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bywons · 3 months ago

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WHEN HE WALKS IN, I AM LOVED 𖥔 HUSBAND!ENHYPEN HYUNG LINE

𝗔𝗟𝗧𝗘𝗥𝗡𝗔𝗧𝗜𝗩𝗘𝗟𝗬──── 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗒’𝗋𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝖾𝗌𝗍 𝗁𝗎𝗌𝖻𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗌 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗁𝗈𝗅𝖾 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗅𝖽

❪ 𝖠𝖬𝖮𝖱𝖤 𝖬𝒾𝖮 ❫ ｡ 𝗁𝗎𝗌𝖻𝖺𝗇𝖽!𝖾𝗇𝗁𝖺 & 𝖿!𝗋 1682wc 𖥔 𝖿𝗅𝗎𝖿𝖿 ── 𝗰𝗮𝘂𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻𝘀 𝗄𝗂𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗌𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗉 愛／ 𝑐𝑎𝑡𝑎𝑙𝑜𝑔𝑢𝑒

する ܃ they can slide in a diamond on my ring finger anytime :3 ( and then i wake up... )

reb𝑙ogs ꪆৎ 𝑓eedbacks

HUSBAND!HEESEUNG who comes home late at night— at that hour when the ongoing web series becomes background noise for you, and you feel your eyelids closing shut on the couch. “y/n?” his whisper is barely audible as he approaches your sleeping figure, heart wrenching as he sees you on the couch in that form, probably waiting for him. slowly, he lifts you up so as to not wake you, and carries you to the bedroom. heeseung carefully places you on the bed, tucking the blanket around you with practiced gentleness. his hand brushes a strand of hair from your face as he leans in, his lips ghosting over your forehead. “you make it hard not to love you even more,” he whispers to you, giggling, he finally presses one final kiss on your cheeks before entering the shower.

HUSBAND!HEESEUNG who nevers forgets to bring you flowers everyday. it varies everyday as well— sometimes it’s pink roses, or tulips or baby breaths or lilies. your beauty reminds you of flowers, and so you receive this gift from your lovely husband everyday. today it’s a bouquet of daisies, tied neatly with a pale yellow ribbon. he steps into the house with the bouquet behind his back, with a playful smile on his face. “for my pretty lady,” he brings the flowers forward to you, chuckling upon seeing your pleased expression. “you're too much sometimes,” you giggle, but the way your cheeks flush betrays how much you love it. heeseung grins, pulling you close. “too much? or just the right amount?”

HUSBAND!HEESEUNG who has made it a ritual to dance with you on the kitchen floors. he loves to just play jazz, pull you close and sway to the music with the love of his life. without a word, he gently takes the spoon from your hand, places it on the counter, and turns you around to face him. “what are you doing?” you ask, a laugh escaping as his hands slid to your waist. “dancing with my wife,” he says simply, pulling you closer. the cut tomatoes are long forgotten on the cutting board, as he stares into your eyes with utmost adoration and love. he finally leans in for a kiss, his softly lips touching yours and moving in sync with your dance and the music, his hands crep up and pull you closer by the waist, another hand cups your face as if he has no time. “you’re the best part of my day,” he whispers as he pulls back, out of breath but full of love for you.

HUSBAND!JONGSEONG who always makes sure that you’re pampered and spoiled by him— he wants his beautiful wife to have everything in this world. from designer brands to quality time, you just have to ask jongseong and he will have it by your feet. every day, jongseong made sure you never had to lift a finger for anything. when you mention wanting a new bag, a designer one, the next day, there it is—delivered right to your doorstep, with a sweet note attached: “for my beautiful wife, because you deserve the best.” but it isn't just about the material things. he often surprises you with romantic dinners, planning spontaneous getaways, and always carving out time from his busy schedule to spend with you. you never have to ask twice. he seems to read your mind, anticipating your every need.

HUSBAND!JONGSEONG who cooks your favourite meals for you. it’s a ritual for him to cook dinner right after he gets home, he can’t see his pretty wife overworking, besides, you love his cooking— and that's enough motivation for him to cook for you everyday. the aroma of your adored dish wafts from the kitchen as your husband appears from it soon, the sleeves of his shirt rolled up with him carrying the dish on a plate, a satisfied smile on his face. as soon as jongseong puts the plate down, you take a bite, your eyes lighting up at the familiar, comforting flavors. “it’s perfect!,” you said, voice muffled by the food. jongseong chuckles, wiping a bit of sauce from the corner of your lips with his thumb. “i learned from the best, you,” he sighs, kissing the corner of your lips.

HUSBAND!JONGSEONG who always creeps up behind you, wrapping his hands around your waist and resting his chin on your shoulders. it doesn’t matter if you’re busy with your work, if you’re baking a cake or if you’re simply standing by the window, jongseong loves back hugs, he enjoys the warmth of your body in this way. “you smell so good,” he says, burying his face in the nape of your neck while his hands snake in around your waist, pulling you closer to him. “it’s your perfume!” you sigh, lowly giggling as you return to your work on your laptop. a shiver runs down your spine as he snuggles in face further in, before lifting it to press kisses on your neck and shoulder. “it suits you best,” he hums.

HUSBAND!JAEYUN who listens intently to you, every word that occurs from your mouth, jaeyun is gulping those up. no matter if they’re the smallest rants about your day or the huge drama at your workplace, jaeyun always gets lost in your words and angelic face when you go on talking— he wishes you won’t stop so he can stare a little bit longer at you. “and then— jaeyun, are you even listening to me?” you sigh, plopping down beside him on the couch when you realise he hasn’t uttered a word since you started talking, he’s just staring at your face. “yeah, of course i am!” jaeyun defends himself, sitting up straight, “you said how your coworker had the audacity? well yeah, i hate her too,” he rolls his eyes in a playful manner, making you giggle and fall into his lap, and jaeyun immediately pulls you in, relishing the moment.

HUSBAND!JAEYUN who always notices the slightest shiver you make when the winter wind bites at your skin. you both stroll through the park, the cold air nipping at your cheeks. despite your thick scarf and gloves, you cant help but rub your arms for warmth. without a word, jaeyun stops, slipping off his coat. “jaeyun, you’ll freeze!” you protest as he drapes it over your shoulders. “i’d rather be cold than see you shiver,” he says softly, pulling the coat snug around you. his hands lingers on your arms, rubbing them gently to warm you further. your heart melts at the gesture, the oversized coat practically swallowing you whole. “you’re too sweet,” you murmur, leaning into his touch. jaeyun grins, leaning down to press a quick kiss to your nose. “only for my lovely wife.”

HUSBAND!JAEYUN who remembers the smallest details about you— to your regular coffee order to how much cheese you like in your toast, he treats everything about you like an important event. he never fails to flutter your heart when it comes to these, ever so alert about your habits. “i picked up your favorite chocolate chip cookies,” he says casually, holding out a plate to you. your eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “how did you—” “i remember you told me last week how much you’ve been craving them,” he grins, watching you take a bite, your face lighting up at the taste. you smile, your heart swelling with affection. “you always know how to make me feel loved, jae.” he chuckles, sitting beside you and pulling you close. “it’s easy when someone as wonderful as you is in my life.”

HUSBAND!SUNGHOON who always offers to help you relax, by massaging your head or your legs. you deserve the ultimate care, and he’s more than willing to be a helping hand. you’re curled up on the couch, a sigh escaping your lips as you massage your sore feet, the exhaustion from work settling in. without a word, Sunghoon kneels in front of you, his hands gently taking your feet into his lap. “let me help,” he says softly, his voice calm and soothing. you lean back, surprised by his tenderness as he carefully starts massaging your feet, his touch firm but gentle. “i don’t deserve this,” you murmur, closing your eyes. “you do,” he replies, his hands moving expertly, kneading the tension out of your muscles. “you work so hard, and i want you to feel cared for.”

HUSBAND!SUNGHOON who instantly becomes a nurse when you’re sick. he’s in utmost tension and cancels all his meetings and makes sure everything at home is taken care of, from your medicine to the softest blankets, ensuring you’re always comfortable. throughout the day, sunghoon prepares warm soups with his own hands, making sure each one is exactly to your liking. he checks your temperature regularly, offering gentle reassurance whenever you feel a little colder than usual. sunghoon is always there to brush hair away from your face, hold your hand in his, presses kisses to your face and provide reassurance that everything is going to be just fine, as long as he is here.

HUSBAND!SUNGHOON who notices the smallest things that stress you out, like when your phone charger starts to fray or when your car tire looks a little low. one afternoon, you come home to find him tinkering with your phone charger, his focused expression making you smile. “hey, what are you up to?” you ask, leaning against the doorway, arms crossed. he looks up, a soft grin on his face. “just fixing your charger. i know how annoying it can be when it stops working right when you need it.” you roll your eyes playfully. “you’re spoiling me, you know that?” sunghoon chuckles, setting the charger down once he's done. “anything for you. you work hard enough; let me take care of the small stuff.” you walk over, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “i’m lucky to have you.” he smiles, pulling you into a hug. “and im lucky to take care of my wife.”

taglist────open tags in the reblogs ! network tag. @/k-labels @k-films @k-nets CLICK ME

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jobean12-blog · 9 months ago

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Falling for the Forbidden

Pairing: Marcus Acacius x female!princess reader (Pedro Pascal Gladiator II)

Word Count: 1,574

Summary: Having to hide your love away is difficult and each day it becomes more so...especially when all eyes are on the General.

Author's Note: I swear I will stop...someday. He's too gorgeous and perfect and with the trailer today I nearly died. This is along the lines of my other two stories I've written for him, A Warrior's Heart and Forbidden. You do not need to read them with this one but they are all the same reader. Thank you all so much for enjoying with me! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics Thank you Daisy! 😍

PS If anyone has any ideas they want to throw my way, feel free. Thank you 😘 Also, I'm trying to do my research but if I make any historical mistakes, I apologize.

Warnings: there's always soft sweetness under it all, tension, semi-public sex (although at that time I don't think it mattered much haha) but they are sneaking around!

This gif below is NOT MINE it's from @a7estrellas and I've linked the post! Thank you for gifting us with such beautifulness!

Pedro Pascal Character Masterlist

The streets of Rome are bustling with life. The market vendors’ loud voices ring out over all else and the smell of various wares fills your nostrils. Every time you walk by a stall the merchant shouts at you to buy something, shaking a fresh juicy fruit or something that catches the dying sun and sparkles like a diamond.

With a polite smile you decline and pull your hood higher up over your head, hoping to just slip through the crowd without notice.

Night dances along the horizon, casting long shadows onto the stone streets and filling the sky with pale pink and orange.

You pass by a fruit stand with baskets of sweet apples, red and shiny. Watching the vendor, you wait for a distraction and grab an apple, quickly stuffing it into the wide arm of your cloak.

Without a glance back you disappear into the darkness between the large stone pillars of a nearby building and press your back tightly to the wall. Your breathing stills and you wait.

Long minutes seem to pass in silence and just as you’re about to give up hope a large and strong hand closes around your wrist and yanks you away from the wall and down into the shadows of an alcove.

“Since when does the princess steal?”

His voice is smooth and deep, purring into your ear while he reaches inside your cloak to retrieve the apple.

You pluck it from his fingers and take a small bite, savoring the sweetness with a matching saccharine smile. A small trickle of juice slips from your mouth and down your chin. His dark eyes watch before he presses his lips to your skin and gently sucks the juice clean.

The apple drops from your hand and rolls further into the darkness, the sun nearly kissing the horizon and hiding you both away in the shadows.

His lips move to your ear and lightly graze the soft spot just below. You shudder at the contact, grabbing onto his biceps when his mouth continues and ghosts along the column of your neck.

“How many nights has it been?” he asks, running his hands under your toga and pressing his fingers between your legs, “since I last had you.”

Your eyes close and you sway into his embrace.

“Too many.”

Your low moan echoes in the emptiness of the hidden spot and he stops his movements.

“Far too many,” he whispers as he removes his hand and grabs your wrists between his large fingers.

He raises your hands above your head and leans down to capture your lips. You struggle weakly, needing to touch him, but he shakes his head and tightens his hold.

“We cannot do this here,” you gasp as he presses his hardness along your stomach.

His lips move down and across your collarbone and his free hand reaches down to slowly pull apart the fabric that covers your skin. He repeats the action until he reveals your bare breasts, hungrily licking his lips before he closes them around your nipple.

Your knees buckle slightly, and you moan out his name.

“Shhh princess,” he whispers against your skin.

“More Marcus. Please.”

He takes his time, teasing, licking, and sucking until your body is aching then he lifts you so you can wrap your legs around his waist.

Your hands immediately delve into his hair, roughly dragging his mouth down to yours as he presses your bodies together more firmly.

The sounds of a raucous and drunken mob grow louder, and you tense against him. You hold your breath and a long a long stretch of time passes before you meet his eyes.

“Marcus. We should not do this.”

You halfheartedly try to push him away, but he holds his ground.

“I cannot wait another moment,” he growls. “I cannot go another night without you.”

Your eyes hold his gaze, but you don’t answer.

“Please,” he murmurs.

Your fingers stroke his cheek, idly tracing the raised skin of a scar that lines his jaw.

“I can never seem to deny you.”

He lets one of your legs fall gently to the ground and his fingers ghost up your thigh. A low hiss escapes his mouth when he feels how wet you are.

“I do not think you ever want to my love,” he whispers into your neck.

With quick and quiet movements, he frees himself, hiking your leg higher around his waist before he pushes in deep.

Your simultaneous moans are lewd, and you hear the crowd growing closer. It makes him push into you harder.

He kisses you hard and fast then covers your mouth with his hand but keeps his eyes locked on yours as he draws himself all the way out. Your strangled sounds make him smile and he rewards you with a deep thrust.

You’re gasping and your fingers search for something to hold on to, every roll of his hips making your muffled moans louder.

His words are soft against your ear when he whispers, “do you feel how perfectly you fit around me? Nothing feels better than this.”

Your only answer is a nod of your head and when he moves harder and faster you silently beg for more.

“I want you to remember what you do to me. Tonight, when you’re alone in your chambers…and the next morning when you ache between your legs.”

