled Creatures of the Night: A Compendium of Myths.

Her eyes widened as she came across a section labeled The Vampire. The passage described beings of great allure and menace, thriving in the shadows, preying on the lifeblood of mortals. The text spoke of their aversion to sunlight, their nocturnal habits, and their ability to beguile unsuspecting victims.

One phrase caught her breath: "A vampire's charm is both a weapon and a curse, ensnaring the mind as the fangs claim the body."

Her heart thudded in her chest as she read on. There were accounts of vampires being linked to noble families, their wealth and influence masking their predatory nature. Her fingers traced the page as she absorbed the descriptions of coffins, amulets imbued with protective enchantments, and the peculiar detail that vampires could not cross thresholds uninvited.

The descriptions sent a chill down her spine. Her thoughts raced back to Dracula—his unearthly presence, the way he seemed to know her every move, his peculiar habits. She recalled the amulet he had given her and the unnerving allure he exuded. Could it be possible? Was he more than he seemed?

Snapping the book shut, Y/N leaned back, her mind a whirlwind of fear and disbelief. The logical part of her rejected the idea outright—vampires were myths, stories to frighten children. But after what she had witnessed in his manor, she couldn't shake the gnawing doubt creeping into her thoughts.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting the world into darkness, Y/N couldn’t shake the feeling of dread settling in her stomach. She needed to confront Dracula, to uncover the truth behind the shadows that loomed over their connection. But would he reveal his true self, or would he continue to hide behind layers of charm and mystery?

She couldn’t let fear dictate her actions any longer. Gathering her courage, she decided to return to Dracula’s estate, her heart pounding with uncertainty. There was more to discover, and she was determined to uncover the truth—about him, about the disappearances, and about the amulet that now felt like a ticking time bomb in her life.

[exouniverse]

Band’s Cut

Pairing: jaehyeong x gn reader

Genre: fluff, birthday fic

Warnings: none, but if any please tell me and I’ll add it.

Summary: The Rose members have seen the subtle sparks flying between Jaehyeong and his acting classmate, but their slow-burn romance only drives them to meddle further and play matchmaker. Will a chance for a confession finally arise at the surprise birthday party that they’ve planned?

Word count: 5.1K+

A/N: I haven’t seen much of The Rose fanfic around, so I hope this reaches as many Black Roses as it can. Also, I have come to accept that the birthday fics will no longer have a limit of words… they simply flow so easily each time that they become longer and longer. Perhaps some will be short, but that will depend on the premise. So, I hope you like this! Happy birthday Jaehyeong!

A little fun fact, “Band’s Cut” refers to the “Director’s Cut” version of a film, but in this case is the members version of how the romance happened (or more like how they “made it happen.”)

Banner template by @kithsune/@cafekitsune

MASTERLIST | MOODBOARD

The members gathered around Woosung's laptop with coffee and water in hand, about to embark on hours of reviewing audition tapes after their casting director's preliminary cuts.

As Woosung hit play on the first file, they settled in for a video marathon. Dojoon diligently took notes on the potential candidates, carefully analyzing their skills and talents. Meanwhile, Hajoon closely observed the performance nuances, paying attention to the finer details.

The casting director did an excellent job selecting the finest dancers, evident from their clean lines and exceptional technique. The actors showcased remarkable skills in delivering emotions and portraying mannerisms. Some triple-threat performers showed great promise and made it onto the list. However, none of them had managed to captivate all the members with an overwhelming sense of fascination.

Jaehyeong doodled absently, almost lost in the poodle dog playing with a ball that he drew in the corner of his notes. It was the first word you spoke that made him look back up at the laptop, the words melting in his ears.

The members were deeply moved by every gesture and glance throughout your audition. Every minute of your performance left a lasting impact, and even after it was over, the essence of your talent lingered in their minds, preventing them from even moving on to the next audition tape.

"Y/N, was it? Really connects to the heart of the song," Hajoon remarked in awe. Murmurs of agreement echoed among the members, making it clear that, despite having some more entries left to review, Y/N must be considered for the lead. But little did they know this match-up held promise beyond just professional prospects.

