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sadnymi · 5 months ago

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Nonsense

[Theodore Nott × reader]

Summary: you have always been Hogwarts perfect girl ,excelled academically, demonstrated exemplary behavior, and has been a role model, but your obsession with Theodore Nott was getting out of hands.

Warning: fluff, strong language.

Words:3k.

I had been obsessed with Theodore Nott for as long as I could remember. Every morning before class, I’d muster up the courage to say, “Hi, Theo,” my voice soft and shy. I couldn’t help but blush every time he glanced my way.

In the Great Hall, I always found myself sitting at the nearest table to him during meals, stealing glances in his direction. Theodore was effortlessly cool, the quintessential bad boy, and it only made him more irresistible. His presence was magnetic, and I found myself drawn to him like a moth to a flame.

Despite my nerves, I made a decision. Today would be the day I finally talked to him. As I took a deep breath, calming my racing heart, I reminded myself that I had nothing to lose.

I saw him sitting alone in a corner of the library, sketching something intently. My heart skipped a beat. This was my chance. I approached him slowly, my palms sweaty, and my mind racing with all the possible things I could say without making a complete fool of myself.

“H-hi, Theo,” I stammered, my voice barely above a whisper.

He looked up, his eyes locking onto mine. “Hey, Y/N,” he said, a small smirk playing on his lips. “What’s up?”

I swallowed hard, trying to gather my thoughts. “I, uh, I just wanted to say that your drawing is really, um, beautiful,” I said, my words tumbling out in a rush. “I mean, you’re really talented. Like, really, really talented. It’s just so...beautiful. And, um, did I mention you’re talented?”

He chuckled, the sound deep and warm. “Thanks,” he said, clearly amused by my nervous rambling. “I appreciate it.”

I felt my face heat up, my cheeks undoubtedly a bright shade of red. “What are you drawing?” I asked, trying to keep the conversation going.

He tilted the sketchpad so I could see. It was a detailed drawing of a dragon, its scales intricately shaded, its eyes fierce and alive. “It’s incredible,” I breathed, genuinely impressed. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything like it.”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying my reaction. “You like dragons, huh?”

I nodded enthusiastically. “Yes, they’re fascinating creatures. And the way you’ve captured its essence is just...amazing. You’re amazing.”

He laughed, a low, throaty sound that made my stomach flutter. “You’re quite the fan, aren’t you, Y/N?”

I bit my lip, nodding shyly. “I guess you could say that.”

He leaned back in his chair, his eyes never leaving mine. “You know, you’re cute when you’re all flustered.”

I felt my blush deepen, and I couldn’t help but smile. “Th-thank you,” I stammered, my heart pounding in my chest.

He smirked, clearly enjoying the effect he had on me. “You should stay. Maybe I’ll draw you next what do you think?”

My eyes widened, and I felt a rush of excitement. “Really? You’d do that?”

He nodded, his expression serious. “Yeah. I think it’d be fun.”

I sat down across from him, feeling a mix of nervousness and exhilaration. “I’d love that,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

Mesmerized by the way his hand moved across the paper, I didn't even notice someone approaching. My mind was completely absorbed in Theo’s sketch and the subtle expressions on his face. I was smiling, lost in the moment, when suddenly, Theo’s voice broke through my thoughts.

“Y/N, can I talk to you?” A voice cut through my trance, but I barely registered it, still smiling and looking at Theo.

“Y/N,” Theo said, looking between me and someone else.

“Yeah?” I responded, still a little dazed.

He nodded towards my ex, who was standing there awkwardly. “He wants to talk to you.”

I blinked, finally noticing jacob standing there. “Oh, hi,” I said, my voice flat.

Jacob gave a tight smile. “Can we talk, Y/N?”

“Sure,” I replied, standing up reluctantly. Jacob frowned but took my arm, gently steering me away. I kept glancing back over my shoulder, my eyes drawn to Theo, who was already back to his drawing, seemingly unfazed.

“Y/N,” Jacob started, but I was only half-listening, my attention still fixated on Theo.

“Y/N?” Jacob repeated, more insistently.

“Yeah?” I asked, finally looking at him.

“I’ve been thinking a lot about us,” he began, but his words were a blur. All I could think about was Theo’s sketch, his focused expression, the way his hand moved so confidently across the page.

“Y/N!” Jacob said sharply, snapping me out of my reverie.

“Just go away, Jacob,” I said, waving him off without really thinking.

“But, Y/N—”

“I’m serious, Jacob. Just leave me alone.” I turned back towards Theo, who was still engrossed in his drawing. I hurried back over to him, feeling a mix of relief and excitement.

Theo looked up as I approached, a smirk playing on his lips. “Who was that?”

“Who?” I asked, momentarily confused by the intensity of his gaze.

“The guy you were just talking to,” Theo said, smirking slightly.

“Oh! Him. That’s…uh…” I stammered, trying to remember. “Jacob! That’s Jacob. He’s my ex.”

“ You forgot his name ?” Theo raised an eyebrow, smiling he added. “You seemed pretty distracted.”

I laughed nervously, feeling my cheeks heat up. “Yeah, I guess I was. I just...couldn’t stop thinking about your drawing....”

“Is that so?” Theo asked, his voice low and teasing. “You must really like my drawings, then.”

“I do!” I said eagerly. “You’re so talented, Theo. I wish I could draw like you.”

He chuckled, the sound making my heart skip a beat. “Why don’t you try?”

“Oh, I’m terrible at drawing,” I said quickly, shaking my head. “You don’t want to see that.”

“Come on,” he insisted, pushing the sketchpad towards me. “I’ll help you.”

I hesitated, then picked up the pencil. My hand shook slightly as I tried to draw a simple line. Theo’s hand covered mine, guiding me gently.

“Like this,” he murmured, his breath warm against my ear. He moved my hand slowly, and I felt a thrill shoot through me at his touch.

“I’m really bad at this,” I whispered, embarrassed.

“You’re doing fine,” he said, his voice soft and reassuring. “Just relax.”

I took a deep breath, letting him guide me. Together, we managed to sketch a rough outline of a dragon. It was nowhere near as good as Theo’s, but it was better than anything I could have done on my own.

“See?” he said, smiling at me. “Not so bad.”

I laughed, feeling a warmth spread through me. “Thanks, Theo. You’re a great teacher.”

He looked at me, his eyes intense. “I’m glad you think so,” he said, his voice low and smooth.

Before I could respond, Blaise Zabini sauntered over, his usual confident smirk in place. “Hey, Theo,” he greeted, then turned his attention to me. “Oh, hi, cutie.”

“Hi,” I replied, trying to keep my voice steady.

“Blaise,” Theo said, acknowledging his friend.

“Just wanted to let you know about the party this weekend,” Blaise said, his eyes flicking between Theo and me. “Should be a good time. You’re coming, right?”

“Yeah, I’ll be there,” Theo replied.

Blaise turned to me, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Why don’t you come too, Y/N? Bring a friend if you want.”

“Can I?” I asked, looking between Blaise and Theo.

“Yeah, sure, why not?” Blaise said with a grin. “You and that friend of yours... what was her name again?”

“Y/F/N,” I supplied.

“Right, Y/F/N,” Blaise repeated, nodding. “But are you sure you’re up for it? These parties can get pretty wild.”

I smiled, a determined glint in my eye. “I can handle it. You’d be surprised.”

Blaise chuckled, clearly amused by my confidence. “What do you think, Nott?”

Theo smiled, his gaze meeting mine. “Yeah, she can come. Should be interesting.”

As soon as I was out of earshot, I practically sprinted to find Y/F/N. I spotted her in the common room, reading a book. I burst in, unable to keep the news to myself.

“Y/F/N!” I exclaimed, causing her to look up in surprise.

“What’s got you so excited?” she asked, marking her place in the book.

“I talked to Theo today,” I said breathlessly, sitting down next to her. “And Blaise invited us to a party this weekend!”

Her eyes widened in surprise. “Theo Nott?”

“Yes!” I said, practically bouncing with excitement. “And he helped me draw, and he was so sweet, and then Blaise came and invited us to the party!”

Y/F/N grinned, her excitement matching mine. “We definitely need to go shopping for new outfits.”

“Absolutely.“

The end of the year was fast approaching, and the air in the Great Hall buzzed with anticipation. Professor Filius Flitwick stood at the front, addressed the assembled students.

“As you all know, the Yule Ball is a time-honored tradition,” he began, his voice carrying easily across the room. “This year, we have the honor of selecting one student to represent Hogwarts at the ball. This student has consistently excelled academically, demonstrated exemplary behavior, and has been a role model for their peers.”

I felt my heart pound in my chest, my mind racing with possibilities. Could it be me? I had always been at the top of my year, never cursed, never got into trouble. But still, it felt like a dream too far out of reach.

Professor Flitwick continued, his gaze sweeping over the students. “It is my pleasure to announce that this year’s representative for Hogwarts will be... Y/N Y/L/N!”

The Great Hall erupted into applause, and I felt my face heat up with a mixture of pride and embarrassment. I stood up slowly, my legs feeling a bit wobbly as I made my way to the front. Professor Flitwick smiled warmly at me as he shook my hand.

“Congratulations, Miss Y/L/N,” he said. “You’ve truly earned this.”

“Thank you, Professor,” I managed to say, my voice shaking slightly. I turned to face the hall, my heart soaring as I saw my friends cheering for me.

As I made my way back to my seat, I caught sight of Theo, his signature smirk firmly in place. He leaned against the wall, arms crossed, looking every bit the confident bad boy he was known to be.

“I knew it would be you,” he said as I approached, his voice low and teasing.

I felt a giggle escape my lips, my cheeks burning. “Really?”

“Of course,” he said, his smirk widening. “You’re the perfect student. Always top of the class, never in trouble. It was a given.”

I bit my lip, trying to contain my excitement. “Thanks,”

He tilted his head slightly, his gaze intense. “So, you’re coming to the party, right?”

I nodded, unable to stop the smile from spreading across my face. “Yes, I am.”

“Good,” he said, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Wouldn’t be the same without you.”

I felt a shiver of excitement at his words, my heart fluttering in my chest. Just then, one of his friends called out to him from across the hall.

“Theo! Come on, we’re going to be late!”

Theo glanced over his shoulder and then back at me. “Looks like I need to go. See you at the party?”

“See you there,” I replied, my voice barely above a whisper.

As the weekend approached, Y/F/N and I spent hours picking out the perfect outfits for the party. And we were getting ready in our dormitory, the excitement palpable in the air.

“How do I look?” I asked, twirling in front of the mirror.

“Absolutely gorgeous,” Y/F/N said, adjusting her earrings. “Theo won’t be able to take his eyes off you.”

I blushed. “Let’s hope so.”

We made our way to the party, the corridors of Hogwarts buzzing with the energy of students eager to celebrate. As soon as we entered the room, Blaise Zabini spotted us and sauntered over, his usual charming smile firmly in place.

“Ladies,” he greeted us, his eyes sparkling. “You both look stunning tonight.”

“Hi, Blaise,” I said, feeling a blush rise to my cheeks.

“Hi,” Y/F/N added, smiling.

Blaise turned his charm up a notch, giving Y/F/N an appreciative once-over. “You both are making everyone else look underdressed.”

I laughed, shaking my head. “Thanks, Blaise.”

As the night went on, I found myself searching the room for any signs of Theo. The party was in full swing, with students laughing, dancing, and enjoying themselves. We eventually found a spot to sit, and a few people came over to congratulate me on being chosen to represent Hogwarts at the Yule Ball.

Blaise leaned in, his smile never wavering. “Can I get you ladies a drink?”

“I don’t drink,” I said quickly, feeling a bit embarrassed.

“I do,” Y/F/N chimed in, giving me a playful nudge. “But only if it’s something good.”

Blaise laughed, standing up. “I’ll be right back.”

As Blaise left, I continued to search the room for Theo. My eyes finally landed on him, and my breath caught in my throat. He looked incredibly handsome in a black shirt, the fabric fitting him perfectly and highlighting his lean build. His dark hair was tousled in that effortlessly sexy way, and his eyes scanned the room with an easy confidence.

“There he is,” Y/F/N whispered, noticing my gaze.

“Yeah,” I murmured, my heart pounding in my chest.

Theo’s eyes met mine across the room, and a slow smile spread across his face.

I turned to Y/F/N, trying to steady my breath. “ I can’t breathe. He looks so handsome, I think I might die.”

She laughed, shaking her head. “Y/N, you’ve got it bad.”

“No, seriously, that black shirt has me thinking...” I paused dramatically, “no lube, no protection, all night, all day, from the kitchen floor to the toilet seat, from the dining table to the church, from the front porch to the balcony, vertically, horizontally, quadratic, while I gasp for air and scream the Lord’s prayer, he can top me.”

Y/F/N’s eyes widened, and she tried to interrupt. “Y/N…”

But I was on a roll. “Vertically, horizontally, missionary, cowgirl, reverse cowgirl, doggy, backwards, sideways, upside down, on the floor, in the bed, on the couch, in a chair, outside, in a train, on a plane, in the car, in the shower, on the street against the wall, until the room reeks. NO BREAKS!”

“Y/N!”

“I mean, come on, have you seen him? He’s so—”

“Y/N!” Y/F/N hissed again, her voice more urgent this time.

“What?” I snapped, feeling a bit annoyed at the interruption.

She looked at me with a horrified smile, trying to point behind me. “Please don’t freak out, but…”

“Please tell me he’s not—” I began, my voice trailing off as I turned slowly to see Theo standing right behind me, a smirk playing on his lips, his eyebrows raised in surprise.

For a moment, I just stared at him, my brain scrambling to process what had just happened. My heart plummeted, and I was about to fall from my seat.

“Y/N,” Y/F/N said quickly, “I—I really need to go search for Blaise. I think I heard him calling my name.”

She darted away, leaving me alone with Theo. I swallowed hard, trying to find my voice.

“Hey,” he said, his smirk widening. “Quite the imagination you’ve got there.”

“I—uh—” I stammered, feeling my cheeks burn with embarrassment. “I didn’t know you were...”

“Listening?” he finished for me, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “Clearly.”

“I, um...” I trailed off, not knowing how to respond.

He leaned in, his voice low and teasing. “So, vertically and horizontally, huh?”

My face turned beet red. I was about to fall off my seat when he caught me, his hands firm on my waist.

“Easy there,” he said, his voice soft and teasing.

I blinked, trying to find something to say. “Theo, I—”

He gently touched my face, his fingers brushing against my cheek. “You’re adorable, you know that?”

Theo chuckled, his eyes never leaving mine. “You know, you don’t have to fantasize. All you have to do is ask.”

My breath hitched, and I felt like my heart was going to burst out of my chest. “Ask?”

He nodded, leaning in so close I could feel his breath on my skin. “Yeah. Just ask.”

“Theo, I—”

He interrupted me, his face now inches from mine.

“Do you know what really turns me on, Y/N? Hearing you, the perfect little angel, talk so dirty. It’s like discovering a secret side of you. And I have to admit, it’s fucking hot.”

I bit my lip, trying to hold back a moan. "I was just—"

"Just what?" he whispered, leaning in so close that his lips brushed against my ear. "Just fantasizing about me taking you in every possible way? About me fucking you so hard you can’t breathe?"

A shiver ran down my spine, and I couldn't stop the small whimper that escaped my lips. He chuckled, clearly enjoying the effect he was having on me.

"You’re so damn sexy when you’re flustered," he murmured, his lips grazing the sensitive skin of my neck.

"Do you want me to kiss you right now?" he asked, his lips hovering over mine. "Because I want to. So badly."

I nodded, barely able to breathe. "Yes."

He closed the distance between us, his lips capturing mine in a fierce, hungry kiss. His hands roamed my body, pulling me even closer, and I melted into him, all my senses overwhelmed by his touch.

"Am I interrupting something?" Draco asked, raising an eyebrow.

I pulled away from Theo, my heart racing. "Draco, I—"

Theo sighed, stepping back but not letting go of my hand. "You’ve got impeccable timing, Malfoy," he said dryly.

"Do you two want to join us, or are you planning on giving everyone here a show?"

"We’ll catch up later," Theo said smoothly, his eyes still locked on mine. "You go without us, Draco."

Draco smirked. "Alright."

Theo watched Draco walk away before turning back to me. "Now, where were we?"

I shook my head, trying to clear it. "Theo, I—"

"Let’s start with a date," he said, his voice gentle but firm. "What do you say, Y/N?"

"A date?" I echoed, still trying to process everything.

"Yeah, a date," he said, his eyes softening. "And maybe, we can see if you really do scream God's prayers."

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

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fayes-fics · 2 months ago

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The Secrets We Keep: Pt II

<< Part I

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

Summary: Knowing someone your whole life doesn’t mean they can’t surprise you… (part II, see above for link to part I)

Warnings: 18+ smut, minors DNI, loss of virginity, vaginal fingering, oral sex (m to f), cunnilingus, hand job, vaginal sex, woman on top, orgasm. Also a lot of fluff and a few dashes of angst.

Word Count: 8.5k (13.6k for complete fic, including Pt I)

Authors Note: Part 2 of 2. Part 1 linked above. My longest gestating WIP! It’s been more than 18 months since I received a request for this secret diary fic. Tulip Anon, I have no idea if you still follow me, but I hope you think I did your detailed request justice. Here is the conclusion to this Benepic! Betaed by the awesome @colettebronte, who I can’t thank enough. Enjoy! 🫶

-vii-

The first thing you feel is throbbing pain, an insistent drum in your head, mouth dry as if you have been chewing cotton wool—the instant regret of excessive drinking floods through you. However, when your eyes reluctantly peel open, your predicament escalates.

You have no earthly idea where you are. Or how you got here. The last thing you remember was Benedict kissing you; then the room was literally spinning from entirely too much brandy.

Still in the dress you wore yesterday, but tucked under crisp white linens. A trace of a familiar scent upon the pillow that you cannot quite place in your fuzzy state. Gingerly sitting up, you try to get your bearings, not yet awake enough to have any reaction beyond puzzlement.