His words have you teetering on the edge and now the intoxicated group is just on the other side of the wall. He lifts his hand from your mouth and covers it with his lips, swallowing your strained whimpers as your body tenses and tightens all over.

Your hands fall from his curls and grab his broad shoulders, holding tightly when his final thrusts stutter and slow. He spills his warmth inside you, and he opens his eyes, resting his forehead to yours.

The oblivious voices start to fade as they move away, and you catch your breath as the quiet blankets the night once again.

He reaches for your hand and lifts it between your bodies, delicately kissing your palm before turning it over and brushing his lips across your knuckles.

You inhale softly and whisper his name.

“I should like to see you reach the palace safely.”

Your expression softens even more, and you trace his lips with your fingertips.

“And I should like to have you in my bed every night.”

He squeezes his eyes shut, the gesture laced with pain, and carefully unwinds your leg from his waist and sets you down on unsteady feet.

The next day passes far too slowly, and your mind is constantly occupied by thoughts of last night. You’re jolted out of your reverie by a familiar voice.

“Princess,” General Acacius greets.

Turning, you catch a glimpse of him standing with a group of gladiators fresh from training. His chest is bare, and you follow the line of strong muscle to where a dark trail of hair disappears under his canvas loincloth.

When your eyes-finally- reach his face, your breath catches in your throat at the look in his eyes.

Then those eyes rake over every inch of you and even though you’re completely covered in your royal attire, you feel completely naked. His expression is as intense as his touch and you wonder, if he continues to stare in such a way, will your skin ignite?

You try to fix your face into something that camouflages that you’re mentally cataloging the way his chest heaves with his quickened breaths, the way his hands fist at his sides and cause the muscles in his forearms to flex and strain, and the way his neck and shoulders are tense as beads of sweat drip down his glistening skin.

His tongue darts out to trace his lips and he quietly dismisses the others with a growled command. They walk off silently but not before throwing their covetous eyes your way.

The General draws his sword.

“I would not have you look at the princess in such a way…” he says, his voice low and dangerous.

They turn their eyes to him, narrowed and glaring before stomping away with quiet mutterings.

Once they’re out of sight he walks briskly down the hall, waiting in a shadowed recess until you follow.

He grabs you, spinning you out of sight until he has you caged against the cool stone wall. His breath is warm and heavy against your cheek.

“Marcus,” you gasp, fighting to control your own breathing. “Not here. And especially after that…what were you thinking?! It is too dangerous.”

His grip tightens and he bends slightly, kissing your lips softly.

“Then do not tempt me with a look like that again.”

Your hands reach for his shoulders, and you run your fingers across their broad width before tracing his chest and stomach.

“Then you should not tempt me with such…magnificence.”

His scoff is muffled against your skin, and he pulls away to take your face in his hands, softly brushing his thumb across your lips.

“Magnificence…my princess, there is nothing in this world to rival your beauty. You are…stunning.”

His name falls from your parted lips in a whisper, and he kisses you softly, gliding his nose along your cheek until he meets the soft shell of your ear.

“Have you thought of last night?”

You tilt your face and find his lips again. “With every step I take.”

@hiddles-rose @tripletstephaniescp @blackwidownat2814 @lizette50

#pedro pascal #marcus acacius #marcus acacius x reader #general marcus acacius #marcus acacius x you #marcus acacius x y/n #marcus acacius x female reader #pedro pascal x reader #gladiator 2 #marcus acacius smut #marcus acacius fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal characters

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iamasimperyk · 10 months ago

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Mrs. Cameron

Summary: You just graduated, so Rafe took you on a vacation to celebrate it, making sure to make it unforgettable.

Warnings: Fluff, Not proof read, English is not my first language

Pairing: Professor!Rafe x Reader

"You like it here?" Rafe asked, wrapping his arms around your waist.

"It's beautiful. Thanks for taking me with you," You smiled up at your former professor.

A few days ago you finally finished college and officially started dating Rafe. To celebrate your success, he took you on a vacation to Hawaii.

It was mesmerising there, and things couldn't be better between the two of you.

"I planned something special for tonight," he murmured into the crook of your neck.

You let out a small giggle, "Another surprise?"

"I could never get tired of surprising my beautiful angel." He told you.

"You are so cliché, you know that, Mr. Cameron?" You kissed his cheek before pulling away from him, "I have to get ready now. Can't look like this when you have some big surprise for me."

He slightly shook his head, "You look stunning, even with the towel on your head."

You let out another giggle before disappearing into the bathroom.

Rafe let out a sigh. He planned out the whole night. He wanted to show you how serious he was when it came to your relationship.

You accepted his past and loved his daughter as if she was your own. Also, you accepted his ex and became quite good friends, which was weird at first, but it was better than the two of you hating each other.

Rafe couldn't help but smile as he thought about last weekend.

"I had a nightmare. Where is daddy?" Daisy mumbled, standing in front of your shared bed.

"He is still in his office, sweetie. Do you want to sleep in here tonight? Maybe I can also protect you from the bad things you dreamed about." You suggested with a tired voice, and she just nodded before quickly getting in the bed.

Daisy cuddled up to you quickly, "Thank you for letting me stay here."

You smiled down at the little girl, not believing how things between you and Rafe turned out.

Rafe listened to the conversation between his daughter and you that night, and he finally realized that you were the one.

-----

"Can I take the blindfold off yet?" You giggled as you squeezed Rafe's hand a little bit more.

"We are almost there," he replied, but his nervousness was noticeable.

After a few more minutes, he stopped walking and let go of your hand, "Okay, you can take it off now."

There he was, kneeling in front of you, a diamond ring nestled in a red velvet box.

Your eyes widen immediately, and you put a hand over your mouth.

"Y/n Y/l/n, the first time I met you I was your professor. I remember how you came in, wearing those stupid stockings. I immediately felt drawn to you, and I hated it at first. I was your professor, and I knew that having feelings for you could cost me my job. I was also quite sure that a stunning girl like you would never fall for someone like me. However, for some unknown reason, you did notice me and chose to be with me," Rafe started his speech and had you crying after the first words, "We have had our ups and downs, but we are here now, together and happy. I know we haven't been together for ages, but I am quite sure you are my soulmate even if you are young and have your whole life ahead of you. I just hope to play a part in it for a little while longer. Y/n Y/l/n, I love you with all my heart, and nothing would make me happier than to call you my wife. Will you marry me?"

You were nodding frantically while the mascara you had just applied half an hour ago was running down your cheeks.

"Words, darling," Rafe smirked a little.

"God, yes, Rafe. A million times yes." You hiccuped, and he put the beautiful ring on your finger.

Rafe stood up, kissing you passionately before he pulled away as the two of you ran out of air, "Mrs. Cameron. I like the sound of that."

#rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x reader #outer banks #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron #outer banks x y/n #outer banks x reader #outer banks x you #obx #rafe x reader

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sonnenreich · 5 months ago

Note

“So, where's Mrs. Pines?”

Really? It hadn't even been enough for a what a nice enrollment that was, don't you think? Something that didn't necessarily have to do with him, if it wasn't already about honest interest in another topic. But maybe he was just prejudiced and only expected ambiguous intentions where there really weren't any. Maybe she really just wanted to know and wanted to talk to a potential wife instead of him. He just didn't know why that was important. Ultimately, he didn't care whether she had a husband or where he was. It really had no relevance to the course of this conversation. For her, however, it did and the way she looked at him reinforced his trained expectation of being reduced to mere availability by everyone. He looked down at his left hand. Perhaps he was wearing too many rings. Perhaps he should at least make it clear in these matters that he was promised to the vow between Isaiah and him, if all else was dismissed by others intentionally.

"You mean a wife?" he asked again, only to have her run aground. He looked over to the stand and ordered fresh lemonade, which would feel absolutely heavenly in this heat.

"Of course!" Veronica laughed sweetly, as if he'd made a charming joke. She accepted her own drink and continued to eye him unpleasantly unabashedly.

He wrinkled his nose slightly as he averted his gaze to the drinks being poured for him.

“My husband is over there, with our daughter and the rest of the family.” He pointed behind him rather nonchalantly and a little later cast his gaze there too, smiling at the swarm of Pines who were chatting away while Isaiah held Daisy in his arms. The sight would never fail to warm his heart. They had a daughter. It was unreal how their lives had turned out.

The woman followed his gaze before dropping it back to Zeev. "Oh," she murmured, seeming to have to process this turn of events. "That's lovely."

Zeev didn't need to have a higher knowledge of human nature to know she wasn't being entirely honest.

"It truly is, Isaiah and I are very happy, what an exciting day for all of us. You, too, I assume?"

He looked around her, but couldn't see a child. She nodded weakly. "Yes, yes, though after the second child you know what to expect, it was more exciting the first time around."

"I can imagine," he claimed, but doubted that this excitement could ever fade even after the third child. It was the beginning of an eventful life for everyone, especially the sons and daughters. Zeev believed he would always be hanging on the edge of unconsciousness, the excitement too strong to stop.

“So it's your first time?”she continued.

"It is, I wouldn't have thought it to be such paperwork, I'll be honest, but I'm glad it is done."

"Yeah, a surprise they don't want the blood type as well." She laughed briefly. "Well, I bet we'll see each other around!" She said goodbye with her lemonade and turned her back to him. Just as he was about to take his drinks and pay, he heard a soft curse next to him.

"Of course that happens to me," sighed the woman next to him, her dark hair obscuring her face as she searched impatiently in her bag. Zeev eyed her questioningly.

"Forgot your wallet?"

She looked up awkwardly and sighed heavily, tiredness reflected in her eyes. "Yeah, it seems..."

"How many do you need?" He pointed to the counter, run by a few teachers and fourth graders. The sales went to the school and its future expansion.

“Oh god, please, no… that’s… very kind but it is what is.”

“It’s way too hot to go without something refreshing to drink,” he insisted with a smile. She gently placed a hand on his arm, gratitude in her expression.

"Thank you... We're two, me and my girl."

He nodded and ordered two more lemonades, which were relatively cheap, especially considering they were selfmade.

"I'm Juliette and you are?"

"Zeev," he reintroduced himself. "Nice to meet you."

"Boy or girl?"

"What?"

"Oh, sorry, I meant the child. Or are you just tagging along?"

"Ah, no, I got a girl, I'm here for her."

"Aw, lovely. First child?"

He nodded.

"For me, too. I'll sleep for two days straight when this is done. Sammy hasn't slept last night, way too excited. And so haven't I. Been a really nice ceremony, they were so cute up on stage. Who's your kid?"

"The name's Daisy," he smiled and pointed at her little family again, seeing Isaiah looking over and waving sweetly at him.

"The kid on his arm? What a gem, she radiates like the sun itself, what a lovely child. Wait a minute... I think Sammy mentioned her already, unless there are more Daisy's in the classes. Quite impressive how easily kids make friends. I always feel way too overwhelmed."

"And yet you're doing quite good so far." He smiled kindly at her and she waved him off.

“I promise, forgetting my wallet isn't my typical way of approaching other people.” She laughed lightly and shook her head. "Although, now that I think about it... that's practically how I met my husband, too." The memory seemed to fill her with joy, reflected in the gleam in her eyes and the lovely curve of her lips. In a way, the sight warmed Zeev too. How nice to see that there were other people who were happy with their partners. Presumably that was why her presence was not unpleasant for once. They were handed their drinks and he placed two cups in her hands after paying for them.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you. This is so embarrassing. I'll make sure to put some treats for Daisy in Sammy's lunchbox! Big promise!”

“That's very sweet, but not necessary.”

“It is!” She grinned and nudged him lightly with her shoulder. "So, it will help to find some nice friends. Gotta support what feels right."

"Can't argue with that," he agreed with her and took the plastic cups, trusting his dexterity not to lose them on the way. "Well then, Juliette, was nice chatting with you. I bet we'll hear of each other soon!"

"Absolutely, and then I'll repay you with some lemonade!"

"I'll keep that in mind. Take care!"

He sighed heavily at his husband's comment and rolled his eyes shallowly. He was grateful that over the years they had developed a trust in each other that was more unbreakable than any century-old tree or structure in history, anything else would break Zeev's heart. Isaiah knew that his attraction was part of his charm, but also his greatest weakness, recognised over the years. But despite this realisation, and the gratitude that Isaiah would never hold this against him, the witcher couldn't help but feel a certain amount of guilt. Even though his husband knew Zeev would never turn his back on him, it didn't change how other people perceived him—and what that meant for Isaiah in return. Zeev was aware of what it did to him when others talked about the witcher as if he were a chastened fop just waiting for his chance at infidelity, while others overlooked the qualities Isaiah brought to the table that went beyond his run-down sneakers—as if that was anything to judge a person by anyway. Just as Zeev was misinterpreted, misunderstood because he was reduced to appearances, Isaiah suffered from always being thought of as less than he de facto was. The disrespect was hard for Zeev to bear when it was directed at him.

Isaiah was the most beautiful, intelligent and strongest person he had ever met, who brought values not only to him, but also to their child, that made the world shine in a light that illuminated all life's aspects from which one could learn, gain experience and recognise what really mattered. Zeev only had truly grasped the beauty in seemingly insignificant things when he had met Isaiah, and the witcher was sure that Daisy would not only become the smartest child, but also one of the few who knew what gratitude meant on all levels. Not only for grand gestures and loud declarations, but also in the fleetingness of a moment that would be forgotten by everyone else. It saddened Zeev that it was precisely these people who based their opinion on narrow-minded assumptions, deepening those with dislike and rejection, that fueled insecurity and a low self-esteem. The power of these people was far too great, but Zeev's doggedness knew no bounds and he would not allow negativity to win over either Isaiah or his child. Nor over himself.

Zeev could barely stop himself from peppering kisses over Daisy's cute little and round face, who giggled sweetly and hunched her shoulders, her pigtails swaying back and forth hypnotically and only managing to restrain her very enthusiastic father in his behavior when she buried her head against the crook of his neck and wrapped her short arms around it. She snuggled up to him and seemed to calm down, as did he. He leaned his head against hers and swayed slightly from left to right as he stroked her back. It was indescribable how he loved this child, who had chosen them over anyone else, and what he was willing to do just to ensure she had a full life of compassion and unconditional love. A human life that had been entrusted to them and within two years had become such a permanent part that Zeev didn't even remember what it had ever been like without her. Their family had grown, and there was no one in the world Zeev would have made this decision with than Isaiah. Of all love declarations Zeev had ever received from him, being trusted to raise a child, was the biggest one yet. He hoped to never disappoint him—or Daisy, too, for that matter.