The dialogue was almost turning into doodles on the pages. Jaehyeong was having a hard time deciphering his lines for the scene they were studying in his acting class.

He sighed, putting his script down. The line caught in an endless loop within his mind, making him feel dizzy. Suddenly, a voice brought him down to earth. "Need any help with your lines?" you offered.

Jaehyeong looked at you, contemplating and mirroring your kind smile. "This part," he said, and pointed at Captain Wentworth's line, "‘half agony, half hope'...what do you think it means?"

You grabbed the script from his hand to analyze the dialogue. "For Wentworth, I think it's the fear of getting rejected once again after what happened with them in the past, but he's still holding onto a little hope in his momentary jump of faith to confess his feelings to Anne. It's all of the excitement and uncertainty tangled up."

When you looked up at him, he somehow looked even more confused. His eyes were locked on yours as if looking for a deeper answer, so you said, "in a more general sense... it's just how complex and contradictory love is. Like when your emotions for another person change from friendship to love. The agony will be in the fear of your feelings not being returned, while the hope will be in the possibility that that love will be reciprocated."

As Jaehyeong assimilated your perspective on Wentworth's complex emotions, your explanation resonated with him on a deeper level. A clarity emerged through your guidance, breaking the haze around the lines that now reflected his own awakening feelings. Up until now, he had thought his admiration for you was only due to your artistic abilities, but now he could understand Wentworth's words towards Anne.

Words were hard to find, so he hoped his gaze spoke for him, and he offered a complimentary smile as a thank you for your thorough description that shaped his performance as well as his newfound emotions.

Dojoon walked with Jaehyeong towards the dressing rooms to get ready for the music video shoot. They were just chatting about the last TikTok they posted when Dojoon noticed Jaehyeong was a little distracted. Following his gaze, Dojoon spotted you entering the hall accompanied by a group of staff members.

Smirking knowingly, Dojoon was aware of Jaehyeong's fondness for you. He had seen it ever since the call-back auditions, when the selection process for the lead and the ensemble dancers began. Among the three actors being considered, it was evident that Jaehyeong had a stronger bias towards you compared to the rest of the members. His smile would widen every time your name was mentioned. When the decision was made to cast you as the lead in their music video, Jaehyeong passionately advocated for you, leaving the rest of the team exchanging meaningful glances.

Dojoon nudged Jaehyeong playfully. "Look who can't take his eyes off our new lead."

Jaehyeong looked back at Dojoon as he smiled nervously. "What? Was I that obvious?"

The members, as it was too obvious, had managed to get a confession out of him that day after the selection was made. He told them all about you and how much he admired your talent. He truly enjoyed working with you on the class assignments.

Dojoon chuckled and whispered, "only if anyone was paying close attention, like me."

Both of them entered their dressing room. It was just the two of them, so Dojoon dared to say, "you should tell Y/N, about how you feel." He stopped as he checked his wardrobe, making Jaehyeong linger on his words.

"No pressure though," he offered with a kind smile. Dojoon suspected that you also had feelings for their maknae. You had been smiling too wide and giggling so much around Jaehyeong after the call-back auditions. Even more so when you two got some time to catch up and Jaehyeong introduced you to the band.

Hajoon entered before Jaehyeong could say anything, his cheeky smile giving away his thoughts. "Jeff, Jeff!" Hajoon shouted.

"Know who is here?" Woosung whispered excitedly as he came in behind Hajoon.

Dojoon smiled at them knowingly. Jaehyeong seemed like a mouse caught in a trap; his sweat around his eyebrows was evident. "Hajoon and Woosung!" Dojoon replied to Woosung's question as he gave them a warning look.

Woosung looked back at their lovely maknae and nodded. Hajoon mouthed an "oh" in understanding, acknowledging the unspoken sentiment.

Jaehyeong was pensive throughout their glam session for the shooting. He appreciated Dojoon's encouragement; he really could've said something long ago, but the moment he found out about his feelings slipped away too quickly, and his hectic schedule distracted him too much. It also felt too weird to say it during class or now at the shooting of their music video since they haven't had much time out of those restricted spaces.

