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wheneclipsefalls · 2 months ago

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Tawtute Sickness (A Precious Drabble)

Pairing: Adult Ao'nung x Hyperfeminine Human Reader

This one shot is from the Precious series. It can be read alone but reading the Precious origin story gives a better experience and context.

Summary: There is still so much that Ao'nung does not understand about Sky People so with your cycle running off track, he is in for quite a surprise.

Warnings: MDNI, explicit talk of menstruation, talk of blood, hormones, hurt/comfort, misunderstanding, dominant Ao'nung, interspecies relationship, aged up Ao'nung, crying, self doubt, insecurity, protective Ao'nung, swearing, PMS, sexual themes, etc.

A/N: This is just a random little fun something I thought of when I was on my period. Nothing like a silly fantasy to help one cope:)

Adult Ao'nung pic by @cinetrix

Another cramp rolls through you mercilessly. With a groan you stuff a handful of stolen popcorn into your mouth. Surrounded by a small parade of stuffed animals atop your bed and drowning in the charm that is Mr. Darcy, there is no better place to take refuge. Your period has sprung into action earlier than expected but you’re proud of how things have been handled.

It had taken copious amounts of bribery to convince Norm to deliver an excuse to Ao’nung as to why you can’t see him for a bit. Although double his age and even in possession of an Avatar body, Norm has always crumpled slightly under Ao’nung’s presence. Even as his visits have become more frequent at the outpost. The sight makes you giggle, no matter how hypocritical that is considering you too were anxious in his company for the first few weeks here.

Despite the time that has passed since feelings were shared between the two of you, there is still a level of intimidation and intensity that comes with Ao’nung’s visits. He is never shy when it comes to sharing his opinions. Half the time it is hard to tell what will come out of the Metkayina male’s mouth next. Although, there are ways to identify the mischief that dances in his ocean blue eyes before.

And neither is he bashful when it comes to sharing his particularly ravenous intentions with you. You would not be able to count on both hands the amount of times you’ve tried to swat his hands away while the two of you are in public. Not that it deters him. With a potential mating on the way it’s clear that the Metkayina prince views you as his own. Even in the extreme heights of embarrassment you can’t resist the wonders that he bestows upon your body. Always leaving your heart pounding at your rib cage and red face tucking under his chin afterwards.

So in a way, you can’t blame Norm for never growing accustomed to Ao’nung’s company.

Regardless, the alibi has been sent and you’ve foraged for the proper snacks and feminine supplies to get your through. Now all that’s left to do is tuck into your room like a locked away princess in a tower and survive the next five days. Everything is going according to plan despite the sudden arrival of ‘Aunt Flow’. And in a few days you will be back snuggled in the impressively bulky arms of a certain Metkayina male.

With a sigh you snuggle deeper into the plush surface. Despite the risk of stains you’ve allowed yourself the luxury of wearing one of your favorite pajama sets. It’s a dusted pink shade of silk that reminds you of the vintage film Sleeping Beauty. With the soft trim of purple lace along the sleeve and shorts hem, you feel like a delicate princess waiting to be rescued. Perhaps a foolish and even childish way to cope but it’s easier to get through the pain when you blur the harsh lines of reality into that of day dreams.

However, it seems reality will not be kept out for long.

Or at least, Ao’nung won’t be.

You hear his pounding footsteps before he even reaches your hallway, the faint echo of Norm’s protests doing nothing to stop that determined rhythm. Norm scatters away once Ao’nung has pushed your door open, with a little too much force that makes you cringe. It’s an under evaluation of his strength luckily and not rooted in any real malice. Not when his eyes now narrow at you with a playful reprimand as his tail swings.

“What have I said about avoiding me, precious?” He clicks his tongue, hands atop his hips as you scramble further under the pillows and stuffies.

You feel foolish for thinking this plan would work but now that Ao’nung is here you are ready to do whatever it takes to conceal your embarrassing condition.

“Not to.” You cake the tone over with sweet innocence and an even more tooth rotting smile. As always it’s done with a certain level of hesitancy, your nerves getting the better of you when his bulking frame is taking over your doorway. Still, you’ve learned there are special ways to soften Ao’nung’s composure.

He takes a few strides into your room, effectively prompting you to scoot back further towards the headboard.

“Hm, so then why is my precious sevin tucking away from me? I’m starting to think you crave some discipline, paskalin.” That sharp curve of a devilish smirk looks stunning along his turquoise lips. And like the true traitor she is, your pussy flutters at the sight.

It’s not fair for him to waltz in here with bedroom eyes and chest still adorned with a hunting harness and weapons. Not fair when your body is literally punishing you for not being pregnant and Ao’nung offers himself up on a silver platter for your nature’s carnal desires. And especially not fair when pieces of those curling strands have fallen from his bun and lay across his collarbones to leave drops of salt water.

You are in no state to be making plans. And definitely not finding ways to coerce the stubborn prince away from something he wants.

“I’m just not feeling well, Ao’nung. Didn’t want to make you sick.”

Ao’nung scoffs at the idea, borderline offended that you would even consider that a possibility. With your delicate state it seems laughable to him that you would be capable of passing on any sort of sickness to him.

“Such a fragile thing.” He steps forward with the roll of his eyes. “Do not worry, I will-”

His sentence cuts off as sharp as the jagged rocks on the westside. Now at the foot of your bed, his nostrils flare visibly. Your stomach tangles in despair, already anticipating where this is going.

“You’re bleeding.” He states, dark tone barely giving you a chance to register his words before he is rushing to your side. Ao’nung crawls onto the bed without a passing concern for the screeching of the bed frame under his weight. Within seconds his large frame is towering over your own smaller body until you are wedged into the corner.

“No it’s nothing really. Well I mean I am bleeding but not in the way you think…or well it’s…” The rambling doesn’t reach his ears, ocean eyes searching over every inch of you to find the injury. Trepidation settles at the looming embarrassment that threatens to follow as you desperately squeeze your thighs together.

Fighting against Ao’nung massive hands that clutch your shoulder and hips to turn you is useless but you can’t resist trying. And then his eyes snap downwards and with it your last shred of hope signed away. A look of utter horror contorts over his face as he stares down at the thin shorts just barely covering your panties.

A beat of silence ensues.

Face now the shade and temperature of a raging bonfire you struggle to think of a response through the fog of humiliation.

“How…” The sound is barely choked out from his lungs. It’s a rare sight to see Ao’nung speechless, every ounce of playful banter wiped clean. And if the circumstances were any different, as in not having that dread painted across his face at the reveal of your bleeding vagina, then you would be tempted to enjoy seeing the mighty male so caught off guard.

His fingers dig into the flesh of your plush hips. It’s clear that his head is struggling to come back online and process what devastating news he has uncovered.

“Well you see-” Your voice unfortunately seems to snap him out of whatever daze he has been in, his body moving into action before you can even finish your sentence.

“I will take you to my mother.” Perhaps the most terrifying sentence Ao’nung could say as he starts trying to pull you into his arms. Embarrassment bleeds into panic. A sense of anxiety bounces between the two of you as he rushes to scoop you up and bring you to the healer’s tent and you grasp at anything to keep from being met with the most intimidating woman on the planet in this condition.

“No wait! Ao’nung it’s fine. I’m fine.” It’s not much use when he already has your wiggling figure dragged to the end of the bed with just one hand around your ankle. It traps you underneath his body in one swoop.

“You are bleeding.” Ao’nung reiterates, sharp canines coming to show with a slight hiss. “Mawey tawtute, she will know what to do.” He nods firmly, but there's a crack of hesitance in his voice. As if the reassurance is really there for himself than anyone else. You’ve never seen Ao’nung so serious before, nor this panicked.

Your pleas for release mean nothing as he quickly gathers you into his arms. Panic and humiliation work in tandem to wrestle you into a state of utter panic. And working more on instinct than real thinking you do the one thing that will grant you freedom.

You grab a fistful of curly hair and yank. Hard.

Dropped back onto your plushy bed as Ao’nung lets out a pained hiss you scramble for the one place you might be able to hide. It’s painfully obvious and stereotypical but your closet is the first and only place you can think to escape the handsome male. The door bangs shut, encasing you in the darkness surrounded by frilly dresses and tickling lace.

You grasp the handle with all the determination your exhausted body can muster. Ronal is a wonderful healer and exquisite leader but quite literally the last person on the planet you would want to witness your embarrassing, very stupidly human, condition. It’s likely that similar to her son she too would not know about human menstruation.

It’s gross. You feel gross. Your entire body aches and as Ao’nung starts to yank on the other handle tears are already welling up in your eyes. From what emotion exactly you haven’t the faintest clue but the weak reaction brings a pit of annoyance into the mix too. Because of course all it takes is your concerned boyfriend who is just trying to help, to put you into another crying fest. This would be the third one this morning.

It seems that whatever god created humans was far less kind than Eywa who at least had the decency to keep women from suffering monthly in the name of procreation. And with that thought in mind, anger comes to intertwine as well.

“Ao’nung stop! I’m not injured!” A rough shout that is anger more directed at your current situation than hands that now swing the door open.

The Metkayina male however is more than peeved now too. He isn’t about to take no for an answer as he hooks a thick arm around your midsection to pull you out.

“Stop struggling.” He growls.

You're halfway to the doorway of the bedroom and Ao’nung is anything but deterred by your babbling about how it is normal, just a tawtute thing. So your mouth makes a decision before your brain can approve it.

“It’s because I’m not pregnant!” A shout loud enough to echo down the outside hallway and freeze the Metkayina prince in place.

What a stupid thing to say. A terrible terrible mistake, you decide as you wiggle out of his grasp to glance up at his face. Now having rendered the male speechless twice in five minutes you feel slightly guilty. And humiliated. Along with disgusting, angry, tired. In fact you may as well feel every emotion under the sun with the way your chest squeezes painfully.

“I’m not hurt. I’m not in need of healing. It’s called menstruation. Yet another wonderful thing about being a human woman. Where my stupid vagina decides to bleed every month because there is no fucking baby in me!” Your screeches make Ao’nung’s ears pin back, your chest heaving with the effort as tears rocket down your cheeks. You can’t find it within yourself to care that this is the harshest language Ao’nung has ever heard from you. Not when sobs are already crawling up your throat and tears blurr the view of the towering male before you.

The same male that is beautiful beyond belief. The same that has somehow found some interest in you. And now the same that has yet another gross reason to rethink being with a human.

“So no I’m not hurt but I am…am…” Trembling lips crumble into a pout. Ao’nung’s tail curves. “I am miserable. Cramping. Tired. So fucking sad because this is the seventh time I’ve watched Pride and Prejudice because I can’t find the other earlier remake of it. And angry because I’ve already ruined a pair of pink panties. The ones with the clouds…that…that took me hours to make and…and I’m so disgusting!” Ao’nung’s eyes are blown wide enough to push his hairless brows into his hairline. “There’s blood everywhere! And I fucking hate it! And…and..my sleeve got caught on the doorknob earlier-”

Strong arms gently pull you until your cheek meets the warm skin of his abs. That simple action is enough to break the dam barricading your emotions. Now in a full meltdown, you paint his swirled skin with your tears and the racketing sobs fill the room sporadically. It feels nice to have something to hold onto, small fingers squeezing his hips as you break down.

Minutes. Hours. Years. There is no recalling how long the two of you spend in that position as you unleash every torturing feeling from your chest. What you do know is that those large hands drawing up and down your back eventually soothe those sobs into small hiccups and then finally into short sniffles.

“You’re not hurt.” Ao’nung checks again, calmly breaking the silence.

“M’not hurt.” You mumble against his skin, soon thereafter mourning the loss of contact when Ao’nung carefully shifts you backwards. Disappointment does not linger for long, however, when a set of turquoise thumbs brush away the tears falling over your cheeks.

Although his expression appears to be nothing related to anger, it’s difficult to decipher what exactly the Metkayina prince is thinking. A part of you wishes to not even venture to guess but that train of thought has already left the station. Another wave of embarrassment floods as you imagine just how ridiculous you must look at this moment. Eyes blotching and red as you cry over a simple natural process that is nothing in comparison to that of which the Na’vi go through to maintain everyday village life. Hiding away from your boyfriend in a sea of stuffed animals and stuffing yourself with popcorn as your way of throwing a pity party all while Ao’nung is still dressed in his hunting gear.

No doubt he has been up since dawn. Fulfilling both physically and socially draining duties to keep the clan running smoothly, in preparation for his time of reign. Ao’nung is everything you are not. You knew it within the first few minutes of meeting him. Perhaps he is not always the most patient or humble, but he is brave. And tough. Oh so mighty and resilient in taking on whatever Eywa throws his way.

How much worse do you appear when coming from that perspective? Still dripping in salt water and spear leaning against the doorframe, what compels him to want to spend time with a whiny thing like you?

“Stop crying.” Large hands bracket the sides of your head as he works to keep up with the dropping tears.

And you wish you could.

You wish you could be more like the mighty warrior in front of you. Years have proven you to be nothing more than a small child that can not let go of her toys. Drowning in day dreams as your silly way to cope.