“How are you feeling, sunshine?” he enquired quietly, his voice full of his natural gentleness, which he continued to show her. She lifted her head and caressed his cheek with a smile. A behaviour that she had no doubt copied. A tenderness that filled him with such great love and gratitude that he couldn't help but smile. No matter how much pain she already had to endure in her younger years, it seemed as if these scars would soon become just that—old wounds, covered over with warmth and affection.

“Very good!” she giggled, the gap in her row of teeth giving her a mischievous smile and adding to her cuteness. She had the entire Pines clan wrapped around her finger in the blink of an eye and it filled the witcher with immense joy at how lucky she would be to be part of this family that would look out for her and show what togetherness and always having someone to turn to meant.

“You did really well on that stage and you were so polite to greet the principal,” he let her know proudly.

“That was scary,” she confessed, fiddling with his open collar.

“It was, but now it is done and over. Are you still scared?”

She shook her head vigorously and grinned proudly at him. “No! I’m excited!”

“I’m too, love. Have you met the other kids already, too?”

“Some,” Daisy agreed. “Chris, Saoirse, Poppy, Lilly-Anne and Jamie, George and Miles, Caroline and Daniela, oh and Samatha! She said my dress is pretty.”

“Oh, that's so sweet of her. Did you say something to her, too?” It was remarkable how quickly Daisy could remember the names of her classmates.

“Yes!” she squeaked proudly and hastily tried to summarise how the conversation between the two girls had gone. So quickly that she stumbled over her own words. “I said—I said—I said—” She took a deep breath without Zeev feeling the need to ask her to. “I said she has really pretty eyes and super cool shoes! She said—she said they glow when it is dark! That is so cool!”

“That truly is cool. Do you like her?” Her pigtails bobbed again as she nodded excitedly, her smile as bright and enchanting as her father's. Despite her fears, her childlike curiosity prevailed and fuelled her expectations for the future. Unwavering and unstoppable. It was admirable and Zeev hoped she would never lose it.

Arwen and Evangeline, who already reflected what it was like to grow up with unconditional love and remarkable parenting, were led into the school building by Daisy a little later, while the adults still lingered outside. Zeev felt the closeness of his husband before he put his arms around him and any tension evaporated with a sigh. He put his hands to his, which were so loving and tight around him that Zeev would never fear falling without being caught. He leaned back against his chest and intertwined their fingers. “Thank you, love,” he whispered and closed his eyes. Isaiah's voice overrode the others', clear and unmistakable in his ears. Zeev would always listen to him, no matter when or where. “I'm much better. The sun's quite euphoric today, isn't she?” Cautiously, he turned in his grasp, placing both of his hands on his chest, rubbing soft circles as he smiled upwards into his beaming face—all the worries and the excitement melting away into pure bliss and happiness. “But I’ll be honest with you, I still felt a little embarrassed, but if it allows me to fall against big, strong arms, I’ll gladly faint like a damsel in distress.” A bubbly chuckle formed within his throat, leaving them both sweetly laughing into the exchanged kiss.

“How are you, baby?” Caringly, he raised a hand and brushed through his sweaty strands of hair. Zeev wouldn’t call himself unaffected by the sun’s might, he was still a human after all with mostly average bodily functions, in comparison to the rest of the family though, it seemed as if he was just living in a 77 °F world while everyone else needed to get through 95. (And yes, Zeev still had a hard time doing the math of the american metric system, he still refused to use inches). He once had a discussion with someone, who had claimed “the Europeans” were having a different system for hours and minutes as well, saying they were counting to hundred instead of sixty. The witcher almost had received an aneurism trying to explain why that is not only false but also impossible—let’s say the person didn’t really understand time difference, so it was like teaching a toddler how planets move and what a solar system was, except there was no reward after the naivety. At some point Zeev had just nodded and said, “actually, we count to two-hundred-twenty, so two hours for you are one hour for me, it gets darker later, too”, which for some reason was easier to believe.

A little later that day, and after the approval of both Evie and Arwen, Daisy had overly excitedly grabbed both her parents’ hand and led them into the soon-to-be classroom, showing off the interior and the facts, that had been revealed by Ms. Huxley, their primary school teacher. Like the whiteboard that was also a screen and the chairs that can be adjusted in height to accommodate every childrens’ growth in the near future. For Zeev, all that he saw and learned about the school, was fascinating and interesting, but he had not much to compare, whereas Isaiah seemed even more enthralled by the modernity and how school’s have developed over the years. They had already been given a tour by the teacher beforehand, when they had checked out the perfect school for their baby to enroll in, but with Daisy, they found new aspects to turn their attention to. For their sunshine, it was insanely important to have pretty large windows that allowed the morning sunshine to pour into the room—and yes, Zeev had choked back a tear when she explained why that was so important—how pretty the classroom was in it’s multicoloured glory, how much she liked the violets and yellows and the greens, how cool the space underneath her desk was for her belongings to be hidden, how glad she was that the playground had swings, but most importantly: Daisy absolutely loved the patterns of the flooring, which most definitely were overlooked by anyone else, but the little girl had an eye for swirls and lines and specks of colour that looked like confetti. She said it reminded her of her first birthday and how much of the little paper circles had lay on the ground of the living room, clinging to her locks and covering her presents. It had filled Zeev with an equal amount of sadness and pride that she considered her fourth birthday as her first.

Daisy had been three when they first met her, drawing by herself at a round table in a bright and welcoming room of the youth welfare center. Her former family—the name and location unbeknownst to her new parents for privacy and legal reasons—hadn’t been much good to her, unsurprisingly. Absent mother and a neglecting father, both overwhelmed by the prospect of caring for a child, let alone unable to care for themselves. Daisy had been forced to grow by herself, taking responsibility for her own at an age where she shouldn’t. The lack of love and attention had turned her quiet, careful and withdrawn. As Ms. Fredericson had explained, she didn’t want to be any burden, suspecting she wouldn’t receive any help anyway. Her parents weren’t violent, but their silence had been just as painful.

On a grim day in September, the weather had already turned cold and wet, an old lady had found her in front of a supermarkt, sitting in a electronic car for usually kids enjoyment, while Daisy just cried for her mother that had left her there—intentionally or not, it didn’t matter much for the youth welfare workers, especially not when it happened a second time. Her biological parents didn’t even fight for custody and left her for the third time in the care of people who promised a better future.

Daisy hadn’t been the first kid they had met, but the day they did, Zeev had known and promised to himself that this child would never be abandoned again.

Months later, Daisy had grown close to them, opening up and blossoming in a way that even surprised the social workers. In awe at the Pines and positively touched by the care they showed the burdened child. Supervised visits were followed by outside activities; visiting playgrounds, walks and picnics at the nearby parks, first visits to their home—Zeev would never forget how, despite her nervousness and shyness, she had brightened during the stay, finding enjoyment at their place, exploring and asking questions, the excitement that brimmed in her round little face at being answered and receiving attention—and lastly, when she had been asked to spent her birthday at their home to which she had answered with a loud and self-confident: Yes!

Ms. Fredericson had accompanied them during their first year, their contact still, who had shown no doubt that Daisy was about to be granted a safe home and loving parents. Close to her fifth birthday, Zeev and Isaiah received the approval to take care of Daisy and raise her as their own child. And the little girl with the faint freckles on the brim of her nose, had agreed, too. A big decision both Pines were proud of and moved by to this day.

Their home in Lafayette Street was spacious, with its big living room and the three bedrooms, a basement, an attic, two bathrooms on the first and second floor and lots of edges and corners that allowed for a personality of the home itself. Still, with Sarah and Richard, Emma and the kids (Matt unfortunately had to work), Jemma, Daisy and the still fresh parents themselves, the house wasn’t only full of people, but filled with love as well. The mother of the entire Pines Clan—including Jemma as well—and Zeev had been preparing a buffet that put every other seasonal banquet to shame. It wasn’t warm enough yet to sit in the garden, with a perfect view towards the little garden house the witcher and Richard had worked on for weeks, but the big table in their living room was a good substitute. Daisy and the siblings were playing on the couch, giggling at each other's jokes that the adults had a hard time to understand but smiled at regardless, while Isaiah and his father were preparing the table. Zeev, who had much like Sarah insisted on helping, had been shushed out of the kitchen, sitting at their porch bench with Jemma, some sparkling water in their hands that the brunette most definitely would switch to something alcoholic in the blink of an eye if given the chance.

“This is really beautiful,” she exclaimed with a smile, leaning against the backrest, her feet crossed at the ankles.

Zeev followed her gaze and nodded in agreement. “Wait till it’s blooming fully again. The variety of the colours will be absolutely stunning to look at, accentuating each other without getting lost in the sea of flowers, each one bringing their own beauty to the full picture. These ones over there are my dearest chrysanthemums, they’ll look like a swarm of little suns. The bees go absolutely feral for those and—” He turned his head to look at her again and noticed her eyes already lingering on him, an amused smile upon her slim lips. In embarrassment Zeev ran his fingers along his jaw.

“You weren’t talking about the garden, were you?”

She snickered. “Not really, but it’s cute. I meant… all actually. The house, the garden, the family inside, you and Isaiah, the life you made for yourself. It’s beautiful to watch.”

Softly, he nodded in agreement, leaning back as well, legs crossed and relaxed. The stress of the past days finally receding and drifting into contentment. Still, the faint sadness didn’t go unnoticed. Zeev knew that her own wish for a settled life, as much as she enjoyed partying and fooling around, hadn’t been fulfilled yet despite her greatest efforts. It pained him to see how important that aspect of her life was to her and that there was nothing he really could do to help her.

“Thank you, Jem,” he said instead, smiling warmly at her, placing an arm around her shoulder and pulling her close. She fell against him without resistance and leaned her head against his shoulder, huffing as she did. “I’m really grateful for all of this, for anyone who has granted me a place in their heart. You don’t just watch, you’re part of all this, too. When we say you’re Daisy’s aunt, it’s not just a joke. It’s a fact. You’re part of the ‘family inside’.”

Some time ago, she had confessed to him what he had expected far sooner. Which wasn’t a hard thing to imagine considering how they had met and what had happened in between. Something he could never be and never give to her in the way she would probably enjoy the most, but yet she had stayed and she had turned into an integral part of their lives. Zeev was glad that being her friend meant just as much, but the envy lingered and all he could do was remind her that her wishes weren’t some to bury. Not the life she might have imagined herself in at some point, but a life regardless. Zeev was certain, one day she’d meet her Isaiah as he had and suddenly, all would make sense. Nothing would ever be the same again and no challenge would be impossible to tackle. Not with the right person—not with the right family at her side.

And when Zeev returned inside with her, he looked at the set table, chatting all over the place, everyone busy with one another, lighthearted and unrestrained, excited and jubilant, the witcher once more felt his emotions dwelling up in his heart, spilling through his veins. He sat down next to Isaiah, lovingly cupping his face with a hand, his thumb brushing over his cheek and a smile parting his lips before he leaned over and kissed him sweetly, once more reminded, how thankful he was to have crossed paths with him at a place where hope had been all that he had—just to turn it into something far greater. A family and a love that would last forever.

"Thank you, love," he whispered against his lips, not specifying for what exactly he was thanking for. "Are you enjoying yourself?" Despite it being the family that kept their home lively, he was still aware of how overwhelming the constant noise and attention could be for the other. Softly, he placed his hand on his thigh, reminding him that he was just as safe with him as he had been at the ceremony.

"Isaiah, I'm about to pass out any minute."

The sun shone brightly and mercilessly on the earth for the second week in a row, heating up the asphalt of Macomb's streets and making the distance appear in shimmering waves. Zeev generally felt naturally comfortable in the sun. The heat seemed to affect him far less than Isaiah, who sat next to his husband and sighed. His lanky frame was draped in a white t-shirt—sweat luckily not yet darkening patches of it, but he knew if he'd sit in this heat for more than two hours, getting up would be an embarrassment, for him and for his husband—, and his jeans were definitely the wrong choice today, just as his mom had predicted, but that's primarily because she was a mother and mothers, as per law, were always right, apparently. The blonde's hands fidgeted with the condensation dripping from his cup of lemonade. Oak and maple trees lined the sports field, where several rows of chairs had been set up with picnic blankets and folding chairs in the shade until the ceremony had come to an end. Isaiah glanced around, looking further back at his mom and dad, Zara, Carter, Jemma, and the Petosky clan, smiling at them and waving as they fanned themselves. Then he turned his attention back to what was happening in front of him, excited men and women, most of them Isaiah and Zeev's age. His gaze went to his left, he looked to his husband who had been leaning against him, took his hand and gently kissed his knuckles. “Are you alright, my love?” he asked, looking down at him, kissing the top of his head and smiling softly, then stroking the back of his husband's neck. “Isaiah, I'm about to pass out any minute.” The podcast host smiled down at the Sundawner and gently kissed his temple, putting his arm around him and supporting him more. “It's exciting, isn't it?” he asked, smiling back at him and stroking his hair reassuringly with his free hand. “I got you, baby, you're safe with me,” he assured him, pulling him closer and offering him his shoulder and support.

The principal took the stage and greeted the parents, relatives and family friends of the 60 children who were starting school today. Isaiah shifted a little in the chair, keeping an eye out for Daisy, who had to be standing somewhere up ahead, but always keeping his arm around Zeev so that he wouldn't hurt himself if he actually lost consciousness. “I'm here, my love,” he assured him again, looking down at him and gently stroking his side. “And please welcome,” the principal continued at some point,—after children had went up the stage one by one,—and smiled, gesturing to the students standing at the side of the stage, ”Daisy Pines.” Isaiah looked to Zeev, who still appeared to be conscious, and stood up carefully with him, putting his arm around him to continue providing support and placing his index finger and thumb between his lips with his free hand, whistling loudly as Daisy took the stage, rather reserved and shy (but she did nonetheless, despite her fear of getting up there!) while the rest of the family was equally loud in the background, cheering for the newest addition to the family. Her braided pigtails bounced slightly as she walked, the flower crown Zeev had made with her in the morning was a little out of place, but somehow it added to her overall appeal. She looked so pretty, Isaiah thought, and how courageous she was and how polite she was to say 'Hello' to the principal and shake her hand—the only child who did. Because that's what one does. They both watched her, waved as she looked to them and smiled supportingly as she got in line.