The whole crew planned to gather after everyone was ready for the first scenes to start off the shoot with the best energy. As soon as you saw Jaehyeong coming out of his dressing room, you approached to greet him, "Jaehyeong-ah! Thought I missed you, but it's nice to see you before we start."

Jaehyeong eased up into a bright smile when he saw you. "Y/N! I'm so glad to have you around for this music video; you're the best."

You could've missed it, but you caught a glimpse of the rest of the band rushing to get back inside their dressing room. You were a little confused but decided to ignore it and continue to chat with Jaehyeong. "You are great yourself. Wanna go to set together? Are you waiting for the members?"

Jaehyeong clearly heard Woosung's giggle and Hajoon whispering "go." He smiled at you, trying to contain his own laugh at his hyung's antics. "We can go together; they are too slow, too slow," he joked, scrunching his nose, and walked along with you as you two chuckled.

The members giggled silently once the two of you had left. Dojoon looked at his friends, already plotting something cheeky in his mind.

"Do you guys think he will say something today or tomorrow?" Dojoon asked them.

"I hope so! They're so cute and so into each other," Woosung expressed.

"Jaehyeong has been overthinking this too much; he must," Hajoon agreed. "However, he's always moving at the beat of his own drum, so perhaps he will take some more time."

"Okay, drummer cliché, don't turn the mood down," Dojoon joked. "But you're right..." he admitted.

Woosung nodded and shared, "I heard Jaehyeong say he wishes he could hang out with Y/N more. That they have barely seen each other outside of class."

They took a moment to consider a way to help their maknae, but their manager came looking for them as they were supposed to be at the set long ago.

The three of them arrived fashionably late, thankfully while some staff crew were still settling equipment for the scenes, so they were not noticed by everyone. Especially Jaehyeong and you, who were caught up in a seemingly smooth conversation as you laughed at whatever Jaehyeong was saying.

"Oh oh oh, look at Y/N's hand!" Dojoon emphasized as you placed your hand on Jaehyeong's while laughing with him.

"Jaehyeongie!" Woosung exclaimed.

"He probably doesn't need much of our help," Hajoon commented.

The music video shoot went incredibly well, with everything flowing smoothly. As the day came to a close, Woosung extended an invitation for the cast to join the band for some drinks. Everyone appreciated the opportunity to unwind and cherish the quality time spent together, further strengthening their bonds.

The following day of shooting unfolded much like the previous one, with Jaehyeong still hesitant to confess his feelings. The other members opted not to intervene too much, instead choosing to support Jaehyeong whenever possible. They offered advice and encouragement whenever they sensed the need. Jaehyeong's hyung cheering crew discreetly arranged situations for the two of them to spend more time together. Nevertheless, it seemed that Jaehyeong was taking his time quite slowly.

After the celebration with the entire crew, the members gathered to discuss their observations and analyze if there was anything else they could do to support Jaehyeong. They contemplated whether it was best to continue their efforts or step away completely, respecting Jaehyeong's pace.

"Guys, I think we've done enough," Hajoon remarked.

"Yeah, I think they're okay," Woosung echoed Hajoon's opinion.

Dojoon took a deep breath and dramatically set his coffee on the table. "No, they're not," he looked back at his friends and continued, "Jaehyeong said he wanted to spend more time out of work with Y/N. So far, everything has been about work—the music video, lunchtime, the after-work celebrations included. I don't think he's saying anything any time soon."

"Dojoon-ah, it's still not our place to meddle too much, though," Woosung pointed out.

"I know, I know..." he said, taking another sip of his coffee. "But, should we try one more thing?"

Woosung and Hajoon looked at him almost uninterested, only to entertain him a little bit more since it had been mostly him orchestrating the moments for Jaehyeong to confess his feelings. They wanted to help too; they had been excited to take part in the scheme, but seeing how Jaehyeong was taking his time made them think it was better to step away for a while. Contrary to Dojoon, who seemed even more committed to the cause, "one last try," Dojoon restated.

