#he's neither the provider nor the receiver. he's just himself

[dirkxcaliborn]

I was recently thinking about a frustration I've had with the way the fandom treats one of my favorite characters, and how I often frame it as "I hate how they feminize him" only to immediately feel off about it bc that's not really it. Because if I think about it for two seconds, I really love seeing him with things associated with femininity. It's not really a man being "feminized" that's the issue so much as how people treat femininity. I think what I've really been frustrated with is how he's been infantilized. And I think part of that association for me is just a history of m/m relationships being pushed into m/f gender roles and the "woman in the relationship" is always made weaker and helpless and needy. There's also a history of characters being pushed into a feminine role while being portrayed as actively hating it or being incredibly embarrassed by it.

And so in my mind being feminine became equal to "being treated like a girl" which became equal to "being made pathetic and shamed for it." And I think that last part is what I really hate.

[darkstaria]

Yandere Batfam - Soulmate Soul Animal Au.

Chapter 5:

Chapter 1. Chapter 2. Chapter 3. Chapter 4. Chapter 6.

Sorry for the long weight everyone! I had to binge allll of Stranger Things for a friend's future birthday event and ohhh wow I thought the episodes were gonna be 20 minutes not 40-1hr

Also I suffered a bit of writers block, it happens

But regardless, I hope you all enjoy! ^ ^

(also the taglist has migrated to the bottom of the fic because it's a bit too long now)

----

The office was large, sprawling walls contained by an even bigger ceiling. The faint humming of Tim’s computer provided no reassurance, nor did the soft leather of your seat. It felt as if you could sink right into it, and try to fade away. There was a faint aroma of coffee that lingered around the office, but it gave you no solace. It just reminded you of the mistakes you made, to end up here. The elephant in the room.

Tim’s smile was bright, a warm sun. You were burning.

“It’s.. nice to see you again.” You attempted, words stumbling about on your tongue. You couldn't help it, the mere presence of your soulmate sending anxiety skyrocketing down your spine. Why couldn't he just get to the point?

“I didn't really expect my company and Wayne Enterprises to be working together.” You continued, a fake smile plastered onto your face. “What a nice coincidence!”

“I hope for us to have a successful collaboration.” Tim replies, still smiling. “But enough about the companies, it's been so long since I've seen you, and I didn't have your number to text.”

You laugh in response, a pale imitation of a real laugh. You had hoped to focus on discussing the work you both had to do first, and then escape before any catch up talks were attempted. Unfortunately, it appears that Tim won't let you do any actual work before engaging with him.

Your nails dug into your knees, an attempt to stay calm. Your reply was measured.

“Oh are you sure? Surely it would be better to get work on the collaboration done first, then we’ll have all the time left to chat freely.”

“I wouldn't worry about that, really. We’ve got plenty of time together, and I wouldn't be able to work without knowing how you're doing lately. Since you didn't have the time to text, I presume you've been busy?”

“Ah, right! Yes! Yes I have been, busy that is, you know how it is with work. Endless and all that.” You were frustrated at being pushed into a lie already. Tim was in charge here and he knew it.

“Why don't you give me your number then?” His smile was perfect, as flawless as his manipulation. “That way, when you're too busy to remember to message, I can remind you.”

You frowned. Like he didn't know your number already.

Quickly remembering you had to smile, you gave him your number, watching as he slowly typed it in, then texted. Only when you showed you received his text did he relent.

The ‘meeting’ continued on from there, Tim asking about all your hobbies and passions. Time ticked on, daylight turning to evening. Any attempt from you to redirect the conversation to either himself or work was swiftly dismissed. A small part of you admired his skill, he was playing you like a doll. You knew it, but you had no option but to play along. It was like an older sibling playing pretend with the young sibling. You hated the comparison.

The attention was unnerving. Your only solace was that neither of you had soul animals present currently, which was an absolute miracle.

Actually… what if that isn't a coincidence at all? Could this too have been engineered? Was that even possible?

“So then what’s your opinion on..” The sound of Tim’s voice slammed you back to reality. You quickly focused back in, fearing losing any advantage due to a lack of attention.

Abruptly, an alarm sounded, the noise blazing a path through your eardrums. You jolted in surprise. Tim however, was barely rattled. A frown appeared on his face as he glanced at his phone.

“That was the Arkham Asylum breakout alarm. It's no longer safe to go outside.” With these words Tim got up, walking over to the door and opening it.

“What…?” You mumbled, horrified.

“Stay here.” He commanded, a firm tone in his voice. This was Red Robin. “I’m going to check on the building, don't leave, it isn't safe.”

“Wait! But.. the collaboration.. we didn't..” The words rushed out of your mouth, leaving you feeling like a fool as Tim paused for a moment, to look at you.

“Don't worry.” He smiled, the weight of it bearing down upon you. You felt small. “You can just come in tomorrow, I'm sure your company won't mind.” With the final word said, Tim closed the door, presumably rushing off to become Red Robin. The click of the door felt like a dismissal, a scolding. A reminder to stay in your place.

Once again, you were trapped.

You clenched your fists. He wanted you to stay here, in his territory. You didn't doubt that Wayne Enterprises had amazing security, probably some of the best considering the identities of the owners. This was likely the third most safe place in Gotham, with the first and second places going to Batman’s base and Wayne Manor.

But… you haven't learned anything yet. All that time spent with him and somehow he hadn't brought up that singular, obvious fact. There was no way he didn't know, not with the way he was acting. And yet, he hadn't brought it up. Why?

What was he getting out of this?

Was he hoping that if you assumed he didn't know then you could easily be monitored? Was he just gathering information before acting? Where was the rest of the vigilantes in this?

Your head was spinning, going in circles. You couldn't understand him, you couldn't understand any of them. Why choose to be vigilantes, knowing the costs that life endures? Why were you tied to them, when you were so against a fundamental part of their existence?

You couldn't understand this at all. How could this be the basis of a soulmate bond?

You were… opposites.

You felt the telltale beat of an oncoming headache. For your own sanity, you decided to fold the incoming soulmate crisis into a small cavity of your brain to panic about later.

Fact One: There was an ongoing Arkham Asylum breakout, everyone is either being attacked, hiding away or escaping the city.

Fact Two: Batman and all his partners are going to be occupied for at least several hours if not a day.

Fact Three: You were going to take advantage of this.

It was the perfect time. All your soulmates were occupied, so none of them would be able to pay any attention to you. Red Robin might know your identity, and so the other vigilantes may know as well.

That didn't need to matter. They may have the information, but information itself is useless, if they are unable to act.

Right now, any Gothamite that isn't involved with rogues is either hiding or escaping. You could join the escapes, and get out of Gotham in the rush.

You didn't have to stay here, to play the role of a caged bird. You could escape, before they even got a chance.

You had to try.

You suppressed a shaky sigh, getting up and walking to the door. You tried the door handle.

Locked.

Uh oh. You tried it again, and then a few more times after that, shaking the door eventually in your desperation. Oh come on! You desperately thought to yourself. The one time you finally got the perfect chance and it's being ruined by a locked door.

Wait. You glanced at the small window in the door, the beginnings of an idea sprouting in your head. You glance over at Tim’s desk, noticing a small paper weight. You smile.

Lifting the paperweight, you judge the weight to be enough. Holding it up, you get into position to throw.

Wait.. the door has a keyhole, not a sliding chain, you realize, almost too late.

Ah.

Well that would have been embarrassing.

Sadly, you place the paperweight back down. There goes that idea.

But that wasn't the only door in the office, there was another one, the one that the shouting voice left out of. You approach the door, trying the doorknob.

Click!

It opens! Giving a small laugh, you advance through the door and out into the halls of Wayne Enterprises, a jubilant smile on your face. Whoever was shouting at Tim earlier, you almost wanted to thank them.

You avoid the elevators, instead picking stairs, as you presumed they may also be in lockdown. It didn't take you too long to get down to the ground floor, since the main walking areas were now barren of people.

The ground floor had some unfortunate news to offer you though. The once wildly open doors had now been locked down and barred, an iron wall between you and freedom.

Although, maybe there was some other way, you thought, eyeing the anxious security guards patrolling the front entrance.

Pulling out of your hiding spot, you approach the guards, making to time your steps, making noise to not scare them. You really didn't want to get shot before you had even left the safety of the building.

“P-please help me!” You stuttered, trembling with tears in your eyes. The guards jolted in surprise, turning to face you. They were expecting threats from the outside, not the inside.

“I need to get home, I can't stay here.” You sobbed, the guards pausing in confusion. They didn't know what to do with you.

“What’s wrong?” A sympathetic guard asked, patting you gently on the back. You almost felt bad.

“I need to go home!” You repeated, tone frantic.

A disgruntled guard stepped up to you. “Look, no one can leave right now. Company policy. It isn't safe, there's been an Arkham breakout. Just sit tight, and whatever’s waiting for you at home will be there when you get back.”

“N-no…” You mumbled. “You don't understand.. I have.. I have a cat, waiting for me.” You glance up, watching the expressions on their faces. They seem unmoved. “A-and my child!” You cry out, realizing you needed a better lie.

“A child?” The disgruntled guard repeated, sounding a little more sympathetic, but clearly not convinced. He eyed you up and down, evidentially thinking you looked a little too young.

“They're so little, but my cat likes to take care of them and I needed the money so, so I left them at home alone today. But recently they're been figuring out how to open doors and if anything happened to them I don't know what I’d d-” Your frantic lie is cut off, the disgruntled guard laying a hand on your shoulder.

“Alright listen. None of us can escort you, we're here on the job.”

You nodded, feeling exuberation rush through you.

“But if anything happened, run right back here, alright?”