Shortly after Isaiah and Zeev sat down again, the American felt his husband's body slump, becoming more sluggish beside him. Isaiah smiled gently at Zeev, kissed the top of his head and leaned him against his shoulder so that he had support, helping him to keep his balance. “I love you,” he mumbled into the other's hair, stroking his back gently as he continued to look forward, glancing down at Zeev every so often to check.

“She looked great up there. Gods, reminds me of you two when you had your first days in school,” Emma smiled and leaned against Matt, looking at Evie and Arwen. “Oh my God, Mom, that was ages ago.” “It doesn't feel like ages ago,” she commented back, smiling brightly. “We'll need to do video calls every day, I wanna hear everything she has to say about her first day at school. And the flower crown Zeev crafted? So cute.”

Isaiah nodded in agreement and glanced over his shoulder towards his husband, who was standing near the bar getting lemonade for everyone, but seemed to have been mobbed by a few mothers. Amused, Isaiah smirked as he saw each of them hanging on his lips, nodding repeatedly in agreement, smiling broadly at his every word. One had brushed over his shoulder and Isaiah didn't quite know if Zeev had approved, but his posture wasn't tense or uptight, so Isaiah assumed everything was fine. The American wasn't worried that Zeev would find the next supposed love of his life with any of them or that he'd cheat, there had been plenty of times when the witch seemed to know how to put people in their place, he had communicated—without leaving room for ambiguity or doubt—that he was married. And that very happily so.

He managed to remain polite, but he was also outspoken about his relationship status and his values. Isaiah loved that about him, too.

A wide smile graced the blonde's face as Daisy came running up to the group in her white dress and threw herself against Isaiah's legs, hugging them tightly and hiding her face. Looking down at her, he smiled tenderly and stroked her hair, bending his knees carefully and asking her if she wanted to be on his arm, to which she nodded in silence. He carefully put his arms around her, stroked her back gently and finally lifted her up, kissing her cheek with all the care and love he felt for his daughter. “You did so great, honey. And how polite you were when you shook hands with the principal. And how brave you were! Gods, dad and I are so proud of you” he smiled at her and stroked her back gently as she buried her face in the crook of his neck and mumbled against his skin that she wasn't brave. “Being brave doesn't mean not being scared, Daisy... It means doing things even when you are scared. And you still walked on that stage and you did so good,” he spoke to her calmly and ran his fingers over the back of her head. His pride was hard to put into words.

“Did you see your classroom, Daze? Is it cool?” asked Evie, who had joined her, and Isaiah looked down at his daughter, who lifted her head slightly and stroked her eyes, then nodded and looked at her second cousin. The girl leaned her head against the blonde's shoulder, her arms still around his neck, and talked about where she was sitting—by the window, right by the sun because it was nice and warm there and because Zeev said she would always watch over her like he and Isaiah did—how everything had looked and that she had already hidden candy from her school bag in the compartment under her table. It made Isaiah smile and even though she wasn't his biological child, there were some similarities one could undeniably draw.

“Did you manage to tear yourself away from the ladies charming you?” Isaiah asked with a smirk, smiling down at Zeev, kissing his lips softly and thanking him for the lemonade. Daisy lifted her head once more, looking at Zeev and accepting a soda with a thanks as well. Her other father's words made her smile, she giggled as Zeev spoke to her while Arwen helped hand out the sodas the witcher had gathered.

Daisy had offered to show Evie and Arwen the classroom, the adults still had to wait because the two ladies from Petosky had to classify the classroom and Daisy's place as cool first. Isaiah had his arm around Zeev, though Zeev was talking to Zara and Carter and Isaiah was talking to Jemma. He had to smile when the Brit told him how proud she was and how much she was looking forward to going to get breakfast alone with her tomorrow morning. "Isaiah, I can't wait. I'm gonna be the best aunt out there, I'll buy her everything and I'll try my best to convince her that I'm great at tagging along for shopping sprees. I mean look at me, I'm fashionable!” she argued to him and Isaiah nodded vehemently in agreement, confirming her statement. Sarah called Jemma and Zara over (and Carter followed his girlfriend as well), which gave him and Zeev a moment of privacy. He carefully pulled Zeev close, stroking his cheek, his hair and examining his eyes, gently kissing his lips and pressing him closer. “How are you feeling, my love?” he asked, still a little concern in his voice, even though he now had several years of experience with Zeev's condition. "You did so well and passed out right after the most important thing happened. I love you, baby.”

#*✹˰ ʾ answers . ʿ but you need your rotten heart; your dazzling pain like diamond rings.#hochmvt #( dying )#( this is so wholesome )#( suddenly married with kids )#( healing i tell you )#( and i'm not even a kid person haha )#( but i'd kill for daisy )

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cameronspecial · 1 year ago

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I Will Marry You, Rafe

Pairing: Frat!Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: N/A

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 1.0K (Exactly, that's so satisfying to me).

Summary: Rafe has an important question to ask Y/N.

Masterlist

Rafe rarely gets nervous. The only time that he really does is when it comes to Y/N. She is his entire world and he would do anything to keep her in his life. And as he stares down at the small diamond ring, he can’t help but feel the layer of liquid that dampens his palms. He wipes it off on his pants as he listens to the MC announce the names of each student. He closes the box and puts it in his pockets when they get to Y/N’s section. “Y/N Y/L/N,” leaves the lips of the MC and travels through the room thanks to the speakers. Rafe is the first to stand out of her group of supporters, “That’s my girl! GO Y/N. I love you, Angel!” He hollers and claps as loud as he can, pumping his hand in the air. He is so proud of how hard she has worked to get her degree with honours. She has kept her grades up and now, she gets to start her master’s degree at her first-choice university. He sees her looking at him with a massive grin. He quickly gets his phone out to take a picture of her getting handed her degree, checking that her family videotaped her walk across the stage. They have prime seats, being right behind the students waiting to go on stage. Rafe’s money definitely shifted hands for him and the Y/L/N family to have such amazing seats. He follows her walk off of the stage, worrying that she won’t be happy with the question he has to ask.

——

His jacket drapes over her shoulders, providing warmth against the cold night. They are walking up the steps of the house they have been renting since the semester ended. The house isn’t something permanent, just a placeholder until they find a place in Cambridge. Ward didn’t love the idea of Rafe moving out to Massachusetts, but he knows how serious Rafe is about Y/N so Ward agreed to let Rafe work remotely for the year that Y/N is doing the Master’s. Rafe would have to fly down every month for a Friday meeting, but they are going to make it work.

Y/N cuddles closer to Rafe with his arm draped across her shoulder. “I can’t believe we are done with our undergraduate degree,” she thinks out loud, resting her head on his shoulder. His head darts to check the text on his phone and then looks at her. His lips meet her temple before he removes his hold from her, taking the keys out of his pocket. He unlocks the door and hesitates to push it open. His life is going to change after tonight and he is scared it might change for the worse. He also isn’t sure if he should’ve tasked his fraternity brothers with such an important thing. Sure, Sarah, Wheezie, and Daisy are leading them, but the now-graduated fratboys were never great at decorating or following orders. He knows if he doesn’t enter the house soon, Y/N will get suspicious. His thumb pushes down on the thumb latch and he pushes the door open. The usual darkness is cut with the light from the path made out of candles. She turns to him to see if he is just as confused as she is. All she finds is his small smile and things start to fall into place for her.

“I will marry you, Rafe,” she utters softly, wrapping her arms around his neck to kiss him. He pulls away with a laugh, “I haven’t even asked you anything yet.” “I know, but I can see right through you. I’ve noticed how nervous you are and how you are always checking your phone for a text. That coupled with the house being mysteriously decorated makes it kinda obvious,” she grins, playing with the hair at the back of his neck. He groans, “Damn, my angel is so smart. You read me like a book. Will you at least let me take you inside and do what I had planned?” She nods and he drags her deeper into the house.

In the living room, they find eight large characters, decorated with white feathers and fairy lights. Eight characters. Two words and a question mark. MARRY ME? Y/N’s hand finds her mouth. The beauty of the dim room amazes her. Candles and rose petals litter the room and the melody of ��Say Yes To Heaven” plays without the lyrics, reminding her of that fateful night during spring break. She turns toward Rafe to find him kneeling on the ground on one knee. In his hand, he holds a small velvet box with a simple but elegant diamond ring inside of it. “When I first saw you at that party three years ago, I thought I was so intoxicated that I was seeing things. Because there was no way that a real-life angel could’ve been right in front of me and ever since that day you have been bringing a little slice of Heaven to me,” he recounts and she can see the tears in his eyes. “You have been my everything ever since that day. My supporter. My defender. My rock. And I want that for the rest of my life, so please say that you will be the angel to my devil for the rest of our lives?” She goes to sit on his thigh and he moves his arms to surround her. Her arms go around his neck and she rests her forehead on his. “Yes.”

He grins at her, kissing her as he puts the ring on her left ring finger. He feels so lucky that he gets to spend the rest of his life with the woman in front of him. People may think that they are too young to be getting married, but Rafe has never been so sure of something in his life.

Taglist: @winterrrnight @loves0phelia

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loving-daisy · 1 month ago

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Big Reputation | Draco Malfoy x Reader

Big Reputation Masterlist | loving-daisy Masterlist

England's diamond boy Draco Malfoy and star girl Y/N Fletcher fake dates to get a brand sponsorship

Chapter 1: Diamond Boy

Words: 4,550

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

SPOTTED: England’s diamond boy Draco Malfoy getting cozy with star girl Y/N Fletcher in muggle London

Below it, a picture of Y/N and Draco sitting at a café—laughing, leaning slightly toward each other, looking far too comfortable—seemed to cement the tabloid’s insinuation.

England’s resident Playgirl + Playboy = A perfect match or a recipe for disaster?

Y/N rolled her eyes so hard she swore she felt a twinge of pain.

Tossing the paper onto the coffee table, she leaned back into her couch, arms crossed, a frustrated groan escaping her lips.

No one shines brighter than a diamond boy and star girl getting together at a cafe in London.

“‘England’s Diamond Boy’?” Draco said, arching a brow. “Flattering, but they could’ve been more creative. ‘Dashing Draco’ has a better ring to it.”

Y/N snorted, throwing a cushion at him. “Focus, Malfoy! People are actually buying into this nonsense!”

He caught the cushion effortlessly, tossing it aside as he sank into the armchair across from her. “Relax, Fletcher. This is nothing more than a slow news week. Besides,” he added with a sly grin, “I don’t see the issue. The Prophet could’ve paired me with someone far less tolerable.”

“Tolerable?” Y/N repeated, her voice dripping with mock offense. “You make it sound like I’m doing you a favor by existing.”

“Well,” he said, feigning deep thought, “you are a step up from most. And I do look rather good in that picture, don’t I?”

Y/N groaned. “This is a nightmare.”

Their managers stood at the head of the table, exchanging conspiratorial smiles.

Y/N narrowed her eyes. Whatever this meeting was about, she already hated it.

“All right, here’s the deal,” her manager began, clasping her hands together like she was about to present the world’s greatest idea. “After the recent press frenzy surrounding the two of you, we’ve decided to lean into the attention. The public loves a good romance story, and you two are the hottest names in Quidditch right now.”

Y/N’s jaw dropped. “Wait, what?”

Draco, on the other hand, leaned back in his chair, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Go on,” he said smoothly as if he’d already guessed where this was going.

“You’ll pretend to date,” Draco’s manager cut in, his tone matter-of-fact.

“It’s simple. Attend events together, give a few joint interviews, maybe let the press snap a few pictures of you looking cozy. In return, we’ll secure some high-profile sponsorship deals—broom companies, apparel lines, endorsements from the biggest names in the wizarding and Muggle worlds alike.”

Y/N’s head whipped toward Draco. “You knew about this, didn’t you?”

His smirk widened. “I had an inkling. Can’t say I’m surprised they want to capitalize on my natural charm.”

“Your charm?” Y/N snapped. “You’re insufferable!”

“And yet,” he said, gesturing lazily between them, “we’re apparently the hottest topic in wizarding sports. So, what’s the harm in playing along?”

“The harm,” she hissed, turning back to her manager, “is that this is completely ridiculous! I’m a professional Quidditch player, not some gossip column puppet!”

Her manager sighed, as though she’d been expecting this reaction. “I get it, Y/N. But this is about more than just you. This could elevate your career, put your name on the international stage in ways the game alone can’t.”

Draco leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “Think of it as a business arrangement. No emotions, no drama—just two colleagues helping each other out.”

“I don’t know about this,” Y/N said, her tone laced with doubt. “I mean… you and I, Malfoy, we’ve got a big reputation.”

Draco smirked, tilting his head in that insufferable way of his. “All the more reason you should do this.”

She shot him a glare. “Colleagues don’t pretend to date, Malfoy.”

“True,” he admitted with a shrug. “But they also don’t get offers like the ones we’re about to get. Imagine your name on the fastest broom ever made, Fletcher. ‘The Fletcher Falcon.’ It has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it?”

Y/N hesitated, her resolve cracking slightly at the mention of a sponsorship of that magnitude. But then she shook her head. “This is still insane. And how do you know I won’t hex you the moment you start acting smug in public?”

Draco’s smirk didn’t falter. “You won’t. Because you’ll be too busy pretending to be utterly charmed by me.”

Y/N groaned, slumping back in her chair. “This is going to be a disaster.”

Her manager clapped her hands, clearly thrilled. “So, we’re all agreed, then?”

“No,” Y/N muttered.

“Yes,” Draco said at the same time, giving her an infuriatingly triumphant look.

As the managers began discussing logistics, Y/N crossed her arms, glaring at Draco across the table.