The room is darkened, thankfully, save for a sliver of the rising sun that slashes across the bed through a narrow gap in the curtains. You are in a large mahogany four-poster bed; the room is decorated in rich jewel tones—heavy velvet burgundy drapes and dark blue Persian rugs, panelled walls on which stunning artwork hangs. Embers glow in a nearby fireplace as you spy your pelisse hanging on the back of a door and your shoes neatly arranged nearby.

Then you twist and see the bedside cabinet, and your stomach plunges.

There, alongside a glass of water, is your notebook. Your secret notebook. The one that should still be concealed within the hidden pocket of your pelisse. But instead, it is here. And what is worse, it is open. Open to a page with one of your favourite sketches of Benedict: his eyes crinkling against the strong rays of the sun, a carefree smile on his face.

Instantly, you grab it and slam it shut. Fingernails drumming urgently on its silken cover, now hugged into your chest. Horrified that your mystery generous benefactor, who must have seen you to bed, has also been privy to your most private thoughts.

Galvanised by a need to solve the mystery of who, you relinquish your tight hold on the tome. It is then that a folded letter slips out of its pages and drops into your lap. Tentatively, you unfurl the paper and are aghast by the headed notepaper declaring the author and revealing your host. The worst possible person you could think of.

But then your gaze falls to the elegant script inked onto its thick parchment, and your life is indelibly altered.

Dearest Y/n

I hope you are well-rested. There are so many things I am impatient to impart, but I must begin with an explanation and, indeed, an apology.

You are in my bedroom, at my lodgings. I brought you here as I saw no other option that would guarantee your safety and welfare, which is always my utmost concern. I made pains to ensure your arrival here was not seen, and I must assure you, in case your recall is uncertain, that nothing has happened between us beyond our kiss.

Now onto my apology, which is two-fold, although I suspect it should contain multitudes more. Firstly, my most sincere and unreserved apologies for my ungentlemanly conduct at our last two encounters. As wondrous as those kisses were, they were nonetheless inexcusable. I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive my impulsive actions.

Secondly, I must apologise for my discovery of this, your private diary. My knowledge of its existence is purely accidental; I removed it from your coat merely as a wish for your possessions to be in neat order upon your awakening. My knowledge of its contents, however… for that, I must throw myself at your mercy and beg for your forgiveness. Curiosity and liquor are not the best companions, and it seems both got the better of me.

In what I hope is partial recompense, I will confess a secret of mine. Arguably selfish in nature and most likely the worst possible timing, too. However, given what I have now seen, I am utterly compelled to convey it….

I love you, y/n.

Most ardently and most truly.

There is no person in the world I would rather spend time with. Whose thoughts I am always impatient to know and whose every moment I wish to be a part of. For some time now, you have occupied my every thought.

It is why I felt compelled to act when I heard from Eloise about your impossible situation. I will do anything within my power to assist you. It is why I said that I want to alleviate your burdens. I meant every word and more. My happiness is seemingly inextricably calibrated to yours—when I see you happy, it brings me great joy, and when I see you are not, it brings a pang to my chest I know not what do with.

I would have taken these feelings to my grave… were it not for this diary. When what I found hidden within ts pages gave me the exquisite burden of hope. Hope that perhaps you return my affections? May indeed have done so for quite some time as well?

I must also take a moment to compliment your poetic talent, and that is to say nothing of your artistic abilities, which quite frankly are humbling. Dare I dream of a day that we could paint together? Sorry (Again! Multitudes indeed!), I am likely getting far ahead of myself.

I will not be home when you read this. Partial cowardice on my part, no doubt, but born out of utmost respect. You always deserve the right to choose, y/n, and that includes what you do with this confession. I do not wish for you to be obligated to see me or let me know your response, thoroughly eager though I am to hear of it.

If you wish to speak to me before your wedding ceremony, please leave your hair ribbon tied to my phaeton upon your departure. I will find a way to see you. If you do not, I shall, of course, respect your decision.

A vila mon coeur, gardi li mo: You will always have my heart; I hope you also choose to be its haven.

Benedict

You could read this confession a thousand times over and still scarcely believe it; the depth of his feelings declared plainly, boldly, and so lyrically in writing. You pour over it once more, giddily aglow, your fingers tracing across his elegant, looped script, your lips moving as you mouth his words, needing to have them within you somehow. Then, you lovingly refold and place the letter between the last two blank pages of your notebook—a more fitting denouement to its contents you could not imagine.

You put on your shoes and pelisse, still floating on a cloud. A valet meets you in the hallway and, with a wordless nod of acknowledgement, leads you out of the rear mews entrance, handing you a large silk scarf to conceal yourself under. With one final glance up at Benedict’s abode, you unfurl the ribbon from your hair and, insides aflutter, tie it in a neat bow onto his phaeton before wrapping the scarf around your head and stealing out onto the streets of Mayfair.

-viii-

Still in a daze about Benedict’s confession, you slip into the servant's entrance of your family home, tiptoeing through the dormant kitchen and tugging off the scarf. Just as you believe yourself home-free, Mrs White, head cook and ersatz maternal figure, materialises from the pantry, nearly dropping a bag of flour in surprise.

“Lawks alive, sweet child, you gave me a fright!” she exclaims, clutching her chest. “Pray tell, why are you sneaking into my kitchen at the crack of dawn?”

You cringe and turn sheepishly to meet her gaze. “Sorry for the scare, Mrs White. I, um, indulged rather too heavily last night. I was in no fit state to return home. I stayed with a trusted friend.” The truth, albeit behind a veil of obfuscation. “Please do not tell Father!” you add hurriedly.

As she plunks down the flour and smacks her fingers together to rid them of its nascent dust, she chuckles. “I shall not divulge if you do not… for I was already under your father’s employ when I did the same many years ago, the night before I made my Harry an honest man.”

“Deal!” you giggle, clutching your notebook tight to your chest, unable to quash the ebullience fizzing in your being.

“You look as if you caught a rainbow and sold it to the sky,” she declares, crossing her arms and observing you closely. “Wedding day excitement, yes?!” she adds pointedly with a raised eyebrow, even as her tone very much suggests she suspects otherwise.

“Of course, Mrs White…” you concur, attempting to conceal the quirk of your lip.

She rolls her eyes and shoos you affectionately towards the hallway. “Away with you! I suspect the less I truly know, the better…”

You say nothing; just give her a nod and race up the servant's stairs, keen to make it to your bedroom unseen.

As soon as you are safely there, you toe off your shoes and only then relinquish your vice-like grip upon your notebook to hurriedly change into your nightgown as if you had been asleep in the house all night. Enacting a plan you conceived on the brisk walk home, you grab a night bag from your ottoman. Flinging open your wardrobe, patently ignoring the wedding dress hung upon its door, you bundle the notebook with a couple of your favourite outfits and stuff them into the bag. Buckling it shut while you scoot across the room, you open the sash window and - with a quick check of the garden below - drop the bag into the large rhododendron beneath, hopeful the dense, fragrant blooms will conceal its presence for now.

Just as you are closing the window, a gaggle of ladies descend upon your room, led by your fussing mother, your ladies' maid Rachel among them. Realising she has had to lie to keep your cover since yesterday at the modiste, you silently shoot her a brief look of reassurance.

“Rise and shine, darling!” your mother chimes. “‘Tis your most special day!”

And then everything is a blur as the preparation for your wedding starts in earnest, you still slightly detached from it all, your thoughts purely of Benedict. It is only sometime later that you get a few moments of peace with just Rachel as she puts the finishing touches to your look.

“You seem changed, my lady…” Rachel opines sotto voce, sliding a pin into your hair.

You say nothing, even as your eyes meet in the vanity table mirror, unwilling to confess details of what has transpired just yet. Unsure yourself even what it could mean until you get the chance to see Benedict yourself, your stomach in knots to do so.

“I told your family you took dinner alone last night in your room after returning from the modiste, and then you went to sleep…” she whispers, leaning in even though you are alone.

“Thank you. I am truly grateful,” you offer sincerely before adding: “I will tell you more when I am able. I do beg one more favour of you…?”

She makes eye contact again in your reflection, giving a brief tentative nod after a pause.

“If you should hear from a Bridgerton valet, please follow any directions he provides,” you implore, the image of your hair ribbon fluttering gently in the breeze emblazoned in your mind.

“A valet? Not a ladies’ maid?” she checks softly, frowning.

“Yes, just please… do as he asks?”

“Yes, my lady,” she demures before reaching for your jewellery.

It is only as the carriage you and your mother ride in shudders over the cobblestones towards St George’s church an hour or so later that reality comes crashing in.

So engrossed in thoughts of seeing Benedict all morning, you had almost forgotten the dreadful fate that likely awaits you. A sudden spike of fear that he will not turn up, that something will prevent him from seeing you, or, heaven forfend, today’s stiff breeze has blown your hair ribbon asunder.

All at once, your head is spinning, your dress feels too tight, and there is a plunging dread in the pit of your stomach, your skin prickling hard before your vision seems to swim with dots before narrowing to blackness…

“Y/n!? Whatever is the matter?!” your mother’s alarmed voice rings out as you woozily return.

You are slumped sideways against the glass window, its cool surface a balm on your suddenly fevered temple.

“Is it what I told you about your wedding night…?!” she frets, her laced glove tickling your forehead as she appears to be checking your temperature. “I can assure you, you will get used to it…”

You bat her away and slowly sit upright, taking a calming breath while also trying to blot out the memory of her talk about marital relations right before you left the house. Not able to confess it as unnecessary without raising suspicion, you had to endure a stumbling, unhelpful explanation of things you already know. Indeed, you have witnessed at Granville’s parties, even if you have not taken part yourself.

But then the sudden thought of being required to do such with Lord Farringdon has you grasping the curtain, your empty stomach heaving at the mere prospect. The silent hope that Benedict can assist you at the eleventh hour is the only thing that stops you from passing out anew.

With a shaky gait and a queasy, oily feeling, you alight a few moments later, your mother lending an arm of support as your father and brothers pile out of the other carriage. This is to be the entirety of your wedding guest list. You have pulled into a side courtyard of the church, concealed behind high walls, away from the inquisitive sights of the Ton. The rushed nature of the union and Whistledown’s latest means your family has no wish for this to be a public event, keen to be rid of scandal. Only your immediate family, your husband-to-be and the vicar - a friend of your father’s - know of today’s ceremony. Well, and Benedict. You did not even get the chance to inform Eloise of this expedited schedule.

As he leads you up the stairs and into the side vestibule, your father informs you that Lord Farringdon is already awaiting you at that altar and that he will appreciate a swift ceremony. You swallow thickly and nod mutely, sensing the window of opportunity creaking closed with alarming alacrity, each incessant tick of the church clock seeming like both forever and not enough time, scrabbling for any chance to stall.

Just as you are about to lose all sense of hope, you see movement over your father's shoulder that has your heart leaping into your throat. There, through a mullioned window, you see the distorted outline of a phaeton swiftly pulling up on the other side of the church from where you entered, a palpable wave of relief and excitement washing over you.

Benedict has come!

-ix-

“Father, may I please have a moment alone?” you rush out breathlessly, pulse-pounding hard in your ears. Hoping he will interpret your request as mere nervousness about the imminent ceremony, you add: “Before I must take this big step and become a wife?”

He reluctantly grants your wishes, brusquely telling you it should be brief before following the rest of your family through the doors into the nave.

As soon as the coast is clear, you are darting out the entrance again and running around the outside of the church, wedding dress swishing around your legs, until you skid to a halt next to a pillar that conceals you from the street.

There, before you, arrestingly beautiful and jumping athletically down to the pavement, is Benedict—a vision in a blue velvet jacket and teal cravat.

Your eyes meet, and your knees want to buckle; such is the magnitude of the moment. He bounds up the granite steps and crushes his lips to yours briefly.

“No time to talk,” he rushes out. “If you wish to escape, take my hand, for we must depart now!”

Your heart hammers as you do the only thing you could ever want to: grab tightly onto his proffered hand as his face breaks out into the most arresting smile. Then it's a blur as he whisks you down the steps to his phaeton, hoisting you up onto its leather bench and throwing a blanket into your lap, then clambering in himself. With a shake of the reins, you lurch and take off down an alleyway at a rapid pace. The velocity of motion, red bricks of buildings whizzing by mere feet away, has you momentarily stunned and so you almost jump out of your skin when he speaks loudly over the rushing noise.

“Cover yourself before we get to the street,” Benedict advises quick-fire, only taking his attention off the road briefly to nod to the blanket. Just as you are struggling to conceal yourself, the horses careen onto Park Lane, attracting attention for the speed you are already travelling.

“Benedict!” you chastise, your arm shooting out to grab the side of the partial umbrella-like hood that arches over you, having to cling on for dear life. “This is not exactly a stealthy escape!”

“I know,” he grimaces, not looking at you, “but we must make haste and be as far away as we can as soon as possible.”

“Regardless of destination, we will need to stop at my house!” you almost have to yell to be heard over the jostling wheels on either side of you.

“Why??” His whole face screwed up in disbelief.

“I must gather some things! I will not leave without them, Benedict!!” you warn.

“What could possibly be worth stopping for?” he decries, the whole vehicle swaying violently as he rounds another bend.

“Perchance, other clothing?!” you wither loudly, frowning that he had not considered such, before adding: “And your letter!?”

His head whips around to look at you and there is an intensity in his gaze that has your heart stuttering. An all-consuming want to kiss his lips as his gaze falls to your mouth. Only the urgent yelp of a pedestrian you narrowly avoid colliding into rips your attention away from each other.

He rights the phaeton, tugging the reins so the horses slow.

“Alright,” he concedes, quieter, calmer. “But please do be as quick as you are able…”

You don't get the chance to inform him you have already packed and stowed a bag because he is pulling up in the quiet mews behind your family home. You jump down and take off, sprinting through the small gate and across the lawn. Soon, you are diving into the large bushes on the side of the house beneath your bedroom window. Fumbling around, you have to wrestle your dress from a branch before you reach the wall. Emitting a muted noise of victory as you are finally able to grab your bag and out of the foliage without looking.

“Miss y/l/n!?”

You jump out of your skin, spinning to see Mrs White standing at a nearby door, wielding a rolling pin.

“Mrs White, please,” you beseech, “please, do not tell anyone!”

She takes stock of you: your animated state, your wedding dress torn over your knee where it snagged upon that branch, a night bag grasped in your ringless left hand… and she appears to make a calculated decision.

“I fear I could not, my child,” she offers with a shrug, “I do not see anyone for me to tell of…”

The small, sympathetic nod and smile toying her lips has you barreling towards her, throwing your free arm tight around her as flour dust puffs onto the silk of your dress. You utter your thanks, flooded with gratitude, hugging her close before disentangling, you take off sprinting before she can say anymore.

-x-

As you depart from your family home, a companionable silence settles between you—a tacit understanding that there is much to discuss, but the journey is not the ideal place to do so. Both resolute to put some miles between yourselves and your family, likely now emerging from the church and wondering where on earth you are. A flare of guilt in your belly for not informing Rachel or even your mother. You resolve to send word tomorrow that you are safe without providing details.

As the edges of London give way to the countryside, you do decide to ask one simple question.

“Where are we headed, Benedict?”

“I have a suggested destination….” he begins enigmatically, an odd cadence to his voice, “but we will discuss that later, once we stop for the night at an inn.”

There is a little flutter behind your ribs at the thought, but it is forgotten as a strong gust of wind whistles over the carriage, making you shiver and burrow into the blanket, wishing you had grabbed your pelisse from the night bag before setting off.

You startle as Benedict pulls you snugly into his side, adjusting the carriage hood and then the blanket, too, so he provides partial shelter from the winds as they whip across the fields.

“I am sorry I do not have an enclosed carriage for you to journey in comfort,” he winces, his speech humming into you. “But it is best we use this speedier option anyway. We will cover more ground swiftly travelling light.”

You nod in acknowledgement. “Thank you for the blanket, at least; it is very considerate,” you respond, not unpleased to have an excuse to cuddle into him as you reassure him: “I am well now.”

Indeed, the warmth of his flank on yours and the steady rocking motion of the carriage is soporific, the whirlwind of the day hitting you even though it is merely lunchtime.

“Please rest if you need to,” he intuits, “I will wake you if needed.”

And despite the elements, you find the lure of sleep inevitable.

A warm wetness on your brow stirs you.

“Y/n…”

You wish you could always be roused like this; your name a soft rumble from Benedict’s lips as they trace gently over your forehead. You nuzzle unthinkingly into the sound and feel, which has him chuckling into your skin.

“We are here, at the inn….” he murmurs, his breath hot into your hairline.

You blink awake. “We are?!’” You twist to see you are stopped alongside an elegant Tudor wood building. “How long have I been asleep?!”

“All afternoon,” he admits, a touch sheepish. “You looked so peaceful and I assume you must need the rest after a tumultuous few days.”

His touching manner has a warmth spreading behind your ribs that makes you push up and land a kiss on his jaw.

“Thank you,” you whisper, pulling away but pleased to see a dot of colour high on his cheekbones.

“‘Tis nothing,” he demures before changing the topic. “I am sure you are hungry and in need of refreshments. So we shall dine and remain here for the night. We have covered a considerable distance from London already—around forty miles.” He jumps down and stands expectantly holding out a hand for you to follow suit as he continues speaking. “To avoid attention, we should present ourselves as family relations—cousins, perhaps?”

“I am in a wedding dress,” you remind as you wrestle your way out of the blanket and reach for him to descend.

His Adam’s apple bobs as he scans down your form, lingering slightly.

“Oh yes. Well. Umm. Perchance as husband and wife then?” he flusters as you step down with his assistance.

“Would that not draw the attention you mentioned we should avoid?” you murmur, your hands still joined even though you are on the ground now.

“Do you have another suggestion?” he queries, his breath warm on your face as you stand entirely too close, fingers flexing around yours.

“Unless you wish me to remove my dress out here…” you goad, a little crest of victory as his pupils rapidly dilate and he huffs a breath, “...then I do not.”

“We have much to discuss,” he almost growls, which stokes something low in your belly as he tugs you along towards the entrance, only stopping to nod briefly to the inn’s groomsman who emerges to take care of your horses.