You nodded again, fighting a smile on your face. The guards unlocked the doors, watching you dash out with frowns on their tired faces.

They were obvious to the beaming smirk on yours.

Nights in Gotham are by nature a little terrifying, but they're nothing compared to an Arkham breakout night. Shadows crawled up alleyways, the smell of booze and smoke lingering in a way it never could on normal nights. The terror was so pungent in the air, you could almost taste it. It was on the tip of your tongue.

Every so often you'd hear a scream, and you'd walk a little faster. Ideally you would have committed to the stealth route, but you had wasted enough time already.

Your house was on the way to the bus station, so you could easily pop in, grab essentials, and get out. You wouldn't lie, you were nervous. Every so often you’d feel your knees lose strength, and you'd have to fight with your body to regain the strength to stand.

But at this point it was either the horror of whatever your soulmates had in store for you, or the horrors of Arkham night. You'd already picked your poison, now it was time to swallow.

You took a breath in, then out, and continued walking. You were almost there.

The streets of Gotham stretched on endlessly, a cacophony of fear.

Just a bit longer.

A gunshot sounded nearby, the noise blasting through your eardrum.

Almost there.

The hum of a van's engine rushed through the night, haunting laughter echoing through the road.

You could see your house!

You beamed, a smile lighting up your face, as you practically skipped up to the entrance. You reached into your bag to withdraw your keys.

You had just retrieved them when a crowbar smashed into your head.

----

Wow umh, please pray for reader guys, this is NOT going well for them. Who do you think that was?

Me writing shenanigans for this chapter:

I just really feel like reader should smash open this window, let's do it. Wait. They wouldn't have doors that work like that. so reader sadly puts the heavy object down :(

Also me: yeah so reader lies here and it's an absolute mess

Also also me: rip reader that's a lotta head trauma omg

Sorry for the lack of soul animals this chapter :(( there's a reason I swear

The next chapter is definitely gonna be a bit insane, for sure! The soul animals return then anddd in droves!

Taglist: @moonchild-artemisdaughter @jjsmeowthie @madine11-blog @xxrougefangxx @hadesnewpersephone @neerathebrightstar @mel-star636 @jaythes1mp @rosecentury @lov3vivian @gaozorous-rex-blog @victoria1676 @vrsin @silverklaus @ryukyuin @kurai-hono-blog @thisisafish123 @isawyourbrowserhistory @ain-t-no-way-bsfr @realifezompire @lunaluz432 @nickey-diano @sukiiluvs @sara0055 @alleakimlala @kdidgg @paperhermits @lavender-moony @alishii @emmbny @sirenetheblogger @fantasy-angelo @andrasia @vinnvinnvintage @nyra-42 @armystaysatnct @beyond-your-stars @starsdotalk @adeptusxia0 @jailbimbo @yandereheros @sxftiebee @i-have-three-feelings @toast-on-dandelioms @lyl-3 @sitepathos @pato-spoiler-27 @ghostdoodlen @phoenixgurl030 @problematicreblogger @sociallyakwardpanda

@imaginarydreams @zanzie @yuyuzi-ling @soriansick @f1lover4ever @kiikkey @elizzsush @raincxtter @luoyi85 @yune1337 @erikasurfer @thekingofsimps @chaosbeanuwu

If I missed anyone out im super sorry! I generally check the replies for the current chapter and messages for people that want to be tagged, so it's possible for people to slip by

Just remind me again and I'll be sure to add you! (This also goes for if I misspell you accidentally, which also happens cuz I type them all manually)

For some reason I couldnt tag anymore people until I put a random space in-between the tags, so that's apparently a thing. If anyone has any ideas why, I'm listening

[harunayuuka2060]

Vil: *is not amused by MC's decision to visit him in Pomefiore. Moreover, after elegantly and gracefully subduing the students who tried to stop them, he had no choice but to let them in*

Vil: I trust you won't waste my time with such pointless requests.

MC: You're the only person I could think of who can do it safely, since your ability requires specific conditions to be met.

Vil: *frowns* Who told you that?

MC: I received the information from a reliable source.

Vil: Azul.

Vil: ...I see. Unfortunately, we're neither friends nor close acquaintances. I don't grant favors simply because someone asks.

MC: The acting skills of the actors in your Film Studies Club need improvement.

Vil: What did you say?

MC: I watched your members practice, and they came across as nothing more than wannabe protagonists.

Vil: ...

MC: ...

Vil: They are inexperienced because they have never had real acting work.

MC: Even so, you are a professional actor and model, although you may lack experience as an acting mentor.

Vil: ARE YOU TRYING TO PROVOKE ME?!

MC: That is not my intention.

MC: In fact, I can provide suggestions for enhancing the acting skills of your actors, especially since you mentioned that my acting skills are superb. *smiles*

Vil: ...

Vil: The last time, they didn't react negatively when I rejected them at the audition. So why are they bothering me now?

Vil: ...

Vil: Alright, I will permit you to be an acting mentor, but only for a week.

MC: That's more than enough time. In return, once you see improvements in your actors, will you finally grant me the favor I'm asking for?

Vil: Yes.

MC: Then we have a deal.

Rook: Roi du Poison, you chose MC as the acting mentor for your club? *genuinely surprised*

Vil: I know. A bad decisio—

Rook: Non! You certainly made the right choice!

Vil: *raised an eyebrow* How so?

Rook: Chevalier des Roses has been praising them because the Heartslabyul students have been behaving exceptionally well around MC.

Vil: The Pomefiore students aren't fans of them, Rook—Hold on a moment.

Vil: ...

Vil: *squints his eyes at Rook*

Vil: Are you...?

Rook: ...

Rook: *cheerful* Oui!

Vil: *facepalm*

Sebek: MC-sama! You shouldn't offer your help to commoners like them!

MC: ...

MC: Don’t most of the students from Pomefiore come from distinguished families?

Sebek: Yes, but you are still above them!

MC: ...

MC: Sebek, I don't think I need to worry about the class system since I don't have the prominent traits of the Draconia clan.

Sebek: MC-sama...

Lilia: *appears* Oho~ That's not true at all.

Lilia: Only ignorant fools would believe you don't come from a noble lineage.

Lilia: Because just look at you~!

Lilia: You're adorable and sweet! Just like Maleanor before she turned into a menace.

Sebek: L-Lilia-sama!

MC: ...

Lilia: *knows that they're planning something*

MC: Would you be let down if I turned out like my grandmother?

Lilia: *chuckles* Not at all.

Lilia: But surely, you'll let me see how this unfolds, right?

MC: *smiles apologetically*

Lilia: Aww... No?

Jamil: *feels satisfied that MC seems to be becoming more open with Kalim*

Jamil: I knew it. They may seem reserved, but they're genuinely naive at heart.

Jamil: *reviews the document he prepared to position himself as the new dorm leader of Scarabia once Kalim leaves NRC*

Jamil: My parents can't blame me because the world is dangerous for Kalim, and I can't always protect him.

Jamil: *couldn't help but smile*

Jamil: Soon, I will be saying farewell to you, Kalim.

MC: ...

MC: *with a serious expression* It appears you believed you had this all planned out, Jamil Viper.

[kokomos]

 ✴    ⅱ.    new habits die hard     ࣭     ๋  𖥔 ݁  ˖  ‏☽

— starring    AU!  LUKE CASTELLAN !  ♆

  ⤷    ⅰ.   new habits die hard

MDNI 18+

warning : weed! luke & reader smoke together.

alternate universe : takes place in an au! where there are no gods, or demigods for that matter. luke lives with his mother, alone, and takes care of her full-time when he's not off doing odd jobs for the locals.

description : after moving several states away from his home in suburban connecticut, luke found himself in unfamiliar territory and in need of a new plug. lucky for him, you're the town's resident drug dealer.

tags : fem! reader, dealer! reader, loser! luke, au! luke; dom! reader kinda, subby! luke; luke can't handle his weed.

honey's note : somehow this got turned into a slow–burn? next part will contain more action, promise <3

it hadn't been a full week since luke castellan, new to town, stopped by your trailer to get his fix. it seemed out of the question that the plug he'd be buying from would be you. even as he neared the residence for the first time four days ago, impressions formed based on the unkept and rather disastrous front lawn, nothing would have him guessing a girl would be the one behind it all.

his neighbor's son, a permanently befuddled teen who luke deemed ‘nice enough’, offered up your contact as soon as the older boy mentioned smoking. he certainly wasn't your wisest customer, that's a given, but you know he meant well and there's no denying that he definitely did you a service despite his impetuosity.

a few messages are exchanged between you and luke prior to his arrival. you pick the time, telling him to swing by around eleven—it’s later than he cares for, his mother always advised him against driving late at night, but he’ll oblige without a second thought if you're the one asking.

in all honesty, luke didn't even need to pick up more bud—the surplus he underpaid for had only diminished by a gram or so, less than two. still, he wanted to see you again. something in his heart was telling him that it was a necessity  not a desire; that you couldn't be separated from actions taken in the name of self-preservation. though, luke wasn't dauntless enough to tell you the truth and he certainly didn't have the confidence to back it up either, so he'd keep that to himself—just for now.

his hands were trembling slightly as he hobbled up the stairs, across the makeshift porch, to reach the front door. even the very tips of his fingers couldn't conceal the fact that his heart was racing.

luke was quick to note that the steps were broken; shoddy craftsmanship combined with neglect over time—the same treatment that the rest of the property had received. for a moment his mind wandered and he thought about how he could fix them up for you; he could fix up a lot of things around this janky, old plot. there's no way he would even think to charge you for the labor, though he has a feeling you'd insist anyway. a payment from your finest stash, luke surmises. but that was neither here nor there, and he needed to prepare himself to greet you.

his right hand forms a fist before connecting with the frame of the door. he knocks twice before adding one more for good measure, a pace behind the other two in uniform.

the crooked door swings open, and there you stand. luke had already been wearing a flare on his cheeks, but it only intensified further at the sight of you in a pair of pajamas. tight short-shorts and a simple tee.