“This doesn’t mean I like you,” she muttered.

“Trust me, Fletcher,” Draco said, his tone silky, “the feeling’s mutual. You’re just gonna be like those other girls.”

“Excuse me?” Y/N shot back, her voice sharp enough to cut through glass.

“You heard me,” Draco said lazily, leaning back further in his chair.

Y/N straightened, her eyes narrowing. “Trust me, Malfoy, I’m different from all the chicks you’ve played with.”

Draco’s smirk faltered for a fraction of a second, but then his grin returned, sharper this time. “So you’ve heard about me.”

“Oh, I heard about you, alright” she countered, leaning forward. “You like the bad ones.”

Draco rolled his eyes at the girl. “I could say the same to you, star girl.”

Y/N’s life was a perfect blend of fame, glamour, and freedom.

She was a star girl.

As one of England’s top Chasers, she had reached a level of success that few could even dream of. But it wasn’t just her skill on the Quidditch pitch that made her stand out—it was her presence, the way she carried herself both on and off the field.

When Y/N played, it was impossible to look away. Her movements were graceful, almost effortless, as though she was born to ride brooms. But it wasn’t just her athleticism that drew people in; it was the way she seemed to glide through life, as though every challenge was just another game to be won.

Her beauty wasn’t just a fleeting thing—it was captivating.

Whether she was in the Quidditch stadium, the spotlight on her during a game, or walking into a room filled with photographers and reporters, Y/N always turned heads. Her deep, knowing smile, framed by striking features, had become iconic. Her hair would glint in the sunlight as she soared through the air.

But beneath the carefully curated persona of the “perfect athlete” and the “glamorous star girl” was a far more complex side of Y/N. While her fans adored her, they didn’t know her. They saw the polished version of Y/N, the one that the public adored, but few understood the way she truly felt.

Y/N had always been a free spirit, one who liked to keep her options open, who thrived on the excitement of new experiences rather than the deep commitment of long-lasting relationships.

For her, love—or at least the idea of it—had always felt like something she had to avoid. The attention she got, the admirers constantly vying for her affection, didn’t help.

It became a game—a game that kept her running from anything serious. She enjoyed the chase, the playful flirting, and the brief connections with different people, but never allowed herself to fall too deeply into any of them.

She was the one in control, always.

On the field, it was a different story. The competitive nature of the sport didn’t allow for distractions, and Y/N thrived in that. The adrenaline rush of the game, the cheers of the crowd, and the satisfaction of a perfectly executed pass or a goal scored—it was enough to fill the void that the fleeting relationships couldn’t.

But even in her personal life, there was no shortage of admirers. She had the kind of effortless beauty that made every man—or woman—want to win her attention, if only for a fleeting moment.

One night she might be seen with a charming, mysterious player from a rival team, the next night she’d be laughing with a famous actor or socialite. It was never serious, and never meant to be.

Her reputation as a playgirl was well-earned, but it wasn’t entirely something she reveled in. Sure, she played the part, enjoying the flirtations and the brief sparks of chemistry. But deep down, there was a part of her that wondered what it would be like to have something more—to let someone in past the carefully constructed walls she had built around herself.

But then the reality of her life, the pressure of being in the public eye, always brought her back to her rules—no strings, no attachments. She couldn’t afford to let anyone distract her from the game, from her career.

And maybe, deep down, Y/N knew that she would never be truly satisfied with the life she was leading. Maybe, just maybe, there would come a day when she would tire of the endless revolving doors of relationships and step into something real. But that wasn’t today, and as long as the game was still fun, as long as the spotlight was still on her, Y/N was content to keep playing the part of the irresistible, untouchable playgirl.

Draco Malfoy was as much of a playboy as Y/N was a playgirl.

He had the same charisma and irresistible charm, using it to his advantage whenever the opportunity arose.

Much like Y/N, Draco had a reputation for flitting between relationships, never staying with anyone for too long. He enjoyed the attention, the thrill of new conquests, and the control that came with never being tied down.

His status as England’s star Seeker only added to his allure. With his signature blond hair, sharp features, and piercing grey eyes, Draco could have any woman he wanted. He was well aware of his charm, using it to his advantage with a devil-may-care attitude that only made him more desirable.

But just like Y/N, Draco wasn’t interested in anything serious. Commitment wasn’t in his vocabulary, and relationships, for him, were just another form of entertainment, a fleeting game to keep things interesting.

He loved the chase, the thrill of getting someone’s attention, but once they were wrapped around his finger, he quickly lost interest. It wasn’t that he didn’t care about people—it was just that he cared about himself first and foremost. His flirtations were legendary, and while he often left a trail of broken hearts behind him, there was no shortage of women eager to win him over, only to be replaced by the next.

Together, Draco and Y/N made the perfect pair—both captivating, both playfully dangerous.

There was a moment of charged silence as they stared each other down, the air between them crackling with tension. Their managers exchanged glances, one of them muttering under her breath, “This is already writing itself.”

Finally, Draco broke the silence with a soft chuckle. “Well, Fletcher, if nothing else, this arrangement will be… entertaining.”

Y/N sighed, running a hand through her hair. “Let’s just get this over with. But for the record, Malfoy, if this crashes and burns, I’m blaming you.”

Draco grinned, his gray eyes gleaming with mischief. “Blame away, darling. But let’s be honest—you’ll enjoy every second of this.”

“Oh, I doubt that,” she muttered, but the faintest hint of a smirk tugged at her lips as she rolled her eyes.

This was going to be a long few months.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

The crowd's roar filled the stadium as England faced off against Ireland in a high-stakes Quidditch match.

Y/N Fletcher flew high above the pitch, her broom cutting through the air as she weaved past opposing Chasers with effortless precision. Spotting a Bludger headed her way, she dodged it with a sharp twist and rolled her eyes when she saw who was hovering nearby.

“Malfoy, are you planning to do your job today or just float around looking pretty?” she called out, her voice carrying over the wind.

Draco, perched slightly higher in the air and scanning for the Snitch, smirked at her. “Oh, I didn’t realize the Chasers needed babysitting. Maybe if you aimed better, Fletcher, the score wouldn’t depend on me.”

Y/N scoffed, catching the Quaffle and expertly passing it to a teammate. “If I waited for you to catch the Snitch, we’d never win a game.”

“Big talk for someone who spends half the match yelling at the Bludgers,” Draco shot back, his silver eyes narrowing with amusement.

A sudden roar from the crowd broke their banter. Both snapped to attention—Y/N with the Quaffle in hand, Draco spotting the faint glint of gold in the distance. “Try to keep up,” he teased, diving for the Snitch.

“Don’t miss it, Malfoy,” she called after him, her laughter echoing as she bolted toward the hoops to score.

The crowd roared as Y/N Fletcher streaked across the pitch, Quaffle in hand, her focus razor-sharp. Two Irish Chasers were hot on her heels, but she feinted left, spun right, and rocketed toward the hoops. With a perfectly timed throw, the Quaffle soared past the Keeper and through the center hoop.

The stands erupted in cheers, but just as Y/N threw her arms up in victory, a familiar streak of blond shot past her. Draco Malfoy, a blur of determination, extended his hand and snatched the Snitch out of the air with a triumphant smirk.

The roar of the crowd was deafening as the final whistle blew, signaling England’s hard-fought victory over Ireland.

“Really, Malfoy?” Y/N called out as she turned her broom to face him, her tone dripping with mock annoyance. “Couldn’t let me have my moment, could you?”

Draco, still holding the Snitch aloft for the crowd to see, flew up to her level, his smirk firmly in place. “Your moment? Please, Fletcher, I just saved us all from having to watch you miss another shot.”

She scoffed, rolling her eyes even as a grin tugged at her lips. “You wish. That goal was flawless, and you know it.”

“Flawless? Debatable,” he teased, tossing the Snitch lightly in his hand. “But don’t worry, Fletcher. Without me, they’d never even notice your little goals.”

“Without me, you wouldn’t have a match to win,” she shot back, sticking her tongue out before speeding toward their celebrating teammates.

Draco chuckled, shaking his head as he followed her. “Always so competitive,” he muttered, though the amusement in his voice betrayed his fondness for their banter.

Y/N hovered near the goalposts, her broom in hand and her chest heaving from exertion. The rush of adrenaline coursed through her veins as she watched her teammates descend to the pitch, arms raised in triumph.

She barely had time to land before she was swept into a group hug, cheers erupting all around her. The crowd chanted her name, and Y/N couldn’t help but grin. This was the kind of moment she lived for.

“Fletcher!” Draco Malfoy’s voice cut through the noise as he strode toward her. His platinum hair was windswept, and there was a gleam of victory in his stormy gray eyes.

“What do you want, Malfoy?” she teased, brushing the sweat from her brow.

He held up the Snitch, which he’d caught in a spectacular dive moments before. “Just making sure you remember who sealed the deal,” he said smugly, but his tone lacked its usual sharpness.

Y/N rolled her eyes but smiled, her energy still crackling from the win. “Yeah, yeah, you caught the Snitch. But don’t forget who scored the game-winning goals.”

Draco tilted his head, his smirk softening. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

The crowd surged closer to the barrier, chanting their names. Y/N caught sight of a few signs reading “Fletcher + Malfoy = Victory” and groaned.

Draco chuckled, following her gaze. “The fans know what they want, Fletcher.”

“Yeah,” she said dryly, “and apparently, what they want is us acting like we’re madly in love.”

He arched a brow, his smirk returning in full force. “Then let’s give them what they came for.”

Before Y/N could protest, Draco slipped an arm around her waist and pulled her close, raising the Snitch high in his other hand for the cameras.

The crowd went wild.

Y/N tensed for half a second before forcing herself to relax, the weight of their PR stunt settling in.

“Hands to yourself, Malfoy,” she quipped, though there was no real bite in her tone.

“Not part of the contract,” he replied smoothly, his smirk deepening.

“You’re really enjoying this, aren’t you?” she muttered under her breath, her smile never faltering.

Draco leaned in, his lips dangerously close to her ear as he whispered, “Only because it annoys you so much.”

She resisted the urge to elbow him in the ribs, knowing full well that the photographers were snapping away. Instead, she turned her head slightly, locking eyes with him and flashing a dazzling smile.

“Annoying as always, Malfoy” she said through gritted teeth, her expression betraying none of her irritation.

As the crowd chanted their names and the cameras continued to click, Y/N found herself laughing despite everything.

A young fan—no older than ten—approached shyly, holding out a poster for them to sign. “You two are my favorite couple,” she said, her cheeks pink. “You’re so perfect together.”

Draco, ever the showman, grinned and ruffled the girl’s hair. “Well, we do try,” he said smoothly, before glancing at Y/N. “Don’t we, love?”

Y/N blinked, caught off guard for half a second, before deciding to roll with it. “Absolutely,” she said, her voice dripping with fake sweetness. “Best team on and off the pitch.”

Draco took it a step further. Before she could react, he leaned down and kissed her temple—soft, fleeting, but enough to make her stomach flip. The crowd lost their minds, cameras clicking like mad.

Y/N turned her head, glaring at him even as her cheeks flushed. “Careful, Malfoy,” she said, though her voice came out weaker than she’d intended. “Keep that up, and they’ll think you actually like me.”

He tilted his head, his gaze locking onto hers, and for a moment, there was no crowd, no cameras, no contract.

Just him and her.

“What if I do?” he said, his voice low enough that only she could hear.

Her breath hitched, but before she could process his words, another fan called out their names, and they were pulled back into the chaos of the event.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

The victory party was in full swing, the air thick with the celebratory clink of glasses and the buzz of excited chatter. England’s Quidditch team was gathered in a lavish hall, the walls adorned with golden trophies and banners celebrating their triumph over Ireland.

Y/N Fletcher stood near the refreshment table, a goblet of champagne in hand, her smile wide and genuine as she chatted with a few teammates.

From the corner of her eye, she noticed Draco Malfoy leaning casually against the wall, his signature smirk on full display as he sipped from his own glass. Despite the party atmosphere, the two of them had naturally gravitated toward the same space, as they often did these days. The cameras had died down, but the whispers about their supposed "relationship" were still in the air.

As she was laughing at something one of her teammates had said, Y/N suddenly found herself face-to-face with a reporter, not someone she recognized from the usual crowd but a woman with a press pass and a camera in tow.

"Y/N," the reporter began, her tone friendly yet probing, "congratulations on the win. You and Draco Malfoy seem to have quite the chemistry on and off the field. Can you tell us a bit about your relationship?"

Y/N’s smile faltered for a split second before she quickly recovered, the reporter’s camera already clicking away as it focused on her.

She took a sip of her champagne, eyes darting briefly to Draco, who was watching from across the room, amusement dancing in his eyes.

"Well," Y/N said, putting on her most charming smile, "we’ve been friends for a while now. We play on the same team, after all. We’ve been working together to bring England this victory, and it’s been fantastic. As for the rest—" She shrugged nonchalantly, the practiced ease of a professional Quidditch player flowing into her demeanor.

“What can you say about him?”

Y/N took a slow sip of her drink, her eyes flicking toward Draco across the room.

“Well…,” Y/N began, her tone dripping with playful sarcasm, “he’s young, fine, tall, and handsome.” She paused, letting the words hang in the air for a moment before adding, “Definitely a bit of a show-off, though.”

The reporter, sensing an opening, pressed on. “And what’s your relationship with him?”

Y/N’s smirk deepened as she leaned back slightly, letting the question linger before shrugging nonchalantly. “Call it what you want.”

The reporter blinked, trying to read between the lines. “So, are you saying there’s more to it than just a professional connection?”

“Depends on who you ask,” Y/N replied smoothly, her tone light, but her eyes glinting with mischief.

She saw Draco glance over from across the room, his lips curving into a familiar smug smile, clearly enjoying the spectacle.

The press was loving it, feeding off every word she said. But it wasn’t like she was going to reveal anything real. Not yet, at least. She wasn’t here to give them the satisfaction.

The reporter gave her a knowing smile, clearly satisfied with the cryptic response. “I guess we’ll just have to wait and see how that plays out. Thanks for your time, Y/N.”

As the reporter moved on, Y/N’s gaze met Draco’s again. He was walking toward her now, his usual cocky swagger in full force.