That truth spins despair back into full swing. You feel even more guilty when Ao’nung pulls you back into his embrace, because who are you to warrant such affection? It’s clear that he deserves someone so much more and yet you selfishly accept the feel of his strong arms encircling you because it makes you feel safe. Because it allows air to properly enter your lungs again at a normal speed.

When Ao’nung takes a knee to match your eye level, you twist to veer away from those crystal-like eyes. The Na’vi doesn’t give you much of a chance as he manhandles you back into place,his tongue clicking in disapproval, so he can look you over properly.

“My poor tawtute.” He coos at you, as if addressing a lost juvenile creature without its mother. “Mawey, oeyӓ paskalin.” [Calm, my dear] And before your brain can register the sweet nectar of his words, larger lips are pressing against your own. The light flutter of your heart is recurrent as he patiently works to deepen the kiss. It’s different from those that fill your passionate nights of lovemaking. Ao’nung patiently pulls you into that bliss until you are melting against him.

Heavy eyes stall in opening once Ao’nung has pulled away.

“Bring your mask.” Ao’nung intstructs abruptly.

“What?”

He has already risen to full height, a large hand resting along your spine to urge you towards the door. Unbothered by your confusion, he takes a well needed sip of air from his own dangling mask. When he does catch a glimpse of your expression he pauses before a smirk tugs at his lips and his tail bats playfully.

“And your bunny of course.” He eyes the discarded toy with lips pulling back just enough to reveal sharp canines. “You will feel better once you are home.”

And suddenly you are no longer confused. It should have been obvious, this most recent topic of argument between the two of you. No matter how fascinated Ao’nung is by your well decorated room he stops at nothing to coerce you to abide in his marui. He has been caught more than a few times even openly smuggling things from your room in the scheme of planting it in his home like bait for his prey.

“Ao’nung no. I can’t come over tonight. Not like this.”

Those hairless brows knit together as he sweeps over your frame once more. It’s clear he finds no flaw in your condition that would prevent you from letting him steal you away to his home.

“And besides I have everything I need right here.” You scramble back over to your bed and begin explaining the little nest you have created for yourself. “Pillows for the perfect position, stuffed animals, snacks, and in another twenty minutes Mr. Darcy is going to confess his undying love for Elizabeth.” It’s clear that the last indication is lost on him as he follows your point towards the small tv.

It’s not his first time observing the thin rectangle that plays moving pictures but it still manages to catch his confused attention each time. His lips curl back and faces squints with an utter look of disgust. The fact that the characters speak in Sky People language never helps to spark an interest for him.

“I’m fine right here, Nung. I promise.” Your soft smile when you perch to sit atop the covers is only met with a scowl. The difficulty in explaining this to Ao’nung is yet another reason you had originally planned to hide away alone until this nightmare had blown over. “Go back to your duties. I’ll be happy here.”

And that is the tipping point for Ao’nung. What is meant to come off as reassurance instead has his hairless brows pinching together and large hands settling over his curved hips.

“You’re staying here for mester darsee.” It’s difficult to take his misplaced anger seriously when he struggles to pronounce the few English words.

“No, Ao’nung that is not-”

“Fine. I will stay.” His massive body is already climbing onto your poor bed before you have another chance to protest. He continues to mutter under his breath. It’s a messy sprawl of annoyed curses and something about you not needing a Mr. Darcy. The giant Na’vi pouts even as he pulls you close to curl his body around yours.

It’s wrong to keep the future Olo’eyktan to yourself like this but watching him sulk like a giant cat is too amusing to pass up. And then there is the comfort that comes with having Ao’nung wrapped around you like a dragon protecting his hoard, so you decide to be selfish.

His curls tickle the back of your neck and a large hand spans over your abdomen. As he rubs soothing circles into your lower stomach you swear the heat and motion alone is better than the battery powered heating pack. The cramps don’t evaporate away but they settle into something more bearable, especially when your favorite scene finally comes onto the screen and you snuggle closer to your ridiculous lover.

Slowly throughout the movie Ao’nung’s hand come to explore south into territory that would have Mrs. Bennett passing into an early grave. That confident exploration is a stark contrast to the simple touches exchanged between your favorite characters, but it holds the same passion. The same tension that has your thighs clamping together in defense against his devious fingers.

You can feel the way his lips curve into a smirk against your ear. Period hormones are your sworn enemy as you are caught between fighting him off in sheer embarrassment and finally letting his hand slip underneath the band of your pretty shorts.

“Don’t worry, oeyӓ tawtute. Next month I will do better.”

The sudden comments has you taken aback. .

“Do better at what?”

“Giving you my baby.” He casually states, unbothered by the way you freeze and struggle to take in oxygen. “This Sky Demon sickness won’t come for you when you are filled with my seed.”

And like a silent promise, his thumb swipes over your lower stomach just as his fingers breach the band of your panties.

I hope you enjoyed this little musing. I can't wait to carry out some of the other plans I have for these two. If you enjoyed it too please please let me know. I can't tell you enough how much hearing your feedback and comments means to me (anonymous or not).

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ma1dita · 2 months ago

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star crossing

a 'partners in crime' installment - luke castellan x dionysus!reader

words: 4k

summary: (established relationship) The one where both your dreams come to life for a night (crossing the stars for love is easier said than done) (Luke Castellan x fem!Dionysus!reader)

a/n: welcome back trouble!verse :) as always feel free to ask about lore, especially with the dreams they have at the end of the chapter that depict different greek legends. (esp: hero and leander, dionysus and ariadne, cleopatra and antony if you need a quick google search!) enjoy! continuing monster mash and studying tonight

posted: 10/25/24

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It was most definitely past your bedtime.

Checking the time on your watch and kicking off your boots at the bottom of the stairs, you yawn as exhaustion pulls you up the wooden steps like strings for a marionette.

1:11 am.

A sidelong glance at the twins’ closed doors and the beautiful, sweet sound of silence greets your swaying form; that’s how you know your day as Camp Half-Blood’s head counselor is finally over. The door to your bedroom is wide open, wood creaking beneath your bare feet as your eyes fall upon the scene before you.

And Luke really, really tried to stay up and wait for you.

“Baby, you still awake?”

The sound of your laughter echoes in the quiet of your bedroom along with the soft twinkle of light that filters in through the linen curtains that dance across your window. To complete the ethereal picture is your love in human form, conked out against the floral bedspread like a chalk outline from a murder scene. You stifle your snorts behind a clenched fist, bending down to his winged shoes that hang off the bed, fluttering a hello to you at the brush of fingertips as you whisper, “Maia.” Even they get to fall asleep before you, closing in on themselves and thudding to the floor when you loosen the laces.

Luke has his cheek stuck between the pages of your weathered copy of Pride and Prejudice—chapter 60, where Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth talk about how they fell in love. You pluck it from his grasp with nimble fingers as you bookmark his page and toss it onto your nightstand. Even watching him sleep has you bubbling with devotion for this boy, and what better way to admit that than to let him know you’ve come home? He still doesn’t stir, even as your knees bump along the sides of his body when you climb over him, slowly sinking into the soft of your mattress and the firm of his midsection. You’ve mounted him like one does a horse, observing his eyes moving under the delicate skin of his lids.

Usually, this works wonders for Luke Castellan, hero, yes—but first and foremost a teenage boy who gets excited when you even look at him the wrong way (There is no wrong way).

“Mm. Mr. Darcy…” you tease, leaning over him and pressing a kiss to his jaw, then nudging his scar with your thumb as he smiles against it. There’s no question needed, he knows you by touch alone, down to the star stuff you’re made of—with the way his hands feel cosmic against your skin as they slip under your shirt and pull you down into the only fights you like partaking in, of lips and love. You’re smiling hot against his mouth, the kiss of life reviving him even as your teeth clink together sounding like a symphony against the laughter lining the beats of your hearts—so close but not close enough.

Never close enough.

“Been waiting for you,” he gruffs, tugging at your bottom lip as he kisses you quickly once more. His voice is heavy with sleep, crackling like an open flame. Luke pushes away the hair that drapes against the shape of your face with one hand, the other resting comfortably around your hip, and you sigh. It’s easier to breathe when he’s near, and the weight of the world feels a little less oppressive as you look down at him—drowsy with sleep and a bit drunk on loving you too much for his own good.

“Sorry, Lu. M’gonna change and then we cuddle?”

He nods, watching your body lift off of him and already missing you as you walk across the room. The sounds that come with your night routine are like ASMR to his sleepy consciousness—hearing the rush of water in the shower, the soft sound of you humming to keep yourself awake. Luke lays there with a small smile, wearing a tie-dye shirt of yours that cuts off at his midriff and boxers that have seen better days. A lot of your relationship is like this—domesticity after hours and mostly away from prying eyes (not if Luke can help it). Some might think it’s boring and there’s only so much to do to entertain yourself hidden deep in the Long Island Sound, but love is in the way he spreads your wet hair over his arm so it doesn’t stick to your back as you lie down. Love is in the gasp you let out when you finally look at the ceiling, glittering and glowing just for you.

“You fixed them!”

And yes, there are stars that dot the night sky outside your window reflecting through the glass but they’ve also come alive on the ceiling of your cabin after all these years. They started peeling a while ago, but you haven't had the chance to fix them yourself. Hand-pressed and fluorescent, Luke restuck them up one by one flying up and around in his shoes while you were off doing night rounds. Even in the dark, he thinks he’d find their faint shine in your eyes, knowing the adoration in your eyes is a sight reserved only for him.

“You like ‘em? I tried to do the constellations but I think I fucked up. There might be two little dippers.”

Your hand slaps his chest and he snorts, breaking out into a grin when you shift against him, “They’re really pretty.” He thinks you’re really pretty—and the ugly face you make when he voices his thoughts still doesn’t change his mind.

Soft fingers trace their way up his abdomen, under the worn fabric of your shirt that he’s stolen and you murmur, “Thank you, baby.” The silence that follows is full—it swells in both of your chests like a balloon about to pop. You always feel like this when you’re with Luke, to be honest. Airy and in a whirlwind, left in the dust after he stirs your insides up to rearrange the mess until everything feels right again.

“I cannot fix on the hour, or the spot, or the look of the words, which laid the foundation. It is too long ago. I was in the middle before I knew that I had begun.”

“Hey!” he jokes, “No spoilers, Trouble. I was getting to the good part.” You roll over, leaning your chin onto his chest. He watches your head move on his body with every breath he takes.

“Luke, that is the good part. You’d know if you didn’t fall asleep.”

“I think I like books better when you explain them to me,” he pouts and he’s so stupidly attractive it makes you giggle. Luke likes the way your laughter surrounds his heart, pounding back against his ribcage as if asking to be let in. “Reading is hard. I don’t know how you do it.”

“I like stories,” you muse, tracing the slope of his nose gently and his eyes flutter shut like a drowsy baby, “Maybe it’s because of my dad but words are so vivid to me. I don’t need to figure out what the letters mean, the pictures play in my head like a movie. Stories are what keep me sane, I think.”

Luke’s hand sifts through your hair, cradling the base of your head. He tugs at it in a fluid motion so that you’re leaning up to look at him double chin and all, “I wish everyone could see the world the way you do, Trouble. I think everything would be a lot more…”

“Chaotic?”

He laughs. It’s a loud sound that comes from his belly and you smack him, afraid that he’ll wake the twins downstairs.

“I’d say fascinating. I’ve never met someone like you,” he smiles thoughtfully, poking the soft of your cheek. You’re pouting now, albeit playfully as you say,” I sure hope not. You’re stuck with me and no one else.”

“May the gods have mercy on us all,” he groans dramatically, the air getting knocked out of him with an oof! when you flop your head back onto his chest, “Fine, I’ll stop. Tell me a story, Trouble.”

“Like what? I can tell you about… What about…” you hum, playing with his fingers, “Hero and Leander?”

“Mm-mm,” he shakes his head, curls brushing against his forehead with the movement. Your eyes are alight now, your mind racing with the thoughts in your head and any inkling of sleep is washed away.

“Cleopatra and Antony?”

“You told my siblings that one last week.”

“Luke, you were snoring by the time I got to the part with Cleopatra fleeing with her troops…” you chuckle as he tugs your hair in protest. You both have a way with words—his are smooth, and yours send him to sleep. Not in a boring way—he could never be bored of you. Every word that leaves your mouth captivates him, calms him in a way that makes him forget that anything bad has ever happened. And anyway, he ripped your copy of that tale back when you were 16. You didn’t talk to him for a week and he was frightened and felt so bad that he snuck out and permanently borrowed a first edition from a bookstore two towns over. It sits in its shiny dustjacket on the top of your shelf. The story of Orpheus and Eurydice was one he knew like the back of his hand after the production earlier this year (who else would you make the kids run their lines with), so that one was out of the question too.

“What about the one with my dad and step-mom?” Your boyfriend is silent, and you think he’s fallen asleep again until his hot breath reaches your face as he sighs, “Are there any stories you like that…I dunno, aren’t sad? Or end in death?”