"Okay, what do you suggest?"

"Nothing too crazy, please!" Hajoon stepped in, limiting Woosung's encouragement.

"Let's invite Y/N to Jaehyeong's surprise birthday party next week!" He exclaimed, "that would be completely out of work. We give Jaehyeong a week to try to make a move if he wants to, but we still secure another moment together for them no matter if they end up coming as a couple or singles ready to mingle...between them, I—"

"Okay, we got it!" Hajoon interrupted.

"That's genius!" Woosung regained his enthusiasm. "I'm in! One more nosy try won't hurt."

"I knew you were going to agree!" Dojoon looked back at Hajoon, "Joon-ah! C'mon, get in, please," he begged.

Hajoon rolled his eyes before he said, "alright, one more try."

The final day of shooting was with a reduced cast since it was mostly the band and the lead who were supposed to film. The perfect setting for a little surprise invitation to a surprise birthday party.

Woosung managed to grab a moment with Jaehyeong gone from your side; it seemed almost impossible with time to separate the both of you. He casually made conversation about the music video and how incredible it was to have found you for it. He needed to be fast, though, before Jaehyeong came and heard about what they had been planning for his birthday for a month already.

"What's best is that you were already familiarized with our band, especially Jaehyeong, at your acting classes," Woosung said.

"That helped a lot!" You exclaimed, smiling widely. "When I saw the casting call, I immediately thought of Jaehyeong and did my best to get it since working with him is super fun. He's a great friend, so I knew it was definitely going to be so easy to navigate."

"Right, you're super close. You've been glued to each other this whole time," he threw in a little tease, "but it's cool to see our maknae happy having friends around that share such cool creative drives between them," he smoothly added.

You nodded. Woosung caught a little shyness in your gesture, so he continued, "hey! Actually, it's awesome that we got to know you properly. Jaehyeong talks about you a lot, and we wanted to contact you for a little surprise we're throwing for him for his birthday."

"Oh, really? I was actually thinking of calling him and inviting him for some treat or something, but that is even better."

Woosung had to contain his excitement hearing you talk so enthusiastically, confirming even more how into each other the two of you were. He succeeded; Dojoon's plan was taking off steadily.

"Awesome! I'll tell Dojoon to send you all of the details."

“Hey, Y/N!”

"Hey, Y/N!" You heard Jaehyeong call you from inside the class.

It took you a second to realize he had been calling you, but as you turned around, a smile graced your lips. You watched as he maneuvered through the small crowd that had formed around your classmates near the entrance, causing you to giggle. After apologizing to Haeyoung, the class assistant, for accidentally bumping into her, he finally reached you.

"I thought I missed you," he blurted, a little out of breath. "So, I was thinking, do you wanna go grab a coffee?"

His smile was contagious. "Sure! Coffee would be nice," you agreed as enthusiastically as you could.

"It seems it might rain; we could go to your favorite just a couple of blocks away from here."

You simply nodded in response and followed him. Jaehyeong was undoubtedly the top highlight of acting classes. When you first saw him in that initial class, you couldn't help but feel a bit starstruck. However, he quickly showed how down-to-earth and kind he was, quickly erasing any notion of him being a celebrity from your mind. If you were to describe him in a single word, it would be "comfort." Whenever your best friend was absent from class, it was Jaehyeong that you would always gravitate towards, or sometimes the both of you if Hanna was also present.

"Are you in the mood for something sweeter today? Or just your regular Americano?" Jaehyeong asked once you entered the coffee shop.

"Oh, uh..." he caught you a little off guard. "Something sweeter sounds good today," you agreed.

"Find us a spot; I'll go and order," he suggested, anticipating your protest as he often did when he planned to pay for everything. "Please, just let me," he quickly interjected, flashing a genuine smile, hoping you would agree and allow him to treat you to coffee.

"Okay, but you will let me pay next time."

"Yeah, maybe," he joked, effortlessly bringing out a small laugh from you.