“Well, Fletcher,” he said with a raised brow, “that was quite the performance.”

Y/N’s smirk widened, an almost mischievous glint in her eyes. “I thought I’d give them what they wanted. Besides, you know how much they love a good mystery.”

Draco laughed, his voice rich with amusement. “Always keeping them guessing. I respect that.”

“Well,” she replied, her eyes twinkling, “I’m not one to reveal all my cards, Malfoy. Not yet, anyway.”

He chuckled, stepping closer. “Good. Because I’m starting to like this little game we’re playing.”

The atmosphere at the victory party was buzzing, the clink of glasses and chatter a constant hum as Y/N moved through the crowd, laughing and enjoying the well-earned celebration. The night was young, and she was beginning to relax after the high of winning the match against Ireland. Her eyes scanned the room, but then—suddenly—her breath hitched.

There he was. A boy she had briefly dated a year ago, standing near the bar, talking with a few other players from the opposing team.

He was easy to spot with his messy brown hair and that familiar smile that always made her heart flutter at one point. But now, seeing him again after everything, the past feelings didn’t feel as warm. In fact, she barely recognized the way he made her feel now—like an old memory, dusty and forgotten.

“Who’s the guy?” he asked in his usual cool, detached tone, though his narrowed eyes were locked on the boy at the bar.

Y/N hesitated for a moment, biting the inside of her cheek.

“No one. Just an ex,” she replied, brushing it off.

She didn’t want to deal with the past right now, especially not when Draco was standing beside her like some kind of hawk.

Draco’s eyes lingered on the boy for another second before his lips curled into a tight, almost protective smile. “An ex, huh?”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, sensing the sudden shift in Draco’s posture. “Draco, what are you—”

Before she could finish, Draco straightened, his voice dropping slightly. “If he tries to talk to you, let me know. I’ll make sure he knows his place.”

She blinked in disbelief. “Are you serious?”

“Dead serious,” Draco replied smoothly, his gaze flicking toward the boy again, a trace of something possessive flickering in his eyes. "You’re with me now. And some people need reminding that they don’t get to waltz back in and cause trouble."

Y/N chuckled, albeit nervously. She wasn’t sure if Draco was playing a game or if he was actually...jealous? Or maybe it was just the professional façade, the media stunt they were supposed to be selling.

But there was something undeniably protective in the way he stood so close to her, his body language rigid as he kept an eye on her ex.

“Draco, it’s fine,” Y/N said, trying to brush it off, her voice a little strained.

Draco shot her a look, his expression serious now. “Doesn’t matter. No one gets to come around and mess with my teammates. Especially not some bloke from your past.”

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat. She wasn’t sure if it was because Draco was being surprisingly territorial or if it was because his words hit a little too close to home.

She took a deep breath and placed a hand on his arm, trying to ease the tension. “Relax. He’s just an ex. Nothing more.”

Draco didn’t seem convinced, but he relented, the stiff posture loosening just a bit.

“If you say so,” he muttered, but the watchful gleam in his eyes never fully left her ex’s figure.

The whole situation felt...unsettling. She didn’t know why Draco felt the need to be so protective, especially when they weren’t really together in any conventional sense. Sure, they had the public act for the sponsors, but this? It was a whole new dynamic.

As her ex turned around and caught sight of her, a brief flicker of recognition passed over his face. He started to approach, a smile on his lips—but before he could take another step, Draco was already guiding Y/N away, his hand at her back in a move that was both commanding and possessive.

“We’re leaving,” Draco said, his voice low and firm, steering her toward the exit before she could protest.

Y/N shot him an incredulous look. “What’s your deal? I wasn’t going to talk to him.”

Draco just shot a glance back at her ex, who had stopped in his tracks, clearly confused by the turn of events. “Exactly. And it’s better that way.”

Y/N opened her mouth to argue, but when she saw the way Draco was so resolute in his stance, she simply sighed, letting him lead her out.

She wasn’t sure what to make of this new side of Draco, but one thing was for sure: if he kept acting like this, pretending to be her boyfriend was going to get a lot more complicated than either of them had anticipated.

End of Chapter 1

#draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy x oc #draco malfoy x y/n #draco malfoy au #draco malfoy imagines #draco lucius malfoy #draco malfoy #post hogwarts #fake dating #quidditch #harry potter au #harry potter imagines #loving-daisy works #loving-daisy au

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thesparkling-diamond27 · 11 months ago

Text

The Second Bridgerton And I: Part 2

Benedict Bridgerton x Reader

Summary: Y/n Clearwater becomes named the “Sparkling Diamond” by Queen Charlotte herself, but she doesn’t know what to do with all this attention. Of course she has her family, but sometimes that doesn’t seem enough. But what happens when she encounters a specific Bridgerton, which changes the course of her season.

Author’s Note: This chapter has scenes from season 3 episode 2 of Bridgerton. Down below is the link to Part 1 and Part 3. I hope you enjoy! Y/nn= reader’s nickname

“Time to wake up Miss Y/n.”

My maid Alexandra. She is in her mid thirties and is a great companion to have. I am quite fond of her, but never in the morning. I am not a morning person, but Alexandra seemed to care less this morning , which was peculiar. She usually lets me sleep in a little longer.

“Miss Y/n! You might have callers coming this morning and you must be ready.”

This sentence alone caused me to sit up abruptly in bed. Callers. I completely forgot. If anyone was interested in me at Lady Danbury’s ball three nights ago, then they would be visiting around midday and this frightened me. I rubbed the sleepiness out of my eyes and made my way out of bed. Alexandra guided me towards my vanity where she would begin with my hair and light makeup. I picked up a thin gold ring decorated with a green daisy in the center from my vanity. I placed it on one of my fingers and started fiddling with it. My father gifted the ring to me for my birthday two years ago and it has became somewhat of a source of comfort for me whenever I was nervous. I couldn’t wear it for the ball since the green didn’t match with my purple dress. Alexandra noticed me fiddling my ring.

“Would you like to wear your ring Miss Y/n? There might be a dress in your closet that might match.”

She knew about the comfort my ring gave me and I was grateful that she was always so perceptive.

“Yes please. You don’t have to call me Miss Y/n you know. I’ve told you a thousand times Y/n is fine.”

“I know, but” she began to brush my hair, “it’s not proper.”

“Well I’m allowing you to be improper.”

I looked at Alexandra through the looking glass with a smile and she returned it.

“Very well then…Y/n.”

She continued to brush my hair and do my make up in silence which caused me to wander in my thoughts. People were possibly coming to call on me and being nervous was an understatement. I kind of secretly wish that nobody would call upon me. It is frightening. I don’t know what to say or do with suitors and I don’t want to embarrass myself, especially since I’ll be in the same room with my family. Adeline would have plenty of suitors because Adeline is the definition of the perfect lady. She is beautiful and always knows the right words to say. Surely she caught the eye of several eligible bachelors at the ball. Far more suitors in comparison to me. This makes me feel like I’m already failing, which is ridiculous since the season just started. I just can’t help but feel like everything I’ve done so far has been wrong. I’m supposed to be the sparking diamond and it appears that everyone expects me to be perfect and graceful. However I don’t know if I can be perfect and graceful or if I want to be.

“Are you ready to get dressed Y/n?”

I looked in the looking glass and Alexandra was no longer behind me. I turned around and Alexandra was standing beside my bed with a pale green day dress laid out for me to wear.

“Yes I am.”

I barely tasted anything at Breakfast this morning. The food smelled delicious, and I was ready to enjoy a nice full breakfast, but as soon as the food touched my tongue the food began to taste like cement (or bland). My mama could sense something was wrong, but never spoke about it, thank god, until we were all gathered into the drawing room. The clock shows three quarters after ten which means that I have fifteen minutes left to myself.

I am sitting on the main couch in the drawing room when my parents approach me. Without saying a word they both guid me past the piano forte and to the other side of the room in order to have more privacy from my siblings. My mama places both her hands on my arms and says,

“My dear Y/n you have nothing to be afraid of. You are a beautiful young lady and I’m sure any gentleman you meet will instantly fall in love once they get to know you. You are brave, kind, strong and wise. You may not feel like you carry those characteristics, but I am here to assure you that you do. Your father and I couldn’t be more proud of you.”

My mama looked at my father and pulled herself back from me as my father took her place. He grabbed my hands into his and said,

“We know you are nervous especially after the event from the previous night …”

Lord Berbrooke. My mother and sister were concerned, but to say my father and brothers were enraged was an understatement. There was practically steam coming out of my brothers ears when we were about to enter our carriages to leave the ball and my father had to stop them from causing a scene. He was furious as well, but he was more calm and collected about his feelings towards the situation because of his role as Viscount. He was angry, but he knew he had a reputation to uphold. I don’t know how they found out, but I didn’t have time to ask because as soon as we arrived home all three of them made sure that I told them my encounter with the man. I didn’t understand what all the fuss was about since he never crossed the line physically, but according to my brothers and father he did step over the line when he kept on pursuing me after I explicitly said no.

Everyone knew the reputation of Nigel Berbrooke and my family was quite puzzled as to how he snuck into Lady Danbury’s ball. He was not respected throughout the ton, which was why he was never personally invited to balls and social events anymore, and my father and brothers found it absurd how he was even present in the first place. They promised to keep an extra eye on me, and Adeline, for when we attend more balls and events in the future. They also notified Lady Danbury first thing the next morning.

“…And I don’t want to give you more nerves,” my father continued “but I have talked with an old friend of mine about a possible match for you.”

I was about to protest, but he beat me to it

“Before you say anything. No you don’t have to marry him, but at least be open to getting to know him.”

I looked up at my father and then at my mother. Being open was the least I can do.

“I will father.”

“Thank you my dear Carina.”

My parents each placed a kiss on my head and the three of us went back to our family.

—————————

Benedict

Hesitating Hyacinth?” Said Colin

“I do not hesitate.” She retorted

“And yet here were are waiting.” Chimed in Gregory

“Perhaps it is to your good fortune, as she fleeced you in the last hand.” Colin said

“I play a long game.” Said Gregory

Hyacinth cleared her throat. “I am pleased with my hand.”

“Now you hesitate.” Colin said to Gregory.

Gregory turned to me and said, “I should like to trade.”

“Hmm?” I replied

“Hmm”

Gregory and I exchanged hands and we continued with our game. Then Colin said out of nowhere,

“I am out of this round.”

“You coward!” Said Gregory

“Told you he had a strategy.” I said

“We may need more coins, the way Hyacinth is playing.” Colin said

I scoffed. What a lame excuse. Colin stood and walked away to do God knows what. I turned around and noticed our footman Oliver waiting for Colin. Someone was visiting him? But who? He became different after he came back from his travels. More distant. I would have to ask him about this secret rendezvous later.

“Are you certain you are not cheating?” Gregory asked Hyacinth.

“Do you think me a magician?” Hyacinth relied

“Hmm.” I said “well if you are please teach us some tricks.”

I could be doing anything else besides playing cards with my two youngest siblings, but the banter between the two of them was always interesting. I knew how this was going to go. Hyacinth hates to win, and Gregory hates to loose to her, so who would want to miss such a spectacle.

Even though we were playing with cards my mind was somewhere else entirely. I couldn’t stop thinking about Y/n. I hope she is well. After she walked away with her brother Noah, I notified Alexander about what happened with Berbrooke. He said he would take care of it and I hope he did. Of course he would that’s his younger sister after all.

“Benedict.” Said Hyacinth “it’s your turn.”

“What? Oh right.”

I wonder if she received a bunch of callers. Who wouldn’t want to sought after Y/n Clearwater the Queen’s sparkling diamond. If I was looking for a wife I would probably try to call upon her myself. She came from a well off family and was quite beautiful. She was also quite charming when we conversed while dancing. I was only with her for a few short moments, but I could tell that she was a wonderful person.

“I won!”

I looked up and saw Hyacinth was out of her chair and she was doing her own victory dance. I assume she won.

“That’s not fair you cheated!” Gregory shouted.

“No I did not! I won fair and square! Right Benedict?”

Hyacinth and Gregory both looked at me expectingly waiting for my answer. To be frank I wasn’t paying attention to the card game at all, so I don’t know if Hyacinth was cheating or not.

“Are you okay brother?” Gregory asked “You are quiet.”

“Of course I’m alright. I am annoyed that I have lost again due to Hyacinth’s cheating!”

“I did not cheat!”

“Yes you did!”

Their banter quickly escalated, like I predicted, and that put a smile to my face. There was never a dull moment at the Bridgerton household

—————————

Any lady of society that says suitors calling upon you isn’t tiring is lying.

There were a lot of suitors calling upon Adeline and I. There was even a line! There wasn’t even half as many gentlemen here for Adeline last season, but then again I am the so called diamond. The gentleman of the ton are curious about me I suppose. I talked with a variety of men. From talkative to shy, conceited, kind, egotistical, funny and so much more. Adeline had a group of men to pick from as well. I hope she was enjoying herself. I couldn’t tell since I was too preoccupied with my callers.

One man that stood out to me was Lord Findlay. We were supposed to share a dance with each other, but never got the chance to after I was keen to leave the ball early due to a certain man. We fell into an easy conversation and I found myself enjoying his company. However, I didn’t see anything past friendship for us in the future. After about an hour and a half, things seemed to calm down and I had just sent away my last caller. I sat myself down on the main sofa of the drawing room and took a deep breath. Finally the event was over. I couldn’t wait to tell Penelope about what happened the past few days. I really hope she is well. I looked around the ballroom, at the Danbury ball, to say goodbye before leaving, but she was nowhere to be seen. I hope everything was alright. Someone walked into the room and it was one of our footmen William.

“A caller for Miss Y/n.”

I looked up and a young handsome man walked in with an older man behind him who I assumed was his father. My father quickly met with the older man and shook hands with him in a friendly way. He then patted the young man on the back. My father turned around and motioned for me to come join them. I made my way over to them and my father said,

“Y/n this is Viscount Victor Tewkesberry and his eldest son Maxwell Tewkesberry. Victor and Maxwell this is my daughter Y/n.”