“Luke, they’re all love stories. Lots of them are star-crossed. What does it matter?”

He sits up on his forearms, looking down at the picture you make laid against him—hair framing your face like a halo and cheeks kissed by moonlight. The son of Hermes blinks at you, a finger reaching out to boop your nose, "Because they’re all tragedies, pretty girl. Tell me something with a good ending. Something real.” You sit up, opposite from him as you lean your head against your shoulder and roll your eyes, “Love at most times is a tragedy, baby. The greatest ones are—and those are real stories!” Luke doesn’t seem satisfied with your answer. How could it be that the greatest love stories have endings at all?

He doesn’t dare think you two would be the same.

There is no conceivable end to his love for you. The Fates would just have to accept that, he thinks.

“I can hear you thinking from here. You’re gonna hurt yourself,” you joke, tugging at his arm. “Angelface. Hey. Just because those stories ended like that doesn’t make them bad.” Luke’s playing with the edge of your quilt and not looking into your eyes. He’s uncharacteristically skeptical, but you’re the daughter of the god of storytelling—you would know better than him. Your expression softens; you’ve never had anyone be scared of losing you until him. It’s always been the other way around. So it must be true then that love is a catalyst because everything changes once you fall deep into it.

“Luke. I’ll tell you a good story.”

“Yeah?” he mumbles, looking up at you like he wasn’t the one who hung the stars up onto your wood-paneled sky. You lean in and kiss him quickly, and he’d think you didn’t mean to if it weren’t for the stupid smile that graces your face afterward, “I like our story the best.”

You two have been in a relationship for almost half a year now, at each other’s wit’s end for four years, and in love…well who knows when that started? It depends on who you ask.

“Really?”

A smile splits the scar on his face. It’s one of your favorite things about Luke Castellan—perfect even with what most consider his flaws. But you know he wouldn’t be himself without it, not anymore. He takes it wherever he goes, even with the weight that scar presses down on him most nights—the touch of humility it’s given him since his quest.

Plus it would’ve taken you much longer to fall in love with the egotistical little fuck he was before that.

“No notes, no rewrites,” you say, biting the inside of your cheek. Sometimes, you need reminders that life isn’t all that bad at Camp Half-Blood. Even if you’re the daughter of the Camp Director, things could be worse than being in bed and watching stars (both real and fake) with your boyfriend at one in the morning. Your face goes numb at the same time you realize something, “Like Mr. Darcy said. I don’t remember when I fell in love with you. I don’t think I could pinpoint it. I just remember thinking that I didn’t hate you like I thought I did. It shocked me more that I liked you instead of the fact that I was in love with you. Deep down I already knew that.” It was an inexplicable pull—something unspoken between the two of you that no matter what happened next, your futures were sure to be intertwined.

“Hmm. If the greatest love stories are tragedies, then what would ours be?” Luke mumbles, his nose grazing against yours. It tickles with the breath of his question that falls against your lips.

“Well, those are stories with endings, Lu. There’s no end in sight for us. I won’t allow it.”

Smirking at him matter-of-factly, you’re positive there’s no other way. Luke Castellan being in your life is the only thing you’d lay everything on the line for. It’s the only confident assurance you have.

“What are you talking about now?”

“With us, we make anything possible, don’t we? Look. Would Romeo and Juliet be as memorable or good of a story if they lived happily ever after?” He tugs at your necklace, pulling you in with a finger as he whispers, “You’re insane.” And though that’s true, he’s happy about it.

“Great love stories are tragedies because they have endings. We have so much living to do!” Springing to your feet, you’re jumping up and down as you bounce on the mattress. Luke’s laughter makes a melody with the sounds of the squeaky box spring as he looks at you from below as you whisper-yell, “It’s nowhere near over for us babe! If I’m crazy, and you’re in love with me—then so are you, loser!” You point at him like it’s an accusation, and well, he can’t argue with that, so he hops up to meet you with an earth-shattering grin, “You’re right again.”

The two of you are jumping up and down like idiots in love, the bed squeaking underfoot as you giggle, half spinning, half hugging until Luke murmurs, “But then what happens at the end?”

It’s never been easy, getting to where you two are—trusting each other with the baggage you came to camp with. Always waiting for the other shoe to drop, always wondering when the gods will laugh at your expense. You’re nuzzled against the shirt he stole from your closet, inhaling citrus and the subtle smell of berries. Luke must’ve used your shampoo again—but the fact is clear.

There is no him without you, or you without him.

“There’s no end if we don’t give up. The people in the stories didn’t,” you say indignantly. Staring up into a sea of amber, he’s unblinking. Luke is actually worried about this—you. “Trouble, all your examples of great loves died.”

“Baby…but until whatever end, they were together. Afterlife, or Olympus—it still ended with love. I just think…” You mumble into his chest, “You and me…we’re crazy enough to brave that. Star crossing.... Even if we’re not gods.” He’s deep in thought now. Luke would go the distance every night even if it meant to see you for even a moment. He’d complete any quest if it meant forever with you, jump ship, and leave all his responsibilities if it ensured your safety, even walk through hell to bring you back. And in that moment, the stars seemed like a cakewalk. Because Luke would do it too, for you.

“I know we are,” he chuckles, “I’m sure of it.”

Soon enough, you’re both tucked under the patterned bedspread, eyes slowly fluttering shut in the silence of the shadows and twinkly stars. The last thing Luke Castellan notices as he tucks his nose against your cheek is that everything from your sleepy eyes to the blinking glimmer of the sky is ultraviolet. The stars are within reach, breathing softly against his neck tonight. He thinks he hears you mutter something just as Hypnos takes him from you, “You’re the first person I ever pictured a future with, you know that?”

As everything fades to black, he knows one thing— you deserve the world.

He just needs to figure out how to give it to you.

—

Perhaps it’s the fact that you’re pretty much sleeping on top of each other, or that even in dreams you want each other there, but there’s a dizzying sequence that takes place in the few hours before dawn breaks. Morpheus, the god of dreams, must be laughing wherever he is—even in his domain you two are inseparable. He allows it just this once; two demigods escaping to a different realm together.

Even gods break the rules if it means for a good story.

—

Winter air blows through the open window of your tower as you wait for your lover to arrive. You cradle the flame in your palm, struggling to relight the lantern through mist and fog and you’re worried he’s lost his way. Rain patters against the stone walls of your prison, catching onto the tendrils of hair that frame your face. It’s been so long already.

He should be here by now. He promised.

You always worry—if all you can do is anxiously pray for his safe arrival, you’ll do it every time until he’s in your arms again. He calls you his Hero, but the fear that wracks your body as you wait here is not a testament to bravery. Each journey of love he makes is—no matter how many hours, no matter if the sea nymphs drag him by the ankles—he will find a way to your guiding light. Leaning over the windowsill, your eyes squint in the darkness, watching raindrops pelt the Hellespont like bullets instead of water.

Your light will lead him home to you, as it always has.

Even if the weather changes, his devotion does not. Daybreak spreads to the horizon, and Aphrodite answers your solemn prayer—bringing you your love in human form. The sight of him steals your breath away as the goddess has stolen his. He fought his way to your door, curls and clothes covered in seaweed and sand. But your lover never breaks a promise, lifeless eyes reflecting the color of the flame hanging in your window.

Such luck it is to serve the goddess of love and have her take it from you.

The decision to jump is as involuntary as breathing. He’s at the bottom anyway, ready to catch your fall. The air is still cold in the morning light—goosebumps ravage your body as you take your journey to be with him.

You trust that it will feel like summer in his arms again.

—

Another day brings another battle, and the end of the war is near. Octavian will be knocking down your door and everything you’ve worked for has gone to hell. You always knew the best lies to tell—you knew what to say to make him run across the continent to see you. A courtesan meant to be his queen, he’d give up his empire if meant you were alright.

It doesn’t matter now.

Your love lays in your arms with stagnated breath and his blood is on your hands, yet still he’s yours. He was yours at the height of the empire, and he is yours as you both hide from the rest of the world in this dusty mausoleum. You are his mortal and unending wound, the biggest loss of his career but his heart’s greatest victory. And you’re breathing—that’s what matters to him; nothing else. Everything he touches turns red and by now, the ocean must be sullied by the blood of his troops.

History will remember you both as villains.

But as the poison sinks its fangs into your system, you interlock your bloodied hand with his with not a signle regret.

Love is your undoing, and there is no greater glory than this.

—

The saddest thing about betrayal is that it never comes from your enemies.

The sand is warm in between his toes and the ship he arrived on is long gone, along with his ex-lover. But in his path to know grief and anger he found you. It was a spiritual awakening in a grove dedicated to your namesake—and from the second he stepped foot into your space, you had to have him.

He’s never encountered a god before, much less one that loved him like you do. You’re made of ichor, sacred, and meant to be untouchable. You believe in him like no other, and he doesn’t think he’s worthy, even if you insist that it’s okay to see eye to eye. Yours are like amethysts on his favorite crown from a home he used to have before Naxos—before he threw it all away for love.

Now he has nothing.

Not a coin in his pocket, just the crown on his head. There is no money or titles here on this island, so he doesn’t understand what about him is so appealing to you. The words that come out of your mouth are insane—though that is your domain, he finds it difficult to believe that you are anything but trouble. You promise him a place with him in the heavens when he’s wasted his life away being left behind by the people he loves and the paths he chose to take. A large part of carving new paths is always having an endpoint.

So he makes one, leaving everything behind again before you can hurt him like he’s been hurt before.

It seems that every path leads to you. Through insurmountable odds, you show up and revel in the pain—you blossom from it, descending into the Underworld and brushing hellfire off your shoulder to save him, a gentle hand outstretched with a promise of eternity and unimaginable riches. He’s been rich before—he had everything in the palm of his hand once upon a time but forever is a path he’s never traveled.

You toss his crown into the sky until it shatters into starlight and smile at him. There is all the time in the universe to watch the stars together.

—

All the small details in those dreams will be lost to you by morning—an inkling of something that almost was or could’ve been, only marked by the faintest touch of time. It covers your eyes and fades away when Morpheus lifts the haze by the sound of your morning alarm. Luke blinks slowly, waking up with you in his arms and feeling like he’s traveled through different lifetimes without leaving the bed you share. The son of Hermes looks down at you lovingly, face smooshed against his neck, trying to chase an ending to that dream in case the gods feel nice enough to let you have a few more minutes of shut-eye.

Somewhere, everywhere, there is a tug of fate that transcends lifetimes for you two to meet.

But in this life, compared to others, you can only hold onto the truth with a firm hand; that you were there last night under all of the stars—ones you’ve touched and the ones you reach for, dreaming of a life to live together.

—

"You and I know each other in our bones." - Kurt Vonnegut

ask to be added to taglist

#made by ma1dita ♥︎#trouble!verse #luke castellan x reader #pjo x reader #luke castellan x dionysus!reader #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo fanfic #luke castellan fanfic

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aliesbienish · 3 months ago

Text

Love at first swipe

Benedict Bridgerton x fem reader. Modern Au.

Warnings: Cheesy AF. Innuendos.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Cute smile. Check.

Kind eyes. Check.

Well written profile with no misogynistic undertones. Double check.

This guy must be to good to be true. Definitely a bot. Or married and cheating on his poor wife. Plus what girl hasn’t been screwed over by a ‘Ben’, maybe he’ll be yours.

Still against better judgement you swiped right on Mr. cute smile, and then called it a day. Closing tinder and setting down your phone, reluctantly getting up to make yourself dinner. Honestly having a partner to share the cooking load was just as appealing as the romance at this point.

Basic spaghetti made and glass of wine in hand you plopped back onto the couch to continue your next rerun of pride and prejudice, the tv show of course. At least you could always day dream of life with Mr Darcy, and if he was always looking like he just emerged from the lake then so be it.

Grabbing your phone to enter into some simultaneous mindless scrolling you saw a notification from Tinder pop up. Oh boy a new match. Maybe you needed more wine.

Of course you couldn’t help being intrigued, so you opened it up to see a new message from the definite robot himself.

Ben: Good evening [y/n], to what do I owe this pleasure?

You: Bit early to determine I’ll be a pleasure isn’t it?

I’m actually only here because I am convinced you are a bot and honestly chatting with a bot is almost guaranteed to be more exciting than chatting with a man.

Ben: I’m nothing if not optimistic. I promise I am not a bot. And before you say it; I know that it’s exactly what a bot would say but it’s also exactly what a human would say.

You: Touché. Alright Ben, prove it.

Ben: Do you interrogate all your matches or am I special?

You: You’re special. But don’t get sappy about it, I’m just suspicious that your profile doesn’t have a photo of you fishing or in front of a car.

Through many years of observation I’ve hypothesised that each human man must show one or the other.

Ben: And have you hypothesised why that may be?

You: It’s almost certainly something to do with their hunting and gathering skills. That or compensation.

Ben: And how was this concluded?

You: Well fishing is obviously a modern (and frankly boring) man’s hunting and gathering.Least amount of work and blood involved. These men want to prove they can provide, but will likely never actually do the real hunting and gathering ie. Grocery shopping.