“hey,” you welcome him so casually it makes him feel like a fool for being so nervous. he has no time to properly greet you as planned, instead providing a remarkably sheepish smile as you move a bit to the side, beckoning him through the doorway. “you comin’ in?”

of course he is.

he complies in an instant, more or less meek in appearance as he glides past you. luke takes a few steps away from the entrance of your home, and plants his feet firmly into the warped hardwood of the living room, turning his attention to you in wait.

“so, you smoke a lot or did’ya have to supply your friends some?” you ask after closing the front door shut. the question is brought about with an air of nonchalance, though that does very little to calm his nerves.

he chuckles, feeling both caught off guard and put on the spot. “uh—,” he clears his throat as his eyes flicker to yours. “yeah,” he falters for a moment before finishing with forced conviction, “i kinda smoke a lot i guess.”

you shrug it off, giving him the benefit of the doubt, though there isn't much belief in your expression. “sure,” you dismiss, “come sit with me.”

there's not much room for luke to debate. your feet are already in motion and you brush right by him to cross the space, path set for the sofa. luke follows and takes the seat beside you, sinking into the cushion with visible unease. he makes an attempt to get comfortable, and fails, unable to decide where he should put his hands. after several moments and careful consideration, he decides on extending his palms to rest over the expanse of his jeans. in the same moment, you prop the heels of your feet up onto the table in front of the couch, angling your legs into view for the nervous wreck to your right. a small sigh of content draws his attention from the sleek skin of your thighs towards your rosey lips.

that smirk you've formed causes some alarm and his nerves flare up once more. “have you never seen shaved legs or something?” you enunciate each word in your query, goading him into a more playful mood.

his cheeks flush, and he feels like a fool for the second time tonight—must be a skill of yours. tearing his gaze away, he lets out a shaky breath, one that he'd been holding in since he first took that spot next to you. “sorry,” his speech stalls and his eyes warily meet yours again. “i wasn't trying to…” he staggers off, hoping you get the memo—which you do. but there's no fun in not teasing the boy, especially when he's just so easy.

“to perv on me?” you finish for him, smirk left unrestrained and etched into your face.

his eyes widen, slowly leaving yours, and his head shakes from side to side. “i would never,” he stammers quickly to plead his defense.

“i'm just fucking with you,” you reassure him, light-hearted words paired with a jaunty wink. it wouldn't be fair if you were to chastise the boy for simply looking your way, certainly not after the last time he made your acquaintance—and you were doing far more than just looking at him.

you draw your legs back, letting your heels hit the floor, before reaching for some supplies laid out on the table. you unscrew the top of the grinder, unveiling the packed chamber. a whole glut of green and purple tints. your fingers pinch some of the ground weed and you begin filling the bowl for the bong—both crafted from pink glass and marked by hearts. suddenly, your efforts cease and you turn your head to catch his eyes.

“you wanna stay to smoke, right?” you smile a bit ingratiatingly.

luke immediately nods his head; and you have to stop yourself from laughing at the sight. instead you opt for returning your focus to the task at hand, finishing up and placing the bowl in the stem.

“guests first,” you offer the bong out with a grin luke could only describe as endearing; a contrast to the mischievous curve your mouth usually carries.

there's only one thing replaying in luke’s mind as he reaches out to take the glass from your hands.

don't embarrass yourself, don't embarrass yourself, don't—

he flashes a quick, grateful smile for your hospitality. “thank you,” he mumbles, ignoring the unabated warning currently clouding his thoughts.

your pupils dilate the moment his lips wrap around the same piece you'd had your own two lips on not twenty minutes earlier. such a natural, you praise him without a word. he pulls a hit from the bong with ease, yet coughs on the exhale. the glass, with the bowl still lit and burning through the remainder of the green, is mindlessly passed towards you as he desperately tries to compose himself.

a snicker escapes your throat. instinctively, your hand reaches over the middle of his back and you pat a few beats to aid his efforts. “you okay?” amusement accompanies your concern.

by now, luke was entirely out of sorts; but your chaste touch, an attempt to soothe the discomfort from the smoke infiltrating his lungs, was enough to make him catch his breath and hold it. “luke?” you inquire, curious about his condition.

“i’m fine,” he tries to laugh it off, flustered by more than just the way his name rolls off your tongue. his head turns your direction and for the first time, he makes real eye contact with you—not just for a brief few moments before he inevitably glances away.

a smile lifts your cheeks slightly and you retract your hand from his back. much to his disappointment, you break the contact in favor of taking your own hit from the bong.

there's a few more exchanges of the glass back-and-forth before luke taps out. you hadn't realized he saw each offer of your generosity as some sort of competition between the two of you, to see how much he could handle.

he's melted into the back of your couch, eyes fluttering shut. cute. you’re feeling the effects of that friendly contest too—not as much as he is, evidently. years of smoking every day, all day, granted you a higher tolerance for the substance, and the opportunity to tease your client. “do you have something to prove?” you titter with delight.

“hm ?” luke hums, tilting his chin to view your face instead of the wall he'd been zoning out on.

“i asked if you had something to prove,” you restate plainly. “you know you didn't have to keep up with me, yeah?”

you're drinking in the look on his face by the bucketful. lips parted as his mind whirls, searching for an answer to a question he's already forgotten—“huh ?” his voice comes out more soft and airy than you've recently been accustomed to, not that you'd ever complain about that.

“nevermind, man. just, uh—” you stifle a snicker, holding back from full-on laughing in his face, “—take it easy.”

he mumbles something in confirmation, ‘okay’ it sounded like, and allows his eyes to rest once more.

“sleepy?” you coo, applying a tone one might use on a child rather than the man luke was trying to portray himself as.

he manages a faint chuckle, but barely opens his eyes to respond. “mhm ,” he murmurs, with a dopey grin on his face.

you square your shoulders, leaning against the back of the couch with your thighs flat against the cushioning. “you wanna lay your head down?” you simper.

the weed had mitigated some of luke’s anxiety, and his inhibitions were at an all-time low. “sure,” he agrees, unwavering for a change.

a couple pats drummed on the upper portion of your leg coax him closer. without delay, he kicks his feet up and stretches across the sofa until he's properly situated on his side. with his left cheek now pressed into your thigh, you can feel the soft hum of contentment contained behind his lips. your hand reaches out towards him, fingers seeking refuge in the soft curls atop his head. it doesn't take more than a few minutes for your eyelids to grow heavy, and a small yawn signals the inevitable. when the clock strikes twelve in the trailer, all is silent—apart from the snoring of you and the customer you forgot to sell to.

ᡣ𐭩   with love , honey

[sophie-hatter-jenkins]

Four Names

A microfic written for Day 5 of Jily Week 2024, run by the very lovely @sunshinemarauder and @kay-elle-cee, and inspired by the theme Matchmaker, Matchmaker - a little push for our stubborn duo!

680 words

Rated G

Albus Dumbledore has an important choice to make...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Albus Dumbledore sat at his desk, staring at the list in front of him. Four names, from which to make his choice. One by one, he considered them carefully.

Remus Lupin had the character, certainly, but Albus couldn’t help thinking that Remus had enough on his plate, what with managing the effects of the lunar cycle on his health on top of his N.E.W.T. workload. At times, Albus wondered whether his choice of Remus as a prefect had been too much; this would certainly be a step too far.��

Next, William Foster, of Hufflepuff. Albus made his decision quickly, though with more than a little regret. William would make an excellent Head Boy, but choosing a second muggleborn Head Student was more of a statement than he wanted to make, given the current political climate. 

Jonathan Corner wasn’t really a contender either. He was competent, efficient and (clearly, as the Ravenclaw prefect) extremely intelligent, but he was unfortunately somewhat abrasive, and lacking in the leadership qualities that Albus felt were so important in the role.

That only left Josiah Carrow. None of Albus’s other objections applied to the Slytherin prefect  - he didn’t have any health issues to consider, his pureblood status would satisfy the need for balance, and he was certainly the most natural leader of the group. Josiah was the obvious choice - and yet Albus hesitated. 

The problem was that Albus wasn’t supposed to know about the Carrow family’s close links to Tom Riddle. He wasn’t supposed to know that young Josiah had already been introduced to his inner circle. And he certainly wasn't supposed to know that Josiah would be taking the Dark Mark at a ceremony scheduled for some time in August, and would be a Death Eater himself by the time he returned to school in September. No, he wasn’t supposed to know any of it - but thanks to the latest intelligence received by the Order of the Phoenix, he did. And he couldn’t in all conscience pair his stand-out pick of a Head Girl, Lily Evans, with an actual Death Eater of a Head Boy.

So - what to do? Albus tapped his quill on the parchment thoughtfully, considering his options. He’d never chosen a head student from outside of his prefect group before, but perhaps, for once, it might be his best option. Was there someone else that would fit the bill? Someone who thrived on more responsibility, not less. A pureblood who wasn’t a blood fanatic. A charismatic and popular leader. When Albus thought about it like that, one name in particular suggested itself immediately; James Potter. 

Lily, of course, might have an entirely different set of objections to James as her Head Boy than she would if Albus were to appoint Josiah Carrow. Albus probably wasn’t supposed to know about that either, but wasn’t blind, and nor was he as unaware of the… less academic aspects of his student’s lives as many would have suspected. 