You went to look for a good spot so you could enjoy your coffee calmly. There was a corner near the window where not many people were around, so you sat there to wait for Jaehyeong. He had been right. As you stared outside the window, you noticed the raindrops starting to fall. You contemplated the weather, trying not to think about anything.

"Nice spot!" You heard him say as he sat down in front of you. "It did rain! Am I a psychic?" he joked, looking at the rain and giving you your drink.

"That is sweet," you said, and suddenly realized you might not have just meant it to describe the drink he chose for you. His eyes were so sparkly and full of joy, making you laugh again. "Seems you know me quite well; this seems delicious, or you really are a psychic," you said as you raised your eyebrows playfully.

"I will look into auditions for psychics; it might just come natural."

You were not surprised at how easily he could make you laugh, but the blossoming affection within you piqued your curiosity once again. All of your emotions collapsing caused you to retreat inward, contemplating and reflecting on them more deeply.

You would normally be aware of your surroundings, as you swear by the "here and now" perspective, but it was becoming more evident that something was on your mind.

Jaehyeong tried to study your expression. "So you got an interesting scene for the assignment?" he asked casually.

It was only natural for him to ask such a question, but what he understandably failed to anticipate was the extent of your concern since you first read it. He did notice the way you sighed and gazed at your coffee, absentmindedly playing with the whipped cream on top.

"Is everything okay?"

You looked up at him; his eyes expressed so much concern, and you felt so comfortable that you even managed to pull off a small smile. "It's a tough one," you admitted. "I read it, and it just feels so real. I'm concerned about not being able to even start with it; I think I—I, uh..."

Jaehyeong allowed the silence to linger, giving you the space and time you needed. Finally, you spoke up again, expressing your worries, "I don't know how I will manage to separate my own feelings from the character's." You glanced back at your coffee. "Actor's problems, huh?" you added, trying to lighten the mood with your self-deprecating comment.

Jaehyeong chuckled softly and met your eyes. "No need for jokes; your feelings are valid." He considered his words, "that is definitely a challenge, but you have a gift for channeling emotions authentically while keeping yourself protected."

He pondered for a moment. "You can perhaps resort to a simple technique...breath in and out, stay calm so the tears flow naturally once you relax," he suggested, offering a potential solution for the challenging assignment you had to prepare for next class, where you had to cry on cue. "But you can always talk to the professor and see if he can change your scene. I'm sure he will understand. Your learning process doesn't have to come at the expense of your suffering."

You finally smiled truthfully; his understanding and advice moved you deeply. He really saw through you and realized how deeply it was affecting you.

"And you're not alone," he added, smiling back. "I'm here if you need someone to talk to; I'll listen and provide my psychic powers, no charge."

The way he brought out your most genuine laugh of the day spoke volumes. He was a special one, no doubt. You felt so grateful towards him, and just having him around felt like a blessing. The emotions were finally clear as you saw into his eyes, expressing your heartfelt gratitude. There was a deep care for him that made you feel excited and frightened all at the same time.

“Oh, hi Y/N!” Dojoon exclaimed with a smile as he saw you entering the venue. He walked over to greet you properly and led you to where Woosung and Hajoon were busy setting up some fairy lights. They greeted you as warmly as Dojoon had and happily welcomed your offer to help with the preparations for Jaehyeong’s surprise.

“Thank you for lending us a hand; Jaehyeong would love to know that,” Woosung said, winking playfully. It seemed he had caught you off guard; your nervous smile was the giveaway. He let it rest but exchanged a look with Hajoon, who was trying to hide a knowing smile from you.

It was getting more obvious as time went by just how much you were into each other. The members didn’t want to meddle much anymore, but they still had some tricks up their sleeves if they didn’t see much interaction. Just one final push.

More guests began to arrive once the early crew finished decorating, filling the venue with an air of excitement and joy as the hour drew near. Smiles adorned everyone's faces as they eagerly anticipated Jaehyeong's arrival, but it was a certain starry-eyed face that kept the members eager to witness their youngest member's reaction.