Ben: Science seems sound. And cars?

You: Well that’s obvious. The bigger and shinier the car the smaller the 🍆.

Ben: I quite agree…but that might be because I own a mud covered beetle.

You: Haven’t you heard it’s best to keep expectations low?

Ben: And risk losing out? No thank you.

You: If you’re real, which the jury is still out, I’m sure that’s not an issue.

Ben: Still? I’m flattered. And while it may not be an issue let’s say why would I settle for bronze when I can have gold?

FYI that’s me saying I think you’re gold

You: thanks for the clarification. You’re really into calling this early aren’t you? 10 minutes and you’re obsessed.

Ben: It’s actually been about thirty minutes if you count when I first came across your profile and haven’t stopped thinking about you since.

You: That is either incredibly honest or an amazing line.

Ben: Oh it’s both. But first and only time I’ll use it, cross my heart.

You: So what next?

Ben: Coffee, tomorrow hopefully if that’s not too soon?

You: Tomorrows great. Meet in the city? Say Leicester Square at 11am?

Ben: Done. I look forward to it.

You: You’d better be real or I’ll hurt you.

You were standing in the square outside of the cinema, your agreed meeting place. Despite the anxiety in you wanting to call the date off you’d made it. It was likely a good thing you only had 24 hours or so to think about it. Ben had been funny and endearing and so damn sure he wanted to meet you. He seemed so lovely that it defied belief, but you were willing to suspend reality.

You felt a hand on your shoulder, and you spun around to come face to face with Ben. In the flesh, as handsome or in fact even more so than his profile photos.

You meet his eyes and suddenly you felt lost in them.

“Hi,” You muttered, a goofy smile plastering your face. “I’m [y/n]”.

“Hi back. My real names Benedict. But Ben is fine. Long story. It’s lovely to meet you properly.”

“Thank god we’re both real,” you laughed.

“To be honest I never had any doubt. When you know you know.”

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Maybe I’m just trying to manifest my own luck on the dating apps 🤷🏻‍♀️

#bridgerton imagine #bridgerton fanfiction #benedict bridgerton fanfiction #benedict x reader #benedict x you #bridgerton fanfic #benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton imagine #benedict bridgerton x reader #bridgerton fluff

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bethanydelleman · 2 years ago

Note

Ranking Jane Austen heroes/men on how good of a father they’d be?

I have faith that all of them would be good fathers. After all, Jane Austen clearly knows what bad fathers look like and she is pretty harsh about them (rightfully). I think all of them would be good in different ways, so instead of ranking, here is their dad type:

Fitzwilliam Darcy: Providing dad, his love language is buying his children expensive toys and praising their accomplishments to relations. He is definitely involved in education and discipline. Wee bit overprotective of his daughters, but you get it, he has valid reasons. Gives his sons handshakes instead of hugs.

Charles Bingley: Fun dad, he's not sure about this whole 'parenting' part... but Baby Charles, did you see this cool rock? Do you want to go up on Daddy's shoulders so you can see the elephant? Do you want to see Daddy's fencing swords? (Oh, good point Jane, we'll put those away for a few years...)

Frederick Wentworth: Teamwork dad, he knows that Anne could totally handle everything herself, but he's not afraid to help. He feels confident removing a toddler from someone's back after all. Occasionally cannot figure out what to do and stares helplessly at his wife.

George Knightley: Nurturing dad DOES BABY GEORGE NEED ANOTHER BLANKET? DOES HE NEED A SNACK? BABY GEORGE, IS THERE ANYTHING I CAN DO FOR YOUR PRESENT COMFORT??? (No, Mr. Knightley, he's fine.)

Colonel Brandon: Affectionate dad, he cries when any of his children hits a major milestone. He feels the need to constantly hug and kiss his children. They are miracles, all of them are miracles, and he is going to make them happy and what happened to him and Eliza will never happen again! They need another hug

Edward Ferrars: Thoughtful dad, constantly thinking about what will make his children feel happy and loved. Encourages them to follow their dreams. Has minor panic attacks if he says or does anything that remotely reminds him of his own mother. Elinor assures him regularly that he's doing an excellent job (because he is).

Edmund Bertram: Interactive dad, takes time to discuss their lessons and answer questions. Very anxious about his children's moral education. Will take the time to draw lines on their letter paper. Will never admit he's wrong even when he makes a mistake.

Henry Tilney: Perfect dad, like honestly, have you met him? He's a 10/10, all the best parenting traits rolled into one man. AND YET, his oldest son thinks he's totally lame.

Bonus: Frank Churchill left his child at Kensington Gardens once twice, but Jane never found out so it doesn't count.

Bonus bonus: Robert Martin totally has a mini-me son who rides beside him on a pony.

#jane austen #question response #great question!#I lied I rated Henry Tilney 1 #henry tilney supremacy #Fun fact: all women who read Northanger Abbey ovulate when they get to the country walk chapter #Austen heroes #but honestly I think they would all be good #and Henry's children will groan at all of his jokes #It will be very sobering for him

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landwriter · 2 years ago

Text

Desperate Measures | Dream/Hob | 1.2K | G v silly and fluffy, literally 90% air, dream attempts a romantic gesture, hob is a sap and forgetful, human au, part text fic

for @domaystic drabbles, Day 6: Under the Same Umbrella

---

Dream woke up to 26 texts from Hob. He put on his glasses and began his morning read. It’d replaced Times for him. The editorial quality, he thought, was far superior.

Hob (7:19 am) heading out, gave you a wee forehead kiss and you didn’t even stir. sleeping bloody beauty. love you disgustingly much x

Hob (7:26 am) couldn’t find my umbrella anywhere can you take a look if it’s not too much of a bother? feel like i’ve gone mad

Hob (7:30 am) christ it’s bucketing down!! standing under the eaves just to tell you how much it’s bucketing down

plants will be happy at least so will my goth boyfriend ;) hope your writing goes well today love. extra atmosphere!!

Hob (8:42 am) nevermind don’t look for it remembered that i left it in my office told johanna she can use it since i’m at the archives all day anyway glad i’m not the only one who’d forget their own head if it wasn’t screwed on :) :) :)

Hob (10:11 am) you should’ve seen the look lisa gave me when i showed up had to dry myself off in the men’s w half a forest of paper towels there goes my carbon offset from walking i said christ you’re probably still in bed asleep warm dry!! lucky bastard

wish i could come back already and drip puddles all over you

Hob (10:37 am) if this keeps up i’m going to look like mr darcy in the rain on your doorstep tonight don’t worry i promise not to propose marriage while insulting you xx although i do love you most ardently

...elizabeth

Dream smiled, read them all again, contemplated, and then sent his reply.

Dream (11:01 am) Sir, I appreciate the struggle you have been through

Hob replied moments later.

?? you sound like a customer service agent wait you’re quoting the film you can’t reject me if i’ve not proposed to you!! yet!!!

Dream snorted. 'and I am very sorry I have caused you pain' went the line. They’d watched it last weekend. Hob had cried, and Dream had privately decided that if Hob proposed, he’d say yes. Even if it was poorly done. It wouldn’t be, though. Not if Hob was doing it. He sent a second text.

...and I am very sorry you were drenched by rain.

Then he got out of bed and shuffled into the kitchen. His phone buzzed anew as he made tea and toast. He smiled at the sound. On their first date, Hob had warned Dream that he had a bad habit of annoying boyfriends over text. Dream, on his first date in six years, had wondered what it might be like to be so effusively charming that you could have enough boyfriends to form habits around them at all. He hadn’t known what to say, and Hob had ducked his head, grimacing a little, and said, “Just tell me to piss off, please, if I do? I know I can be a bit much.”

Dream believed it, because the man was telling him about his habits with boyfriends after one date. Not that he minded. And three months in, Dream had yet to tell him to piss off.

Turns out, a bit much was exactly what he’d wanted. Needed, in truth. Someone to tether him to the real world. His phone had become a modern-day lodestone in his pocket, a comforting pull of Hob-ness that would always point him back to life whenever he’d emerge, blinking and disoriented, out of the mire of his work. Work that he loved - creating worlds out of nothing, writing stories that would change people - but, coming on the age of thirty with nothing to show for it but recurring wrist strain and an upmarket flat that never had any guests, work that had also made him spend so much time apart from the rest of humanity that he was sometimes unsure how to rejoin it.

The tipping point had been when his eldest sister had found out that he hadn’t spoken to anyone else in between two of their regular dinners. Which were monthly. It had been mortifying. She’d smiled sadly, which was excruciating enough, and then gotten the gleam of a plan in her eyes, which had been far worse. “I’m setting you up,” she’d said. “I know just the guy. We go way back. I think you’ll like him.”

He had. Now, when his phone buzzed, he found himself frowning if it wasn’t Hob. (An exceedingly rare occasion.) But this time it was, of course. Four short messages sent one after the other:

hahahaha ok fine that was v good enjoy your day x

Five hours later, not even the curtain of rain awaiting him outside could douse the anticipation in his belly. An idea, he knew, was a powerful thing. Dream didn’t have an umbrella - Hob always shared with him, and would’ve apologetically nicked his if he had - so he would make the first leg of the journey as Hob did. He intended to go and get something nice, but once in the cold downpour, his resolve failed him almost at once, and he ducked into the first shop that had umbrellas in the window.

“Hiya,” said the girl at the counter without looking up from her phone.

Dream ignored her, blinking the rain out of his eyes, belatedly registering all the merchandise had a unifying theme and that he’d made a terrible mistake, borne of sheer desperation.

“Would you happen to have any other umbrellas? In black?” he asked. Hidden behind the counter, perhaps. If only you knew to ask.

The girl looked at him with an air of disbelieving reproval only accessible to teenagers and the very elderly. “You could try Boots, you know. It’s just down the street.”

Dream looked out the window. Rain torrented down. Commuters hurried past with their sensibly coloured umbrellas. From places exactly like Boots.

“Or we’ve got rain ponchos,” she added. It sounded like a threat.

“Nevermind,” said Dream quickly. “I’ll take it.”

“Enjoy your visit in London, sir,” she called out as he left.

He stepped outside and flicked open the umbrella with slightly more force than necessary.

Dream waited a few paces outside the archives, wanting to surprise Hob properly. Two separate pairs of tourists had thought he was their London Ghost Tours guide, and he was beginning to regret not holding out for longer, drenching be damned. Then Hob emerged, striding out and immediately stopping to pull out his phone. He was smiling at it. Dream smiled too, in anticipation.

A moment later his own phone buzzed loudly in his coat pocket, and Hob looked up in surprise.

“Oh my god,” he said. Then he said it again.

“I heard you needed an umbrella,” said Dream. He’d had the line already, since he got the idea. It had been very dashing and romantic in his head. It was somewhat undermined by the dreadful costuming choice that had been forced upon him.

Hob looked between Dream and the umbrella, bafflement melting into a happy laugh. He ducked underneath, pecking Dream on the lips. “I’m not sure I needed one quite this badly. Did you rob some poor tourist?”

“Unhappily, I paid for this.”

“Oh no,” said Hob, pulling away and pretending to inspect him for injury. “My poor darling. Your dignity.”

Dream sniffed. “I will recover.”

“Here,” said Hob. “I’ll carry it for you. You’ll only be guilty by association, then.”

They began walking, a bobbing Union Jack in a sea of blacks and greys. After the chief sin of ugliness, it was also a little small for two grown men, but Dream found he didn’t resent that at all, as Hob tucked him tightly into his side to keep them both dry. People gave them a wide berth. Tourists could never be trusted with umbrellas.

“You’ve rescued me, you know,” said Hob, nuzzling into his cheek.

“It wouldn’t do to have you dripping puddles all over the floors,” said Dream.

“Even if I looked terribly handsome, all wet and ardent?”

Dream bit his lip and smiled a little. “Perhaps you can be wet and ardent in the shower. Instead.”

Hob laughed again. It was Dream’s favourite sound. “Much warmer than the rain anyway. Deal.” Rain drummed down on their private nylon ceiling. “I was thinking chicken tikka masala for dinner?”

And so they made their way home, and although the rain never let up, Dream was so content and warm that he might’ve sworn they were walking in the sun.

#dreamling #domaystic2023 #this is DISTRESSINGLY sweet you've been warned #the sandman #three days in a row!#new record for actually doing a monthly prompt thing #continuing to just write about today's weather and call it a fic #my writing #the sandman fanfic

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starsaroundsaturn · 1 year ago

Text

why do we accept the way that men (and yes, women too) act towards their partners in the romantic genre?

in this post, I'll be discussing sarah j maas, colleen hoover, the pretty little liars franchise, twilight, the vampire diaries, and many more.

many of these I happened upon as a teenager. even as a teenager, I saw some of these as overdramatic and even problematic, but I could see the appeal.

the love interests, all men in these instances, were obsessed with their partners. they were distracted about them.

regardless of the novel, the protagonist can be the stand in for the reader--I am almost certainly not the only one who imagined myself fighting the white witch in Narnia, eating at the Redwall feasts with my companions, dancing with a special someone at a ball, or saving the world with the spy kids. protagonists are made to be relatable, to be appealing, to be somebody we'd love to be or at least like to listen to throughout the story.

and in these romances, the main character is super special. she is the obsession, the person who drives others distracted, she is so, so wonderful that the love interest cannot resist her.

we all want to be that kind of special. we all want to be seen and known and loved and admired. it's not just human, it's human instinct. we want to be accepted, we want to be loved, because that's family, and family means we survive. we need people.

so this is a really attractive premise. this person who we can see ourselves in--she or he is irresistible.