He’d seen their relationship change over the years, from indifference to antagonism and finally blossoming into friendship. Over the spring term, he’d noted the lingering gazes and sudden blushes and he’d wondered if he would soon hear murmurs that spring’s blossom had become summer’s blooms - but it hadn’t happened, not yet.

Albus would never, of course, appoint a pair of Head Students if he wasn’t totally confident that they were up to the job, but neither was he averse to finessing his selection if offered… other possible advantages. He generally kept it very well hidden, but the fact was that Albus Dumbledore was a hopeless romantic, and in this case, he couldn’t help but wonder if throwing the pair of them together in this way might not provide just the little push they needed. The more he thought about it, the more he warmed to the idea. 

Slowly, a smile spread across his face.  Decision made, he selected a fresh sheet or parchment, and began to write.

Dear James, Congratulations on your appointment to the position of Hogwarts Head Boy! Please find enclosed your badge…

[talonabraxas]

"He who fights too long against dragons becomes a dragon himself; and if you gaze too long into the abyss, the abyss will gaze into you."― Friedrich Nietzsche

Red Spectral Dragon Talon Abraxas

Red Dragon is your Conscious Self - who you are and who you are becoming.

Red Dragon represents the root source of life, the nurturance and support of primary being, and within it are found the primal waters of unity. This is where your deepest roots receive true nourishment. Red Dragon is the energy of form contained within the formlessness of the primordial sea.

Primal trust means making choices with no guarantees, knowing that divine nurturance will provide what is needed for your journey. It means making choices moment by moment, implicitly trusting your innate steering mechanism of heart-knowing. Primal trust implies surrendering to the will of the divine self, letting go of what your ego deems to be control of the outcomes in your life. It means deeply trusting the processes that are at work within your present spiral of evolution.

The energy of Red Dragon asks you to embrace the depth of your receptivity. Perhaps you have been taught that it is better to give than to receive. Giving is a powerful way to learn how to receive, but it is not the whole picture. There is a circuit of completion in giving and receiving that happens within you and in your external world at the same time. If you trust unconditionally in the giving, you are not attached to how the gift is received. When you freely give, you fill your cup with sweet waters, which you can then offern innocently and purely to another. Know, on one level, that your gift is poured out universally regardless of how it appears to be received. However, when the gift comes from the ego, it is limited by expectations and conditions. Love just is. It is neither given nor taken; rather it is simply discovered and allowed.

The universe is an inseparable whole. Red Dragon represents the energy matrix lines that look like a web in the universe, through which all points are connected in time and space. This energetic web of communication is known as the 'crystal grid network.' It is a cauldron of creation, a potent field in which all things are not only possible but constantly being created. Within this grid, the linear causality of time and space has been freed into an open system in which all time and all space exist and interact simultaneously. This grid connects the larger holograms of reality with our own. Its energy lines connect all places, times and events - even those that are seemingly unrelated. All phenomena and all actions are part of this larger whole; it is the very foundation for telepathy and synchronicity. Red Dragon embodies unity, in which all things are one with the Source.

Red Dragon is also your Higher Self & Guide.

You are a double Red Dragon. When your Conscious Self and Higher Self are one and the same it means that you desire to embody all that Red Dragon is, completely and powerfully. Your SuperConscious is guiding you to trust in the larger pattern to provide what you need. Communicate your feelings, desires and dreams!

Yellow Sun is your Subconscious Self and Hidden Helper.

Yellow Sun is a reminder that you are, at every moment, in the center of All That Is. In your journey of remembrance, you are crafting a light body to return to a home in the stars that you never really left. Return as a child of the sacred to the Great Central Sun! You are the crown of creation, infused with the blueprint of solar mind. You are a Godseed, the reflection of cosmic consciousness. You are love made visible!

Discover the simple secret encoded in Ahau's star-glyph: you are unconditional love, the stone of indestructible liberation. Radiate that knowing in all your thoughts and actions. Love all of creation. Join the dance of light, the fundamental constant of nature, and shine forth the clarity of your true essence. There is great power in simply identifying with the light: "As above, so below." You are in God, and God is in you.

As you express unconditional love, you become more than you previously perceived yourself to be. You become illumined, the full manifestation of your divinity. In the embrace of your humanity, accept yourself and others unconditionally. Magnify your full presence. Ahau will come in myriad forms to assist you. Be limitless. Accept and understand the nature of judgement, fear, light and dark within yourself and others. Love and accept yourself and others as you are, freed from previous boundaries. You are the dawning of the solar age.

As you move toward your core of light, you will find a clear-light awareness that is innately innocent. In this place, the mind is restored to it's original state of receptivity. Clarity and freedom become expressions of being, and bliss becomes the body. At this core of light, a new reality is born. From the union of the divine masculine and feminine is birthed the solar androgyny of cosmic consciousness.

[eastwindmlk]

“You drive me so insane, you don’t even know.”

Oh, this for Jily!

Thank you so much for this ask! I had a lot of fun trying something new here. This ask is inspired by this post and I am happy to receive new ones! And you can find the collection on Ao3

Without further ado, 1.3k jily spice (Which makes this a @jilymicro-oops) under the cut!

Lily had a habit, an innocent habit, of sitting on desks and tables and other things that were not intended for sitting when she was chatting with someone. James never quite took note of that until they were forced to share a desk in the head student office, which was more like a broom closet with a window. It barely fit the filing cabinet, chair and desk that were provided to them. Just to make it extra crammed, there was also a stool for the unlucky one to use while they tried to work together. 

Neither Lily nor he was particularly keen on said stool and since James had Quidditch before their scheduled meeting time, he often was the relegated to the uncomfortable seat. 

That was until Ravenclaw started to book the pitch at the times that James preferred to train, and suddenly he was early. Which was when he started noticing it. Instead of sitting on the chair, Lily would slide herself onto their desk, one hand curled around the edge. Her thumb often flicking at a piece of spell-o-tape that had once held down a sheet of parchment with the prefect patrols before they’d moved it to the wall to create more space to work. 

Everything about this was distracting. The flicking, her leg dangling off the other side, the way he could feel her breath so close. But the worst might just be the way she’d unbutton her blouse just enough for him to notice her bra or, more often than not, the lack thereof. 

It had made for a few awkward moments where James could not possibly get up and leave the cover provided by keeping his lower half under the desk. 

That is when he started noticing it happening all the time. Lily sitting on Remus’ desk while they worked together in class. On the library table when explaining something to a very eager looking third year. On the table in the common room while chatting with her friends. 

It was slowly driving him insane, the thought of her on a desk, sitting, leaning, laying, shirtless, skirt hiked up to her middle. He usually stopped himself from letting the touts get out of hand, he caught himself before it could get him into trouble. Maybe even more so now that they’d started dating, and he knew how the soft skin of her thighs felt, how she tasted on his tongue.

What he wouldn’t give to… No, he couldn’t go there, not now sitting in the office waiting for Lily to get out of choir practice. James knew he should focus on some homework or maybe get started on some of their tasks. Anything but the uncomfortable tightness in his trousers. 

James checked his watch. She wouldn’t be here for another twenty minutes, that was plenty. That was luxurious even. He palmed himself through his trousers and decided that it was better for everyone’s sake that he’d get this over with. In the name of productivity, of course.

It did not take him long to cast a decently powerful muffiliato on the door and sink down into the chair, making himself comfortable. His head rested against the back of the chair when he pulled his cock from his trousers. Frankly, he thought there should be a law against being this easily affected. He would blame his youthful fertility or something to not feel completely and pathetically enthralled by his beautiful girlfriend. 

Still, as he strokes himself, Lily is all he can think about. The colour of her lips, the way she bites them and flutters her lashes at him. The way her hair curls on her collarbone and the way she would shake it back to grand his lips access to her. He could almost hear the little gasp she’d let out when his tongue skims the sensitive spot behind her ear or when he leaves love bites blossoming along her shoulder. 

James can almost imagine the perfume of her skin, the sweet, heady scent that promises a treat between her parted knees. He licks his lips as he moves his fist faster, seeking the friction he so desperately needs. Groans when he finds the right pace. 

Some day they will find the right time to test out just how sturdy this desk was, and James lets the thought of that consume him. Let his vivid imagination run wild. The heat curling in the pit of his stomach, slowly winding him tighter, inching him closer. 

“Fuck, Lily,” he moaned and moved faster, urging himself to finish when the sound of the door closing froze him in his tracks. His eyes flying open to see her standing there, her mouth open and her cheeks flushed. “Oh Merlin! Fuck, sorry… I- You’re early,” he stammered, sliding back into the chair and sitting up straight. 

How could he ever think this was a good idea? Did he even think of locking the door? How was he going to explain this? 

“Do you do this often?” Lily asked, every word drawn out like they were all a separate question? “I-i-is this what you do while waiting for me?” 

James shook his head frantically. “N-no, no, no, no. Uhm no. Not usually, I… thought you would be longer,” he stammered, feeling his face burn in embarrassment.

Lily’s eyes flicked from his face down to his hands covering his erection and hummed in answer. “Mhm, so that’s a no then?” To which he could only nod. “Alright, good to know. Shame.” 

The word took James aback. What did she mean ‘shame’? Was she telling him to be ashamed? It didn’t sound like it. Lily stood there, rolling her lower lip between her teeth, her hands gripping the edge of her skirt. She did not look angry, if he didn’t know better he’d think that she was aroused? That couldn’t be right. But what other explanation was there?

There was a beat of silence before James muttered, “You drive me so insane, you don’t even know.” His eyes dropped to the table to not have to see her reaction. 