-xi-

The tavern at the inn is a warm, convivial space, wood-panelled, the smell of delicious foods wafting in the air alongside the tannin of wine and the ferrous tang of dark beer as crowds of people of all walks of life gather. Benedict sees you into a corner booth away from other patrons as he orders food, then goes to secure your accommodation for the night.

As he returns, passing you a glass of wine, there is a nervous churning in your gut; this is the first opportunity you have had to talk properly since you awoke to his life-changing letter.

“I have no idea where to begin,” he confesses, looking perplexed, and it makes you reach out in reassurance over the table, pulse strong in his raised veins under your fingertips.

“Your letter was the single most wondrous thing I have ever received,” you offer honestly, his eyes softening, making your heart flutter. “Benedict,” you take a steadying breath before ploughing on with the truth you have never spoken aloud before, “I have loved you for as long as I can remember…”

His face lights up, and his hand turns under yours, your palms touching as he laces your fingers together in a tight knot, then brings your joined fists to his lips, kissing your knuckles gently.

“Why did you never tell me?” He entreats softly.

“Why did you never tell me?” You return lightning quick, a quirk on your lips that has him chuckling.

“An entirely fair accusation,” he concedes, shuffling closer and grabbing your other hand, your heads so close together now. “I suppose I thought my feelings irrelevant, futile even, that you would secure a titled husband. Though why your father chose such a vile one confounds me, I must confess.”

“I believe that a chastisement,” you commence but are interrupted by food arriving at your table.

So, as you eat, you explain the whole story between mouthfuls. That you were able to delay your debut last season in your father’s absence, but it meant this season, he was determined to see you matched swiftly. Recounting fondly your time spent with your Aunt Eliza, Benedict appearing impressed as you reel off all the skills you now possess. You also talk in detail about how her encouragement meant you fell into the London art scene and how you know Henry Granville. Benedict listens intently, taking bites of his dinner, but his attention never wavers from you as you recount everything.

“So yes, I believe the match was about my father’s wish to quash a perceived rebellion more than a match society might deem appropriate for the firstborn daughter of a Viscount.”

“An untitled second son, even less so,” Benedict muses softly, downcasting his eyes, a flare of insecurity that has you putting down your cutlery and grabbing his jaw.

“Benedict, please do not,” you petition, rubbing a thumb over his cheek. “You know me. You know that I have never cared what society might think! If I were to marry, I would only ever want it to be a love match. I would not give a damn if my husband were a penniless beggar as long as he loves and respects me.”

You pause as he raises his soulful gaze to yours, your faces so close.

“Luckily for me, the man who stole my heart fifteen years ago is neither penniless nor a beggar. He is a wonderful, caring, handsome, passionate artist who I would indeed be lucky to paint next to,” you conclude with reference to a line in his letter, a scene you can picture so clearly it seems more premonition than a dream.

“Fifteen years?” he repeats, a look of utter wonderment as he turns his lips aside to kiss your palm where you still cup his face. You nod, a little nostalgic smile tugging at your lips as he adds: “Then I must confess… I have never been more grateful for my incessant curiosity; it led me to your diary and thus to this very moment.”

He takes your hands from his jaw, then kisses both of your knuckles again in turn, but this time, he lingers, his lips warm, damp and pursed open, and a trace of his tongue dabs your protruding bone. A shiver runs down your spine, stoking something acute, dangerous and exhilarating.

“Do you know I have kept that notebook hidden since I was fourteen? Sewing a secret pocket into all of my coats or hiding it under floorboards so it would never be found. For six years. Yet it took you less than one evening…”

“Maybe it was waiting to reveal itself to the one person who needed to see it the most…” he muses between kisses, his breath gusting hot over your fingers.

That seismic but simple poetic sentence devastates your ability or wish to talk anymore—a thronging need for him that you are powerless to resist any longer.

“Take me to our room, Benedict,” you command, voice tremulant with want and hope.

His head shoots up, his face a captivating tapestry of barely bridled passion and astonishment.

“But I-I booked us separate rooms,” he stumbles, confounded, and that gentlemanly act just makes you want him all the more.

Uncaring that you are sitting in a wedding dress in a public tavern, you pitch forward and capture his lips in a kiss that instantly becomes passionate and demanding, your hand running into his hair and tugging him closer.

“You should return the key and request your money back, for that will not be necessary…” you decree, breathing the words into his mouth.

That seems to light a fire in him. He shoves back the table and sweeps you into his arms bridal style, striding out of the room purposefully, his mouth hot on yours, your pounding heartbeat almost drowning out the bawdy, raucous cheers from the drunken patrons you pass.

-xii-

Once the room door clicks closed behind you, his demeanour softens. He gently removes your shoes before setting your stockinged feet down on a plush rug in front of a roaring fire. He tugs his jacket off so he stands before you in a colourful waistcoat and ruffled shirt.

“Are you certain?” His ask is chivalrous, tinged with such delicate hope it makes you melt.

“I have never been more certain of anything in my entire life,” you declare candidly, boldly stepping towards him.

His hands encircle your waist as yours slide up his biceps, the warmth of his skin through the crisp white fabric making your blood run warm.

“I may be chaste, but I know of what we are to do; I have been at Granville’s, remember. I also know that I want this. So very much.”

“I am the luckiest man…” he asserts in a low rumble, your honesty seeming to ignite him again as he crowds into you.

It’s an electrifying kiss that has your scalp tingling: his hands moulded to you, mapping your every curve as you take from each other as you never have before, desperation bubbling over with each parry of tongues. His fingers land on the buttons of your dress, between your shoulder blades, silently asking permission.

“Rip it off me,” you urge impulsively, chest heaving within your stays. “I want you to destroy this very dress and everything it represents….”

His responding growl inflames your core, molten liquid heat as his large hands grab the material and tear it asunder from your body so you stand before him, trembling with desire in just your stays and chemise.

He guides your fingers to his waistcoat, the crackle of the fire and the huff of his breaths the only sound in the room. His chest rises and falls steadily as you work on each button. When you reach the last one, he shucks the garment from his torso, then crosses his arms and discards his shirt in one swift motion, sailing away in a puffed arch. The broad expanse of smooth chest before you has you tongue-tied. A lean musculature and pale complexion reminiscent of Italian renaissance sculpture… but living, breathing and looking at you as if you are the most precious thing on earth.

Long arms wrap around you, enveloping you in his warmth, fingers spidering up the notches of your spine through the thin cotton of your chemise until they reach your stays and pluck upon the laces there. He unties them slowly as his lips trail hotly down your throat. You have observed forms of intimacy but didn't expect the firsthand experience to be so rich, so all-consuming. The sights, the sensations, the scents. Like the tangy undernotes lurking beneath his woody cologne, an aroma that is all him, his bare skin. It makes your mouth water and lean into him; a want to be a part of him almost—so much heat and touch.

As your loosened stays drop to the floor behind you, a clawing need for his flesh on yours has you rapidly discarding your chemise over your head, naked now save your stockings. But before he has the chance to see, you propel yourself into him again, his solid chest colliding with your breasts, your peaked nipples trapped against his warmth. A loud groan from his lips that you swallow as you push up onto tiptoes and wrap your arms around his strong neck, kissing him ferociously. His grip slides down to grasp your bottom, pulling you into him, something rigid pressing your stomach through the refined wool of his trousers.

“Let me look at you,” he pleads, withdrawing a half step, his eyes sweeping covetously down your body as you feel aglow in the heat of the adjacent fire. “You are so beautiful,” he attests shakily, an insistent throbbing between your legs that is all of his making, so close without any stimulation.

“Touch me, Benedict.”

It’s equal parts order and request, grabbing his wrist and guiding it low over your belly. His elegant fingertips curl through the patch of hair before swiping between your legs, dilated pupils boring into yours as you emit a wanton moan, knees almost buckling. A strong arm wraps around you to keep you steady as he observes you up close, repeating the motion, parting your folds this time, you honeying upon his fingertips as he glances over your swollen clit.

You whimper his name, and he claims your lips again, sliding the pad of his fingers over that spot over and over. Fingernails digging into his arm at his expert touch, the air swirling with the wet sound and scent of your arousal.

“You smell so utterly divine,” he groans, pitching forward and almost biting your bottom lip in a toothful, desperate meeting, your moans echoing over his tongue. “I need to taste you,” he stutters.

You have to shoot out an arm to grasp the mantlepiece as he suddenly drops to his knees before you and buries his face into your mound, inhaling deeply, his nose pressed onto your clitoral hood. He is so primal in his desperation as he lifts one of your legs and places it over his shoulder, diving into your folds, his tongue a wet, hot spear over your swollen nub. Your other hand burrows into his thick head of hair, scratching along his scalp as he hums his approval into your damp heat, the vibration causing sparks of pleasure to fan out.

It takes what little shred of concentration you have left to stay upright, clinging to the fireplace and him, rocketing skyward so dizzyingly fast, slack-jawed, breathless, rooted in your body as you gawk down at him. You had no idea this would be so intense, so carnal. His stare is fixated upwards on you, reading your reactions like a book, his glazed jaw moving with expert precision buried between your legs—an intoxicating sight that burns into your retinas.

“I need you to come for me, y/n,” he begs hotly into your soaked flesh, his tongue a muscular swipe greater than his fingers, his fingers plucking the ribbons holding your stockings loose so they slide down to your feet.

“I want to do so with you…” you gasp, unable to prevent whatever forms in your mouth from slipping out, leaking profusely onto his chin.

“You will; I promise,” his gravelly assurance, the permission you need to let go, riding his tongue with abandon, your body undulating, chasing that ephemeral high you have only experienced from your own touch before. But this is so much more, so wholly other, magnitudes indeed, the words from his letter never far from your thoughts even as you spiral somewhere close to bliss. His gaze locked onto you, able to read all your signs: skin flushed, ragged pants, shuddering with each quest of his tongue.

And then he gently bites your clit, and you are gone, his hands needing to clamp onto your hips to hold you upright as your body convulses. You cry out, sagging onto him as your body races with a high that fizzes in every cell, radiating in waves of pleasure that have you calling out, uncaring who may hear, incapable of anything but clinging to his hair for dear life and scrunching your toes into the thick wool rug underfoot.

You know you utter a curse, entirely overpowered by the euphoria coursing through you as he stands back up and pulls you into his arms, kissing your cheek chastely, the scent of you strong on his face. But as you come back to yourself, renewed passion stokes in you, determination to give as good as you have been given, a drive for mutual pleasure that has you shoving him backwards forcefully.

He falls back onto the bed, a look of total surprise claiming his face as you crowd over him, laying prone, attacking his trouser buttons with a vigour that has him stunned, his mouth agape. But he doesn't move to stop you, far from it. There is a flash in his eye as you grab his hands and cage them onto the sheets briefly before returning to attack his clothing. Wordlessly, he lifts his pelvis when you tap his hipbone, and then you are tugging his trousers down and off, flinging them across the room.

You are momentarily taken aback when you look down and realise he is without underwear, now as naked as you. His cock, nestled in a small patch of hair, is larger than you have seen before, tinged dark pink and leaking from the tip. It looks so good you bite your lip, a twinge deep inside that is pure want.

His moan is beautiful as you take him in hand. He is hot and steely in your grip as you move your hand up and down, learning his contours, fascinated by the contrast of how silky his skin is.

“I am so glad you have seen things you should not have,” he groans, squirming delightfully, so very responsive to your touch. It makes you greedy always to have him like this, yearning for you as much as you do him, stuttering your name as you change your grip and move a little faster.

“Please stop…” he grits out, his hand covering yours and slowing your motions, but you can tell it is utterly reluctant. “I am too close, my love…”

That reflexive term of endearment makes something melt behind your ribs, and you crawl up over him as you release his cock, claiming his lips in a kiss, his hands encircling your waist, pulling you down so that his cock is trapped under your pubic bone.

“I love you,” you breathe quietly over his lips, holding his face, wanting to convey the depth of feelings you have for this man.

“I love you too, y/n,” he replies earnestly, his eyes glassy, a cloud of emotion claiming his expression as his hands cup your jaw as well, a profound moment of heartfelt sincerity amid this tableau of fevered physicality.

“May I?”

Your ask is hesitant as you rearrange, sliding your legs up either side of his hips, signalling your wish to ride him, a need to be the one to give your virginity to him more than him to take it. Something achingly significant in the ability to choose.

He nods a reassuring and spellbound look, and a beguiling hitch in his throat as his tip brushes your entrance.

“It may hurt a little, my love,” he advises, wincing as if wishing that was not the case for you.

“I know,” you murmur back, grabbing his hands to aid you in sitting up so you have more range of motion.

And then, with a steadying breath, you lower yourself onto him, mouth falling open at the invasive stretch with barely a fraction of him inside you. His face is a kaleidoscope of everything you hope for him—joy and bliss. Your fingers grasp tight around his knuckles, your joined hands a knotted fist, as you feel a pinch of pain that makes you suck air through your teeth, knowing this is the moment you become a woman. So glad it is with him, the categorical love of your life.

Luckily, the ache is fleeting, and you sink lower, him moaning your name lyrically, you puffing a breath at the complete fullness. A pressure holding you open that is so galvanic you now understand the hedonism of what you have previously witnessed—the drive to satisfy an urge that is innate and potent.

“Oh my god, Benedict,” you stutter, as finally he is fully seated within your body, clinging to him, held open in the most arresting way.

“I know, my love, I know…” he soothes, untangling your hands to touch your skin, running his palms reverentially down your body. “You are amazing, a wonder…”

“Guide me…?”

He smiles and whispers gentle instructions for you to push up with your thighs and then sink back down, his hands now clamped around your waist to assist you. The sensation is indescribable, the drag of his cock against your walls as you slowly ascend and descend, trying to catalogue every second as a precious memory.

Your speed increases as you get used to the physicality of movement, a cloying, dewy heat spreading over both your bodies as you move in unison. He starts to tilt his hips off the bed to assist in your strokes, pushing to a new depth that catches your breath and has you muttering a curse, your hands scrabbling his abdomen, enjoying the flex of muscles there. His grip moves to your breasts, teasing your nipples in a way that has you gasping and riding harder. His fingers snagging on your sensitive buds is a beeline zipping to your engorged clit, that mashes into his body with every downward stroke you take. Still on a high from your last orgasm, it won't take much more for you to come again; this time, you hope in tandem.

His movements become more urgent, his noises louder, his touch firmer, squeezing you, bucking up with force now, making you moan with each new plunge onto him, as if he craves to leave an imprint of himself inside you.

“Are you close, my love?” you query, borrowing his term of endearment. It has his screwed-shut eyes flying open, his hands flexing on your hips, and a ripple up his rigid cock you can actually feel.

“Yesssss,” he hisses back, “please call me that again,” he entreats through clenched teeth, a prominent vein in his neck pulsing hard as his whole being seems to tense.

“My love,” you coo, treating it like a gift to bestow, addicted already to the effect it has on him, his fingers digging into your flesh in a way that will leave marks you will be proud to wear.

You move faster now, the sturdy bed squeaking in protest, the sound of your damp skin slapping together, taking even yourself by surprise at how visceral this is, especially for a first time. Expecting it to be less somehow and enraptured that instead, it is better, burning brighter than anything you have ever fantasised of—skin and sweat, muscle and bone, heart and body in rhapsody.

One of his hands squirrels between your legs, fingertips hooking against your clit, and within seconds, you are breaking. Your vision whiting out as you slam onto him, your pussy clenching in waves, his cock almost too much as you float somewhere that is both within you and a thousand miles above. Dimly, you sense his nails scrape your flesh as he calls out your name, loudly, debauched, wrecked, a strong pulse through his length as he shudders then goes entirely still, a warmth blooming deep inside your channel that is his seed, something about it so very primaeval.

You slump inelegantly onto his chest, huffing breaths, altered fundamentally by this magical experience. His touch is soothing, encouraging to lay upon him as he softens within you, eventually slipping out as you lay nuzzled together, exchanging soft words of sated joy—a sudden tide of fatigue lapping your edges. Fuzzily, you feel Benedict chuckle under you and, with hushed, tender words, rearrange your pliant body, rolling you onto your side and curling protectively around you, a warming presence that has sleep seizing you almost immediately.

Awakening the following morning in Benedict’s arms is sublime, his stubbled lips grazing your neck as he rolls you under his warm weight. Just as your body stirs under his sensual kisses, he stops and sighs, dropping his forehead onto your clavicle.

“I wish to spend a lifetime right here, entwined naked with you, my love, but alas, I must desist,” he laments softly. “We need to get moving…”

“You never did say your planned destination,” you point out, running your fingers into his lush hair as he tilts his handsome face up to meet your gaze.

“Did I not?” He lilts, feigning ignorance. “I blame you entirely; your beauty is far too distracting..” Flattery falling from his lips reflexively. “Well, anyway, we must make haste if we are to reach Scotland by Friday as I have planned.”

“Scotland?” you echo breathlessly. “That is so far! Why there?”

“Gretna Green, my love,” his eyes sparkling as he hovers over you, entwining the fingers of your left hands together, his thumb brushing your ring finger. “I hope you are amenable to my proposal...”

And your heart veritably explodes.

-xiii-

The journey is long but worth it. Your wedding, five days later, over the border in Scotland, is everything you could hope for—a beautiful, romantic, private moment for just the two of you, promising your lives to each other in secret. Something thrillingly illicit about its location, too, the place to which all forbidden lovers escape. You do not wear a wedding dress, just a simple light blue chiffon one you had thrown into your night bag, always a favourite since Benedict once complimented you in it. He wears a cravat in the same colour. Exchanging matching wedding bands engraved inside with the same phrase Benedict signed off his love confession with: A vila mon coeur, gardi li mo (Here is my heart, guard it well).

You are happily ensconced in his idyllic Wiltshire cottage by the time family reactions to your elopement reach you almost two weeks later. The Bridgertons are supportive if a little shocked; the dowager Viscountess is always enamoured with a dramatic love story. Your family is less so, but they cannot deny a match with a Bridgerton is no bad thing, even if it was fleeting gossip fodder. You hear from your mother that Lord Farringdon did not demand compensation for your abscondment from the altar. Apparently, you were not the first to do so. Rumour has it that the odious man is negotiating a marriage deal with the Cowpers for their wayward daughter. It may be the first time you have felt a pang of sympathy for Cressida.