I think that's where we fell into this pit. he can't resist her. he wants her so much he loses control over himself.

it sounded super romantic.

till it didn't anymore.

she is so special and irresistible that he ignores it when she says no (hoover). he's lost control so much that he obsesses over her and watches her when she sleeps and stalks her, because he wants to be with her all the time (twilight). she's so special to him that she's his (soul)mate, and he can't help it if he acts possessively over her all the time and can't bear men looking at her, because she's just that important and irreplaceable (maas). she might be his student, but that doesn't mean they don't belong together! (pretty little liars).

yeah.

when you say it like that.

but the thing is, if you don't think about it too hard--like a smaller me might not have--it sounds exactly like the dream. it sounds like Mr Darcy falling in love with Elizabeth against his better judgement--but then, when she doesn't want him, he leaves her alone, takes the advice she gives, helps her family when it's needed because he wants to take accountability for his mistakes. only when she initiates does he tentatively bring up his interest in her again. when he's accepted, he's overjoyed, and grateful for her love for him.

huh. crazy.

the fact is, I think we've gotten to be so used to the idea that love is madness that we don't realize when it really is unstable, unhealthy--and awful.

we want people to do great things for us. we want demonstrations of love that often we've lacked in our lives. we want somebody to be willing to drop everything to help us and make it better when we're lost. we want a pair of solid arms around us (and I include myself, uninterested in romantic relationships, in that population). (there's a reason I'm obsessed with friendships and father figures and siblings).

we want passion and adventure and excitement.

and I think romance novels, and those who still romanticize these relationships, look in the wrong direction. they take the phrases madly in love and irresistible in the direction of unstable, passionate desperation rather than steadfast care and devotion.

I loved the phrase madly in love when I was a kid. not so much anymore.

#romance #love story #meta

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wannab-urs · 10 months ago

Text

Outtakes - Monsterfucking

AO3 | Kofi | Main Masterlist | The Spreadsheet Masterlist

Howdy folks!

Here's a list of fics I've read where either the Pedro boy, the reader, or everyone involved is a monster of some sort.

Summaries and tags are, in most cases, provided by the author - please be sure to read them as some of these fics may have content you do not wish to read.

Pedro boys currently included are: Joel Miller, Ezra, Din Djarin, Dave York, Marcus Pike, Dieter Bravo, Jack Daniels, Frankie Morales, Oberyn Martell, Max Phillips, and Tim Rockford.

updated 5/24/2024

Demon

Met the Devil Last Night

Joel one shot by @pedgito

I made a joke about wanting to screw dirt-covered Joel even if he was deep in the trenches of hell and...well, yeah. This is pure filth and nothing else. Porn with minuscule plot, if you will

fem!reader, demon!joel, no specific age gap since dude is a literal demon, but reader is early 20s and I picture Joel to be his younger self (around 36), mentions of su*cidal ideations, this all a completely made up concept pls don't come for me about rituals, ect i will cry. virgin!reader, reader's father is a priest and horrible (just a total douche)/mother isn't alive, spitting, oral, unprotected piv, blood drinking, competency kink, innocence kink, mutual masturbation

In Every Lifetime

Ezra series by @xdaddysprincessxx

It’s fall of 1974 in your quiet small town of Chesterfield when everything falls apart. Or is it the beginning?

Reader is mid to late 20s, witchcraft, tarot, yes the witchy things depicted in this is real witchcraft things, use of Latin

Common Courtesies

Din one shot by @juletheghoul

Pride and Prejudice vibes but Mr. Darcy is a sex demon

**pussy-eating** language, age-gap (legal, reader is of age) dirty talk, supernatural elements, sexist society, sexist comments from readers father

Solum

Dave York one shot by @ezrasbirdie

Are you lost?" Your heart seizes with fear at the deep rumbling voice, head jerking to look in the direction it came from. It’s too dark. You can’t see anything. "Who’s—who’s there?" You ask, hoping you sound braver than you feel. "You didn’t answer my question,” it said. “Are you lost?' You swallow. You shouldn’t be here. You’ve never stepped foot in this building before today. You have no business here. But lost? No. You’re exactly where you set out to be.

SMUT, dubious consent [reader wants to be with him, but he's a demon so you know—it's a little influenced]—dead dove, this is horror and Dave York is an actual demon who kills people, graphic violence, body horror, a dash of blood kink, oral sex

Sell My Soul For You

Marcus P one shot by @absurdthirst

During girls night out, you accidentally dial your boyfriend, Marcus Pike. He hears you complain about how vanilla your sex life is and that you need to him to be more dominant. Marcus proves he’s willing to do anything to please you, even if the cost is his soul.

Angst, hurt feelings, demon possession, dominant!Marcus, oral (male and female receiving), face fucking, spanking, pussy slapping, spitting, fingering, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, bondage/handcuffs, anal play, double penetration (fingers and cock), soft aftercare.

Incubus

Crawling Back to You

Dieter one shot by @prolix-yuy

Have you no idea that you're in deep?

religious corruption kink, bastardizing prayers, brief drug use, mentions of alcohol consumption, grinding, oral sex (f receiving), fingering, breaking a hymen, descriptions of blood, biting and drawing blood, pheromone incubus anatomy, size difference/kink like whoa, monster transformation, monster fucking, PiV sex, wildly unrealistic sex, kind of dubious consent in the way that she has no idea what she's getting into so Dieter checks in A LOT, consent is sexy and monsters especially should ask for it, Reader has no idea what she's doing when it comes to summoning an incubus.

Dream Within a Dream

Ezra one shot by @gasolinerainbowpuddles

Your dreams have become the escape from your draining life. When you discover you are not alone in your dreamworld, will all the aspects lacking in your waking life be fulfilled by your handsome companion?

dream fucking, loss of virginity, depictions and deviations of supernatural lore, erotic gore

Cryptid

Mothman Fever

Joel one shot by @beskarandblasters

You and your friends head to Point Pleasant, West Virginia in late September for the Mothman Festival. And that’s where you meet Joel Miller, a fellow Mothman enthusiast. But once you spend some time alone with him you realize that he’s not who he says he is.

Smut, canon divergence, semi-public sex, alcohol, no outbreak, pet names (luna), oral sex (female receiving), vaginal fingering, PiV sex, sex pollen, dubcon, monsterfucking

Oh, Honey

Joel series by @lincolndjarin

you’ve been given a gift. a fresh start in a brand new place, the sleepy little town of Honey, WV. a distant aunt has passed away and left you a little plot of land and her camper, the stars must be aligning for you because the local mortician is looking for an assistant and you’re desperate for the work experience. your new employer even offers to set you up with her brother-in-law! things are looking up, you’ve got a brand new home, a new town, a hot date, (and thanks to a series of bear attacks that started immediately after your arrival) you have more than enough work to keep you busy!

Soulmates AU, eventual smut, teratophilia, graphic descriptions of violence, explicit descriptions of menstruation, graphic descriptions of the mortuary process, horror, depictions of extreme fear, body horror, graphic depictions of death, eldritch horror. this is a monster fucker fic, proceed accordingly

Sanguine

ˆEzra one shot by marisferasiop

since being turned as a boy into- whatever liminal state of cryptid he is now- Ezra has walked this earth ageless and alone, never finding his place or a partner for long. He interrupts your meal in the city one evening, and brings you home to strike up a deal; feed from him, alone, and keep one another safe from discovery. The fact that he finds his purpose under the soft graze of your teeth and home between your thighs is a nice side effect.

lots of blood, smut, soft yearning sweet boy Ezra, mapuche mythology and monsters, schmoop. Ezra is a subby little sap in this.

Tentacles

MDKT Sex Pollen

Joel one shot by @theywhowriteandknowthings

Your patrol with Joel goes a little sideways

Dead Dove Do Not Eat/DDDNI, noncon/heavy dubcon, body horror, tentacles, mouth r*pe, double/triple penetration, bondage, non-consensual bondage, choking, deep throating, pheromones, sex pollen, tentacles, mind fuck/mind break, brainwashing, guilt, trauma, trauma bonding. Let me know if I missed anything.

Taungsdays, am I right?

Din one shot by @theywhowriteandknowthings

You awaken to find yourself and Din in an alien position.

Smut, dubcon/noncon, pheromones, tentacle sex, bondage, mind-fuck, alien sex, unprotected PiV, anal sex, double penetration, dirty talk

The Stranger the Better

Dieter one shot by @seventeenpins

Dieter gets tentacles. That's the fic.

uhhhh this one has a whole lot: importantly--TENTACLES!, lots of viscous body fluids, slight dubcon due to tentacles with a mind of their own??, buckets of cum, piv, tiv 👀, dieter is a switch, sex parasite, anal, masturbation, body horror, idk they're freaks and it's great, reader has a vulva but gendered language is not used

Dragon

Promise

Ezra one shot by @criticallyacclaimedstranger

You are taken from you village by a dragon, and he has an obscene proposition for you.

Human/Monster Romance, Monsterfucking, initial dubcon (sort of a damned if you do damned if you don't deal), dragon fucks reader, Breeding, Oviposition, Stomach Bulge, PIV Sex, Loss of Virginity, Painful Sex, Cunnilingus, Fellatio, dragon!ezra is really good with his tongue, Squirting, All's well that ends well though, seriously I don't know how to warn for this fic guys, dragon biology is weird, DON'T LOOK AT ME! Light Bondage, drugging, pet names

Werewolf

Bad Moon Rising

Jack series by @wardenparker

When a handsome stranger called Jack shows up on your struggling ranch looking for work, you’re more than happy to take him in - and into your bed, as well.Death of a parent, loss of a spouse, general family drama.

Vaginal sex, oral sex, rough sex, Save a Horse Ride a Cowboy is basically a life motto here, Gunshot wound, first aid things, blood mention, raw meat mention. Vaginal sex, oral sex, rough sex, so much cum, size kink, squirting, anal play/ass eating, monster fucking.

Shifter

SNAFU

Frankie series by @theywhowriteandknowthings

You’ve done this thousands of times, brought new teams to heel, be it in Britain, Japan, Korea, yet the States are always the hardest to wrangle, the mixture of over-hyped masculinity, the general military bravado, whatever it was, you always ran into trouble. But nothing has ever come close to the new Shifter Charlie Team, and boy, are you in for the biggest challenge of your life.

Canon-Typical Violence, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Shifter AU, Eventual Smut, Eventual Romance, eventual Frankie x reader, former Jason x Reader, Smut, Fluff and Smut, Military, Porn With Plot, Slow Burn, Pack Dynamics, Pack Cuddles, Pack Building, Strong Female Characters, strong female lead

Alien

Kudzu

Ezra one shot by @beskarberry

a familiar stranger shows up at the doorstep of your infirmary with unfamiliar wounds. You're no doctor, but masquerading as one makes you the only one in the position to save his life. Can you win out against his extraterrestrial illness, or will his new abilities stake a claim in you as well?

NON-CON/DUB-CON, human/alien hybridization, forced breeding/impregnation/birth, rough/feral sex, sex pollen, body worship, cervix penetration, cum inflation, knotting, a wisp of a/b/o. Nonsexual: wound care and dressing, hurt/comfort, a little whumpish, shootouts, blood, dumb jokes, cheesy ending

Jizz Fingers

various boys series by @gasolinerainbowpuddles

An intergalactic creampie love story.

Smut, alternate universe, aliens, crack fic, penetrative vaginal sex, creampie

Mermaid

Rises the Moon

Joel one shot by @psychedelic-ink

As the man responsible for operating the lighthouse, Joel lives a solitary life on the isolated coast. He has no complaints, enjoying the hauntingly beautiful songs that echo from the sea at night. One stormy night, he rescues a mysterious mermaid tangled in a fishing net. As you recover in the lighthouse, the two form an unlikely bond and find comfort in each other's company.

mention of joel from time to time visiting a brothel, loneliness, mermaid anatomy things, oral (fem receiving), piv, touch starved!joel and reader, mild breeding kink, squirting

Swamp Creature

Beneath the Mire

Ezra one shot by @bonezone44

You're a human-turned-swamp monster and a man crashes into your corner of the bayou.

DDDNE, Non-con somnophilia. Blowjob. Unprotected p-in-v.

Vampire

Sated

Joel one shot by @softlyspector

Joel just wants you to eat well

love as being consumed, blood drinking, smut from start to finish (piv, f!receiving oral, fingering), Joel's praise kink, talk of eating, consuming, drinking, hunger, etc, vampires you get it.