“I don’t?” Lily asks, her voice a little closer already, her shape passed by the lamp and slowly her hands appeared in his vision when she leaned forward onto the desk. “James?” she asked, her voice practically a purr. 

“Yeah?”

“Is this a good time for a confession? Well, a suggesting more like. Preposition, if you will.” 

His throat bobbed, and for a moment James can only nod. “Sure?” he rasps and forces his eyes up to meet hers. He felt a little more comfortable seeing her twirling her hair nervously, her eyes barely meeting his.

James watched while her tongue swept along the curse of her upper lip, her eyes darted down and back up. “What would you say if I confessed to having thoughts about sucking your cock under this desk while you try to work?” 

His jaw went slack, of all the things that she could have said, this was not even on his list. James attempted to swallow away the dryness in his mouth while nodded slowly. “I would say that I will probably not stop thinking about that for a long time,” he decided, his voice thick with arousal. 

“Do you think that tonight might be a good time to…” 

“Yes,” he choked out instantly, not letting her finish her sentence. “I think that tonight is perfect for that. Brilliant, amazing,” the words dragged from his mouth before he puffed out a breath and rushed through the next words “Fuck, please don’t make me say more I am so ready!” 

Lily’s lips curled into that devilish smile of hers, the one that promised a good time. “Brilliant, then I suggest we get started on that schedule then.” 

[dicentsalve]

Hey I really love your art style it's amazing... And since we had la squadra and l'unita headcanons may i ask for zucchero & sale headcanons?

I like the direction we're going

Thank you, bb!

I haven't really thought about them as much as I'd like, but I have a couple of notes

First of all, I'd like to note that these two work quite closely with Luka, receiving possible information from him due to influence and a certain power (I will also touch on Luka a little and note that every member of Passione knows and respects him, regardless of status within the family. I mean, boy at least passed Polpo's test and was left without a stand🧍)

Buuut not always they can pay for the services provided

● Sale

As I mentioned, he's Squalo's older brother and has been working at Passione longer, but he still hasn't been able to get higher (if we don't take into account the events of Vento Aureo)

Since I gave Squalo the peculiarity of unusual teeth, Sale has them too, but less expressed and not so noticeable. His central and lateral incisors are normal, but starting with the fangs, as they approach the edges, the sharp teeth become more expressed. Btw, this pisses him off.

Has impaired water exchange up to dehydration.

Doesn't have a driver's license. Can't drive, could I say, if close communication with Mario hadn't forced him to learn it.

For some inexplicable reason, I associate Kraft Work with a cactus (that's why in one of my old sketches Squalo calls Sale a cactus ass🧍), in connection with this: Sale loves cacti. And Mario, with his ridiculous clothes, btw, resembles a cactus. Maybe that's why they're still together.

Doesn't like fish very much, but eats it to annoy Squalo.

Obviously a Tuscan, like his brother, but he has no accent or dialect in his speech. He uses dialect words only for confidentiality or out of harmfulness.

Has a stand since birth, which is why, even in childhood, having mastered the stand, he became proud and impudent And was a bully in childhood 🫵

Based on the Kraft Work ability, I like to think that Sale has a slight peculiarity of "dropping out" of a conversation/situation and just staring at one point for some time.

Like Squalo, he also has problems with his parents. But for them, this is rather a huge ground for jokes than a burdensome problem.

● Zucchero

Mario isn't only an inattentive, careless person, but also has some problems with his eyesight. Not in the sense that he needs glasses, but he has "tunnel vision", which neither Sale nor Zucchero himself knows about, believing that everyone has it. So in order to concentrate on the road, he can't look away even a millimeter. Otherwise, he is a really good driver, who has saved them from total ass more than once.

Lefty.

Very hunched over.

Despite his last name, he is rather clumsy and slow (in general, everything that, ironically, a lack of sugar in the body leads to), requires more time to process information, which also infuriates Sale.

Quite often he goes to women, cuz of which he often doesn't get in touch and gets scolded by Sale for his recklessness.

He's involuntarily acquainted with Tiziano and already doesn't have the best relationship with him, although they have only met once.

Since Soft Machine uses a blade, Zucchero is very good with bladed weapons.

He likes decorative poodles (I won't explain it)

Lives with Sale cuz it's safer and cheaper (he's just too lazy to clean the apartment)

Often takes Sale in the evening after work to see the sunset (he forgets the way home)

And original of meme

[mithrilhearts]

Maeve's 4k Follower Event

Battle of the Plot Bunnies

2024 has been a great year of finishing up fics for me, so it's time to unveil some new ones! I'm so excited to be able to do this, and have you guys help me essentially decide which fic gets tossed into the actual WIP pile next! Which is to say, THANK YOU for your continued support!

There are eight plot bunnies I've plucked from my Ideas list that I'm interested in developing further. Some of them have drabbles already, some have a little outlining attached, and some have barely even a working title.

Each fic will have a small summary and some bullets of information attached to it so you get an idea of what the plot/concept is!

✨ Feel free to ask me about any of those fic ideas for more information if you like! I will provide what I can!

First Round

Battle of the "Modern" ideas

Battle of the "Erebor Never Fell" ideas

Battle of the "Based on another story" ideas

Battle of the "Maeve's Choice" ideas

Semifinals

Battle of the "Cottagecore vs Dragons" Themes

Battle of the "Soulmate vs Time Travel" Tropes

Finals

Battle of the "Cottagecore vs Time Travel" Ideas

‼️Fic Summaries/Information below!‼️ All information below is subject to change as the fics develop

Modern AUs

Courtesy Call - Rated Explicit

While trying to make a most courteous call to pull his RSVP from his cousin's birthday party versus not showing at all, a misdial directs him to a particularly spicy line that's all about receiving a good time with oneself. The man on the other end is both baffled and challenged by a sudden new caller to his private line, but takes the challenge with everything his voice can provide. - Outdated Ficlet

Sweeter Than Honey - Rated Teen+

Bilbo Baggins runs a successful honey farm on the west side of the Brandywine River. His peaceful days of honey handicraft grow tense as a new logging company, owned by one Thror Oakes, draws closer to his land. It’s how he meets Thorin, a lumberjack living under the thumb of his grandfather, the owner. They should have been adversaries - the two are on opposite sides of nature, but as it is so often said: opposites attract. - Outdated Ficlet - Basic Information/Ideas via ask game

Based On Another Story

No Place Like Home - Rated Teen+

Smaug the Terrible was destined to be slain by a hero in king's armor. To prevent such a fate to pass, Smaug, an enchanter of great power, invaded the kingdoms of Erebor, Dale, and the Greenwood, stripping its citizens of their memories, and taking the throne. Banishing the three kings in an attempt to secure his safety, Smaug took the best part of each king, making them more vulnerable than ever. No one was smart enough, nor brave enough, or had enough heart to stand in his way. Until a most unlikely creature tumbles in. - Influenced by Alice in Wonderland & The Wizard of Oz - Basic Information/Ideas via ask game

Forged in Dragonfire - Rated Teen+

Durin the Deathless is a legend to every dwarf that knows the tale. A king, a dragonslayer, and one who possessed great power to do so. The blood of the dragonslayer was to pass from firstborn to firstborn, but as the war calmed, such rumors fell to myth, and those myths became lost with time, even as Smaug sought retaliation some generations later. A retaliation that was deadly, just as it was successful. Erebor had finally fallen. After many years of hardship, a wizard shows himself in Ered Luin, seeking the only dwarf who might be able to rekindle a little dragonfire in his blood to take down one of the world's deadliest creatures. One who is hellbent on claiming every kingdom in Middle Earth beneath his claws. - Influenced by Skyrim - Basic Information/Ideas via ask game

Erebor Never Fell

Heartstones - Rated Teen+

It’s believed that dwarves are blessed in one of two ways: by their heartstone, or their heartcraft, both a calling of the soul. When Thorin is convinced he has neither, a quest for his happiness takes him far beyond the Misty Mountains to the West. It’s in the West that Frerin is convinced they’ll find Thorin’s calling. Be that a happiness of the heart or the craft. - Outdated Ficlet - Basic Information/Ideas via ask game

Thief of Hearts - Rated Mature

Bilbo retired from his life of gentle burglary years ago to care for his ailing mother. With Belladonna's illness getting worse, he seeks out the aid of an enchanter, who is said to give people anything they want in exchange for a little task. Bilbo's task is to burgle one little stone from one lonely mountain under the nose of its king. Lucky for him, Erebor is preparing to host a grand party in hopes of finding a spouse for the oldest prince. It's the perfect distraction, and no one will see him coming.