The plan was set in motion. Hajoon received Jaehyeong's message, expressing concern as he found no one around in the building. Hajoon quickly reassured him that he was in no trouble but urged him to hurry since the crew needed to begin filming the promotional video for the tour earlier than planned, mentioning a logistical issue with the venue—all of this a white lie concocted to ensure Jaehyeong arrived alone at his surprise birthday party.

Jaehyeong's face showed a whirlwind of emotions as he stepped through the door. The lights out momentarily masked his concern, but it flickered across his face for a brief moment before he comprehended the situation. The sudden burst of lights, music, and chants of birthday wishes took him completely by surprise.

A particular someone captured his gaze, and all that his face revealed was enchantment. The members nudged each other, beaming at Jaehyeong‘s perfect reaction to realizing you were here. The birthday party be damned—almost—this is what they lived for, just witnessing their maknae being truthfully happy.

The band energetically embraced Jaehyeong in a group hug, messing with his neatly styled hair that his style crew had meticulously managed to tame. He had already thought that his sort of laid-back outfit didn’t match the tidy hairstyle much, so he felt more comfortable as he let them ruffle his hair. If only he could have guessed it was just to make him think he had to be at least half ready to only change his outfit once he arrived at the promotional video set.

Jaehyeong’s smile remained on his lips as the members pulled back, filled with gratitude for his friends. But his eyes suddenly searched past them, landing on yours across the room as he heard the beats of his yearning heart echo inside his ears.

There you stood, smiling shyly. The party buzz faded into background noise as your gazes met and held. Before he could second-guess himself, Jaehyeong started walking towards you. His heart pounded faster as your smile grew, mirroring the hope in his own eyes.

Time seemed to pass slower than it really was, but as Jaehyeong reached you under the colorful lights, he softly spoke your name, bringing you back from your slow-motion imagination.

“Y/N, I’m so happy you’re here.”

You shook your head slightly as you scrunched your nose. “It’s not hard to show up for you. Your hair...” you said, noticing the disheveled locks that his friends had left. Gently giggling, you ran your fingers through his hair, fixing it back into place. Jaehyeong didn’t have much time to react since the crowd approached to congratulate him. You stayed behind, trying to slow your heartbeat as you greeted a couple of acquaintances.

The party started right away, with people taking Jaehyeong from one place to another. Dojoon kept an eye out between mingling, ensuring everyone felt included in the revelry. He noticed you and Jaehyeong gravitating naturally together amidst chaos, even stealing shy glances when thinking no one saw while you were not within the same group of people. Trusting the magic of moments, Dojoon gave you space, engaging others enthusiastically.

In a brief moment, he found Woosung awaiting karaoke's start. Woosung nodded discreetly towards the balcony as he drew Hajoon in, who was busy setting the microphones. They watched in awe as Jaehyeong led you outside while holding your hand.

Woosung smiled knowingly. "Our work here is done. All that's left is for them to follow their hearts."

As you walked out onto the balcony, the sounds of the party gradually faded into the background, merging with the bustling city below like distant background music. You both took in the view, and for a moment, nothing was said.

You took the opportunity to reach for the small birthday present you brought. You were not planning anything specific to gift him, but when you saw it, you immediately thought of Jaehyeong, and you bought it right away.

“I got you something,” you announced.

Jaehyeong looked at you, surprised. “What? You didn’t have to,” he chuckled nervously.

“How could I not? It’s small, but I really hope you like it.” You took a deep breath and handed him the small box.

The gentle touch of his fingers sent thrills down your arm, so you tried to hide the sudden nervous smile that grew on your face. You stared as he opened his present and were moved by his growing smile.

“I’m a psychic… this is so cool. Where did you get it?”

He discovered the reason why, and you couldn’t help but laugh. “I was just window shopping and saw it; it was meant to be yours.”

“You…” he searched for your eyes. “I love it. Could you?” he asked you, offering to put the subtle crystal ball necklace around his neck.

There was no possible way to hide your smile anymore; he had you hooked. You stepped close enough to grab the necklace and softly rested your arms on his shoulders to fasten it. Once the necklace was secured around his neck, you took a second to admire it on him. It was perfect; it wasn’t extravagant, and it fit so well with him. Before he could read the emotions that your eyes expressed, you looked back at the city.