Attraction Spell

Joel one shot by @jksprincess10

Vampire Joel finds witchy reader in her shop asks her for a love spell

DDDNE, noncon/dubcon, stalking, blood play, using blood as lube, ambiguous ending, unprotected p in v, fingering, praise kink, choking, pain kink, rough sex, minimal editing.

Bleed for me

Din series by @saradika

When it's revealed that the Mand'alor is seeking a companion, you find yourself among those hoping to be chosen. A life of luxury in exchange for your blood seems a fair trade - even if you're hiding a closely-kept secret. One that would certainly put your life in danger.

vampires, alternate universe, canon divergence, blood/drinking blood, shared memories, angst, death/violence, biting, body worship, possessive!pleasure!dom!din, implied aphrodisiacs, mind meld, praise kink, oral, piv, marking

The Special One

Joel one shot by @toxicanonymity

You meet a handsome stranger on a night out with friends. The last thing you're expecting is to be chained up in his basement.

Smut, age gap, alcohol, drugging and kidnapping, chains/restraints, blood and its consumption, oral sex (female receiving), period cunnilingus, dubcon, held in captivity, reader can menstruate, male masturbation, vampire!Joel, alternate universe, dark!Joel

Vampire!Dieter

Dieter one shot by @chronically-ghosted

Interview with a vampire, gatsby style

flirting, a bit of blood, maybe dubcon due to The Thrall but i think it's safe to say we all want It from vampire!dieter, unbeta-ed because i needed to write something or someone was going to die

vamp but it's you

Everyone at this party's a vampire

Dieter one shot by @idolatrybarbie

"you look so pretty like this."

briefly discussed necrophilia, innuendo, heavy petting

Sanguine

Ezra one shot by @marisferasiop

lots of blood, smut, soft yearning sweet boy Ezra, mapuche mythology and monsters, schmoop. Ezra is a subby little sap in this.

vamp but it's everyone

a court of fangs and foxgloves

Oberyn/Max P one shot @psychedelic-ink

After you left the court and hence Oberyn, no one is eager to forgive you for your betrayal. Especially those closest to you.

Smut, MMF threesome/orgy, voyeurism, mlm dynamics, Dom/sub dynamics, sub!Max, switch!reader, dom!Oberyn, rimming, ass play, anal sex, penetrative vaginal sex, biting, mentions of blood, vampirism

I Bite Back

One shot by me

Max Phillips is seemingly always in command, always domineering, always on top… except when he’s with you.

Dom!Reader, Bratty Sub!Max, pegging… duh. This is technically monsterfucking also lmao. Aftercare is implied because I'm implying it here, I didn't write that in. Oh also vamp!reader if you want but I don't really make that explicit

Red Right Hand

one shot by me

You and Max have dinner and then you get freaky. It’s almost too much for poor little Maxxie to handle.

Pure porn, pwp, Blood drinking (they’re both vampires), minor character death (your victim lol), murder… obviously. sub!Max, Dom!reader, unprotected PiV (they’re vampires, you are not), uhhh blasphemy probably, face riding, cum eating, Max’s vamp face, oral m! and f!receiving, overstimulation m!receiving, multiple male orgasms, refractory period nonexistent due to vampire fuckery, ass play m!receiving, praise kink, use of pet names/titles (Mistress for reader/ baby boy, pet, Maxxie, and one surprise for Max), aftercare, no use of y/n.

Only Lovers Left Alive

Joel Series by @atinylittlepain

He offers her another option between life and death. How could she refuse?

Smut, dubcon, gore, blood and bloodplay, dark themes, cowboy!vampire!Joel, set in the past, alternate universe

vamp but it's max phillips

With Cherries on Top

series by @ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa

After countless late nights and giving up important things in your life for a job and a man that refuses to promote you, your family begs you to quit when you break it to them that you have to miss your grandmother’s 85th birthday. Max Phillips may have left the country an American citizen but he came back an undead vampire, meaning his status in the States is no longer valid. In order to not get deported to Romania, he tells immigration that the two of you are getting married and he strikes a deal to make it worth your while.

Smut, language, adult themes, sexual innuendos, workplace harassment, family issues, angst, hurt/comfort, manipulation

A Little Lipstick Never Hurts

Reader/Max/Dieter series by @max--phillips

Max tries to skip his morning inspection, but gets caught breaking one of the rules you set for him anyway. A punishment is in order. / Max realizes a fantasy, and you enlist Dieter Bravo to help you deliver. / You receive a very hot video from your boyfriends while you are at work. The making of said video requires Max to break some rules you'd previously set out for him. He and Dieter make it up to you very easily.

Forced Feminization, but it's consensual, Femdom, Chastity Device 24/7, D/s dynamic, Sex Toys, BDSM, reader referred to as Mistress and Ma'am, Impact Play, Riding Crop, Bondage, Anal Fingering, Pegging, Butt Plugs, Degradation, Deepthroating, face fucking, gagging, spit, ruined orgasm, Nipple Clamps, Cum Play, Cum Eating, Oral Sex, Aftercare, there is NO misgendering, Max's ass does get referred to as his pussy and his dick his clit, but that's as far as that goes, MMF, threesome, PIV, double penetration, cock cages, ball gag, choking, max is a vampire, blow jobs, sex tapes, cum swapping, rule negotiations, fluff

Reflective

series by @prolix-yuy

His management style is effective AND refreshing. And as his executive assistant, you’re partially to thank. But as your professional relationship blurs, are you getting too close to the middle manager monster of nightmares?

horror elements and themes, graphic descriptions of blood including drinking, background character un-death, violence, fingering (f-receiving), vomiting (not descriptive), descriptions of a panic attack, a dabble of sleazy coworkers, playing fast and loose with vampire lore. mirror shenanigans, fingering (f-receiving), oral sex (f-receiving), PiV sex (don’t be a fool wrap your tool), playing fast and loose with vampire lore.

Lust for a vampire

one shot by @idolatrybarbie

A lot of oddballs and strange characters visit a vampire strip club in a tourist town on the border. Max Phillips is unlike any of them.

Smut, mentioned drug use, background sex work, dubcon, supernatural stalking, blood, pussy slapping, orgasm denial, spit, physical altercation, vaginal fingering, pet names (sweet thing, honey, sweetheart)

The Impaler

Tim Rockford/Max/Reader one shot by @kiwisbell

Chief Detective Tim Rockford makes a breakthrough in New York City’s latest serial killer case. The mysterious culprit is in the mood to share more than information.

vampires, gothic architecture, slightly dubious consent, implied mind alteration/control, murder, death, blood, threesome, lots of biting, spanking, spitroasting, masturbation, DVP, fingering, unprotected PIV (wrap ur vampire dicks pls), wife sharing, free use kink, oral sex (f and m receiving), exchanging fluids, spitting, disgusting and filthy, max using cringey nicknames for reader’s pussy but it’s charming bc it’s max, handcuffs, light bondage, hair pulling

I cannot get you close enough

one shot by @leslie-lyman

“You have to invite me in, sweetheart.” Oh. Right. Vampire. “Come in, please,” you say demurely, and Max’s smile widens as he steps over the threshold into your apartment. He reaches for you again immediately, kicking your door closed and pulling you close. “Good girl,” he murmurs. “Such a polite little Omega.”

A/B/O dynamics; one small scene of men being creepy and threatening towards reader (but, perhaps surprisingly, one of those men is not Max); extremely self-indulgent Halloween costumes on the part of your author; a bit of angst; fEeLiNgS; absolutely way too much plot and character backstory for what was supposed to just be porn; Alpha!Max is his own warning; heat sex; biting; blood-drinking; breeding kink; many, many creampies; Max has an absolutely filthy mouth; look, it’s heat sex with Max, it probably (hopefully?) entails exactly what you think it does

All Mouth

one shot by @idolatrybarbie

max phillips and prompt no. nine— "you look so pretty like this." with a twist!

reader is not American/not an "American vampire", porn with mild plot, pet names (honey, baby, sweetie, Maxxie), all the usual vampire genre warnings, including but not limited to - graphic blood and gore, cannibalism, mention of scars, horror themes, love as consumption, smut - mommy kink, degradation (max gets called a slut), cock slapping, dacryphilia, orgasm denial, handjob, alcohol mention, fluff.

It Will Come Back

Max Phillips one shot by @beskarandblasters

Against your better judgment, you let Max drink your blood.

reader is able-bodied, blood sucking, unhealthy dynamic between Max and reader, fingering, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, creampie, pet names (baby), dark ending kinda???, idk maybe a little out of character for him but fuck it we ball, no use of y/n

Crawl

one shot by @proxima-writes

Gym owner Max Phillips offers to let you use the sauna. In return, he uses your mouth.

explicit sexual content (18+ MDNI), no use of y/n, able bodied reader, dirty talk, crawling, oral (m receiving), no aftercare, semi-public sex.

Happy Reading!

#i meant to set this to post on my birthday oops #fic recs #the spreadsheet digest #fanfiction recommendations #pedro pascal #pedro pascal character fanfiction #ppcu fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfiction #the spreadsheet outtakes #the spreadsheet digest outtakes #outtakes #monsterfucking

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flying-nightwing · 1 year ago

Text

If I May (pt. 1)

Fuck it, Pride & Prejudice AU

This was hastily written while I was up in my feelings after re-re-re(x5) watching the movie (2005) because I needed a Mr. Darcy-esque Jason fic or i would have died. This is therefore extremely self indulgent. I'm also very rusty so forgive me if some parts aren't smooth. Expect a part 2 soon. And as always, enjoy!

Pairing: Jason Todd x f!reader

Word count: 3705

Warnings: none

Summary: You are a merchant's daughter who's trying to live a decent life, even if it means forsaking your own happiness. However, one short meeting with a stranger on a balcony sets you on another path, and you're not sure how to feel about it.

Gold light, marble floors.

Violin, harpsichord, laughter.

Sapphire eyes and mahogany hair, a blur of diamonds and pearls. A hundred feet dancing and twirling to the melody, the rustle of fabrics moving along with them to create colors and shapes out of a dream.

A night that seemed to never end.

Your corset was too tight. You curtsied your partner as the music came to an end, excusing yourself for a moment. You had to get out of that crowd, to get away from the man in front of you. You made your way toward the balcony, your pushing becoming less and less ceremonious as you went. Your breathing was shallow yet couldn't be fast enough as gloved hands rose in indignation at your less than ladylike behaviour.

Hadn't you reached the glass door when you did, you believed you would have cried. The sudden cool air allowed you to take a deep breath as you threw yourself forward, holding your hands out on the rail to catch yourself. You closed your eyes and took a moment to gather yourself, then turned around and gently closed the door, effectively muffling the new song that started with a roaring cheer from the crowd.

Slowly, you returned to the rail and guided your stare to the night. The sky was clear and the stars were bright, but it didn't ease your mind like it always did.

It was all wrong.

Everything was wrong.

Your father passing away, your step brother giving you an ultimatum to marry this season or join the Sisters, as he had no intention to keep you on his newly inherited estate, your mother who was still sickly and bed ridden.

You weren't poor by any means, but you weren't a part of the high society either. Your status was decent, and your name was respected enough to earn a good match. But with your father's unexpected passing and your step brother's petulance, you came with a bed ridden old woman to take with you, and that displeased many of the potential marriage candidates for you.

So when one began courting you with the full knowledge of your situation, as in, knowing your mother would move with you to his estate, you didn't resist. You reciprocated the courting, and danced with the man at every ball, and walked with him in the gardens. He wasn't particularly beautiful, he was a bit on the older side, and his interest appeared to be lying in the fact that he had resigned himself to settle, to marry the least ugly woman with the least trouble following her.

But he was also from decent money, with a respectable name and estate, and he most likely wouldn't treat you badly, which is more than you could have hoped for in such short notice.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

You practically jumped out of your skin at the voice coming from behind you. With a shriek of terror, you slapped a hand on your chest and spun around, your eyes stopping on the stranger that seemingly appeared out of thi air on the balcony with you. He held up his hands in front of him while his mouth curved in a cryptical smirk.

“Easy there, forgive me for scaring you” He spoke as he slowly stepped forward. As he came closer and into the light, you took in his features. His voice had been low and smooth, perfectly fitting his strong jaw and black hair, you decided. He was quite young, around your age if you had to guess, but his ocean blue eyes reflected a wisdom well past his age. They were hypnotic, you also concluded as you forced yourself to look away before drowning in them. You cleared your throat. “Running away from the party?”

You blinked rapidly at his words as they brought you back to Earth. “Well, just–Not running away, it's a lovely ball–”

Your mouth kept going on its own. You had no idea who that man was, or what was his relation with the family who hosted the ball. You didn't want to accidentally insult him.

You felt your face heat up when you noticed the amusement dancing in his eyes, or the smile he was trying to hold back. Luckily, he spoke before you could babble anymore.