Maeve's Choice

Twice In A Lifetime - Rated Mature

Just days before the siege on the Dimrill Gate, Thorin voices his guilt about his inability to keep his people safe when Smaug took the mountain. In the middle of an angry prayer to Mahal himself, the ringing of an anvil is the last thing Thorin remembers before waking up within the rolling green hills of the Shire. It’s there he’s greeted by a set of hazels he’d never forget. Not in this lifetime. - Outdated Ficlet

Wretched & Divine - Rated Explicit

After the battle, Bilbo continued to keep the Arkenstone close to his chest to protect those around him. He suspects that there’s more to this ‘Dragon Sickness’ than just the gold, and must figure out how he can save Thorin from his madness. All of this while trying to deal with the dwarf’s fascination with him with an intensity that rivals the obsession of finding the Arkenstone. Or: What if Bilbo had never given away the Arkenstone to Bard and Thranduil, and Thorin never kicked the gold sickness. - Outdated Ficlet

[emp-t-man]

okay here’s the thing— i don’t think hilbert actually killed fourier and rhea, and here’s why:

yes. he did kill lambert and hui. we know that it’s because command insisted that he continue the human decima trials after fisher’s death, and since neither lambert nor hui had received the physical and immune system training that he had gone through, their bodies weren’t able to fight it off. but fourier… she didn’t die from the virus. she disappeared. the day after she was able to figure out how to wire the vx3 into lovelace’s escape shuttle. they never found a body. and rhea? she was deactivated only three hours before running the final calculations. and lovelace was right, these were definitely not coincidences. someone didn’t want them to leave the hephaestus. but why would hilbert want them to stay? there was no reason he needed lovelace alive. the door didn’t exist during that mission, and so hilbert had no reason to believe that command wouldn’t simply provide him with more subjects after this one was met with failure. hilbert himself wanted to get off the station and go home! he says so in episode thirty-one, where he admitted to contacting command fifty days before she left and suggesting that they terminate the mission! there was no logical reason for hilbert to resort to murdering in cold blood in order to keep lovelace on that station.

but.

there is someone else that would resort to such an extreme just to keep the hephaestus crew from returning to earth. someone who, several years later, was able to bend the laws of time and space to their will by creating a loop of an entire day just to ensure something would keep them in the same place.

“doug, are you seriously suggesting that the aliens were miraculously able to remove two entire people from existence without a trace?” you bet your ass i am.

here’s the thing: these guys are able to do pretty much anything they want. they’ve created human duplicates, they’ve created time loops, they use a god damn wormhole to transport humans to a seemingly entirely different plane of existence. if someone were to figure out a way to do something they didn’t like, they could very easily just,, make them disappear! just like lovelace assumed it was for hilbert, it was a last resort for them, and last resorts make people get sloppy!

another thing that makes me think hilbert wasn’t behind this in particular? lovelace stated in her logs that command stopped responding to their calls months before the day she died. just like cutter seemingly stopped responding to minkowski’s call for help four months before he arrived on the station. he was only able to actually make it to the hephaestus after eiffel and bob have their little heart to whatever-the-hell-bob-has. that also does not sound like a coincidence to me.

the aliens causing fourier and rhea to disappear also makes sense from a learning standpoint. after they made them go away, lovelace still managed to make it off the station, even if she died shortly after. having a little run-in with the indomitable human spirit like that would make sense as to why they would elect to simply have time repeat itself until someone did something stupid rather than only dwindling their recourses and letting them continue.

as we learned from kepler, this was far from the first time the aliens had done something to interfere with a hephaestus mission in order to attempt to start their process. why would they try so hard during zhang’s (and possibly several others’) mission and leave the crew entirely alone during lovelace’s, just to try and stir the pot again during minkowski’s run?

i dunno, it’s just a theory (a space theory), but i think it would make a lot more sense as to why lovelace’s mission went the way it did rather than simply “hilbert went crazy and pulled a wadsworth on everyone”

[mychlapci]

Adult breastfeeder Springer is probably chubby as hell from all of mommy’s yummy milk. He doesn’t nurse as constantly as he did when he was a child, but on the occasion he does he really packs it away. He feels a little embarrassment for it, maybe, so he’s always telling himself that ‘this is the last time,’ and he needs to ‘make it count,’ by sucking Prowl dry. Prowl, of course, secretly relishes his time petting and stroking his baby boy’s helm and tummy. It makes him nostalgic for when Springer was small, and they don’t get to spend as much time together as they used to… If Springer needs mommy’s boobies for comfort after something really scary or traumatic, Prowl’s happy to provide milky and pats. They both love this time together and refuse to admit it. Neither of them will give it up for anything.

If Tarantulas ever caught them like this he’d be hard as a rock to be honest. Just like every other mech who’s seen Prowl’s huge tits since Springer was born. They’ve gotten even bigger over the years, after being sucked dry so many times. Prowl’s hood has just been straight up removed at this point, bumper straining to contain their warm, full weight. It’s been years since the last time he was able to fully cover them, and he’s just completely oblivious to them at this point. Sometimes his long, thick nozzles will even be leaking over the edge of his bumper without him noticing. At first he was self-conscious that he was the only one with his heavy, milky breasts out for the world to see, but after so long it’s second nature. The sky is blue, the world is round, and Prowl’s tits have to be scooped back into his open bumper every so often.

Anyone who’s willing to look suitably pathetic and ask nicely can nurse from Prowl’s tits. Springer, of course, has first dibs—but even he isn’t hungry all the time, and mommy has plenty of milk to spare. Prowl’s nozzles are thick and rubbery after years of being sucked and even chewed at, and they’re certainly long enough to fill a mouth. Nursing from Prowl means being cradled in his lap, his hand occasionally readjusting the bot or patting reassuringly at their hip or thigh. And his milk is delicious, thick and creamy and sweet. Maybe with a hint of spice, I dunno. He’s an alien, after all. Cinnamon and honey, milky and warm. It leaves mechs feeling heavy and sleepy after only a few swallows, but mommy won’t let you go until you nurse at least an equal amount from his other booby. Prowl hates feeling lopsided and *yes* he can see his tits’ capacity on his HUD down to the mL. If a bot drinks a little too much trying to even him out, he’ll switch them back and forth until they either drain him completely or get it right.

Mind you, Prowl is neither stupid nor blind. He knows how horny his big, milky titties make most mechs. He’s used this as an advantage, even. Captured enemies will do a lot for the promise that they might get to nurse, or at least drink Prowl’s pumped energon. Rumble and Frenzy have been persuaded to leave without causing trouble a handful of times for the cheap price of drinking their fill. And, of course, Prowl’s found that the Autobots are much more obedient when faced with a stern, milky mommy than some bastard cop. If the price is some exposed tits and feeling a little too full, then Prowl’s willing to pay it.

He doesn’t care if the mechs nursing from him get sexual gratification from it as long as they leave him out of it. They’re being given an opportunity, not an overload. If they’re rude enough to pop their panels uninvited, Prowl has no qualms swatting a spike out of his way or pinching a node until the message is received. You’re here to eat, not rut like an animal. As punishment, Prowl will make offenders drain him dry. Groaning as their bellies fill with his thick, sweet milk. Protoform swelling as they wiggle and whine, trying to apologize for being rude to mommy. Words turned to useless babble around the thick nozzle filling their mouths and tanks. The overfed waddle of shame is a frequent sight outside of Prowl’s office. Repeat offenders must consent to a temporary panel lock, because Prowl doesn’t have time to discipline horny idiots.

There are… more than a few chubby young autobots these days. And the decepticons can’t help but notice plush afts and big, warm bellies…

Oh, Springer is absolutely a chubby bot. Drinking rich milk his whole life turned him into a big, strong bot that most other mecha wouldn't trifle with. If a bot wanted milk but they walk in on Springer feeding, they know to turn around and come back tomorrow. Of course, there's plenty milk left for the army <33 Prowl is more than willing to keep the entire autobot army fat and obedient with his milk, and keep any intruding decepticons at bay by promising them a few sips...

Prowl has no patience for horny bots. He's not an easy bot. If someone's spike pops out during a feeding, that's on them! They better get that thing off of his thigh and take care of it later. How presumptuous of them to think he'd let them spike him just because he's graciously allowed them to suck on his milk... He's just making sure that the autobots are fat and healthy enough for the battles.

The Decepticons definitely realize that the autobots begin to look bigger... It's hard to ignore juicy afts jiggling and cute tummies poking out from behind their armour <3

[berserklittlecook]

I've finished Terry Pratchett's "Death" sub-series and here's my thoughts on Susan&Lobsang:

Knowing Master Pratchett, he likely wouldn't continue their relationship. He doesn't seem to have liked doing so, like with Granny Wheatherwax in "Equal Rites".

But would it even make sense to do so? Afterall, he's mostly an anthropological personification of an abstract idea, and she explicitly doesn't like that sort of thing.

I think she was slowly coming around to the idea. She did think that her family might be normal afterall, on the last pages of her last book. "We instinctively rely on each other when in trouble and don't get in each other's way otherwise." She also seemed entranced by the idea of someone like her. Of course, Lobsang turned our much difficult than her, but the sentiment still stands.

I think she had a problem more with her grandfather personally than the occult itself. He did allow her parents to die, and then he isolated himself from her for years and years until he needed her. He does seem to treat her instrumentally, even if he does dawdle in smalltalk. He doesn't understand smalltalk. He doesn't understand humans, despite everything that happened.

But she is friends with many occult beings, boogeymen, tooth fairies, and so on. I think she find the most common ground with witches, who are trained to see what's actually there and aren't prone to strikes of fancy like wizards are.

Normal humans, she can't really see them as equals. Despite all her insistence that she's one of them, she doesn't have the same limitations as them, and she doesn't have the patience for them. That's why she works with children, I think, because she doesn't have to treat them as equals. And because she wishes someone had shown her what's really there before it had come knocking.

How does Lobsang fit into all this? He is her equal. He has powers she doesn't have just like she has powers he doesn't have. In some ways, he's her superior, as the "god" of time and all that. In other ways, he's a stupid teenager. I think he'd be open to both giving and receiving influence, like he had done with Lutsy at the end.

I think they do have a chance. Since the Master had all his notes burnt after his death, we are free to imagine whatever we want. I imagine they do work out. They meet in the middle - she, mostly human, reaching out into the occult, he, mostly occult, reaching for her intonthe human world. I imagine it's their own private slice of the world, neither here nor there, a common home they come back to after work.

I imagine they have children, who get into so much trouble as to provide us with new Discworld books forever, and then she retires and stays with him in a frozen moment of time. And then she decided to die, so she does, but she's still with him in that perfect frozen moment, because for him all moments are now.