Mostly, you are grateful that the more scandalous truth surrounding your union - Benedict stealing you away on your wedding day - never becomes public knowledge. Every couple must keep some secrets from the world, no?

Although, a couple of weeks later, on a leisurely Sunday morning, you discover your marriage can no longer be considered as such.

“Darling, you might want to see this…” Benedict drawls casually, wandering into the bathroom as you luxuriate in warm water.

He drops the latest issue of Lady Whistledown onto a nearby stool as he tugs off his shirt, apparently planning to join you in your bath. Your mouth falls open in shock as you grab the pamphlet. But it is not from his naked form as his trousers hit the floor; it's from what you read:

Lastly, this author may have to eat her hat. News has reached me that Mr Benedict Bridgerton had indeed done the almost unthinkable and married the spirited Miss Y/n Y/l/n. They exchanged vows in a quiet ceremony far from the prying eyes of the Ton and will now settle in Wiltshire, I hear.

“How did she find out?” you ponder aloud as he slides into the tub behind you. Surely Whistledown must be close to the Bridgertons to discover as such?

“I have not a clue. But perhaps I should send her some honey from our hives to make her headwear more digestible?” he jests, interrupting your reading by pulling you backwards into his arms.

“Mr Bridgerton!” you chastise playfully, holding the paper aloft to save it from the sloshing he creates as he surrounds you, laughing carefree, so much delightfully naked skin around yours.

“Are you done reading Mrs Bridgerton?” His tone changes to a husky murmur in your ear, his fingers trailing distractingly upwards over your ribs under the water.

“You just brought this to me, husband,” you riposte pointedly, but your argument dies off into a wanton noise as his hands slide up and cup your breasts, his thumbs circling your nipples expertly. You abandon any attempt to focus on the page, tossing the paper aside and twisting to capture his lips with yours.

Upon the floor, as water splashes onto the wood nearby, the last few sentences you missed glow in a shaft of sunlight:

Congratulations on the latest Bridgerton love match, and I wish them a lifetime of happiness. As I am certain, do all of you.

What secrets will I unearth next, dear readers? Even I do not yet know. But I look forward to it. Don’t you?

Yours sincerely,

Lady Whistledown

masterlist • wips • taglist (follow this blog to be tagged)

Benedict taglist pt1: @makaylan @longingintheuniverse @iboopedyournose @colettebronte @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @miindfucked @sorryallonsy @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @fictionalmenloversblog @zinzysstuff @malpalgalz @kinokomoonshine @causeimissu @delehosies @m-rae23 @last-sheep @panhoeofmanyfandoms @kmc1989 @desert-fern @corpseoftrees-queen @magical-spit @bunnyweasley23 @how-many-stars-in-the-sky @sya-skies

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mysticarts · 2 months ago

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silly little Gunntech Au oc

(ft me about to ramble, be ready yall-)

Soo, I've become obsessed with @elmushterri Gunntech Au (context: Gunntech AU is a AU where the show PJ masks is a show for more mature audiences for teens, think owl house!) They also made a video about this, just look up 'What if PJ Masks' and most likely they're video will pop up first!

(Note I'm using they them pronouns for Elmuehterri cause idk their pronouns and I wanna be respectful-)

And I remember from Elmushterri's video, they mentioned Octobella, and how she could be a failed experiment. Now, I belive Gunntech aren't quitters, so I think they'd try again to recreate what Octobella was supposed to be, and actually succeeded. Thus, introducing my oc....

Kailani 'Kai' Whitlock

Now, I made Kailani here like any other of the PJ masks charater's.

Kailani's dad (who I have not named yet) worked for Gunntech. so when Octobella failed, Kailani's dad offered her as a test subject. And since Kailani wanted to get proper attention from her father she didn't mind. Hence the truama that impacted her

Considering Kailani is a octopus, I had to do a lot of studying. I mean, she has to have some Octopus traits. So I do have some, I shall state it in a list

The first thing I did was give Kailani some height, I tried to atleast. Considering how long octopus's tentacles are, I imagine in replacement, it really long arms and legs, hence her height

2. I Made Kailani colorblind! Octopuses are color blind to, but make up for it with their color changing bodies, odd pupils, color sensing arms, so I'm Applying that to Kailani. Kailani did see color before she was taken in as a test subject, then she became colorblind

3. Google states that Octopuses usually live in tropical areas so I made Kailani born in Hawaii! (She moved though when she was born)

4. From studying, I have found out that Octopuses have three hearts. I don't know if that should be applied to Kailani or not. I'm just going with that her heart is just bigger than most others, so Kailani can be a little more athletic than her peers.

5. Due to the experiments, Kailani's blood is blue (yes, Octopuses actually have blue blood) because of this, Kailani never tries to get hurt. She dosent want to make her dad angry

(Here's a concept sketch of younger Kailani during her test subject days)

as for Personality, I made Kailani very shy. Sure, she's extremely smart for her age, not to mention very creative. Mention something Kailani likes and she'll be willing to yap about it hours on end. However, she has extremely strong loyalty, all she wants is to be accepted and actually loved, so if helping Gunntech means she can earn her father's love, she'll put all of her energy for Gunntech

As how she works for Gunntech, I imagine they call on Kailani if they need someone to be held down or need help moving things (considering with Octopuses strength they can lift more than 700 pounds)

but, when not being a person who could fight someone off, I imagine they'd use Kailani as a strategist. Octopuses are actually very smart, and considering the human mind plus Octopus traits, Kailani would be making or hashing out ideas or theories to take down the 'villans' not realizing she's working for the bad guy.

Anyway, here's her concept suit design

Now I shall relax before I have to suffer at school tomorrow

Edit: I forgot to mention this, but I made Kailani have the hugest crush on Greg (she hasn't made a move cause she's too shy)

Now, if you guys have questions or want to know more about Kailani, I'm glad to give you answers!

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cosmokrill · 3 months ago

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Pressure fandom rant incoming.

Oh my GOD guys, SHUT. UP. Respect the wishes of the creators. Do you think they knew how much the game was going to blow up? Did you stop to realize that Zeal's comment about decreased Kroner for deaf mode was a stupid idea just thrown out off the top of his head before he went to sleep? Do you think the dev team was going to genuinely consider that? And if you made and felt almost intimately attached to an OC that you helped create, are you not allowed to personally feel annoyed when others ship themselves with them or give them a completely different personality than the one they have?

Get over it. Sebastian is canonically a married man. I think he looks cute with the wedding ring that he fiddles with. Zerum being his wife does not change the lore. The characters in Pressure are just OCs that have gotten stupidly popular.

Speaking from the perspective of someone who has had to deal with a person trying to force one of my characters into a romantic relationship with one of theirs, I can understand wanting to crack down. If I said that my OC Luther was my husband in his lore, his story gets popular, and people start drawing themselves dating him, I'm allowed to be mad. I'm allowed to be uncomfortable.

The devs did nothing wrong by adding the rule against posting ship art of Pressure characters in the discord server. They're not banning Pressure ships from ever existing online. Admit that your drawing of your self-insert kissing Sebastian is just not going to be liked by some people. Just enjoy the damn game.

You need to remember that these are not your characters. You do not know why a decision about a character was made until the creators tell you. You can do whatever the hell you want with Sebastian, just don't get pissy if his creators don't like it.

Apologies, I'm just very tired and angry and I need to speak my mind. I don't do that enough because I fear getting canceled over the smallest opinions in this day and age.

Have a Sebastian sketch for your troubles. Truthfully, I might delete the rant later and just keep the art.

#coralkrill #coralkrill art #coralkrill rambles #rant post #roblox pressure #pressure roblox #pressure sebastian #sebastian solace

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lackadaisycats · 1 year ago

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Hi, as a Slovak I was really surprised when I saw that you decided to include a Slovak character in your comics! Can I ask why you decided to do this? I love the Slovak rep of course, but it's kind of rare that Americans even know that my country exists (no offense meant ^^" )

Initially, the idea for Viktor's character was a vague sketch with few defining characteristics. There was not much there beyond 'Roscoe the bartender'.

I was doing a lot of reading about the early 20th century at the time in preparation for writing, and I remember being struck by how many immigrants, statistically, made up the combat forces of the US military during WWI. Many soldiers spoke only just enough English to understand the barking of their sergeants. (In retrospect, this isn't really a novel or surprising factor in the human hardship that wars and militaries both produce and feed on. It's kind of a factor in how gangs work too.)

Anyway, I ended up down a rabbit hole about why various groups of people were leaving Europe for distant shores at the time, and specifically why people within the Austro-Hungarian Empire were departing, only to end up at war with their own homeland in some cases. It got me thinking - beyond just how much war itself would change someone - how would that particular scenario affect someone's outlook on the world? What sort of strange ambivalence would it leave someone contending with?

Obviously, his name changed, and Viktor's character just sort of started snowballing into something more defined and specific from there. It's hard to intellectualize all such decisions (sometimes it's just that something feels right) but I guess that's more or less how he ended up being a farm boy from Slovakia.

(Also, Slovakia looks like a beautiful country and I'd love to visit it sometime.)

#lackadaisy #lackadaisycats #q&a #viktor vasko #slovakia

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jenscx · 11 months ago

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LET ME IN — yu jimin

you return to your hometown after being overseas for years. there was no possible way for you to anticipate your old high school sweetheart waiting at the airport.

tags angst, fluff, exes to lovers, happy ending, high school sweetheart, cursing

wordcount 5.1k

the sweater that you had picked out today, feels unfamiliar on your skin. it’s the one which reads, ‘seniors of 2018’. it’s the one you had never gone near, leaving it to rot in your closet. it’s the one that holds the most painful memories for you. how could a piece of clothing cause you so much pain?

frankly, you know why. it’s the one jimin had given to you as you left for the train to the airport. “something to remember me by,” she had stated after pulling it over the top of your head.

you had huffed, playfully asking, “how could i ever forget you?”

your closet had witnessed your stares— or rather glares at the sweater. not until an hour had passed, when you finally heaved a sigh and grabbed it off the hanger that was situated at the corner of the closet. it’s just because it’s comfortable, you had reasoned before. and it didn’t matter what you wore underneath the puffer jacket, it would end up covered.

of course, these were all excuses, trying to deny the very fact that it just reminded you of jimin. and you were very welcoming towards such reminders.

reminders of what?

you shake your head, picturing a blank canvas before the melodic laughter filled your ears. jimin’s laugh.

the screeching of your luggage’s wheels distract you. aeri’s standing at the door, a hand on your suitcase.

“hey girl,” she checks the watch on her wrist, “we gotta go. flight’s at 2.”

you nod, ignoring the fact that you had spent almost two whole hours thinking about the repercussions of returning back to… home? could you even call it that?

aeri seems to notice your inner turmoil, since in the taxi, she places a comforting hand over yours, sending you a small smile. while it didn’t really settle your nerves, you appreciated the effort nonetheless.

the journey to the boarding gate is like a fever dream. your airpods betraying you, randomly shuffling to a girls’ generation song. it was like a cry back to the past, when you and jimin would listen to girls’ generation songs together.

for jimin, you had complied.

you open your eyes, you can only see the back of someone’s head above the aeroplane’s seat. if you keep your eyes closed for too long, you might start to envision a blur of jimin’s perfect eyes, her nose, her lips that were always pursed in disappointment when she caught you and minjeong stealing her snacks…

the realisation that you can’t remember the face that once made you the happiest girl on the planet hits hard. it hits harder than the guilt and misery you felt when jimin, a week after you had left korea, sent a flurry of messages that went unresponded.

“i didn’t know you liked girls’ generation,” aeri comments. startled, you stare at your phone, the lock screen wallpaper being jimin’s back displaying girls’ generation’s holiday night baseball t-shirt. the girl had forced you to buy matching ones with her, you recall bitterly.

“i don’t,” you answer coolly, swiftly turning off your phone. aeri eyes you weirdly but eventually lets you off the hook and leans back into her seat.

the rest of the thirteen hours flight, you busy yourself with work— leftovers from the time before break, drafts of sketches, thesis statements and long-winded essays. while a plane was not the best environment to finish a full drawing, you could at least make some rough sketches. somehow, your pencil graphite gravitates from sturdy, concrete buildings to soft cheekbones, hooded eyes, pouty lips.

shit, you blink, taking in your subconscious sketch of a woman, familiar to your past.

almost instantly shutting your sketchbook shut, you ignore the implications of what your mind was telling you. the crew neck sweater itches at your neck. it’s almost like the words embroidered on the cotton burn into your heart, to always make you remember and recall the time before messy relationships, longing feelings and just enjoying the present time.

time. you didn’t have much of it anyway.

maybe this trip would allow you to make peace with the past. you wouldn’t flinch whenever your friends would talk about league of legends champion, ‘katarina’, or you wouldn’t immediately decline movie night with aeri in fear that one of the actresses would look eerily similar to jimin.

allowing your brain to wander past your comfort zone, you wonder what she's doing now. was she a flight stewardess? did she manage to finally get better at pubg? was her favourite colour still blue? did she still have that sparkle in her eyes when food was brought up?

the last thought makes you chuckle, reminiscing how excited jimin was whenever food was involved. when yizhuo would bring back mala snacks from china, jimin would be gone in a flash.

(so would yizhuo’s snacks, you can’t count the number of times you were forced to lie about who the perpetrator was.

maybe it was worth it when jimin would beam at you, flashing a bright smile that rivalled the shine of diamonds).

with bittersweet memories, you drift off. sleepless nights made up for, by just giving yourself permission to think about her.

you dream of crashing waves, two people on the shore, just sitting down and gazing at the scenery. the sunset’s everlasting in this timeline. like time doesn’t exist and all they did was stare at the deep ocean.

before you even get to see their faces, the announcement rings throughout the flight.

you sigh deeply, catching the attention of aeri.

“you okay? you slept so soundly, i thought you died,” the japanese girl asks worriedly. you laugh, it was the best sleep you ever got, and it was on an aeroplane.

strange how our consciousness works.

“i’m good,” this time you weren’t lying.

you stare at the glass doors, wondering if minjeong had told anyone else to come fetch you. it wasn’t a far fetched thought, maybe the girl had asked yizhuo to come as well. the chinese girl would kill minjeong if she didn’t tell her about your arrival back in korea after what? three, almost four years?

“hey, i asked my friend to pick us up and she might have brought someone else,” you warn aeri.

“oh that’s fun… why do you sound so scared?”

“because, the other girl is a little overbearing,” you scoff, “she might try to climb you, just a warning.”

aeri widens her eyes as you two drag your luggage to the gates.

she gapes, “no kidding? is she a koala or something?”

“something like that,” you shrug.

the doors open. it’s your first step (not really) into korea. the air is the same anywhere else, but the feeling isn’t.

it’s the feeling of uncertainty. the feeling of fear. aeri clasps your free hand tightly in hers, sensing your hesitance.

your gaze glides over the crowd of people waiting for their own family. aeri makes a noise of recognition and she pulls you to the side, you finally spot someone familiar.

“minjeong…!” you call out, voice going silent at the sight of a girl that is most definitely not minjeong.

it’s not yizhuo either, that’s for sure.

“did minjeong get plastic surgery or something?”

you want to run.

“because… that’s not— that’s not minjeong,” you whisper, “that’s yu jimin.”

aeri deadpans, “you say that like i know who the hell she is.”

you want to kill minjeong. and maybe jimin wants to kill aeri with how hard she’s glaring at her.

jimin only trots slowly towards you.

jimin’s eyes dart from aeri’s face back to yours, her hard, cold gaze trailing down to your sweater that has come uncovered by the puffer jacket. your eyes narrow when she raises an eyebrow at you, as if asking you, “why are you wearing that?”

you don’t answer her, because you don’t know either.

“i’m jimin, y/n’s—”

“friend,” you interrupt, quickly turning away to avoid the flash of hurt on jimin’s face.

the mentioned girl recovers quickly, putting on a fake smile, “classmate of y/n from high school.”

“i’m uchinaga aeri, y/n’s roommate, thank you for picking us up!” aeri grins widely, ignoring the deadly lasers pointing her way.

“where are you staying, if i may ask?” jimin’s sharp tone doesn’t go unnoticed by you.

“with y/n—”

you cover aeri’s mouth, knowing how jimin gets, “it’s none of your business.”

your roommate makes a noise of indignation and licks a long strip across your palm. you groan, taking it off her mouth and wiping it on her jacket.

“that’s so gross,” you mutter in english.

“your english has gotten better,” jimin notes as the three of you walk to her car.

you don’t know what to say, so you stay silent.

“where do you stay, jimin-ssi?” aeri makes small talk to cover up the awkward silence. you thank her internally.

jimin stares at you through the mirror, “with y/n.”

you bite your lip, nervous at what jimin might say next. you had never told aeri about your complicated relationship with jimin and you didn’t plan to. only because of kim minjeong meddling in, now it seems like everything has to be uncovered again.

“she’s a bad roommate, right?” surprisingly, aeri ignores jimin’s statement and instead continues to complain about you.

you’re shocked, to say the least. you thought aeri would have started blabbing and asking probing questions about your past roommate situation. or maybe she noticed your sullen look.

“i thought four years would have been enough for her to change her bad habits,” jimin says.

you know for a fact she isn’t talking about the same thing as aeri. jimin was even worse than you as a roommate; eating your secret snack stash, never cleaning up the pile of laundry she had in her room and always invading your alone time in bed.

“many things have changed,” you mumble, “i’m not the same as before.”

the car goes silent, jimin probably analysing your words while aeri pouts, confused by the strange tension you had with your so-called friend.

“if you desire something enough, you’d want it to stay the same forever.”

you retort, “change is inevitable.”

aeri says quietly in the corner, “i know the guy who said that, his name is like john, or something.”

struggling to keep your laughter silent, you splutter in aghast at aeri’s sudden general knowledge.

“you’re so strange,” you comment.

aeri laughs, “i know, but you like me for that, right?”