“Thank you,” he simply said.

“Welcome.”

Jaehyeong's heart raced with anticipation, but he took a deep breath to steady his nerves. He reminded himself that there was nothing to worry about when he was with you. Being around you brought him a sense of tranquility that he had never experienced elsewhere. Just by gazing at you and witnessing how your smile mirrored the radiance of the moon in the night sky, he felt at ease.

“Thank you for coming; seeing you made this surprise even better,” Jaehyeong softly said. You turned to face him, and the full sight of your smile melted his worries away.

“There was no reason not to be here.” Something in your voice gave him courage.

“I’ve loved to have you around the past week; we hadn’t seen each other in so long since I was too busy to attend classes.” Jaehyeong stepped closer, slowly, almost without being noticed. “I’ve missed asking you for help; I’ve missed our talks—“

“I’ve missed you too,” you interrupted, summarizing what you’d both felt before you could see each other again.

A fondness entered his eyes, and he nodded. “Y/N,” he started and gently reached for your hand, brushing his thumb over your skin. Your fingers curled around his, igniting sparks in both of your hearts. “I’ve been wanting to tell you something,” he paused for a second. “I’ve felt the agony for so long, but now I’m taking my leap of faith, letting hope lead me. What I’m trying to say is... I like you, Y/N. Not just as a friend. Every time we’re together, you become the highlight of my day.”

A tender smile broke across your face, accompanied by sparkling eyes that searched for his, easing the last of his nerves. “Jaehyeong, I like you too. I have for a while.”

It was your heart´s turn to settle into joy and calmness. You also lived through the agony and hope that Jaehyeong mentioned, making you remember about that small moment you shared in class once. It was almost poetic how he brought it up. He eased you up in ways you hadn’t known before, and that is why you stepped even closer and lifted your free hand to cradle his cheek. Jaehyeong’s eyes fluttered shut at your warm touch, savoring it.

Slowly, you leaned in, giving him every opportunity to pull back if unwanted. But all he wanted was you. He searched for you with his eyes still shut, until both of your lips met in a tender, lingering kiss. His lips were impossibly sweet and soft against yours, weakening your knees, but you stayed strong and continued to kiss him.

You both pulled away, driven by a gentle laugh that started without even thinking much about it all. You rested your forehead on his, keeping your eyes closed as you kept your hand on his cheek. “I’ve wanted to do that for so long,” you whispered, your thumb stroking his cheek soothingly.

Jaehyeong smiled with ease when your eyes met, both sharing radiant gazes equally filled with care and desire. “You make me so happy,” he shared while his cheeks heated up.

You giggled softly and pulled back to appreciate his face. “I am the lucky one,” you admitted.

“Should we stay out here for the rest of the night?” Jaehyeong asked, almost suggesting.

“You are the star of the party; it’s your birthday.” You giggled even more. “Even though, that sounds nice. No matter how cold it is out here, I feel warm being this close to you,” you confessed.

Jaehyeong’s protectiveness heightened and embraced you, drawing you even closer. “Then let’s get inside. The guys would also probably want to know what happened,” he chuckled. “Did you catch up on their meddling?” he asked, amused.

“I did!” you exclaimed. “I admit they helped quite a bit, though.”

“Yeah, they did.” Jaehyeong searched for your hand and tilted his head towards the door. You squeezed his hand and followed him inside.

You stepped in even closer than you had been when you went out to the balcony. Hajoon noticed the smiles on your faces and whispered at Dojoon to look back, and in a chain reaction, he pulled Woosung from where he was talking to a couple of their friends. They looked at you both in awe, full of joy for what seemed to have been a successful confession. No matter who initiated it or what was said and done, they were just happy for the both of you and how easily everything fell into place.

[musicallover0428]

After many months I have finally completed Chapter 3.

Unfortunately, it will be many months before Chapter 4 sees the light of day.

I hope you're enjoying the story