“It's fine, I was running away from it too” He supplied as he went to stand by the rail beside you, no doubt aware of your eyes on him. “Dreadful affairs”

You let out a quiet breath, glad you wouldn’t be judged for wanting a break. “I don’t find them to be so bad… Usually”

His scoff was half hearted. “Some pretty boy broke your heart?”

You knew he was saying this as a joke, his relaxed posture and humorous tone said as much. Still, it stung a nerve you didn’t even know was sensitive. It reminded you that you’d never get to experience the regular courting, the regular game of yes-no-maybe the other girls your age would go through. You were aware it was a strange thing to wish for–drama and heartbreaks that is–but simply knowing you were robbed of it made you sad.

He definitely noticed your shift of attitude, because his good mood dropped into concern. “Wait, some pretty boy did break your heart?”

You shook your head. “No, no not that” You hesitated before speaking, but he patiently waited for you to do so, so you went for it. After all, you had never seen this mysterious, handsome man before, and you’d probably never see him again. You took a deep breath and turned to face the stars. “My father died in the winter. My mom has been sick for a year now. And when my step brother inherited the estate, he told me that I had until the end of the season to marry and take my mother with me”

He frowned. “My condolences” He said, eyeing you carefully. “But I believe someone looking like you shouldn’t have trouble finding a good husband”

You laughed humorlessly. “You’d think that, wouldn’t you” You mumbled as you glanced up for a second. He seemed confused. “I am on the lower side of my social class. My step brother will not give a dime for the wedding. I come tied with a sick mother. I could be the most beautiful thing in the world and I would still be a prospect for desperate men and old widowers”

He waited for a moment before speaking. “And you know this because you have one, don’t you?”

You nodded slowly.

“I’m sorry”

“What for?” You tilted your head. “You’ve had no part in it”

His eyes found you and you glanced back, looking at his partially shadowed face. For a moment you could let yourself daydream that he was the one who’d propose to you in the upcoming weeks, that he would bring you in his kingdom far away from your step brother and this miserable marriage that would await for you. But then, you had to return to reality and forget your little fantasy. This man wasn’t yours to claim.

“I’m sorry that you won’t be able to live your life the way you desire” He said, seeming more genuine than anyone you’ve ever met. “Everybody deserves a chance at happiness. I hope you may still find it despite of everything”

You tore your eyes from him as your vision blurred, as you did not want to let the stranger see your tears. You hastily wiped them off, and when you looked to where he stood again, he was gone. You glanced around, searching for any trace that he hadn’t just in your imagination, but the stranger was nowhere to be seen. You blinked, returning your eyes to the stars for a minute. You recomposed yourself and smothered your dress, then returned to the ball.

—

“I still can’t believe we got an invite” You said as the carriage crossed a stone bridge. The sun was going down and the countryside looked positively marvelous.

Your step brother scoffed at your words, like they were a ridiculous claim. “Of course we did. The Duke obviously recognizes the importance of my business. Now that I’m in charge, I have made much better decisions than the old man, and it’s blooming like never before. In no time, I’ll become a proper lord, a baron. Or even a viscount”

You bit your tongue not to answer that it was your father who built the business, your father who made the right decisions years ago, your father that allowed him to reap the fruit of his labour. “I’m sure he does, and I’m sure you will”

“By the way” He eyed you cryptically, ignoring your lack of enthusiasm. “Has Mr. Degras shown signs he would propose soon?”

You opted to look outside instead of meeting his eyes. “Yes. The marriage is pretty much certain, as he is not courting anyone else and neither am I. But I think he’ll wait until just past midseason to actually propose, not to suggest anything untoward about the whole affair”

He hummed, disinterested. “Yes, well, the sooner the wedding, the better. Wouldn’t you say?”

“I would” Your reply came mechanically. You did not especially look forward to your marriage, but moving far, far away from the man in front of you did sound appealing right at this moment.

“Good”

The scenery quickly changed and you couldn’t be bothered to listen to your brother ramble about his business. A manor greater than anything you’ve seen before appeared through the neatly trimmed trees of the property, and you gasped at the sight. There were many other carriages, all much more grand than yours.

No sooner than later, you pulled to the entrance. A valet opened the carriage door, and your step brother all but pushed you back on the seat to get out first. With a muffled oof, you pulled yourself straight again and followed your step brother out. The valet offered a hand and an apologetic glance, helping you step down on the gravel. You returned a smile to him, following your step brother from afar.

If the outside was grandiose, then the inside of the manor was totally mind blowing. You couldn’t help but gawk in awe at the details on the structure, and the intricate decoration. YOu barely noticed the crowd chattering along the foyer. You however began questioning the reason for your invite the more you explored the manor. It didn’t take an idiot to see that the people around you were draped in visibly more expensive fabrics, and their behaviour was distinct from the ones you were used to. Your suspicions that you hardly belonged there were only confirmed when you stepped in the grand ballroom, where literally none of the other families of your status were present at all.

Then, you saw it. Or rather, you saw him.

The Duke was standing proudly at the front of the room. His black and yellow-gold coat striking out from the crowd, but not as much as his sharp features. But he wasn’t what caught your attention, probably unlike anybody else present. It was the stoic face of his tallest child beside him, head high and shoulders square, glance forward and unmoving. On his dark red coat were multiple military decorations, and on his face, multiple scars the night’s darkness did not reveal the first and last time you met.

Your jaw involuntarily hung open at the realization. The handsome stranger you laid all your afflictions upon just a few weeks earlier was in fact the son of the most powerful individual in the country that wasn’t a King. You felt your neck and chest heat up in embarrassment at the only thought of airing out your problems to someone like him. You knew the stories of his military service, the alleged torture and the constant brushes with death, everybody in the country had heard them. Your struggles in comparison were jest, and you felt like a whiny child to have complained about them to him specifically.

His watchful eyes then settled onto you, betraying absolutely no feeling of recognition whatsoever, and you’d believe he didn’t recognize you at all if it hadn’t been for the slight tilt of his head, acknowledging your presence. You blinked and looked anywhere but to him, then blended in the crowd. Even then, you felt like you couldn’t if you tried. You felt gazes and whispers falling upon you, wondering who you were and what you were even doing in such a ball. No matter where you went, you couldn’t escape them.

You finally decided on joining the dancers, believing it would help shift the attention off of you. You danced one song, then another with gentlemen that didn’t stand out to you; which was preferable for you. Unfortunately, your peace didn’t last very long. Because when you looked up to your next partner for the third dance, you came face to face with a distinct black and gold who was already bowing before you could escape. Your spine went rigid as your wide eyes met his steady ones, and before you could blink, a pleasant smile wrote over his previously stern expression. You didn’t know which one terrified you the most

The music began and he bowed to you, and you hurried to return a curtsy. You felt practically everyone stare on you as you took the first steps of the dance, carefully spinning around each other. He was the first to speak.

“I must apologize for my son’s poor manners” He said, and your eyebrows raised in half panic. What did he mean by– “He was the one to insist on inviting you and grace us with your lovely presence. He should have been the one to dance with you the first moment you stepped on the floor, but unfortunately, he is rather… stubborn, I’m afraid”

You did not know how to answer this, your jaw going up and down without any sound coming out. A small frown came over his brow, but it wasn’t deep enough to cover the light amusement of his features.

“Ah” He replied, a knowing sparkle in his eyes. “He did not tell you about it, did he?”

“I knew nothing of the sort” You confirmed in a small voice. “4I am truly sorry to intrude, I know I am not part of the nobility–”

“Please, do not apologize” He gently cut you off. “You were invited, were you not? Therefore no intrusion whatsoever was committed. And between you and I,” He paused, leaning a bit forward as the dance steps brought you respectfully close. “I would be willing to bet your specific presence is much more wanted than anyone else's here tonight”

There you went, speechless once again. The dance finished, and with a respectful bow, the Duke parted ways with you to return to the front of the room, where a figure in red was definitely missing. You looked around the room, but didn't find your stranger anywhere. That until, you went to step away from the floor and collided with a strong, red coated chest. Your eyes followed the buttons up to find his jaw clenched hard and his eyes still fixated on a point beyond your shoulder.

Mechanically, his hand lifted up. “May I have the next dance?”

You looked around you as a hush fell over the room, and you deducted it was a rare occurrence for the young lord to dance if everybody was staring at you in disbelief. Not wanting to cause more of a scene, you managed to find your voice. “You may”

Carefully, you placed your hand in his and let him guide you back to the middle of the room. His bow to you was stiff and uncomfortable, but his steps were light and precise, practiced and repeated until it became a second nature. Yet, his expression was displaying something far from ease.

“For someone who thinks balls are dreadful, I must point out that twice i’ve met you, and twice it was at a ball”

A tiny scoff shook his shoulders, but not his stoic expression. “Both times out of absolute obligation, I assure you”

“You were more chatty last time”

“Merely an effect of a glass too many of red wine”

That was no way to speak to someone of his status, but he didn’t seem to have any intention to correct you.

“I didn’t know it was you”

He knew well what you meant. I didn’t know it was you that night. “That’s because I chose not to tell you”

“You must think this is hilarious” You muttered against your will, but it just had to come out. There was a rage suddenly boiling inside of you and it came up too quickly for you to effectively rein it back. “Having a merchant’s daughter spill her insignificant secrets to you, then invite her to a ball she very clearly doesn’t belong to, showing her everything she’ll be missing, then making sure everyone notices it too. Poor deluded girl gets a pity dance with the Duke and his son. Are you entertained enough, my lord? Or should I trip and humiliate myself just a little bit more?”

His eyes widened a little bit more with every word, leaving him with a frightened and wounded expression one would find on a scolded child. In this precise moment, neither the smooth, mysterious stranger on the balcony nor the stoic soldier was staring back at you. You almost didn’t notice when the song ended, but you didn’t miss your opportunity to storm away, pushing past the crowd and trying your best to ignore their whispers on your way out.

After a few flights of stairs, you finally found a way out in the gardens. The fresh air was like a breath of relief, and the soothing cool of the air was welcomed on your skin. You walked until you found a pond and sat on the bench, glaring at the reflection of the moonlight in the water. You spiralled deep in your thoughts, until you heard your name being called in an unfamiliar voice.

You jumped onto your feet and spun around, coming face to face with an elegantly dressed woman, her blonde hair beautifully cascading down her shoulders. You recognized her as one of the figures standing beside the Duke at the front of the room, but she didn’t have the air of arrogance you’d have expected her to bear. Instead, she seemed kind and confident, the type of person one wouldn’t mind sitting down with for tea and a good conversation. She smiled at your apparent wariness.

“May I sit with you?”

You nodded, then remembered she was probably also outranking you. “Yes, of course you may”

You waited until she rounded the bench and sat down to sit back. For a few minutes, she didn’t talk, she just observed you.

“You’re sure as pretty as I believed you’d be”

You blinked in surprise. Out of everything you believed she’d say, this was definitely not it. “... Thank you?”

Her smile widened, but she didn’t add anything on the matter. Instead, she jumped into the topic she was probably here for in the first place. “He upset you, didn’t he?”

Your eyes snapped forward and your back straightened. “Did he tell you to come and make it worse?”

Instead of being insulted at your dry rebuttal, she simply laughed and brushed her hand. “Not at all, the poor fool’s probably still standing frozen where you left him. Listen, I came after you to check up on you. He’ll be fine, but I wanted to see if you were”

Your eyes reluctantly found hers again. “Why?”

She sighed. “With all his lack of tact, Jason meant well. All he said to us is that you told him you enjoyed balls, and that you deserved a night for yourself. Neither I or the Duke knows anything beyond that. He might have been clumsy in handling it, but rest assured, mocking you was the last of his intention”

You heard all of what she said, but somehow, your brain got caught on one specific word. One specific name. “So, his name is Jason”

She tilted her head to the side. “You didn’t know?”

You shook your head. “We heard the stories, but nobody could agree on the right name”

“Oh well, he is going to be pissed that I robbed him of his grand introduction, that’s certain”

You couldn’t help but chuckle along with her at the absolute ridiculousness of your situation. You liked her, you decided, but just as your handsome stranger–no, Jason–you didn’t hope to get attached. Then, something came up in your head, making you frown.

“How do you know my name?” You asked. “In fact, how did anyone know my name? I never told him”

She smiled at you again, the glint in her eyes telling you there was a secret you definitely didn’t know about dangling about your head. Come to think of it, it was the same as the one you had observed in both the Duke and his son’s eyes. “The Duke has his way”

“Okay?”

She shook her head and changed the subject. “Do you want to know a secret?”

Your eyes narrowed. “... Sure”

She leaned forward. “You were the only person who received an invite for tonight” She revealed, and before you could call out her lie, she beat you to it. “I swear it’s true. Everybody you saw tonight just assumed they were invited, because of their own vanity and self-importance. You, on the other hand, are the only person that was actually wanted here. Do with that information as you may, but please, don’t be too harsh on Jason. He really did mean well”

You nodded slowly, watching as she stood up. “Well, this has been a pleasure”

“Likewise” You mumbled back, staring at her expectantly.