[saintsenara]

I feel like I'm slowly being sucked into rooting for the throuple from Hell (Harry x Voldemort x Bellatrix) but I did have the thought the other day that Harry probably would have been a much better 'lord' to Bellatrix than Voldemort ended up being. Not that she would experience buyers' regret because she's insanely devoted to Voldemort, but TBH Harry probably would have done a better job looking out for her overall.

It opens up nice possibilities for her to actually receive some of the romantic attention that she seems to genuinely crave from Voldemort but he was never interested in providing while not having to feel like she's betraying her vows to the man because their relationship is still active.

Actually, now that I'm writing this I have to ask -- what do you think is up with Rudolphus?? How does he fit in with Bella and Voldemort's... thing, in canon?

thank you very much for the ask, anon! I'm delighted to see you inching ever closer to the border of hellamort nation - and you are one hundred percent correct that harry would provide an enormous improvement to poor bella's quality of life by being a man she could actually leave the house with.

when it comes to rodolphus, as much as i love the idea both of him being an active participant in one of the most toxic triads in history and him sobbing from the cuck chair while voldemort demonstrates that nagini isn't the only snake he has mastery over...

[which you're not the only person to have spotted the potential in:]

... my preferred interpretation of his and bellatrix's marriage is that it's all just quite lonely and sad.

i think it was an arranged-bordering-on-forced match, which took place when they were both still very young [pureblood marriage conventions seem to be that everyone gets hitched when they're barely out of school] and which neither would have gone through with were it not for familial pressure and the sense that they were "supposed to".

this isn't to say that they don't get on - i think they're cordial with each other, and i think that being fanatical death eaters [the only thing they have in common] brings them closer together across the course of the 1970s - but i think there's no attraction there, nor any desire to share domesticity with each other, and i think they live essentially separate lives the moment the rings are exchanged.

[indeed, when i'm really deep in bellamort delusion i think that the marriage is never consummated, and the only man bellatrix ever has a sexual relationship with is voldemort.]

which is to say... he knows his missus is getting railed by the dark lord. and he's glad that means he doesn't have to do it himself.

[sjsmith56]

Unfinished Business - A Private Man, Chapter 26

Summary: Tracey and Janice go missing, leaving Bucky to call in some extra help to find them.

Length: 5.9 K

Characters: Bucky, Tracey, Janice, Rhodes, Daredevil, Spider-Man, Tracey’s dad, Tracey’s former neighbour.

Warnings: Profane language, violence causing injury, racist and misogynist insults.

Author notes: Tying up a loose end with Janice’s ex and Tracey’s former neighbour getting their just dessert. Divider by vecteezy.com.

<<Chapter 25

That final week of 2024 was the week Bucky put his official notice in at the docks.  He never betrayed Rick's revelations to him about the future of the jobs at the docks.  Having worked for the man for a year and a half he had faith that the manager would make sure everyone there was given an opportunity to continue on where they were needed.  Matt Murdock came out to the docks on Monday, December 30th, had lunch with Bucky, and agreed to represent John Walker, promising to make sure the man was given every chance to redeem himself.  Bucky took the opportunity to ask if Matt was interested in becoming one of the Avengers.  A smile creased the lawyer's face before he shook his head.

"No, I think I do better dealing with issues on my own," he replied.  "I work too much outside of the law when I'm dealing with some of the lowlifes I've had to take on.  If you ever need me to have your back though, just call."

"My offer to treat your injuries still stands," said Bucky.  "Witch hazel is great for bruises and inflammation, especially if you wrap a cloth soaked in it around the injury.  That's free advice."

"I'll remember that," smiled Matt, then he put his hand out.  "It's been a pleasure helping you.  You're a good man."

"So are you," replied the super soldier.  "I'm leaving the docks, now that the Avengers are going ahead.  Tomorrow, January 2nd and 3rd are my final days.  You still have my number?"

"Yeah," replied the lawyer, standing up.  "I do."  He leaned down and spoke to Bucky in a voice that was low enough that only he could hear it.  "The Power Broker.  Is she on your radar?"

"She might be if she gets out of line," he replied.  "Why?"

"She provided some crucial information that was passed on to Colonel Rhodes, but it came with the proviso that the Avengers stay out of her business.  I think he agreed to her terms.  I'm not an Avenger and if she ever sets her sights on my beat, I won't ignore it."

Bucky smiled and nodded.  "No, you're not an Avenger.  She doesn't know about you.  Be careful around her.  She was on the good side once and knows how to exploit that."

With a nod Matt stood up, unfurled his white cane and left the café. Bucky finished his lunch, paid the tab, and headed back to finish out the day.  While he was finishing some paperwork, he received a text message from Tracey.

T: Just heard from my mom.  My dad signed the divorce papers.  She can sign them this afternoon at the lawyers.  Their house has sold.  She's finally free.

B: Good to hear.  What a good way to end the year.

T: She also let slip she's going out New Year's Eve with Rhodey to some Washington party.  Said not to expect her home until the 2nd of January.

Bucky remembered the talk with Rhodes about his intentions on Christmas Day.  Something told him that Janice was the one determining how their relationship progressed, which was fine by him. 

B: He's a good man.  I'm sure he'll use protection. 😉

There was no response for a time, and he wondered if he had stepped over a line, until he got her reply. 

T:  I better have the talk with her, just in case. 😜

He laughed out loud when he saw it, loving Tracey just that much more.  He sent her a kissing emoji as his reply and got back to his paperwork.  By the time he got out of there the weather had turned nasty.  Running a little faster he arrived home a little earlier but was surprised to see Amina still around but neither Tracey nor Janice was there.

"Oh, Mr. Bucky, you're home," she said anxiously.  "Mrs. Janice called to say she had car trouble.  Mrs. Tracey went to get her but that was an hour ago.  Neither one has called, and they don't answer their phones.  I didn't want to leave Mrs. Rebecca on her own but I'm sorry I have to get home to my children."

"Did Mrs. Janice say what kind of trouble?" he asked.

"No, but I don't think it was anything bad," said Amina.  She looked out the window.  "Perhaps it has to do with the weather.  Mrs. Tracey didn't think it would take her long to get her mother."

"Okay, you go ahead and go home," he said.  "I can call you a taxi, if you want.  I don't mind paying."

Amina agreed and a taxi arrived within ten minutes, which considering the weather was fast.  After he gave the driver enough to pay for her taxi Bucky began to wonder if something else had happened.  He phoned both Tracey and Janice, with neither answering their phones.  He called Janice's lawyer and learned she had signed the divorce papers that afternoon and was planning to drive home right after. 

Rebecca, who had been napping when Bucky arrived home woke up and came out of her bedroom.  She could tell immediately that he was worried.

"Why don't I go next door?" she suggested.  "I can stay with Tom and his wife while you go look for them."

"Okay, let me call him," said Bucky.  "Something's not right.  I can feel it."

After helping her over to the neighbour's house Bucky called Chris Brandon, the officer he had dealt with several times.  He explained what was going on and asked if there was any way he could help him find his wife and mother-in-law.

"Officially, no," he replied.  "Someone has to be missing for a full day before we become involved.  But as one law enforcement officer to another I can maybe get a trace going on their cellphones and see if we can locate them.  Are you giving me permission to trace their numbers?"

"Yes," agreed Bucky, giving him both phone numbers. 

It was about ten minutes later when Brandon phoned back.  "Both phones have been traced to a location in an industrial area.  I've already sent a unit over there just to see but it's going to take them some time to get there because of the weather.  I would like to give you the location of the phones, but you can't just go in there guns blazing."

"What aren't you telling me?" demanded Bucky.  "Please, Chris, Tracey is pregnant and if anything happens to her, I'll be a lot harder to deal with."

"Walter Steinhauer, the man who stalked her, was released on bail Friday," said Brandon.  "His cell mate at the Metropolitan Detention Center who paid the $100,000 bail, was Martin Harris, your wife's father.  He got out last month.  I understand your mother-in-law was divorcing him."

"He supposedly signed the papers this morning," said Bucky.  "Janice signed at her lawyer's office this afternoon.  If the women's phones are at the same location, they must be together but why are they in an industrial location?  It doesn't make sense.  Look, I don't kill anymore, Chris, but I can't sit by and let either of those men hurt these women if they're involved.  I'll call a friend for backup and if those men are holding them, they will be alive when you arrive to take them into custody, I promise."

There was a long pause before the police officer answered and gave Bucky the address of the warehouse.  Immediately Bucky hung up and dialled Matt Murdock, giving him the address and the details. 

"Matt, the men have to be left alive," said Bucky.  "I promised.  But I need you to back me up in case one of them tries to hurt either Tracey or Janice."

"I will," said Matt.  "I can be there in 20 minutes."

"Okay," said Bucky, "I'll meet you there."

Quickly, Bucky changed his clothes, putting his gear on, and bringing a couple of knives with him.  Then he began running towards the industrial area where the warehouse was.  He went his top speed, not wanting to waste any time getting there.  Right away he saw the SUV.  Brushing the snow away from the window and peeking inside the vehicle he saw two cell phones, presumably the women's.  He scouted the perimeter of the building determining the best way in.  His cell phone vibrated, and he took it out of his pocket, seeing it was Rhodes.

"Hey," he answered with a grimace.  "What's up?"

There was a pause.  "You tell me, you usually answer with your name.  I've been trying to phone Janice, but she doesn't answer."

Busted.  He sighed.  "Janice and Tracey are in trouble.  I think her ex and Tracey's stalker joined forces to take them.  I'm at a warehouse in northwest Queens, waiting for my backup."

"I'm on my way," said Rhodes. 