I curtsied at both of them respectfully and Viscount Tewkesberry and Maxwell both bowed slightly in response. When Maxwell stood back up straight, I noticed he was holding a small white box with an ornate pink bow on the top. He held the box in his left hand and used his right hand to take my hand and place a kiss on the back of it.

“It is a pleasure to finally meet you Miss Y/n. Your father has told me much about you and I must say, him calling you beautiful was an understatement.”

My father may have told him about me, but he surely didn’t notify me about him. The first time my father mentioned Maxwell was this morning when he shared that we would be expecting his presence today. Even though I knew nothing of him, I couldn’t help, but blush at his comment. No one has ever said anything to me like that. I decided I should lie about knowing about him beforehand in order to be polite. I didn’t want him or his father to think I wasn’t intrigued because I was.

“It is a pleasure for me as well. My father has told me about you.”

“All good things I hope.”

I nodded. “I hope I could meet your expectations based on what my father has already told you.”

“I can’t see into the future, but I believe that you will.”

This caused me to smile and he smiled back.

“Why don’t you continue your conversation somewhere more private.” My dad suggested.

“Shall we?” I asked.

He simply nodded. I guided him towards the other side of the room and past the couches to the windowsill.

“Is it alright with you if we converse here?” I asked “I am more comfortable sitting by the view.”

“Yes that is fine with me.”

We both took a seat by the windowsill and I looked out into the street. I always tended to find myself looking at the people walking by. Walking on the street and minding their own business. Sometimes I would make up stories in my head based on the people that I would see walking. My eyes drifted to the other houses that were on the same street as mine. Next to my house was the Featherington household and that made connecting with Penelope this season easy, since I only had to walk over a few yards. Across my house was the Wellington family where one of my close friends used to live, but she moved a fews ago a few streets over. Next to the Wellington household across from the Featherington household, and diagonal from my house was the Bridgerton household.

“Do you like to look out at the view?” Maxwell asked.

“Yes. I sit here and usually look out the window or read a good book?”

“Oh you read?!”

“Is it shocking to you that a lady can enjoy reading?”

“No no! Forgive me that is not what I meant. I like to read as well, so it seems we have something in common. What genre do you prefer to read?”

I wanted to answer him truthfully, but I hesitated. Would he like my answer? Even though this is my first encounter with him, I still know who he is. The Tewkesberry family is a very well known family and our families have crossed paths time and time again. I’ve offered a polite smile to the family in passing, but that was different from actually holding a conversation with one of them. I remember the child like image of Maxwell, but we are no longer kids. He is obviously educated, probably attended university, so he probably would want a knowledgeable lady. Which is why I decided on the safe answer.

“I mostly like to read books of fact. They can be quite interesting.”

“What topic do you pertain to the most?”

Oh no. How was I supposed to answer this? I don’t read books of fiction! I rather enjoy a good romance. I tried to muster an answer the best I could.

“I don’t….I don’t really pertain to a particular topic…I….simply like the…random facts…that I learn as I read.”

That answer was preposterous, but I did the best that I could. Tewkesberry looked at me and I couldn’t read the expression on his face. I couldn’t tell if he liked my answer or if he believed me. He changed the topic and I was oh so grateful.

“I have something for you.” He said.

He brought the small white box that he had earlier and held it out for me to take. I completely forgot that he had that. I took the box from his hand and delicately pulled the bow apart. I noticed that he was watching my every move and anticipating my reaction. Once the ribbon was off I slowly opened the box and there were two macarons sitting perfectly and neatly in the box. They were both a baby pink color with a bright fuchsia filling in the middle. They were neatly made and assembled and the smell was a smell that I can identify anywhere. He didn’t obtain these two macarons from some knock off pastry shop in London. He brought these from Paris. They were authentic and I could tell they would taste exquisite. I always had a sweet tooth and I became disappointed at the pastry shops in London after I visited Paris a few years ago.

“Do you like them?” He asked

I looked back up at him.

“Oh no you don’t like it. I’m sorry. I wanted to bring something for you as a gesture and your father mentioned that you were fond of sweets, macarons in particular, so I figured I’d get you some. I asked what your favorite flavor was and he said raspberry. I was recently in Paris dealing with business with my father and I passed by a pastry shop and I’d figure…”

“Hey.”…”it’s alright. I’m actually grateful for the gift. Truly. I was just taking it in.”

“You do?”

“Yes.” I said with a smile. “Would you like to have one?”

“Are you sure? I brought them for you.”

“I know, but there are two of them. We can each have one.” I said with a smile.

I took one of them out and gave it to him to take. I did the same for me and we ate them in a comfortable silence. When I took the first bite my mouth was met with an immediate whirlwind of flavor and like he said it was raspberry. My favorite. I couldn’t help but feel happy. He went through all this trouble to get something that I liked and it made me feel bad for lying to him.

“About what I said earlier…about books of fiction.” I said “I lied.”

“I know.”

“You do?”

“I’m not surprised that you said that you prefer books of fiction, but your answer didn’t seem to support your statement.”

“I’m sorry. I wanted you to like me. Half of the time I don’t even know what I’m doing.”

“What is your favorite genre then?”

“I’m sorry.”

“Your favorite book genre.”

“Romance.”

“What about romance do you particularly like?”

I paused to think about my answer and then finally said, “All throughout my life I have been in close proximity to marriages based on love. Mostly with my family. Seeing love in front of me and reading about it in books makes me hope that I can one day have that in the future.”

I looked up at him and he was already looking at me. He seemed to like my answer because his lips turned up into a smile.

“Miss Y/n I am looking for a wife. In my future wife I hope to find a companion. Someone I could talk to. I want to share with her my experiences, feelings and thoughts and I would love for her to do the same. If I am to pursue you, I don’t want you to feel like you have the need to like what I like and always agree with me. You are your own person with your own thoughts and you shouldn’t change for me. Can you do that for me?”

I looked at Tewkesberry and for the first time this season I felt at peace. Which is why it was easy for me to say,

“Yes. Yes I can. “

—————————

I couldn’t wait to see Maxwell at the ball tonight. We had a lovely conversation yesterday and he asked if I could save him a dance tonight.

I am a walking arm and arm with my mama as my family and I enter. The ball was decorated quite nicely.

“Now dearest.” My mama said “I won’t push any suitors your way, due to your interest towards the Viscount’s son. However, if a lovely man is to ask you for a dance you may dance with them if you choose to.”

“Alright mama. My main focus will be on Lord Tewkesberry, but I’ll keep my mind open for other suitors. Shall we greet the Queen?”

“Yes I think that is wise since we didn’t do so at Lady Danbury’s ball.”

“I hope she is not furious with me that I didn’t greet her.”

“Gossip travels fast throughout the ton dearest. I am sure when the news reached the Queen she had a little sympathy for you.”

We both approached the Queen and I curtsied slightly in front of her.

“Flawless my dear. Just how I would expect you to be.” Queen Charlotte said

“Thank you. I’m sorry I couldn’t grace you with my presence at Lady Danbury’s ball. There was an incident that affected my mood and I wouldn’t want to greet you in such a state.”

“All is well my dear. I hear a certain Viscount has found an interest in you.”

I was surprised how she already knew such information. The Queen seemed to notice my surprised face because she said,

“I know all and see all because I am the Queen my sparkling diamond. I am curious to see how this arrangement will continue.”

I nodded and my mama and I walked away from the Queen.

“I am going to search for Penelope mama. It has been a while since we have seen each other.”

“Alright dear, ” Said mama “but be careful.” She gave me a warning look.

“I will.”

—————————

Benedict

Colin and I were near the lemonade table when we were interrupted by a women’s voice.

“Good evening Mr. Bridgerton. Mr. Bridgerton.”

We turned around and saw two young ladies standing before us.

“Ladies!” I greeted. Another woman joined us. “And more Ladies!”

All three of them began to laugh in unison. They would simply try anything to grab our attention I thought.

Colin and I both turned around and I said quietly.

“They’ve taken to hunting in packs.”

Colin and I continued to sip our lemonade.

“Mr. Bridgerton. I have yet to see you on the dance floor.” One of the ladies said. She was Ms. Stowell I believe.

“What say you brother?” Colin asked, “Time for you to dance?”

He did not just throw me to the wolves. I couldn’t believe Colin. He was supposed to rescue me from a situation like this.

“Yes.” I said with annoyance, specifically towards Colin, but the three ladies didn’t seem to notice. They looked at me anticipating to share a dance. I looked at the girl in the middle. She looked the most sensible.

“Miss Stowell, may I have the next dance?”

She excitedly placed her dance card in my hand for me to sign. What did my brother get me into?

—————————

Penelope and I were conversing near a dessert table. It’s been awhile since we enjoyed each other’s company and I was rather pleased. I caught her up on all the events that has happened since I last seen her.

“I’m so sorry to hear about what happened to you Y/nn.” Penelope said, “Lord Berbrooke is a despicable man. I hope you are well.”

“Yes I am.”

“That’s good. I don’t like seeing you in distress.”

“As do I with you.”

“At least Benedict was able to assist you. That was rather nice of him.”

“Yes nice of him indeed.”

I have thought of Benedict quite a bit since we parted. I wonder if he is here tonight.

“So Lord Tewkesberry…” she said with a teasing tone.

“Don’t look at me like that Pen. We are not courting. We are simply enjoying each other’s company.

“But you two danced with one another tonight.”

“It’s nothing Pen, but enough about me. What has been going on with you?”

Penelope looked around and led us to an area that can allow us more privacy.

“You must promise to not tell another soul what I am about to tell you.”

She sounded serious. This must be important.

“I promise.”

“I have asked Colin to assist me with helping me find a husband.”

I looked at Penelope surprised.

“You do not approve?” She asked, “I know it is unorthodox, but we are both friends.”

“I know, but…”

I looked around to make sure no one was listening to our conversation.

“You must be careful Pen. If this deal you made with Colin is to get out, the ton will not take this lightly. Your reputation-“

“I know I know. We’ve been keeping this discreet.”

“Good make sure it stays that way.”

“It will.”

I missed getting to converse with Penelope.

“Why don’t we spend some time with each other soon.” Penelope said

“I would like that very much.”

“Miss Clearwater. Miss Featherington.”

I turned to see Benedict Bridgerton standing in front of us.

“Miss Y/n, can I have the pleasure of escorting you to the dance floor? If there is room on your dance card.”

“Yes you may.”

Benedict smiles and takes my hand to lead me to dance. I look back at Penelope and she gives me a confused look. She was surprised at Benedict’s actions as well. I shrugged and continued to walk with Benedict.

“What is the meaning of this?” I asked

“I need your help and you owe me.”

“I owe you?! Since when do I owe you?”

“Since I saved you from Lord Berbrooke.”

“Just because you saved me does not mean that you deserve something in return. I thought you were a gentleman.”

He stopped and looked me in the eyes.

“I am a gentleman. I would do what I did for you again and again if I had to without anything in return. I simply need someone to help me avoid someone else and you were the only female face I recognized nearby.”

I got lost in his crystal blue eyes.

“Miss Y/n?”

“Oh… well then I guess I have to help you.” I smiled at him and he returned it. We continued our way to the dance floor. The music began and we fell into a familiar rhythm. I became curious about who he was hiding from, so I asked him.

“Who am I saving you from?”

“Miss Stowell and her mama. I danced with her earlier and they have both been following me since. I don’t have intentions to court her, but it appears that she has not received the same message.”

“Ah I see.”

“How is your season going so far?Any man that has caught your eye?”

“Lord Tewkesberry.”

“Ahh he is a great choice.”

“Do you know him?”

“Not personally. However, we have crossed paths multiple times and he is quite the gentleman. Definitely worthy for a lady like yourself.”

I felt my cheeks warm.

“Thank you for passing along that piece of information.”

“Of course what are friends for?”

I stopped dancing. Good thing Benedict was leading and guided me to continue because if not, we would have been a beat behind everyone else.”

“Friends?” I asked

“Yes. Do you not want to be?” He frowned.

“No no! It’s not Iike that. I didn’t expect you to say such a thing.”

“Well now you know that you have become a dear friend of mine.”

“You as well.”

We both smiled and finished the dance. The music came to a stop and I curtsied while he bowed.

“Would you care for some lemonade?” He asked.

“I would be delighted to.”

Benedict linked his arm with mine and we made our way outside to the refreshment table. As I was sipping my lemonade I noticed Penelope from afar talking with Lord Remington. She seemed to be enjoying herself as did he. I smiled at the thought. I was about to speak to Benedict when I couldn’t help but overhear a nearby conversation.

“It is rather unseemly that Miss Featherington took his help. Pitiable I think.”

I turned and heard another voice speak.

“It is kind of him, but perhaps overly so.”

I looked around and several people had their hands coming their mouth and would acasionally look over at Penelope who was now standing with Colin. People couldn’t know what Penelope told me earlier. Right? This is exactly what I was afraid of. Something like this to happen, but how did everyone else find out?

“Are you alright Miss Y/n?”

I turned to Benedict and he looked concerned. I looked around and saw Penelope begin to walk away. I turned to Benedict.

“I’m sorry, but I must take my leave.”

I curtsied.

“Goodbye.”

“Wait!” Benedict shouted, but I was already making my way to Penelope. As I reached the steps I noticed Colin and Eloise exchanging a few words. Penelope had already left to call a carriage. I had missed her.

“Eloise! Did you tell any one of my helping Penelope?”

“No I did - I did not mean to —“

“Which means you did.”

“I confided in Cressida.”

“Because you thought you could trust her? Why are you friends with Cressida in place of Penelope, I will never understand. What could Penelope possibly have done to warrant such maltreatment?!”

Colin continues to ascend the stairs to run after Penelope. Eloise turned around and showed shock due to her not knowing that I was present. I walked down a few steps and said,

“I didn’t mean to eavesdrop. I was after Penelope when I ran into you two.”

“It’s alright.” She replied

She started to walk up the stairs and when she reached talking distance I asked,

“What happened between the two of you? You and Penelope. I know you two were the best of friends last season. What happened?”

Eloise seemed hesitant to answer. I did not expect her to answer, but she did.

“Not everyone is the way they appear to be. Some carry secrets. I discovered that Penelope was one of them.”