(“—only had a brain the size of a walnut, that’s why the stegosaurus was one of the dumbest dinosaurs!” jimin reads out loud from your bed.

you stand at your vanity, finishing up your skincare, trying not to laugh at jimin’s absurd dinosaur facts, “you’re so weird.”

“you like that about me though?”)

you sense how intimate the conversation feels for the both of you, so you stop answering aeri and instead focus on jimin. her grip on the steering wheel has tightened significantly, eyes burning with something you can’t identify.

“you’re being annoying again, go to sleep or something, it’s a long drive from here to my house—” you halt in the middle of your sentence, finally questioning the very fact of… why?

why is yu jimin here? even if minjeong asked her to, why? the jimin you knew would never do this. the jimin you knew would never give up her sleeping time just to fetch an old friend, who she maybe had something going on with, and a stranger? yizhuo had friends from china who were visiting, and even then, jimin refused to fetch them from the airport. she was the only one in your friend group with a licence so it only made sense to ask her.

you try to bury yourself in the sweater even more. it was fine for now. seeing jimin in the flesh. but maybe you were so jet lagged that you hadn’t made sense of the situation yet.

the only sensible thing to do for now, was to let yourself escape into dreamland and wait for the morning after.

you can only anticipate it would be full of awkward silence, tension-filled gazes, hesitant actions.

it’s difficult to fall asleep. you decide to blame your insomnia on the nap you had during the flight. even when you know it’s because of the deeply asleep body, separated by a thin wall.

you’re sitting upright, staring at the unveiled moon. it’s stunning, not like the sun which literally glares. the moon is calming, easing you into the next day, all while making you feel… loneliness.

how could you feel lonely even with so many people around you?

(“do you think soulmates exist?” you had asked, curious of jimin’s take on such tales.

the girl seems taken aback, but she ultimately replies, “if they do, i think you’re mine.”)

you clench the duvet in your fists tightly, mind grasping at any other thought than of yu jimin. it’s unfortunate that you seem to enjoy the pain and torture past memories bring with how often your brain wanders through them.

maybe it’s time to come clean with yourself.

you were back in your hometown. you were staying in the same apartment as you did before you left. one that you shared with yu jimin; one that you called home.

eyes starting to become watery, you wipe them off and take a seat at your desk. if you were going to stay awake the rest of the night, might as well get work done. pulling out your sketchbook, the first page to be opened is the drawing of jimin from the flight. the realisation slaps you.

how long would it take someone to get over the love of their life?

for you, maybe eternity.

the door creaks open slightly. your head turns sharply, hand instinctively covering the drawing.

“y/n…?”

“jimin,” you inhale, “why are you still awake?”

she doesn’t bother to answer you and instead chooses to sit on your bed. once you notice the pyjamas she’s wearing, you feel daggers stab into your heart. it’s one of your many matching pyjamas with her. you hadn’t touched any of them since you left korea.

“are you dating aeri?” she asks.

you know what she’s secretly trying to ask.

“no, she’s just a friend.”

“that’s what they always say,” jimin scoffs. her tone doesn’t sit right with you.

with a sudden urge to defend your friendship with aeri, you shoot back, “i recall you saying that about lee jeno too.”

your words clearly strike a chord in jimin, her eyes widen, hurtful remarks at the tip of her tongue. yet, she merely looks away. you hate how beautiful she looks in the moonlight.

“y’know, technically we’re still dating.”

“what are you talking about?” you ask, bewildered.

jimin rolls her eyes, “we never explicitly broke up, you only ghosted me. technically we’re still together.”

“stop spouting nonsense.”

the girl only pouts in annoyance. you hate how your heartstrings tug at her cute expression. right now, yu jimin had to be anything but cute.

“and i didn’t ghost you, i was busy.” the lie slips out easily, revealing how used you are to saying it. jimin, of course, doesn’t believe you. she had never.

jimin frowns.

“you always say that too.”

she stands up, walking bit by bit closer to you. your hand grips the sketchbook protectively.

placing a hand onto the back of your chair, jimin smirks, leaning in. you hate how attractive she looks.

her now blonde locks form a curtain around your faces, preventing any outsider to peek in and see what you were doing.

“i think you’re a bad friend,” jimin claims.

“what?”

you can’t take your eyes off her fluttering eyelashes, her red nose, probably from the cold, and her eyes filled with determination.

“you lied to aeri,” she whispers, “since when were we ever just friends?”

a lump forms in your throat. your heart constricts. you can barely even say a word. you’re speechless.

“we’re barely even friends, roommates, probably,” you splutter out.

“yeah?”

“yeah.” jimin eyes you with an amused expression, lips twitching with the threat of a big, wide smile. you realise your words bid you no help, only further supplying as a challenge for jimin— for you to admit that you were more than friends. no words needed to be exchanged about that fact, but you being you, after fulfilling years of ghosting, would never admit that you harboured any sort of feelings for jimin after being the main reason why your relationship fell apart.

you would argue that your absence was just a contributing factor. the real trigger came in the form of lee jeno, a man that you could say with your whole heart and soul, you hated with every bone in your body.

after you had left, with a promise to stay in contact with jimin, you realised how hard it was to maintain your relationship status. and when jimin posted countless instagram stories of jeno, you realised again that maybe it was best to break it off.

never in the duration of your ‘ghosting stage’ had you ever told jimin the real reason for your sudden coldness. madly jealous and insecure, you decided to disappear. disappear just from jimin though.

“i’ve always been curious,” jimin pulls back from your intense gaze, “why you started being so distant, cold and indifferent. tell me, will you?”

“that’s just my personality.” a direct white lie, you decide to tell.

“i was heartbroken,” she ignores you and continues her monolouge, “my girlfriend decides to ghost me, and just me. made me think i did something wrong.”

you lick your lips, suddenly feeling your throat constrict up. no longer was this just banter, the conversation was steering into uncharted territory.

“it wasn’t just you,” you desperately argue, trying to direct the conversation away, “moving to another country isn’t easy.”

“you’re pretending our whole relationship didn’t exist. maybe in your eyes it meant nothing, but for me, it was everything. don’t you know every single day i have nightmares? the craziest thing is that all the demons in my nightmares have your smile,” jimin whispers fiercely, “and yet, i stay faithful to those nightmares, even if i wake up crying for someone who didn’t even bother answering my calls. you may have only been in the states, but it felt like you were on another planet. i was the last person to know you were coming back, even though you promised me; promised that if you were to return, i would be the first person to—”

you can’t control yourself. hearing her words makes your blood boil. the pumping of your heart only accelerates further as you lift up your hand, delivering a heavy slap across her face. how dare she? how dare she act as if everything was your fault? how could she accuse your devotion and adoration for her?

“don’t act like you’re the fucking victim, karina,” you hiss, your words even more painful than the stinging red on jimin’s cheek, “the first morning after, i sent you so many texts, barely even seen. then i see your story. were you acting when you said you were sad about me leaving? or were you happy to finally say that you don’t have a girlfriend anymore?”

jimin cradles her cheek in her hand, eyes narrowing when you finally confess the real reason. you can tell she doesn’t remember anything. her not even knowing what she did that made you feel unneeded only drives the blade deeper into your heart.

“drinking at a club with lee jeno,” you say his name with venom, voice gradually getting louder and louder. remembering that aeri’s only a few walls away, you try to control your emotions. “could you not understand how i felt— you said nothing would come between us and the first week away from home, constantly ignoring me for some guy.”

(“call me when your plane lands,” jimin said, playing with the hem of her sweater on you.

“isn’t it gonna be midnight in korea when i land?”

the girl merely chuckles, “i’ll be up all night just to hear your voice.”)

the realisation strikes you like a lightning bolt.

“this was a mistake.”

“what?”

“this… me coming back. i should have just stayed in the states but fuck, i let aeri convince me,” you run your fingers through your tousled hair, stressed. jimin was going to cause you to have white hair.

the redness on jimin’s cheek is still there. you feel slightly guilty for ruining her clear complexion.

“that was just how i coped with you leaving,” jimin explains.

you purse your lips, placing your open palms on jimin’s chest. maybe she thinks you’re about to cave in since she sighs in relief. however, instead of pulling her in, you push her until her back is touching your door.

“i don’t need an explanation, or an apology,” you say firmly, “i need time alone away from you.”

“you’ve had 4 years to yourself,” jimin states bitterly.

“i’m sorry for slapping you, but please, either show me your actions matching your words, or just get out of my life for good.”

jimin sighs again, this one full of exasperation.

“go,” you mutter under your breath.

the knife drives deep into your already ruined heart as you push her away. the girl scoffs, grasping your open palms into her hands, intertwining your fingers.

“if you insist on pushing me away, i’ll get rid of any possibility of us being together again. just let me into your heart again,” she throws your hands away and slams the door. the loud bang echoes in your ears, but not as loudly as her words. it only takes a few seconds for you to collapse onto the floor, sobs wrecking your whole body.

“morning,” aeri yawns, “i heard a loud bang last night, was that you or is your apartment haunted?”

you drizzle maple syrup onto your stacked pancakes, sending a bittersweet smile to your friend. your night was spent tossing and turning, both guilt and anger consuming you. when the clock ticked at four in the morning, you finally let yourself think about how jimin made you feel. even if she went to drink right after you left, you should have communicated with her instead of ghosting her. you knew for a fact that she was heartbroken based on the numerous texts your friends had sent you.

fuck, you groan into your pillow. getting up from your bed, your eyes roam the room, eventually landing on the sketchbook at your desk. you never finished that drawing on the plane. after considering (or more likely procrastination), you sit down, pouring your hours and feelings into your drawings. countless of them filled up the sketchbook’s pages. the drawings’ subjects all looked eerily similar to jimin. her pointed nose, soft gaze were all captured in the pages. you finally come to terms with it. you were still in love with her. after all, she was your only muse. thinking about her words from before, you knew that she meant them. spending years waiting for someone who was basically a ghost couldn’t have been easy.

you were going to do something about it.

barely getting any sleep last night, you woke up earlier than usual and decided to prepare breakfast. aeri had woken up an hour after, stomach growling and eyes gleaming at the pancakes.

“by the way,” she says, mouth full of pancake, “i’m meeting up with a friend today and she’s bringing someone too. wanna go with me on a double date?”

fate must be messing with you since right as aeri says the words ‘double date’, yu jimin walks in. her hair tousled, puffed cheeks and eyes narrowing. you stiffen, focusing on picking at your pancakes instead. unbeknownst to you, once jimin spots the lone plate of breakfast on the counter, her gaze softens.

“do you know who your friend’s bringing…?” you whisper softly, trying not to catch the attention of jimin.

aeri, although you love her, says in the loudest voice possible, “somi will be your date! i think she’s your type.”

the scraping of the metal fork makes you squeeze your eyes shut, mentally preparing for jimin’s outburst.

“so-mi,” jimin clicks her tongue.

aeri nods, stuffing her face with more food.

she turns to you, “and you’re going on a date with her?”

“double date with me,” aeri clarifies, “don’t worry jimin-ssi, i’ll be there to protect y/n! y’know in college i always had to pick y/n up from her bad dates. her taste in guys suck.”

“seems like her taste in girls has been downgraded,” jimin comments, smirking. you roll your eyes, wanting nothing more than for her to shut up. aeri guffaws, taking out her phone. “i’ll show you somi’s instagram account and you can decide for yourself, y/n,” she says.

you nod, deciding not to say anything in case jimin flares up. somi’s very pretty, anyone would agree. she had her own attractive style and seemed really confident. you liked that. aeri wasn’t wrong to say that somi was your type. it was just unfortunate that your heart was in the hands of another girl.

while scrolling on aeri’s phone, her alarm rings, reading, ‘brunch with yunny.’

“ah! yunjin wanted to meet earlier, just the two of us,” aeri smiles, “text me later if you wanna join!” she stands up from the table. you’re astonished by how fast she managed to finish those pancakes, her stack was evidently taller than yours. jimin glances at you, amazed as well.

“did she inhale those…?”

“i’ve got no fucking clue,” you mumble, digging into your own. jimin only chuckles and you hate how it makes your heart clench up in affection.

the silence is deafening. without aeri, the air thickens with tension between you and jimin, filled with nostalgia and regret. it feels just like last time— you and jimin eating breakfast together at that very same table, giggling about whatever trouble your friends got into the previous day.

“hey, about yesterday—”

“it’s fine,” you interrupt, “is your cheek okay?”

jimin swallows hard, “yes, it doesn’t hurt at all.”

“don’t lie, come here,” you instruct, “i’ve known you for so long, you can’t lie to me.”

she just laughs, showing you the slightly bruised side of her face. you feel guilt wreck you. no matter how angry you were, you shouldn’t have laid a hand on her.

“did you ice it?”

jimin shakes her head. you sigh, getting up and taking an ice pack out of the freezer. it’s too easy for you to return to past habits, moving around the kitchen like it was 2018 and jimin was the love of your life (she still is). wrapping the ice pack in a towel, you inch closer to jimin, holding it to her cheek. she winces slightly and you resist the urge to hold her hand in comfort.

“y/n…”

“hm?”

the girl seems so small now— her posture deflated, eyes barely meeting yours, biting her lip nervously. you have a feeling you know what she’s about to ask.

“are you going on that date with soyoung?” you laugh loudly, catching jimin off guard.

“jimin, her name’s somi.”

pouting, jimin turns away from you, making your hand falter. “hey, i need to ice your face.”

“i won’t let you unless you answer my question.” she’s so childish it’s adorable. the tension has gone, now filled with uncertainty instead.

“i don’t have anyone to spend the afternoon with. minjeong and yizhuo are busy today,” you explain.

“you have me,” she mutters.

ignoring her, you answer, “aeri seemed really excited for us to meet.”

“you spent all your time in the states with her, you should spend time with your friends here,” jimin retorts.

her hesitance to even admit she wants to spend time with you makes you want to tease her.

“oh? you’re right,” jimin perks up like a puppy. cute, you think. “i should text yujin if she wants to go out, remember her? she was our student council president.”

rolling her eyes, jimin swats at your hand nursing her bruise. it’s too easy for you to return to past habits, bantering with jimin like she was the only girl you’ve ever loved (she was).

it’s too easy. between the choice of going out with aeri to meet someone new and staying in with jimin. it’s such an easy choice to make.

you bring the ice pack away from her face, choosing to caress her cheek lovingly instead. she sighs, content, leaning into your touch.

“jimin,” you gulp, “i’m sorry for these past few years.”

her eyes gaze up at you, “it’s okay. i’ve come to terms with it. i honestly wasn’t expecting you to come back.”

“i wasn’t planning to either, but aeri wanted to.”

“good thing she convinced you, huh?” jimin smiles, “at least i know i was the reason for our break up.”

“it’s only a relationship if there are two people,” you say, “it was my fault too.”

her eyes momentarily flicker to your lips, it doesn’t go unnoticed by you.

“i know these years haven’t been easy on both of us, but if you’re willing to, i think i’m okay with giving us a second chance,” you confess, “even if you hurt me again, i still want you. i just want you. you’ve always been the only one in here.” you point at your heart.

jimin’s eyes shoot straight up, finally breaking into a wide smile, “seriously? even after what i said last night? i’m not complaining but like… you were pretty angry. i just wanted to know why you ghosted me and i agree, i deserved it. but why the sudden change?”

“i mean,” you shrug, “it was what you said that made me think about this. i didn’t want you to stop loving me, because i’ve never stopped loving you.”

“you love me?”

“i love you.”

“this is so crazy, you went from slapping me to…” she trails off, grasping your chin and bringing you into a kiss. her lips were so, so, soft. you wondered why you even let her go. once your lips met, you felt her sigh before smiling into your mouth. catching your breath, you run your fingers through her blonde hair.

“still going on that date with suki?”

“jimin, you know her name’s somi.”

“whatever, i love you too.”

#aespa #aespa x reader #karina x reader #yu jimin x reader #jimin x reader

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jeonginsleftcheek · 8 days ago

Text

The sun to me

Chapter XVI. Warmth.

pairing: hwang hyunjin x afab!reader

word count: 2.9k

chapter summary: a garden created from the artist's hands blossoms fully when the greatest love is the one that's shown in small acts of kindness.

warnings: mentions of a character's death

nsfw warnings: oral (f and m receiving), unprotected sex, creampie, cum eating

~ Masterlist for the series

~ Epilogue

🪻 Heliotrope - eternal love and devotion.

Hyunjin and you spent the last few weeks practically joined at the hip and wrapped up in each other, making up for all the time you lost during what felt like a never-ending hell of a summer.

You opened up your shop again and he came in with you every day, helping you out or painting while you worked.

You also taught him a few more garden tricks so the two of you would spend lots of time in your sunny garden too, working around your flowers.

Hyunjin understood the delicate art of growing flowers and nurturing them, and you understood the art of bringing a vision to life on an otherwise blank canvas.

It was as if you were once a singular soul who got separated into two parts somewhere in another world, and the broken soul parts wandered around all the realms until they finally reunited inside the vessels that are your bodies here on this Earth.

Hyunjin made sure you feel loved and worshipped every day and you did the same for him.

Everyone on the island was so happy to see that Hyunjin is back, Bennet and Catherine invited the two of you over for dinner, closing the restaurant as the four of you enjoyed the evening, talking, drinking and laughing.

Luna was also exceptionally happy, gifting Hyunjin a drawing of him as a prince and you as a princess, which in turn made both of your faces red and your hearts beat faster in unison.

You've never been this happy or this thankful to have someone like Hyunjin by your side.

With fingers tightly entwined, Hyunjin and you walk towards the little cove that has always been your safe haven, now back to it's original view, nothing but the deep blue sea, the sky bleeding into it; empty but never lonely.

The sound of your laughter echoes on the beach as you sit down on the rocks, your favorite spot.

Hyunjin remembers when he first arrived to the island, and tried to sketch something as simple as the waves only to hear echoes of his mother's venomous words inside his head, causing him to hurt again.

You notice he's quiet, a contemplative look on his face, as he stares off into the vastness of the sea.

You don't say anything at first, only reach out to gently touch his hand, fingertips caressing his soft skin.