“Stephanie” She filled in. “Stephanie Brown”

“Have a nice evening, miss Brown”

“Oh, I will” She grinned wolfishly. “Good night”

“You… too…” You watched as she walked away, leaving you to ponder this last conversation alone in the gardens.

#jason todd x reader #jason todd #batfam #pride & prejudice au #regency au #jason todd fic #jason todd imagine

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marsprincess889 · 1 year ago

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Vedic astro mini post

Cow Yoni (Uttara Phalguni and Uttara Bhadrapada) trope

In my astro observations post, I said that their dynamic is enemies to lovers and I provided some examples. I'm gonna go further into that.

Not only does their love story involve a physical fight scene, but it also involves a dance, both being full of tension.

Uttara Phalguni is the second sun ruled nakshatra, beggining in Leo and most of it being in Virgo. It's mostly concerned with relationships and defining their identity through their relationships/popularity. People tend to naturally like them and they don't have to do anything, they're just likeable like that. Uttara Phalguni is the "star of patronage".

Uttara Bhadrapada is the last saturn ruled nakshatra, being opposite Uttara Phalguni and all of it being in the sign of Pisces. It's concerned with finding a solid, stable footing in life and doing that the only correct way: through honesty, bravery, hard work, strength and perserverence. It's the "warrior star".

It's not hard to see why they might be at odds. Their rulers_ Sun and Saturn are natural enemies, they're opposite each other, they're both stable nakshatras, they're both warrior caste, they want the same thing but go for it in very different ways. They're also very obviously meant for each other.

Example 1, The Mask of Zorro

Catherine Zeta-Jones (Uttara Phalguni sun and ketu, Uttara Bhadrapada moon)

Antonio Banderas (Uttara Bhadrapada moon)

I know they're both UBh moon but since Catherine has her sun AND ketu in Uttara Phalguni, I think that that in this movie that's the energy she's supposed to be representing, to be the polarity to Antonio's UBh moon.

They have a flirty sword fight AND a dance full of tension. If you haven't watched this movie I don't know what you've been doing lol.

Example 2, Pride and Prejudice and Zombies

Lily James (Uttara Bhadrapada moon)

Sam Riley (Uttara Phalguni moon)

This adaptation of pride and prejudice is the only one where both Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy are both cow yonis, and this one also has physical fights, a lot of them. When Mr. Darcy first proposes, Elizabeth becomes so angry that they physically fight with each other. Also, what's a regency movie without a dance scene? They also have one. Obviously, they're in love, but their stubbornness won't let them admit that they might even like each other. Both nakshatras being of stable nature and warrior caste, they REALLY defend their ground like no other nakshatra.

Example 3, The Great

Elle Fanning (Uttara Phalguni moon)

Nicholas Hoult (Uttara Bhadrapada moon)

In this adaptation of Catherine the Great's life she's a young girl with dreams and passion, eager to meet her future husband_ the young king Peter. She arrives with full intention of being the nicest, best wife possible(which is a very uttara phalguni trope), but upon truly seeing the state of Russia and trying but failing to like her eventual husband, she gets the idea of overthrowing him. Obviously, ultimately, no one wins that battle because they unwillingly fall in love with each other, through endless threats and misunderstandings, they realize that they've always had their common ground.

In all these stories, fighting is a natural expression of love and is weirdly mixed with it. In real life, cow yoni people are some of the most (if not the most) endearing people I know, they won't waste their time with you if they think that you're not worth it. If they fight with you, that means that they think there's hope for improvement. I'm saying this as Uttara Phalguni ascendant, I will distance myself from anyone I don't like without them even knowing about it, but I can be very stubborn with people close to me. I've also had the dynamic I mentioned with Uttara Bhadrapadas, no matter how much we fight, I ultimately love them.

So, if you have them in your life, it's good to know what I just said 😅.

EDIT: So I was rewatching Pride and Prejudice and Zombies and I realized that the dance scene was deleted 😭 oh, well, you can watch it on youtube.

If you're cow yoni or if you know them, let me know if this is true for you. Don't forget to interact with me, COMMENT, like, reblog, anything.

Take care🤍

#uttara phalguni #uttara phalguni nakshatra #uttara bhadrapada #uttara bhadrapada nakshatra #cow yonis #vedic astrology #astrology #astrology observations #nakshatras #sidereal astrology #astro notes

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aylasrants · 9 months ago

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it is decided bridgerton season 3 will heal my depression

can we talk about the trailer for one second, like yes it took forever to be out but it’s here finally and gosh am i hooked

first of all the trailer opening with colin in carriage??? like netflix and shonda rhimes know their shit, they know damn well what they are doing

and then penelope OMGGG IS SHE GORGEOUS, the ton is so blind to not have acknowledged her beauty before cause my girl have been sparkling since the day she was born

then kanthony being happily married 🥹 i feel like i’ve watched my children growing up and starting their own family

eloise and cressida???? why??? don’t get me wrong i love eloise but she’s acting so petty and i hate it

and then polin saying they are friends bahaha like we believe it, they don’t even believe it themselves

the candle scene where colin seems to be deep in thoughts (of penelope i am sure) and the candle slowly lighting brighter 🫠

lord debling seems so sweet too, he gives me mr darcy vibes and i truly hope he’ll find the one for him

the scene with colin and his mother talking about friendship being the foundation for love and then it cutting straight to colin and penelope being their adorable self and laughing, i’m gonna die of excitement!!!

i also cannot wait to see the relationship between lady danbury and penelope cause i love them both so much

colin waking up from what seems to be a steamy dream (the mirror scene perhaps 🫣)

francesca looks so sad all the time i just wanna hug her :(

and violet finding love again?? hook me up

anyways all that to say that i cannot wait, i am literally counting the days (1 months and 5 days hehe), but i have my finals first so i have to study and then i’ll have the greatest reward of all

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piratekane · 2 years ago

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7 or 8

eight: i heard you talking in your sleep

Ava waits impatiently, drumming her fingertips against her knee as Bea moves around the kitchen. A jar of peach preserves lands on the table in front of her, followed by a knife. She follows strong fingers up to strong arms and shoulders, finally meeting Bea's eyes.

"Yes?" she asks innocently.

"If you're just going to sit there, be useful."

Ava beams. "As you wish." She doesn't linger on the pretty blush that rushes across Bea's face, granting her an ounce of mercy. She knows Bea appreciates it. But it doesn't stop Ava from saying it every chance she can, since they watched The Princess Bride a few nights ago. She knows Bea found it romantic.

And maybe Ava is pushing this line they're drawn between each other, but she can't resist nudging it forward, seeing how far she can get before Bea just admits that there's something going on. She's never good at knowing when to leaving something alone.

She pops out of her seat at the same time the toast pops in the ancient toaster that came with their apartment. She dances across the kitchen, her hands ghosting Bea's hips as she stands at the stove, watching their eggs cook. She feels Bea shiver a little but tries her best to focus her attention on spreading preserves against the toast.

She doesn't last long.

"Good dreams last night?" she asks innocently.

Bea's breath hitches. A normal person - someone not obsessed with every minute detail of Beatrice - wouldn't notice. But Ava has never felt less normal than she does when she's around Bea. And for carrying a Holy Weapon under her skin, that's a pretty big feat.

"Fine," Beatrice says after a second. "Why?"

Ava abandons the toast, all pretenses gone. She turns around, pressing the small of her back into the counter behind her.

"Oh, just wondering," she sings. She purses her lips, counting the seconds in her head. One, two, three, fo-

Bea turns, a spatula in her hand. "Why are you wondering?"

Ava shrugs casually. "Just wondering," she repeats.

Ava - an expert at Bea's facial tics and the way she breathes and the way her fingers curl around something - doesn't miss the slight sigh as Bea reins in the trickle of frustration she's feeling.

Bea's eyes narrow. "If you have something to say, you should-"

"Did you know you talk in your sleep?"

Bea inhales sharply. Ava catalogs it, adding it the ever-growing list of things she loves about Beatrice.

"I wasn't aware," Bea says in a measured voice. But Ava sees the way her hand tightens around the spatula. The eggs sizzle behind her. "I hope it didn't keep you up."

It did. But Ava hadn't cared. She had propped her head up on her elbow and watched Bea in the moonlight, mouth moving as she breathed out things Ava was sure she'd never say out loud. It took everything in her not to wake Bea up.

"It wasn't a big deal." She turns back to the quickly-cooling toast, smiling to herself. She can feel the tension radiating off Bea from five feet away. She smiles to herself, resists the urge to bounce on the tips of her toes. She counts. One, two, thr-

"Do you- Uh, do you remember what I said?"

Ava looks back over her shoulder, schooling her face into something casual. "Oh, the usual stuff. Ava, you need to try harder. Ava, take this seriously." She watches Bea's shoulders - coiled and high up near her ears - start to relax. "Ava, I want to kiss you."

Bea's whole body goes rigid. Ava is sure that if she was any stronger, the spatula would crack in her hand. She fights a smile and gently crosses the room, curling her hand around Bea's and loosening her grasp on the spatula. It's their only one.

"I'm sure that I-" Bea swallows. "I'm sure that's not what I said."

"Oh, it definitely is." Ava doesn't pull her hand away from Bea's. Instead, her replaces the spatula with her own hand. "But in a very dignified way. Like Mr. Darcy. That's the guy, right?" She takes a small step in, watching in delight as Bea takes a step back. She's dangerously close to the stove so Ava reaches around her, turning the burner off. "It was flattering."

Bea's face is bright red, freckles like stars across her cheeks. "I'm so sorry," she breathes, voice laced with something Ava might call shame. She frowns. That's not what she wanted. But Bea sees her frown and rushes to add, "It's not my intention to make you uncomfortable. And we- It's just been the two of us. I-" Her eyes start to shimmer. "I cannot apologize enough. I understand if you- I'll sleep on the couch."

"Woah, slow down." Ava ducks her head to catch Bea's eyes. She brushes her thumb across Bea's knuckles. Her other hand hovers over Bea's hip but she doesn't dare let it fall yet. "I'm not mad."

Bea blinks a few times. "I understand if you-"

"I'm not mad or uncomfortable," she interrupts. Bea's mouth snaps closed audibly. She looks down at her hand hovering and back up at Bea. She searches Bea's eyes and finds something that lets her know it'd be okay to touch Bea. Her hand lands lightly against her hip. She watches Bea fight off a shiver. "Actually, I'm..."

"Don't say flattered," Bea says in a halting voice, like she's pulling the words out from clenched teeth.

Ava smiles softly. "I won't say that, then." She strokes her thumb across Bea's hipbone. She can't hide the shiver this time. "How about I say... I've been waiting for you to say that."

Bea's eyes widen slightly, her mouth falling open. "You..."

"Me." Ava lowers her hand to Bea's other hip. This time when she steps in, Bea doesn't step back. "And if it's a relief, really. Because I was worried I was the only one feeling this. But I'm not. Right?" A tendril of doubt ripples through her. Maybe she read it wrong.

But Bea just stares at her for a moment before she shakes her nearly imperceptibly. Relief blossoms in her chest.

"Cool. Cool, cool." Ava's smile starts slow but spreads wide. She takes another step in. She can see the panic in Bea's eyes and she wants it to disappear. Her hand tighten a little more purposefully. "So I think we have two options, right? The first is that we totally forget this conversation happened and the next time you start talking in your sleep, I'll ignore it."

Bea's throat bobs as she swallows. "And the second option?"

"I kiss you right now."

"Oh," Bea breathes.

"Oh," Ava echoes with a smile. Bea doesn't move, seemingly frozen. Ava knows she needs to be gentle, to approach this like she's trying to convince a fawn to come closer. So she lifts a hand, rests it against Bea's cheek, and smiles. "Beatrice, I'm going to kiss you."

She doesn't wait. She follows the words right to Bea's lips, pressing her own softly against them. Bea is frozen underneath her and Ava thinks about pulling back before Bea moves, coming alive. Her hand curls around Ava's neck, pulling her back in those few precious inches Ava had put between them. It feels like a long stretch in a patch of sunlight, like coming home and taking off her shoes, like sliding into fresh sheets.

The kiss ebbs into a smile and they stay pressed together like that for a moment before Ava tips her head back, pressing an even softer kiss to Bea's forehead.

"Oh," Bea says again.

Ava smiles. "Same."

"I've been waiting for you to do that," Bea admits. "I couldn't- It couldn't be me."

Ava strokes her thumb across Bea's cheek. "Well, now we've done it. And we're going to keep doing that." It isn't a question, but Bea nods anyway. "In fact, we're going to start right now."

"But breakfast is-"

Ava leans in, stopping the rest of the words. She's never wanted a meal less in her life. Bea doesn't seem to hesitate either, kissing her back instantly. Ava smiles and feels Bea's fingers flex on her neck and feels like they could face anything together and win every time.

#warrior nun #avatrice #ava silva #sister beatrice #i am just spending my holiday break banging these out so sorry for the spamming in the tag #i decided there needed to be some happiness after all #we can't all thrive on angst can we? no we cannot it's not sustainable #so have some AU switzerland era vibes

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