Secrets? Penelope keeping secrets? That did not seem true. But then again I don’t know what happened between the twins them so Eloise can be telling the truth. If Penelope does have secrets is she keeping them from me? I would like to think that our friendship was stable enough for her to trust me with these certain things.

“If you did confide in Cressida, I don’t think you had any mal intent when you did so.”

Eloise seemed grateful when I said this.

“Thank you. Brother!”

I turned around and noticed Benedict walking towards us. When did he get here?

“Eloise. Miss Clearwater.” Benedict said.

Eloise looked between the two of us and said

“I shall take my leave. It was nice meeting you….”

“Y/n. Y/n Clearwater.”

“Right.”

She smiled at me and then continued to walk up the stairs.

“I am afraid I am keen to return to my family Mr. Bridgerton.”

“Well allow me to escort you to them. And please, call me Benedict.”

#penelope featherington #colin bridgerton #colin x penelope #bridgerton season 3 #bridgerton #benedict bridgerton #benedict x reader #queen charlotte #eloise bridgerton #friends to lovers

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samgavriel · 1 year ago

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#Buy Daisy Diamond Ring #Daisy Diamond Ring #Diamond Ring #Buy Daisy Diamond Ring online #engagement diamond ring

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jasontoddscrowbars · 13 days ago

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Part 3 of 🤮? 💦🍑🐈‍⬛

The Robins had been on patrol. Bruce had taken a rare sick day. It’s concerning. Bruce never takes a sick day. He once threw up on J while tussling with him. He once fell asleep mid swing from a building and landed face first into Superman’s crotch. He once called Slade daddy in a fever dream.

Batman has no sick days.

The Robins (not Tim) were worried sick. They hurried home. They had to check on him. See to him he’s better. That he takes his meds (sedatives) so he can recover (sleep and be experimented on).

They did not expect to hear ear vomit when they entered the cave.

Bruce: I said certified freak. Seven days a week.

Dick, covering Damian’s ears as they come to a stop outside the hall seeing Bruce washing the Batmobile in daisy dukes: good god.

Clark: wet ass pussy got that-

Jason, whipping out video camera: gold. This is blackmail gold.

Dick: this is what they do in their free time? Wash the Batmobile is jean shorts singing cardi b?

Tim: … sluts.

Bruce sprays Clark with hose: I want you to park that big Mack truck right in this little garage.

Dick, sobbing: noooo! Just, no.

Jason: yes. This is amazing.

Damian: this is revolting. They don’t even look good in those shorts.

Dick: ?!?

Tim: Clark looks nice.

Jason drops his camera. Slowly turns back to Tim. He has an expression of horror. Tim is eyeing up Clark’s huge ASSets.

Megan Thee Stallion: I wanna spit, I wanna gulp, I wanna gag, I wanna choke, I want you to touch that lil’ dangly thing that swing in the back of my throat.

Tim, softly smiling in some sort of fantasy: hmm.

Jason retrieves his gun. He’s been saving his kryptonite bullets for a moment like this. As he cocks it, Dick and Damian know better than to intervene. Jason runs in screaming.

Bruce: jay? It’s not what it looks like- Jay? What are you doing! Put the gun down! Clark, run!

Jason: you thirsty mf! Fucking my dad isn’t enough, you have to go for my boyfriend!

*bang bang*

Dick: I don’t think you’re going to be able to see Jon for a while.

Damian: a dead man won’t know.

Tim, with glowing eyes: what size shoe do you think Clark is?

—-

Tim is in the shower. He hears the door creak open. He has knives, guns, and poison darts placed in thirty different places in the room. He doesn’t need them. He can take a man out with one flick of the wrist.

Cardi b: not a garter snake, I need a king cobra, with a hook in it, hope it lean over.

Tim: you’re an idiot.

Jason, poking his head in holding his hand up with a diamond on a band.

Jason, singing: your idiot!

Tim’s fist meets Jason’s nose. Jason falls back, his finger hitting his phones screen making the song skip back. Tim pounces on Jason kissing him deeply.

Cardi b: I don’t cook, I don’t clean, but let me tell you how I got this ring.

#tim drake x jason todd #tim drake #jason todd #batman #dick grayson #damian wayne #clark kent #lemme tell ya how I got this ring #Clark’s shoes size

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icecreamandpizzawrites · 7 days ago

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Soulmates

Ash! Watch out!"

Dawn's voice echoed across the Pokémon Center, but her warning didn't come soon enough. Ash slammed into the doors of the Pokémon Center before crumpling to the ground, groaning as he gently rubbed the red imprint the door had left on his forehead. He could already feel the bump forming just under the surface.

"Are you okay?" Ash looked up, shielding his eyes from the sun's harsh rays. Dawn, Brock, and Pikachu stood around him, wearing similar expressions of concern and surprise.

Ash moaned. "I'm fine, but can you stop moving for a second? You're going to make me sick."

Dawn shook her head. "I'm not moving, Ash, but I think you may have given yourself a concussion."

"Huh?" Dawn narrowed her eyes as Brock and Pikachu sighed in exasperation.

"Here, let me help you up," Brock offered, extending his hand for Ash to grab. Once the world around him stopped spinning, Ash grabbed Brock's hand, and Brock pulled Ash to his feet. "Let's get you inside so you can lie down."

"Honestly, Ash, what were you thinking?" Dawn asked. "Were you even paying attention?"

Despite the pounding in his head, Ash flushed in embarrassment. "I thought it was a sliding door, or, you know, it would open when I pushed my weight against it."

Dawn facepalmed, not at all surprised by Ash's mistake. Still, that wouldn't stop her from pointing out the obvious. When they reached the Pokémon Center doors, Dawn took a moment to gesture to the sign above the handle that read "pull."

Brock chuckled as he helped Ash walk through the doors.

Ash rolled his eyes. "Well, yeah, now I know that."

Misty caught Violet lost in thought for what had to be the millionth time that day, admiring the shiny, very expensive-looking diamond ring wrapped around her dainty finger.

This time, however, Misty had walked into the kitchen to find her other two sisters standing around Violet, oohing and awing her engagement ring. While her sisters bombarded Violet with questions about her wedding plans, Misty grabbed a pint of ice cream and a spoon and sat at the kitchen counter.

"Isn't it beautiful, Misty? At the sound of her name, Misty looked up to see Daisy watching her expectantly.

"I'm so jealous!" Lily gushed. "How much do you think Michael spent on this? It has to be at least two months of pay!"

"I know," Violet replied. "It was so sudden. I mean, we've only been dating six months, but…"

Six months was way too soon to be engaged, Misty thought. Surely, you couldn't honestly know someone in that short of time?

"How do you know he's not a serial killer or something?" Misty asked. "What if he's secretly still married or is on the run from the mob?"

Her sisters looked up, their faces a mix of astonishment and horror. Violet was flabbergasted, looking as if Misty had sprouted another head.

"Michael is a wonderful man," Violet emphasized. "And he is NOT a serial killer or whatever other crazy lies you said."

"He's, like, her soulmate," Lily added. "Her true love. Right, Vi?"

Violet nodded. "He's the most thoughtful, kind, and caring man I know."

Misty didn't think it'd be wise to point out that Violet had said the same thing about her last few boyfriends, so instead, she opted for, "But you've only known him a few months."

"So?" Violet protested. "When you know, you know."

Misty rolled her eyes.

"Exactly," Daisy chimed in. "Like, when I met Tracey, I just, like, knew he was the one."

Lily watched on with wistfulness in her eyes. "I can't wait till I meet my soulmate. What do you think he's like?"

"Or her," Misty remarked.

Lily turned and stuck her tongue out. "I wonder what Misty's soulmate's like."

"Ben's doing great, thanks for asking," Misty replied, gesturing to the pint of ice cream before her. "Jerry gets a little jealous from time to time, though."

Daisy shot a look of pity at Misty, resting her arm across Misty's shoulder. "I'm sure he's out there, baby sister. He's just… a little lost."

"Whoever they are, they can't be that bright if they want to be with Misty," Violet teased, knowing she'd pushed a button.

Lily giggled. "Yeah, I bet they're one of those people who try to push a door that says pull."

"Girls, knock it off," Daisy snapped. "Misty, ignore them. Whoever you end up with, soulmate or not, they're one lucky guy."

"Thanks, Daisy," Misty replied.

#pokeshipping #fanfiction #ash and misty #icecreamandpizzawrites

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frenchkisstheabyss · 2 years ago

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| Pairing | husband!felix x chubby!fem!reader

| Genre | fluff & smut but make it apocalyptic

| Summary | A rouge planet's headed into our solar system, charting a course toward Earth with an 80% chance of collision. As the end grows near you indulge in a few final precious moments of intimacy with your husband.

| Word Count | 1.1kish

| Warnings | unprotected sex but, like, honey it's the apocalypse. a possibility of utter extinction...maybe. the ending is ambiguous because I'm a softie, sue me.

| A/N | I happen to be a retro sci-fi flick nerd, a K-pop nerd, and a hopeless romantic so this is how it manifested. As always, I hope you guys enjoy it 🖤

Extending your arm straight out in front of you, you flex the muscles in your hand. Wiggle your fingers in the ultraviolet wisps that drift through the air and make your wedding ring look like a tiny galaxy, a precious diamond sprinkled with stardust. The Earth is tinted a weathered blue and so are you.

So are the flowers that hug your bare feet as you stand in the back garden of your summer cabin. So are the tomatoes. The radishes. The carrots. The peppers. You can’t help but wonder if this is how the fish at the aquarium feel. Trapped in a blue gradient prison with nowhere to run, haunted by the knowledge that, no matter where things began, this is where it ends.

Your husband quietly approaches your side, twirling a daisy plucked from a nearby field between his fingers. He brings his arm around your waist, gently caressing the plush of your side. You exhale the breath that’s been trapped inside your chest, your body soothed by his touch even on the brink of the apocalypse. Felix tucks the flower behind your ear. It’s blue too. Like him. Like you.

Only it seems to glow and so does he but that’s the way it’s always been. Long before a rogue planet, starless and orphaned, came hurling into our solar system Felix glowed and everything he touched did too. Including you. “How much time left?” you ask, losing yourself in the longing of his gaze. The tips of his fingers delight in the softness of your skin as he cradles your cheek, “With you? Never enough.”

Felix smiles, oh, that smile, and the corners of your mouth curve to mirror his. A moment of serenity, of normalcy, precious but fleeting. In the distance lightning strikes like you’ve never seen it before. Chased by a fierce rumbling in the clouds, it makes the tiny hairs on the back of your neck stand up. Felix clasps your face, grounding you as he kisses you with every bit of love within him.

If this is it, the last moment that he gets with the woman at the very center of his universe, he has to spend it with his lips pressed to yours. His tongue swirls around yours, penning every love letter not yet written on the inside of your cheeks. Lightning strikes again but this time you don’t see that sharp white light crackle through the sky. You don't hear the foreboding rumbling of the sky. Falling deeper under his spell, you’re numb to everything but him.

“Felix” you whisper, your breath chilling the thin layer of moisture on his bottom lip, “Could you do something for me?” “Anything,” he says, meaning it more than you know. “Make love to me…here…like the first time. I just…” He pulls you back into the kiss, cutting your explanation short. There’s no need to explain or to appeal to him. He remembers, exactly as you do, the first weekend he brought you here. How special it was.

You’d been together for a month then, not even official. Felix never invited anyone out to the cabin with him. Tucked away in the heart of a picturesque forest with no neighbors for miles, this was his quiet place but it never felt utopian until you came. The garden had been your idea and it was here, together beneath the rising sun, that you made love for the first time. How serendipitous that it should be your last.

By the time your body’s nestled in the lush grass, you’ve plucked each other’s clothes away like the petals of a flower, leaving them sprinkled around the garden. Seeing you stare up at him, your gloriously curved body bare for him, has him reciting quiet prayers that he has enough time to indulge in every bit of you. For Felix, it’s not about the end. Not about chasing some high or crossing a finish line.

It’s about the gasp you just took when he kissed your neck, nibbling at it with just the right amount of pressure. It’s about the way you grip his hair at the root when his tongue traces your collarbone, massaging his scalp as his mouth meets your pillowy breasts, his tongue twining around your delicate buds. “I love you” he repeats, his professions muffled by hungry mouthfuls of your breasts. But you hear him. You feel him.

Kneading the squish of your belly. Parting your thighs. Swiping his fingers between the silky lips of your pussy. Rolling your clit beneath his thumb. You feel all of it. “I love you too. I love you. Ah…” you whine, something shifting in the air as two fingers ease into you, twisting and curling in response to every faint quivering of your walls. Craving the taste of you, he dips his head between your thighs, drinking the nectar that trickles from you like a stream, making him salivate as the flavor awakens his taste buds.

The rush of euphoria that washes over your body is unyielding, intensifying with each flick of his tongue and bend of his wrist. The world around you is quieter than before, the angelic sounds spilling from your lips the only thing Felix can hear. The only thing he cares to hear. A particularly desperate whine signals to him that the tension within you is ready to snap. “Mmm, not yet” he hums, licking his way up your body, leaving a trail of your juices behind.

Just enough remains that when your mouth parts to welcome him, you can still taste yourself on his tongue. “Felix!” you cry out, the nearly undetectable vibration of the ground coinciding with his length thrusting into you. For a moment, he doesn’t move, he just stays still, basking in the moment, throbbing as you squirm around him.

One of the starry ultraviolet wisps floats into your line of vision. You watch it pass with a strange sense of wonder. “I guess it’s like you always said,” Felix says, his hips rocking back and forth, driving you further and further toward your high with maddening intensity, “You and me to the end of the world.” You nod, the calmness of his voice bringing a certain peace to your mind, “To the end of the world.”

An 80% chance of collision. What that’d do to the human psyche no one could’ve predicted. Somewhere out there cities are crumbling. Lovers are becoming enemies and enemies are becoming lovers. People are bargaining with their gods or cursing them. The world is unraveling. And you?

Well, in your own way, you are too, your back arching and your eyes falling closed as you’re pushed beyond your limits, endorphins flooding your bloodstream. “To the end” he whispers, his arms around you once more, your face buried in his chest.

To the end…

The end…

The End?

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