Hyunjin looks at you, melancholy written on his face and reflecting in his eyes in the shape of tears that threaten to spill.

He seeks comfort in you, as he leans his cheek on your chest and wraps his arms around you tightly.

"Jinnie?"- you say it gently as your arms wrap around him and you caress his head, carding your fingers through his hair.

"I called her."- he swallows the tears.

"Her?"- you ask.

"Mhm. My mother."- he says quietly.

"Oh. How did it go?"- you ask cautiously.

"Like always."- he sniffles.

"I'm sorry."- you say as you kiss the top of his head and he presses himself closer to you as his hands grip at your shirt.

"It's okay."- he looks up at you, a single tear sliding down his cheek and you catch it with your thumb.

"I'll be okay."- he repeats.

"You will, Jinnie. And I'll be here to help you."- you smile gently at him, the kindness he always associated you with is there, touching him warmly, keeping him safe from all the harm.

"My flower."- he smiles and sits up to kiss you lovingly and you return the kiss with the same sentiment, pouring all your love into him.

"I- I wanna go visit Isaac today."- he says as the two of you part and you keep caressing his face. "I'm ready to say goodbye to him."

"Okay, we can go pick some flowers up from the shop and bring it to him?"- you suggest.

"Okay."- Hyunjin nods and you kiss his forehead before the two of you get up and make your way to the shop.

When you finally start making your way to the graveyard, the walk there is quiet.

Hyunjin is holding the bouquet you made in one hand and in the other, he holds your hand.

Your thumb is constantly moving on his skin in a subtle attempt to soothe him and he squeezes your hand shortly to let you know that he feels your warmth.

"Here we are."- you say as you stand in front of Isaac's gravestone.

Hyunjin stands quietly for a few moments before he kneels down to place the flowers on the grave.

You can see that he's struggling not to cry so you kneel down next to him, grabbing his hand gently.

"Goodbye, Isaac."- he says, his voice breaking as tears start sliding down his cheeks and he lets himself cry.

The two of you stay there for a few minutes, just quietly holding onto each other and reminiscing about the man who had helped Hyunjin in more ways than he even knows it.

He wishes he could see Isaac one last time, he wishes that he at least had a few more moments with the warm man who was sort of a father figure to him, someone as kind to him as you are.

When you come back home, Hyunjin finds himself falling into your arms, his face buried in your chest as you comfort his saddened heart.

The little owl he had whittled together with Isaac still stands on your shelf, watching over both of you as you hold onto each other tightly, finding everything you ever needed inside the loving embrace.

"I have something for you."- Hyunjin smiles gently, he had barely unpacked his things a few days ago, both of you too infatuated in each other that you forgot about mundane tasks such as that one.

"Oh? What is it?"- you look at him as you sit on the bed.

Hyunjin opens up a drawer, one he filled with his things and takes out a little lavender box out of the back.

"I got this made for us."- he adds as he makes his way to you.

"What is it?"- you giggle as your heart speeds up.

"Open it, my love."- he says as he gives it to you.

You feel giddy as you slowly open up the box, a gasp leaving your lips when you see two matching necklaces with a heliotrope flower pendant.

"H-Hyunjin."- your eyes water as your heart skips a beat.

"I'm sure you know the meaning."- he smiles, his hand on your cheek, a gentle and sweet touch of his fingertips makes your eyes flutter.

"It's a promise of eternal love."- you whisper.

"Mhm. I promise to love you forever, my muse."- he says as the two of you gravitate towards each other, lips pressing together, soft and passionate against each other.

"Let me help you put it on."- Hyunjin smiles when you part.

"What about this one?"- you grab the black stone one that he gave you before.

"You can layer?"- he pouts cutely, puppy eyes staring at you as his eyebrows shoot up.

"Sure."- you laugh at his cuteness, pinching his cheek shortly before you turn to let him put the necklace on you.

"Help me with mine."- Hyunjin says and you do so, the matching necklaces pretty on both of you, the meaning of them making them even more beautiful to the lovers whose necks they adorn.

"So pretty."- you whisper, tracing his collarbone and the necklace and Hyunjin inhales sharply, even the smallest touches by you make him weak.

You bite on your lip and gently push him down into the pillows and he gives you a cheeky grin.

You swing your leg over him, lowering your middle on his, your core pressed against him, and his hips lift up into you on their own accord, hands on your thighs instantly as he squeezes and caresses the exposed flesh.

"Jinnie."- you keep biting on your lip as you slowly drag your core against him.

"Mm, darling."- Hyunjin's eyes become hazy instantly as the two of you grind into each other.

You lean down to kiss his neck and he throws his head back, squeezing your hips as you attack his skin with licks and bites, leaving purple bruises where you suck on him and he whines, becoming harder under your wet core.

Your hands roam on his stomach and waist as you lift his shirt up and touch him wherever you can reach, making sure to caress every spot of his exposed skin, to worship him and claim him as yours.

Hyunjin grunts in the pure state of bliss as he lets you kiss him and touch him wherever you want, grinding his hard cock up into you.

You slide his shirt off and your lips travel from his neck to his chest and nipples, down to his toned stomach and waist, down to the happy trail disappearing into his boxers.

"Y/n..."- Hyunjin moans as you hover over his bulge.

"Yes lover?"- you give him a little smirk.

"Please touch me."- he whines and you giggle, leaning down to kiss the place where a wet patch formed on his boxers, kissing the tip of his cock as it twitches against your puckered lips.

"You're gonna tease me, aren't you?"- he smirks as he lets you spread his legs, your hands caressing his inner thighs.

"Mhm."- you mumble, your tongue pressing into his clothed tip.

"Ah..."- Hyunjin moans quietly and you lift up a little just to slide his boxers off.

His cock is hard and heavy when it slaps against his stomach and you whimper at the delicious sight.

His hand comes down to grab his cock and you lick your lips when you see his long fingers wrapped around his length like that, teasing himself right in front of your face.

"You wanted to tease me but you seem speechless right now."- he gives you a smirk.

"Can you blame me?"- you smirk back, getting into a more comfortable position.

He chuckles shortly, thumbing his slit as you bring your face closer to him and Hyunjin sucks in his bottom lip, his brows furrowed as he presses his tip on your lips.

"Open up, love."- he says gently and your eyes flutter as you open your mouth and take his tip in, his hands gathering your hair as he holds it in a makeshift ponytail.

You suck on the tip a little, teasing him with your tongue and the way he looks at you in that moment has you squeezing your thighs together.

His eyes are narrowed down on you, plump lips parted and cheeks rosy, a thin sheen of sweat glistening on his forehead.

You feel greedy and slide down, taking more of him in and Hyunjin moans as he grips your hair.

"That's it, take it. Good girl."- he smirks and you whimper around him, sending vibrations through his body and making his cock twitch in your mouth.

The heaviness and warmth of him inside your mouth drives you wild as you start sucking on him and bobbing your head faster.

Hyunjin's lips release pretty moans as you please him, the taste of his pre-cum on your tongue is sweet to you and you grip the base of his cock, working what you can't fit with your hand, as your other hand plays with his sensitive balls.

"Oh my god, y/n! Fuck, just like that!"- Hyunjin curses, losing himself in the pleasure as he arches his hips up into you, making you gag a little.

You don't mind as you slide down further, his tip hitting the back of your throat, your eyes water and you swallow around him making him whine as he buries his fingers in your hair and grips you harshly.

You moan around him and he looks down at you.

"You wanna try taking all of it? I wanna see my cock disappear in your mouth, darling."- he looks at you lustfully, his free hand brushing against your cheek.

"Mm."- you moan around him again as your eyes flutter, your arousal pooling on your panties and you desperately need some kind of friction.

Hyunjin bites on his lip again, red and swollen from sinking his teeth into it repeatedly as he helps you slide down on his length, until your nose is buried in his pubes and you inhale, trying to relax your throat.

"Mm, look at you. You take it so well, baby."- he whines and you're going crazy, rubbing your thighs together as he fucks up into your mouth slowly.

"Shit, feels so good!"- he moans as you meet his thrusts, sucking him off faster.

You keep whimpering and gagging around him, tears now sliding down your cheeks and Hyunjin can see your legs pressed together as you look for relief.

"Is my flower feeling needy?"- he asks with a smirk and you whine.

Finally, he pulls you off his cock gently, his hand still on your hair and the other cups your chin.

You cough a little as you look up at him teary-eyed.

"I won't deny you, love."- he gives you a smile as he beckons you closer to him.

You hover over him and he gently takes your face in his hands, kissing you passionately as he wipes away your tears.

Suddenly, you're flipped over on your tummy as Hyunjin presses your body into the bed and hovers over you, his cock pressed against your ass.

You gasp and grip onto the pillows as he holds your wrists down.

Hyunjin's lips are on the back of your neck and your shoulders as he kisses you and slides his hands on your back and waist down to your ass, grabbing it and massaging the plushy flesh.

"All of this is mine."- he kisses your neck again, hands grabbing at your hips to lift your pelvis up.

He spreads your legs and you whine as you hold onto the pillow.

"All yours, Jinnie."- you say as you feel the tip of his cock caress your folds.

You clench instantly, begging to be filled up as he teases you, pressing his hardness into your clit.

"I'm gonna give you all my love, darling."- you hear the smirk in his voice as he slowly pushes in.

Rarely practicing this position, it makes you feel dirty in a good way as Hyunjin starts snapping his hips into your ass, his hands splayed on your hips, holding on tightly, his cock is buried even deeper inside you than in any other position.

"Ah, ah, Jinnie, ah!"- you moan constantly, your mind becoming a cloud drifting in the wind as you let go completely, giving into Hyunjin as he pistons his hips into you fast and hard.

The sinful sounds of skin slapping skin, the feeling of his cock ravaging you, his balls smacking against your ass have you drooling on your pillow as your legs tremble, your toes curling and pussy clenching around his length.

"Let go, baby."- he knows you're there, his hands on your waist as he pushes you down on his cock harder.

"Mm, Hyunjin!"- you moan out his name as you cream around his cock and Hyunjin's hips stutter.

"Ah, shit!"- he grunts, fucking into you sloppily as he shoots his cum deep inside you, riding his high as he smacks your ass.

"Jinnie!"- you whine before he pulls out of you slowly, and turns you around easily, your legs falling open for him as his cum drips out of you.

He leans down between your legs and starts eating you out instantly, your thighs shake as you moan loudly and grip onto his hair.

"Mm."- he moans into you, eyes fluttering as he laps at you, swallowing your cum mixed together like it was the sweetest thing he ever tasted.

"You taste like honey."- he kisses your folds and your clit and you let out a chuckle.

The tip of his tongue teases your nub and you whimper.

"Ah, sensitive!"

"I'm sorry, are you okay my flower?"- he lifts up immediately, hand cupping your cheek.

"Yes, yes, more than okay."- you smile as you wrap your arms around him and bring him closer to you.

You kiss him sweetly, the taste of him and you lingers on your tongues as they dance together slowly and sensually, your bodies arching into each other, seeking the warmth they provide.

"You wanna redecorate the house?"- you ask when the two of you part and Hyunjin bursts into laughter.

"That's what you were thinking about while I was inside you?"- he asks with a grin.

"No, I couldn't think then but my thoughts came back now."- you say and he giggles.

"Alright, let's redecorate."- he gives you a sweet smile, leaning down to kiss your cheeks.

And a few weeks later, after lots of hard work, you had managed to re-paint your kitchen, of course again in the warm signature pastel yellow you loved so much, but the living room was now a shade of lavander, just like the heliotrope flower that symbolizes the depth of your love.

Paintings that both of you made adorned your walls now, except one wall that you left blank, to fill it up with a work of art you'd create together.

You weren't alone anymore, and neither was Hyunjin, destiny had brought you together, and the two of you sat at each side of the blank wall, painting together for days to make a beautiful mosaic of blooming flowers, a luscious garden that represents your love blossoming as you got closer and closer to the middle of the wall, where you had met with your paintbrushes and matching smiles, sealing your fate with a kiss and a flower you created together.

taglist: @moonchild9350 @janepg @velvetmoonlght @hwanghyunjinismybae @jehhskz @laylasbunbunny @porangporangmeong @jeonginslefthand @sapphirewaves @simpforleeknaur @laughatdanger @lixies-favorite-cookie @linavc @quokkacidal @thisaintredwine @m00gyu @yaorzu-blog @skzfelixlove @tajannah-price1 @puccaaak @aft2rsexs @xxkissesforchanniexx @aprilmaejune77 @lilmeowneow @stayjinnie @astrobebba @danihwang882 @kaysungshine @nchhuhi @1810cl @chartrucewhore @babigriin @jisuperboard @alisonyus @minluvly @instantsoulnight @kkamismom12 @its-stayville-forever @s3ungm1nxxl0ve @painterhyunjin @lemonadeboun @eastjonowhere

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sludge-saturday · 5 months ago

Text

pencil and charcoal

you've been riding with the van der linde gang for a few months now, pulling your weight and helping out when you can. you've earned the trust of nearly everyone there with your hard work and are starting to capture the interest of a certain someone...

pairing: arthur morgan x gn!artist!reader

summary: you show arthur your artwork by the fire. how will he react when he sees himself amongst your drawings?

tags: fluff, arthur has low self-esteem, high honor arthur

warnings: very brief mention of alcohol consumption

word count: 1,141

a/n: i can't tell if my writing style is too corny or not so feedback is encouraged. :)

☆ the trotting of your horses' hooves served as gentle ambience as you and arthur watched the van der linde camp come into view. an involuntary feeling of relief washed over you, knowing that you were safe here. the two of you were just arriving from a particularly difficult bounty hunt, but your combined skills proved to be efficient. "a job well done," as arthur had told you.

☆ you both approach the camp and hop off of your horses, hitching them to an available post. arthur gives boadicea a gentle, appreciative pat on the neck. "i'm gonna go tell dutch how much we made." he says, walking toward where the gang leader is standing. dutch is next to one of the posts holding up his tent and a fire had been made not too far away by some of the other gang members. karen, tilly, charles, javier, and lenny all sat around the flame, a couple with bottles in their hands.

☆ you wanted to stop at your tent for your sketchbook before heading over to sit with them. now would be a perfect time to keep practicing, you thought to yourself. after making the short trip to where your belongings were, you swiped the leather-bound book and the rest of your supplies off of your cot. as you walk towards the fire you glance at everyone sitting around it. no one had left yet, but another person had joined: arthur.

☆ scanning for a place to sit, you decide on an open spot next to the gunslinger. you had to admit, you've grown fond of arthur's presence since you first started traveling with the gang. it was something about his get-it-done attitude, his undying loyalty to those he cares about, and, of course, his rugged handsomeness. you kept your affection for him a secret, though, afraid of what might happen if anyone ever found out. you drew one of your knees up to your chest, propping your sketchbook up on your thigh in an attempt to dispel the thought.

☆ arthur's gaze couldn't help but wander to what you were doing beside him. as you opened your sketchbook, flipping through the pages to find where you last left off, arthur's eyes were able to steal a few glances at what was inside. from what he able to see, there were sketched pictures of people he could have sworn he recognized. was that... dutch? and sean? and mary beth? arthur gestured to the book in your hands and spoke in a hushed tone, as if afraid someone else would hear what he had to say. "you draw too?"

☆ you looked up at arthur with a smile already on your face. "it's been one of my passions since i was a child. i practically clung to my pencils when i fell on hard times." your eyes sparkled as you spoke to him, and you could have sworn you saw the same kind of shimmer in his eyes as he listened. "can i..." he started, "can i see 'em?" arthur had never met anyone else that shared his love of drawing and thought he never would, he had made peace with that. but this new discovery, this moment he was now sharing with you, it made him feel more alive and more connected to someone than he felt in a while.

☆ a flush threatened to creep onto your cheeks as you process arthur's request. you can't remember the last time someone asked to actually see what you were making. anxiety bubbled in your stomach as your mind raced through everything that could happen if you agreed. but, when you looked at arthur, his features were graced with a subtle glow, an expression of wonder and pure curiosity. how could you refuse?

☆ "of course." you gave him a sweet smile. "should i start from the beginning?" your hand prepares to move all of the pages on the left back to the right, but you look at arthur for approval anyway. "sure." he answered, nodding his head.

☆ and so you do. you show him everything, from your finished portraits of the gang members to sketches of your horse to quick scribbles of plants and animals you spot on your adventures. and arthur found it all so breathtaking. your art style, the way you chose to characterize your figures, your ability to make photo-realistic images from just pencil and charcoal, he never knew you had this in you.

☆ he watched as you flipped through the pages, admiring your work and pointing out ones he particularly liked. the person drawn on the last page had a dark cowboy hat on with rope tied around the base. he had a dark kerchief draped around his neck and a stubbly face. "recognize him?" you smooth your hand over the paper, remembering the unforgettable process that was drawing arthur for the first time. "this is one of my favorites." smiling at the page, you turn to look at his reaction.

☆ arthur was utterly dumbfounded. he couldn't believe what he was looking at. someone, especially someone like you, had deemed him worthy enough of being a muse for artwork. he thought he was so... ugly. he thought everyone found him that way. at a loss for words, the man felt tears prick his eyes. he didn't know why he was getting so emotional! he couldn't cry in front of anyone, so he cleared his throat and searched for what to say. "is that me?"

☆ you noticed that arthur's eyes looked glossier and that his expression shifted. you couldn't gauge how he was feeling from the look on his face, so you looked back down at the drawing. "it is," you said, fiddling with the corner of the book. "you are a joy to create." your smile was genuine, the apple of your cheeks shining in the firelight as you turned your head to face arthur again. his expression was still unreadable, his gaze tilted down towards his lap. after a few seconds of silence, arthur speaks softly. "ya really mean that?"

☆ arthur's eyes were still glassy, but softer this time around. he looked like the answer to his question would make or break him. he looked... vulnerable. even you knew that this was not a disposition you would typically, if ever, expect of him. you were careful with your response, knowing that you held the very livelihood of arthur morgan in your hands. "i do."

☆those two simple words sent a small swarm of butterflies through his gut. for him, nothing would be able to compare to the way you just made him feel. for him, this moment would be occupying his mind for longer than he cared to admit. for him, this gesture was just another piece of the stunning mosaic created in your image. after this, there's no more room for doubt. he's smitten.

#rdr2 fanfic #rdr2 oneshot #rdr2 x reader #arthur morgan fanfic #arthur morgan oneshot #arthur morgan x reader #artist!reader #enjoy :)

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 7 months ago

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the girl next door 6

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such as age gap, manipulation, chronic illness, noncon/dubcon, coercion, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: A new neighbour moves in and upends your already disarrayed life.

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself.

This lewk but silverfox

You can’t remember the last time you had the house to yourself. Even if your mother’s just next door, it feels a little lighter around there. And you’re happy for her. Maybe having Steve around will be good. He can be an outlet so she doesn’t have to put all her frustrations on you.

She was happy when she left, even excited. That’s another rarity in your life.

You start your day off with a tea. The apple cinnamon bags are a bit old so you use two. You bring the cup into your room and get your table set up with your pencils and sketchbook. You open the window to let in the sunlight, the natural light much brighter than the yellowed bulb above.

You know your mom would tell you to do something more useful than just scribble in your sketchbook. You got the dishes done last night. Steve offered to help but you deflected as you foresaw your mom’s disapproval. You can’t let company pick up your slack.

You try to wipe away the anxiety of last night. It’s over now. You shouldn’t have worry very much about it again.

You finish your tea. It’s cold by the time you get to the dregs. You sit back to look over your sketch. Your eyes feel a bit fuzzy from hyperfocusing on that one stamen. You rub your brow and yawn. The sun shifts and you look over at the old alarm clock on your nightstand. It’s close to noon.

Something else catches your eye. You look up at the window across from yours. The curtain ripples around the gap before it’s pulled open from inside. Steve stands on the other side of the pane. Can he see you?

You can’t tell as he turns away without acknowledgement. The glare of the sun should hide your room well enough. You never really thought of it as your blinds are closed more often than not.

You get up to rinse out your cup. You stretch your legs as you pace in the kitchen. You’re restless. You’re so used to your mom and her demands and expectations, that having your own time feels aimless.

You could surprise your mother with dinner. Have it in the oven when she comes home. It’s still early but you can make something more than boxed macaroni. It will be a good cushion to fall back on when you remind her about tomorrow’s appointment.

🏠

When your mother returns, you can see the fatigue around her eyes. For as little as she goes out, you’re not surprised. What strikes you, is how happy she is. You help her to her recliner and she sighs as she leans back.

“Such a nice man,” she keeps repeating.

You smile and let her regale you with a recounting of her day. Still, you can’t help but wait for the pendulum to swing back to normal. She leans her head in her hand, her eyes distant.

“I swear, the universe sent him to me,” she says, “it had to. It was how much I need someone.” She drops her hand and traces her finger around the armrest, “sick, got a lazy daughter, stuck in this damn house...”

There it is. You frown. You mash your hands together and waver.

“I made dinner,” you offer.

“I don’t want KD,” she snips.

“I made... I made shepherd’s pie,” you offer meekly, “should be almost done.”

“Hm, wondered what that stench was.”

You frown. “I can put it in the fridge for tomorrow. Be good to have something we can just heat up after the doctor’s.”

“Doctor?” She grumbles, “eh... I forgot.”

She slumps and her eyes dull. You can’t help the pang in your chest. Sometimes you wish it was you who was sick. It feels like you deserve it more than her.

“Hopefully it’s good. If you can get the surgery--”

“Surgery!? Surgery. You keep going on about the damn thing,” she barks. “They can’t fix me, girl, get that through your head.”

“I know, mom, but they can help--”

“Like you help me? Crittering around here like a rat!” She hits the armrest violently, “would ya leave me be?” She closes her eyes and turns her face away, deflating once more, “ruined a good day...”

You sniffle and slowly turn on your heel. You should have known better. You should have just left her alone. As much as she rants about you staying in your room, she prefers you there. Out of sight, out of mind.

🏠

The next day, your mother doesn’t say much. Her silence is just a bitter as her words. You don’t push it. She gets in the car without argument and you set off into town. Even if she says it’s a waste of time, she listens intently to the doctor and answers all his questions. It’s only when she has to go through the tests that she shows her agitation.

After some hours spent at the specialist clinic, you’re free to go. Your mom is just as quiet. You feel her mood roiling in the air. Her hand is shaking to the point that she’s hissing at it.

You steer down to the corner and linger at the stop sign.

“Mom,” you squeak, “you want some orange julius? A treat for the way home?”

“Don’t talk to me like a damn child,” she snarls. “Let’s just go. I’m tired. Got no blood left in me.”

You nod and bite your tongue. Maybe you can just put her to bed. Her naps are a respite, though you find yourself anxious in the silence, terrified of waking her prematurely.

As you pull onto the suburban avenue, you slow and approach your drive. You pull in and shut off the engine. You get out and go around to help your mom. You open her door and she hauls herself out, tisking under her breath.

“Didn’t see him,” she mutters.

“Good afternoon,” Steve’s voice answers your question before you can ask. You look over the hood as he waves from his porch, “busy day?”

Your mother steels herself and forces a smile, “just went to the doctors.”

“Oh, everything okay?” He asks.

“Sure,” she chimes, “just some tests. Nothing serious.”

“Good to hear,” he stands behind the porch railing, arches crossed, “day’s not over yet. Still lots of time to enjoy the sun.”

“Mhmm,” you mom grabs onto your wrist, shaking you as leans into you. “Nice day out.”

“I was gonna do up a milkshake, if you ladies wanted to join me I got plenty to go around.”

“Milkshakes?” Your mother considers, “mm, I’d have to change out of these.” She looks down, “smell like a hospital.”

“Sure, take your time,” Steve says, “how about you, honey? I got strawberry. You seem like a strawberry type.”

“Eh, she’s more a vanilla type,” your other cackles. “Plain.”

“Got that too,” Steve ignores the joke. “I understand if you’re tired out though. Don’t wanna be too desperate over here, just wouldn’t mind the company.”

“I’ll be over soon,” your mom assures him, “she’s got some laundry to do.”

She keeps hold of you and points you towards the house. You help her inside, even though she does her best to hid how she clings to you. Her steps are uneven and stunted. You get through the front door and help her sit on the chair you keep by the door, just in case.

“Goddamnit,” she’s shaking pretty bad. “Help me, you dumb girl.”

“I... I don’t...”

“Get my goddamn inhaler. I forgot it this morning.”

“Oh, uh, okay.”

You hurry down the hall and to bathroom. It isn’t in the cabinet. You go back out and scan the table. Not their either. You find it next to her recliner. You wish she’d keep it one place. You go back to her and hand it over.

“I’m gonna go over,” she says before she huffs from the canister, “you’re gonna stay here. Out of my way.”

“Alright,” you agree. You prefer that anyway.

She takes a minute before she gets up. She shooes you away and you retreat to your bedroom. You sit on your bed and wring your hands, waiting as you listen to her. She doesn’t say goodbye before she leaves. Only the front door slamming lets you know she’s gone.

You exhale and pull the fold out table up to the edge of the bed. You open your sketchbook and stare at the pencil. You don’t feel like drawing but you have nothing else to do. You just sit, looking at the amaryllis. You can pick out every flaw in your work. You close the cover and frown.

A knock startles you and you stand up. Oh gosh, it’s probably Marge. What is it now? Is the siding too stained? Are the steps crooked? You get up and shuffles down the hall. You open the front door, hiding behind it as you poke your head around.

Steve has the screen door propped open against his elbow. He holds a tall glass filled with pink, “here. Figured I’d bring this over.”

“Oh, uh, thanks,” you accept the condensating glass, a wide straw poking out of the whipped cream topped drink.

“Maybe next time you can pop over too,” he suggests, “I’ve been working on getting the pool going...” he grins, “it’ll be a good summer for it.”

You nod and look down at the milkshake.

“Really nice of you,” you say.

“It’s nothing, sweetie,” he puts his hand on the door above him, looking down at you, “enjoy.”

“Uh,” you look at him then at the straw. You don’t want to be rude. You put your lips around the tip and take a sip. “Mm, yup, good. Thank you.”

His blue eyes stick to you and he drags his hand down the door, “I’ll make a deal. You come over to see the pool when it’s ready, and I’ll make you another. How about that, sweetie?”

You push your lips out. It’s not nice to say no. He didn’t have to bring you the milkshake or invite you. You shrug.

“Okay,” you agree, “erm, thanks again.”

He nods and taps the door frame before he steps back. He gently closes the screen door and you watch him through. He turns and strides down the stairs. You shiver as the cold glass numbs your fingers. Hopefully, he forgets about the pool thing. You don't even have a suit.

#steve rogers #dark steve rogers #dark!steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #drabble #series #au #silverfox au #the girl next door #mcu #marvel #captain america

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abnomi · 2 months ago

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random assorted headcanons for Turbo because I like thinking and having fun !!!! 🎉

Read More to Find Out...or are you too scared?... i bet ur too scared ahaha youre too scared Lol! Hahaahaaa!!!

The steering wheel of his kart is covered in bite marks, similar to how one would bite their favorite pencil. he bites things to mark his territory because Nobody is gonna touch that unless they want all of his diseases (150+).

i just know he was fighting to restrain himself not to chew on any of the candy civilians

when it comes to music, he doesn't see the point of listening to it. he doesn't have enough patience to really take it in; to him, it's just a thing that exists and not much more than that ¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠ ∵⁠ )⁠_⁠/⁠¯

adding onto that point, this guy listens to metal clanking sounds and loud engine roaring for entertainment because he likes things that would overstimulate any normal person. turbo is incredibly sensory-seeking and will do anything for The Sensations

someone should take him to a heavy rock concert i think it would change him a little. keep that thang on a leash

related to being sensory-seeking, i think he would absolutely love running his hands over random textures. if anyone has run their hands along a wall while walking alongside it...He does that...If u know u know... he is SO stimmy its unbelievable. Unreal.

very pain-tolerant. he'll whine and complain about it for attention, but physical hurt really doesnt bother him much until it gets in the way of what he wants to do.

funnily enough, he is very picky when it comes to temperature. he can handle getting ran over but if its 1° too hot or cold he'll start nagging and nagging for it to go back to normal. turbo really needs his own enclosure i think it'd do him a lot of good

this is a more popular headcanon and its canon-leaning, but he's an artist :-] he usually sticks to graffiti art because its generally considered more "rebellious and cool" but he also sketches cars, design decals, and other stuff when hes alone!

i would love to see his process of character designing king candy because i dont think he really knew what he was doing

he was just like "ok what does a generic king look like. uhhhhh.... 1, old and jolly like santa claus.... 2.... uhh crown..... 3......... purple.... FUCK YEAH im so good at this!!!!🔥🔥🔥"

i just noticed how his design has like 0 actual candy motifs aside from his bow being a candy wrapper and his shoes having those little gumdrop end pieces. what was he THINKING

while King Candy has a lisp, i think it's a coverup for his actual voice because of how goofy and recognizable it is. Overall its the same as his regular voice, he just gets silly with it. i noticed that he still does retain some of his lisp when hes screaming his lungs out at Vanellope, however, so maybe he genuinely does have a lisp that makes itself known when furious :3

another thing i noticed is how he hisses his S's. very cool very cool the reptilian

@/tasticturbo made a post abt how he has tinnitus from the constant noise in his game and i couldnt agree more

AND THE PRESCRIPTION GLASSES. where did he get those...he needs to See

side note, the aforementioned account has made so many interesting analyses on turbo and theyre all so insightful. i recommend u check them out

i think he gets migraines from stress. constant buzzing or pain flood his head but hes like "IDGAF i need to DO something at ALL TIMES no matter what"

hes like a shark in that way. if hes not moving he'll die instantly. idk a lot about sharks or if thats how it works srry but im going off of what the Worms are saying to me and i dont have much to work with

i think a really big contributer as to why he lacks in the self care department is because he fails to notice that something in his body is wrong. hes far too distracted on something he thinks is more important than remembering to Eat Food or Drink Water or Wash Himself or

he's like "WHY DO I FEEL LIKE SHIT ALL OF THE TIME!!! I HATE MY LIFE" and he hasn't slept in 4 days

hes so me. Sorry.

i dont think turbo is necessarily suicidal, but the way he behaves shows a clear disregard for his own safety and wellbeing. he thinks that he knows what he needs but he really doesnt :-[ i think he has some kind of immortality complex, feeling untouchable and like nothing could get to him. as scared as he was when ralph was about to turn him into sloppy mush, he didnt take the threat very seriously. like it was some kind of joke

his kart regenerates every time his game starts up, so what if he smashed it into buildings for fun. He's the number one fan of car accidents. he is all about that shit

i think his living space would literally be a garage btw. its a place to sleep and a space for his car all in one!! he thinks its very convenient and awesome but i think he is coping. he has some old dingy stained sheetless mattress that he has never washed in his life and its covered in dirt and smoke particles. no wonder he has such heavy eye bags Dude Please

the turbo twins have a garage used in a similar way, and while its still pretty shitty, they still at least TRY to maintain it. they just fight a lot over who has to care of it. nobody taught them how to take turns ever

but this aint about them. maybe another day

i think that turbo would find comfort in garbage and keeping it around because its familiar to him. a big clean empty space would make him so mad and if anyone moves even an inch of scrap off to the side he will throw a fit. he generally doesnt pay attention to his surroundings but when its his personal space he is 1093 times more neurotic

i think the big empty castle he stole wouldve been a big transition for him. maybe it helped him clear his mind a little more to practice his tricky schemes...it helped him get more subtle

thats all i have for nowww ty for reading ^_^ if anyone else has any wacky ideas pleeeease tell me i would love to hear them!!

#tw suicide mention #its very brief but still #also little edit but i changed my mind a little on the music thing...he listens to it sometimes just not actively --#-- he needs stuff that immediately hooks his attention and relates to his interests #side note i really want to talk about the turbo twins bec i fuckin love them but then i remember they have no personality in the movie--#--so id be making analyses on other peoples interpretations of them HAHA. EVERYONE STOP BEING CREATIVE NOWWWE!!!!#turbo wir #turbo #king candy wir #king candy #headcanon #analysis #<- ??#wat ever #i like little details that dont impact the story at all whatsoever. it just makes the characters feel so much more lively #like i could have full conversations with this guy in my head (normal)#love for ever #wreck it ralph

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whatudottu · 1 month ago

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Welcome one and all to my version of the party's loopified designs, featuring my many broken bones and blood stains I especially put into Odile who I tackled second unlike the alphabetical order that I have presented here! I'll have in-depth discussions on each designs and matching practice portraits under the cut but before that-

Siffrin 'barely taller than a preteen' no middle name no last name Loop is still barely taller than a preteen but now that preteen can claim fire to their height!

Alphabetical order GO!

Bonnie, who I've been calling Bonfire (which if that ends up being their name I can imagine Bonnie calling them 'Fire' while they call Bonnie 'Face' to match), was the last of my designs because frankly I knew from the start what their design was going to take influence from and also knew I was going to draw fire :P They were based on bonfires (of course) and also specifically the Burning Man effigies just for a humanoid figure, plus being a chef cooker and a campfire and also a very heated expressive person.

Their flames are hot but not actual wood burning so the Favour Tree (and Mirabelle in the height chart) are not at risk of combusting, they're just incredibly bright-

Isabeau my first design, with influences from @basilpaste 's Lock (with a dressform body) and @nullapophenia 's original version of Husk (the faceless identityless sketch), I have combined them both to make a mannequin it/its loopified design that finally gets to be capital T Tall all for the low low price of being Changed against its will and suffering another bout of body dysphoria that it can't fix anymore :) :) :) When I was referencing mannequins I actually noticed how long their legs actually were let alone how they were perma-stuck in that Barbie-like highheel pose and thought why don't I just curse Isa with something he previously wanted :P

Something something Isabeau actively Changed not only his body but his personality to become someone he wouldn't be ashamed of, yada yada Loopsabeau is back to hating itself and has started to become a person it despises to match (also like a mannequin it's head and arms are technically painlessly removeable :P)

Third in order and third in design is Mirabelle, who technically is the only loopified design with technically hair and clothes, but the hair are the tangled roots of the Favour Tree and the clothes are like the carved hardstone statues of religious figures :P Initially my Idea for Mirabelle was to make her kinda like her statue, with the wonky expression of someone who made it without much mastery over details, not to pit anything against Mira, no, no. Thought about maybe abstract statue design but I couldn't find a version I liked but I did always imagine her statue being weathered in some way, there was a reason why I saved her for third I couldn't pick what I wanted. But then I remembered the broken Change God statues, thought about the 'blessing' that ended up being a curse, and then thought about overgrown weathering and gave her the roots.

I actually looked up Black hairstyles and mostly wondered what specific hair texture Mirabelle had (she wears it in a fro of course, but she has flyaways that aren't coils, but she described her own hair as kinky and :P) so that if I were to mimic hair with tree roots I can get an appropriate matching hairstyle (settled on megatwists). Hah, if Mira has 4C hair, considering how long her hair actually looks, if she to wear her hair in twists she might actually have elbow length hair :P

I spent 8 non-consecutive hours on Odile can you tell? Can you see my hands bleeding my wrist breaking my eyes drooping? Yeah so Odile was again, my second design and it took me a week to recover, and she's a combination of gem and mirror suit with all the little fragments floating around her the 'diamonds' that represent all her family members party plus the ones she originally had in sets of 2. I also put geodes where parts of her body have broken off (inspired by how when the King strikes she can't move, plus also being a glass canon) where when I was actually drawing those geodes that they kinda use the Change symbol?

Circle within a circle within a circle, regardless of how wiggly it is, and at the centre is a cluster of crystals. That was an accidental reference to Odile's mixed heritage but hoo boy what a connection! Her missing pieces are a combination of 'being too old for this' fragility and also 'i didn't want to render more mirrors sue me'

Anyway I am going to put my wrist in a cast and imagine loopified party members with their pre-wish counterparts :P

#bonnie #bonnie isat #isabeau #isabeau isat #mirabelle #mirabelle chevalier #mirabelle isat #odile #odile isat #loop #loop isat #in stars and time #isat #isat spoilers #fanart #i saw someone mention in the tags of my previous isat post talking about the mirabelle chevalier tag #as soon as my grubby little broken mitts grab hold of either a physical or digital copy of the isat artbook #which as has been said by insertdisc5 include the last names of the characters (at least the ones that remember them)#i will not only continue using chevalier but also everyone else's last names in tags #replacing... one of the other character tags #a lot of my thoughts on the designs have been already said #but me and the same isat friends have some thoughts on how the loopified versions interact with their old selves #mirabelle is the nicest but may snap every so often in a 'arent you tired of being kind dont you want to go apeshit' kinda way #isabeau is a bitter jealous asshole who's regressed to being unkind thanks to not having the body it worked so hard to make once #odile is a little cold when talking to herself since pleasantries take too much time plus her 'i will do awful things [for da fam]' ways #and bonnie is bonnie so they're angry and pissed and sad they won't see their nille again but also they and bonnie are friends in the loop #speaking as someone who at bonnie's age didn't really have friends um whether or not i'm projecting i think fire and face can be besties #please enjoy these designs my kitten scratched me so hard i needed a bandaid for the price of angst and i think that's fitting #do i have an attached au to these designs? no. do i want one? maybe maybe i guess there's only so many ways to have an [x] loops au

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steddieas-shegoes · 1 year ago

Note

Drabble idea for the ask thing: Steve works at a tattoo shop and Eddie works at a flower shop, they both get odd looks when they tell people about their job. Bonus: Eddie gets a tattoo of a flower from Steve and that's how they meet.

This is like if you took call me sunshine, send me to space and made it cuter with a flower shop and made Steve the tattoo artist instead. I'm just gonna write the bonus scene because that's a lot to keep 500 words or less and we all know how I go on 😂 Don't @ me over the super sappy ending, someone with spoons please write another 50k of this.

🌷🌼🌻🌷🌼🌻🌷🌼🌻

"You want a wildflower bouquet in the space of your full sleeve?" Steve stared at the fully tattooed man over his glasses, brows raised in disbelief. "I'm not one to judge tattoo choices but you seem to know what you're doing and I'm a bit confused as to how that fits with...anything else on your arm."

Steve had definitely done some wild tattoos. He was actively part of so many bad decisions made by people who would live to regret getting their girlfriend's name on their neck or the face of their best friend on their thigh.

But this one was different in that this guy had clearly meticulously planned out every tattoo on his body, and that was a lot of tattoos, and now he wanted to add...wildflowers. In between skulls and guitars and some metal band logo. Right.

"Yeah and if it's a problem, I can go somewhere else, man. I just heard a lot of good things about you and my flower shop is two doors down, so-"

"Wait. You're Eddie? You're the guy who owns the flower shop." Steve perked up, face relaxing more into a smile.

"The one and only. You been by?" Eddie didn't remember actually seeing Steve before.

He'd been shocked to walk in and see a barely tattooed Steve sitting behind the counter. Assuming he was the secretary, he'd said he was here for an appointment with the guy in charge, and Steve smiled and explained who he was.

"I haven't. But someone brought me a bouquet you made when I first opened and it was beautiful. Managed to keep it alive and thriving for almost two weeks, which is a record for me, and then someone said it was because of the way you take care of them before they're sold and the minerals you use in the water and I'm turning into Robin. Jesus."

Eddie was endeared.

Steve was looking down at his tablet in front of him, a barely visible sketch on it.

"Is that what you've come up with?" Eddie asked as he leaned over the counter to get a closer look.

They could talk about his love of the bouquet Eddie made later.

"Yeah, but. Now that I'm looking at you...I'm not sure it's right," Steve sighed, closing the app and looking back up at Eddie. "I can redesign at no charge and set up another consultation."

"Can I see?"

"Sure."

Steve pulled his tablet out and opened the picture back up.

It was beautiful, actually resembled a bouquet Eddie had done not long ago for his friend Jonathan.

"It's perfect. Can it be done in one long sitting or do we need to break it up?" Eddie smiled at Steve, pulling up the calendar on his phone to make an appointment.

"Uh. Well." Steve cleared his throat. "I guess you could probably handle the pain so all in one is fine with me? It's probably gonna be six hours with breaks every hour. Are you sure this is what you want?"

Eddie looked at the tablet again, tilting his head as he thought back to when he'd made this bouquet.

"Do you know Jonathan Byers?" Eddie asked, not looking away from the picture.

His eyes focused on the coneflower that he'd only been able to use in one bouquet before his part time employee found out they were allergic.

"Yeah...why?"

"He got you that bouquet, right?"

Steve nodded.

Eddie didn't really believe in fate or destiny or whatever type of miracle people tended to wish for. He also didn't believe in soulmates or the perfect partner.

But wildflowers grow anywhere, and sometimes love can too.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #drabble #this is technically more than the one sentence thing but ah well #i kept it short still

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sketchedatrocities · 2 months ago

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IT'S SLOWHOG - IT'S THE BOY

Slowhog is a gag fakemon whose stats are bad and movepool is bad and is bad. I love him. His lore is that he's highly edible, slow and weak. A slug/pig that recovers from steak being carved off it without issue. I want a plushie of him. The shiny version of him is green.

I decided he needed to be explored in every way and typed him out like an eeveelution.

Porkpast was well received.

I know I did well when people pointed to each one and said it was slept on. Google 'Velvet Worm' and 'Sea pig'.

Having done all the types I moved onto Pre-evolutions.

Brekkie won hands down, I'm sorry P-Flop lovers but there you are. It's shiny would also be green. The Progress of: Brekkie -> Slowhog -> Porkpast is the correct line as it's: Breakfast -> Lunch -> Digestion Digestion is also Dinner but lunch is haunting you.

The Hogly Trinity

The Devs mentioned adding a new 'Strange' Type in the next update, which gave me something to new Hog with

This satisfied me at the time.

Running out of Hogs to Pork Post with I moved on to special forms. His Oinks will save us from the Kaiju.

Lack of new Hog made me plyable in my morals and I made meme material with him.

'Hogchamp' is now a server emote.

At this point someone in the discord posted a Slowhog made in SPORE which I grasped onto as a new hog to draw. I was grateful for this.

Next came Pride Month, which is a time we draw Slowhog.

Obviously. This is Pridehog and it's shiny version. You did not need me to tell you this.

It had been a while since I had hogged. I awoke from a dream about pork and sketched this out on a loose sheet of Clipstudio raster layer I had laying next to my bed. This is a sound type, I think. I imagine hell sounds like this at all times, except when you say something embarrassing, at which point it all cuts out and everyone looks at you condescending.

hink honk, honk, hinkhink honk - it went I tried to ignore it but the next dream told me I was 'needed'. I woke up uncomfortable and bussed into to the Sex Factory, where I work. My eyes were bleary after my shift (which I can't describe due to Tumblr's tos) and I stared at one of those bus seat patterns like you remember from school trips. I thought I was going mad. I took a picture.

"Do you see this?" I asked the tall and busty woman who kept dropping her keys and saying whoops and bending over in front of me. The other woman who had her keys on a loop through her jeans kept staring at her, assumably in dismay at her lack of practical key handling. "Huh?" She said. "Sorry about my keys they-" I snapped my fingers rudely (I was scared) "Do you see that Pink pattern on the bus seats?" She looked confused and dropped her keys again. "No? They're fully blue." I looked back at the seats, they were fully blue. The picture on the digital camera I carry with me as an ironic anachronism displayed the slowhog pattern in full. I got off the bus and decided to draw some details on the Slowhog Evolutions.

You can also get Porkpast by inflating Hogone enough. You can't inflate Porkpast though, he's a ghost.

I felt refreshed, cleansed. But also a touch greasy. I had another dream, but this time the dream creature was a dog who spoke in polish and I realised I was just unhealthily sleep deprived.

Thank you for reading.

Why not download Pokemon Quarantine Crystal for SameBoy or other good Emulators? Perhaps join the discord too. It's fun.

#pokemon fanart #pokemon rom hack #pokemon #pokemon fakemon #fakedex #fakemon #quarantine crystal #qdex

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ashwhowrites · 2 years ago

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Angst with a happy ending where Reader has been Chrissy’s best friend since childhood, and has had a huge crush on Eddie for a while? They’ve only really interacted in a select few classes over the years until his third senior year.

Reader had been trying to convince Chrissy that she can find someone that will treat her way better than Jason. So, when Chrissy finally breaks up with Jason to pursue someone else, Reader is supposed to be happy. If only Chrissy hadn’t set her sights on Eddie Munson.

Chrissy is pretty, sweet, popular, and always gets what she wants. Right?

Chrissy always gets what she wants, right? NO

⚠️angsty at first but I made it happy!

Y/N hated Jason more than anything. She hated how he treated her best friend like shit. And she hated that he treated her crush like crap. A secret crush though. No one knew she had a crush on Eddie Munson, not even her best friend.

There's a good chance Eddie Munson knew her name, but nothing else about her. She was popular, and Chrissy's friend. But called Jason out on his shit all the time.

She's only had two real conversations with Eddie. Two she remembered and played in her head. Two that he probably didn't even know that happened.

But she stopped by his desk every morning, a small hi on her tongue when she walked to her seat. Her heart skips beats when he looks up with his own smile. Always saying hi back.

When the teacher told them to partner up, she always ran to him.

Chrissy always went to Jason so it wasn't a big deal. Chrissy was always caught up in her boyfriend she never noticed her best friend staring at the hellfire leader with hearts in her eyes.

She was so close to asking Eddie out. Taking the leap but then Chrissy dumped Jason, and set her eyes on someone else.

Y/N felt like she lost all air in her lungs when Chrissy admitted that Eddie Munson was cute. That after their deals she thought he was so funny and smart.

"he's nothing like what people think" Chrissy sighed as she looked over at the hellfire table

"I know. Why do you think I told Jason to shut his mouth?" Y/N snapped

She can't believe she was going to lose the one guy she's ever had a crush on to her best friend.

"he smells so good"

I know Y/N thought. She remembered complimenting him on a random day. Watching as his face blushed.

"he's so creative too!"

Another thing Y/N knew. She caught him sketching during class. Peering over his shoulder as she walked behind him.

Y/N silently ate her lunch, refusing to look at Eddie's table. If Chrissy was now in the picture, there was no way she even had a chance.

But maybe if she did look, she'd see Eddie staring at her.

Chrissy slowly began to be everywhere Eddie was.

"hi Eddie" she said with a huge smile as she walked past him to her seat. Y/N walked behind her. Not bothering to say hello, not like he'd notice now that Chrissy Cunningham was interested.

"um hi" he said fast, eyes following her as she walked by

Shoulders slumped as Y/N ignored his presence. Watching as the two girls sat at their desk. But only one pair of eyes looked back at him.

Y/N felt a ball in her throat when the teacher said to partner up. Chrissy racing to sit next to Eddie. His brown eyes looked at her confused, quickly snapping to see where Y/N was walking to.

He felt himself slump even further in his seat as she sat next to a random student.

"so, I'm thinking..." Chrissy began speaking but he wasn't half listening. Staring as Y/N laughed along with the random boy she picked over him.

Eddie Munson was the only thing Chrissy talked about. Y/N just silently nodded. Never speaking on how much Chrissy was breaking her heart.

She accepted a long time ago that Chrissy was going to end up with Eddie if she wanted to and she couldn't stop it

Eddie wasn't sure what he did wrong. Or why Y/N acted as if he didn't exist. He was mad at himself. Of course a popular girl wasn't going to be interested in him. She just dangled him along for fun. Something to keep her busy.

He wasn't sure why Chrissy was now doing the same thing. Or why Jason suddenly stopped being an ass to him. Maybe Chrissy told him to? Maybe she felt bad for all the shit her boyfriend did so she's trying to make it up to him by being a friend?

He really didn't understand what was going on. But he missed his small interactions with Y/N, and that's all he understood.

"I think I might ask him out" Chrissy said excitedly as she shoved her books into her backpack

"oh wow, really?" Y/n asked, fear in her stomach. This was it. Her chance with Eddie was officially gone

"yeah, I mean I think he's interested. He's always staring at me" she blushed

Neither girl knew he wasn't staring at Chrissy

"yeah that's true" Y/N slightly scoffed. She can't count the times she saw those pretty brown eyes staring at her best friend

"should I do it?" Chrissy asked, anxiousness written all over her face

"yeah definitely. I always said you deserve a great guy and he's definitely the best out of all of them" she said with a small smile. Taking a deep breath as she walked away.

Tomorrow she'd have to watch her best friend date the biggest crush of her life

"Eddie I have something to ask you" Chrissy smiled as Eddie sat across from her

Digging through his lunchbox of weed

"what's up?" His eyes still looking through the lunch box

No idea that her blue eyes were forming into hearts as she watched him

"do you want to go out sometime? Like on a date?"

Eddie froze. His eyes stared at the same bag of weed for minutes. He coughed awkwardly, his throat felt like a desert.

"sorry, uh?" He asked. His eyes looking up at her

Chrissy was asking him on a date?

Why?

"it's just that I really like you and I feel like you like me too. So why don't we get dinner?"

"Chrissy, you are amazing and beautiful. But I'm into someone else and I'm not quite ready to give up on them" he said as gently as he could. He never once thought he'd have to turn down the head cheerleader but life is full of surprises.

"oh! That's totally fine. I'm so sorry, I didn't know you liked someone!" Chrissy apologized

"um yeah. She's kinda been ignoring me so I can see why you didn't know" he tried to laugh it off

Ignoring that it truly hurt that Y/N acted like he was a memory to her

"ignoring you? Why?" Chrissy asked. Her heart of gold wanting to help him

"I have no idea. But maybe you'd know?" Eddie tried to hint

"me? How would I know?"

"it's your best friend"

Chrissy felt her stomach drop

No no no

She did not spend the last few weeks ranting about her huge crush on Eddie while her best friend liked him

"oh my god. Y/N? She likes you? Oh my god, fuck" Chrissy whined, throwing her head into her hands

"well I kinda thought but I was definitely wrong" he shrugged. Closing his lunchbox and pushing it to the side

"no Eddie. She does. I just can't believe I didn't notice. I fucked it up!"

"what do you mean?" Eddie looked at her confused

"she stopped talking to you when I started right?" Chrissy feared the answer. If he said yes she was easily the worst friend in the world

"um yeah I guess? It was like once we became friends she acted like I didn't exist anymore?"

"this is all my fault. I....I broke up with Jason because she's been telling me I deserve someone so much better. And being with him I easily ignored all the signs of her liking you. I knew she liked someone but I never asked. And after Jason, I set my hopes on you, right in front of her. Oh my god. She was just going to suffer and watch. I need to go" Chrissy raced out of the woods

She needed to apologize to her best friend

Eddie tried to absorb all of the information thrown in face

Y/N liked him?

Yes she did

She was hurt because she thought he'd want Chrissy over her

Eddie grabbed all his stuff and ran after Chrissy

Y/N was sitting outside as she finished some homework. Waiting for Chrissy to come back from her deal...or date with Eddie

"Y/N!" Chrissy yelled out breathlessly

Y/N took a deep breath, preparing for the news

"where is he going to take you?" She asked with her best fake smile

"Eddie Munson is the guy you like"

Y/N felt herself stiffen. An awkward chuckle released from her throat

"haha what? No. No I don't. You do. That's you, not me"

"it is. Why don't you tell me? I would have never gone after him"

"Chrissy, come on it's you. Eddie Munson would not look at me twice if he knew you liked him. And that's okay. Really"

Chrissy hated that her best friend thought so low of herself. Just accepting that she wasn't enough

"that's not true"

Y/N felt her body cringe as she heard his deep voice from behind her

She refused to look. Staring terrified at Chrissy, who gave a small smile of encouragement

Eddie rounded the table, sitting across from her. Chrissy gave her a thumbs up and ran to wait in the car

"Eddie it's fine. Chrissy is amazing and she really likes you" Y/N said with a smile.

"that may be true but what about who I like?"

She hated how Eddie stared way too deeply into her eyes. She grew nervous under his stare

"well Chri-"

"I don't like Chrissy gorgeous" smiling as she shut her mouth in seconds

"um huh?"

"I like you Y/N. And I can't even begin to tell you how much I like you. And how hurt I've been watching you ignore me"

She felt guilt bubbling up in her gut. His brown eyes looked so sad. His lips were in a frown as he watched her body deflate.

"I'm sorry. I just thought I'd get in the way" she apologized, eyes looking down at her hands

"you did" her eyes snapped up to his. Hurt clear across her face

"but you didn't get in the way of Chrissy and I. You got in the way of us" he continued

His hand slowly reaching out to touch hers

She swallowed as she felt his skin on her

"us?" She choked out

"I want to take you on a date. And I really want to kiss you. I want to be your boyfriend. I want to always be your partner in class. I want my favorite hi back in my life. My favorite smiling face to be looking at me. I want you" he laced his fingers with hers

Smiling as she clenched his hand tight.

She bit her cheek, trying to keep down her cries as she felt so overwhelmed.

Eddie Munson wanted her

"I want that too" she said quietly

Looking shyly at him through her lashes

"good" he said quietly, slowly leaning over the table towards her

"good" she said breathlessly as she felt herself leaning over the table to meet him half way

His hand softly held her jaw as he connected their lips. Sighing as he felt the softness of her lips.

Kissing Eddie Munson was so much better than she thought it would be like

Throwing her arms over his shoulders as she leaned even more across the table.

Chrissy pumped the air from inside the car.

It was time Y/N got swept off of her feet

Tags!

@bmunson86 @mxcheese @ladymunson @michaelfuckinglangdon @z0mbie-blah @biittersweet @mirrorsstuff @slightlyvicked @micheledawn1975 @ago-godance @magnificantmermaid @tlclick73 @hargrovesswifee @cityofidek @manyfandomsfanvergent @silky-luxe @lokiofasgard616

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie stranger things #eddie munson angst #eddie munson request #eddie munson angst x reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson fluff x reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x popular!reader

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