"No," cautioned Bucky.  "It will take you too long and he's not exactly legal."

"Bucky, don't tell me he's that vigilante from Hell's Kitchen."

"Okay, I won't tell you," replied Bucky.  "We won't kill them.  I don't do that, but the police are delayed because of the weather making the streets unsafe.  He was close and he's willing to help."

"Then you call Peter," said Rhodes.  "If he's there with you I can make a plausible case that it's a legitimate Avengers mission."  Bucky didn't answer.  "Buck, please.  Don't go off the books on this.  You'll set us back a long way if you go rogue now."

Bucky sighed.  "Alright I'll call Peter but if it looks like either of the women are in jeopardy, I'm going in.  I won't wait."

"Fair enough," said Rhodes.  "I'm still coming but I'll take a portal.  Your friend, he wants to remain anonymous?"

"Yeah, please," answered Bucky. 

"Okay, call Peter now."

Rhodes hung up and Bucky called Peter, just telling him to get over there as soon as he could.  When Murdock arrived, Bucky was aware of the smell of his aftershave first before the vigilante appeared beside him, wearing an outfit with a mask that concealed his entire upper face. 

"Slight complication," said Bucky.  "My Avengers boss called, and I had to tell him the truth.  He wants this by the books.  I had to call in Spider-Man for official backup."

"Peter? No problem.  We know each other.  I represented him before when he was accused of killing Mysterio."

"He knows about you?" asked Bucky.

Matt grinned.  "His spider sense is very good," he replied.  "He figured it out quickly."  He nodded towards the warehouse.  "Anything?"

"Yeah, they're in there but I haven't heard anything since I got here.  With Peter we can come at them from different directions."

Within minutes Peter arrived.  With a grin he greeted Matt.  "Hey Mr. Murdock, how's it been?"

"You know, saving the world, one false accusation at a time," he replied.  "You're here to make this a legitimate Avengers operation.  Do you know what we're up against?"

Peter looked confused.  Bucky shrugged.  "I just told him to get here as fast as he could.  Tracey and Janice are being held by a guy who was Tracey's stalker, and her dad, who's not a very nice man."

Suddenly all three men stopped as they each heard something from inside the warehouse.  Recognizing the sound of a man angrily yelling, Peter webbed up to the roof while Bucky and Matt prepared to enter from a doorway.  Bucky tested the door and found it was unlocked.  They both slipped in silently.

Inside the warehouse, both women were tied up with zip ties, sitting on a pile of pallets.  Martin Harris, a big burly man with greying hair was pacing back and forth, his face twisted as he spewed verbal venom at Janice.

"My signature on those papers means shit," he said.  "You're mine and you're going to stay mine, till death us do part, just like the vows."

"Dad, by now the police have been notified and they're going to come looking for us," said Tracey, keeping her eye on her former neighbour Walter.  "Not to mention my husband."

"Your husband," he sneered.  "That killer?  You married the Winter Soldier, a fucking assassin!"

His face was right in front of Tracey's as he screamed the words at her.  Then he slapped her twice, one of them with the back of his hand that rocked her and brought blood to her mouth.  Walter put his hand up tentatively, seemingly shocked at the violence of her father.

"Don't hurt her," he protested.  "I'd never hurt you, Tracey.  You know that.  I just want to take care of you."

"You helped him, Walter," stated Janice, her eyes steely.  "In the eyes of the law, you're just as bad."

Marty hit Janice with his closed fist, knocking her over to her side.  Tracey looked anxiously at her mother, noticing she was dazed.  Then she saw a shadow flicker near a set of offices and suddenly felt calm, somehow knowing that it was Bucky. 

"What a coward you are," she said to her dad, distracting him.  "You're pathetic, you know that?  Tell me, did your first wife actually die or did she leave you?"

"You know nothing about her," said her father.  "She was a good wife, never talked back, never challenged my authority, always followed my lead.  Not like this bitch.  Every time I had to discipline Janice she deserved it."

"Sounds like you treated both women like a dog," said Tracey.  "I can't believe you think that's what marriage is."

Suddenly, Bucky was there, standing between her and her father as he raised his hand to strike her again.  "I can't believe you think it's okay to lay a hand on a woman," he said, then he noticed Walter trying to back away.  "Don't you move, Walter.  You already know how strong I am, and I was gentle with you before.  You try to leave and you're going to get hurt."

"I didn't hurt either of them, I swear!" whined Walter.  "It was all him.  When he found out I was Tracey's neighbour he came up with this plan.  He made me pull some wires from his wife's car so it wouldn't work.  He knew Tracey would come to get her."

"You fucking blabbermouth!" yelled Marty as he made a move to hit Walter.

He didn't even get a chance as Matt tackled him from behind and began punching him.  Walter made another move to leave, and a web came down from the ceiling, wrapping itself around him as he struggled against it.  Bucky allowed Matt to deal with Marty as he kneeled in front of Tracey, cutting through her ties.

"I'm okay," she said gratefully.  "But I think he hurt Mom.  See to her."

With a nod, Bucky shifted his focus to Janice, cutting her ties.  She fell forward limply, barely responsive, and he picked her up, carrying her towards the office where he knew a high countertop was.  Laying her down on it he quickly examined her, calling her by name.  Tracey followed him and took over. 

"Call an ambulance," she said, after taking a closer look at her mother's pupils.  "I think she has a concussion."

Bucky pulled his cell phone out and went to the door that he and Matt entered.  He looked out just as Rhodes came out of a portal.  In the distance he could hear a police siren.  Pointing inside for Rhodes' sake he made the call for the ambulance and told the dispatcher to tell the police he had located the missing women, and the men who had abducted them.  Heading back inside he left Janice with Tracey and Rhodey, entering the warehouse portion where Matt had finished with Marty as Peter bound him with a web.

"Police are almost here," he said.  "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," said Matt.  "Abusers like him almost always don't hit back when someone stronger faces them.  I probably broke his nose, but he'll be alright.  How's Janice?"

"I've called an ambulance," replied Bucky.  "Tracey's concerned."  The sound of the siren was even closer, and Bucky put his hand out to Matt, knowing he had to get out of there to avoid questions.  "Thanks."

"No problem," said Matt, then he looked at Peter.  "Spider-Man, nice to see you."

"You too, Daredevil," replied the young man, as Matt disappeared, leaving through a doorway away from where the police approached.  He looked at Bucky.  "You want me to stay?"

Bucky nodded.  "Yeah, I'll let the cops know you're guarding them.  Remember, I'm the one that beat up Marty when he tried to attack Walter.  Thanks."

Returning to the office Bucky waited at the door then identified himself to the approaching officers as an Avenger, doing the same for Rhodes and letting them know Spider-Man was guarding the suspects.  As one of the policemen went in there the other approached where Janice was, watching as Tracey kept monitoring her.

"You call an ambulance already?" he asked.  "Who did this to her?"

"My father," said Tracey.  "She just signed the divorce papers at the lawyer's office this afternoon.  He had someone pull some wires so her car wouldn't start, making me come to get her.  When I arrived, he and the other guy, who had been previously arrested for stalking me, got into my vehicle, forcing us to drive here."  She gave a ragged breath then looked at the cop.  "I think he was planning to kill her and give me to the stalker."

"Why are the Avengers here?" asked the officer.

"She's my wife and the other is my mother-in-law," said Bucky.  "I knew something was wrong when they weren't home on time and pulled some strings to find out where their phones were.  I called my boss, Colonel Rhodes, and Spider-Man for backup.  Her dad is a violent man.  We got here just after he hit both women and tried to attack his accomplice when he disagreed with the violence.  I may have hit him back a bit too hard."

"Understandable," replied the officer.  "I'll just go and check on the other two and get Spiderman's statement."

"Who was that with you?" asked Tracey, in a low voice, when the officer was out of earshot.

"Matt," whispered Bucky.  "I'll tell you more later."

The two officers came out with both men, covered in web debris and their hands cuffed behind their backs.  Marty sneered when he saw Rhodes.

"You again," he said.  "You've been fucking my wife, haven't you?  You fucking ni...."  Without hesitating Rhodes punched Marty in the nose, bringing out a yell of pain then a demand from him.  "I want him arrested for assault!"

"What assault?" asked the first cop.  "You insulted the man and his lady, and he defended their honour."

"I haven't been with your ex-wife," said Rhodes, standing in front of Tracey's father.  "But I'll tell you something.  When she's ready I'm going to treat her like the queen she is, and I guarantee she won't ever give you a second thought.  You're a loser, Harris.  You had a beautiful wife and daughter, and you treated them like shit.  Now you get to do some real time.  Good luck with that."

The officer pulled Harris out and a whimpering Walter followed behind them, escorted by the second officer.  Peter was right behind them.  Bucky looked meaningfully at Rhodes who grinned slightly.

"Yes, I like her a lot," he said.  "We agreed not to do anything until her divorce was finalized.  Your mom is an amazing woman, Tracey.  I can see where you get your best qualities from."

At that moment the ambulance pulled up and the paramedics took over assessing Janice.  Since she was still dazed, they wanted to take her in to be assessed for a concussion.  Tracey gave Bucky the car keys while she asked to go with her mother to the hospital.  Remembering her phone was in the SUV he ran out to get it for her before she left.  Rhodes leaned over Janice and gently touched her cheek.

"We'll meet you at the hospital," he said softly.  "You're going to be okay, and Marty will never lay his hands on you again."

"James," she whispered, then smiled at him.

After getting the name of the hospital Bucky kissed Tracey goodbye and looked at Rhodes and the young Avenger.  "Do you need a ride home, Peter?" he asked.

"No, I'll go home the way I got here," he said.  "It would take too long by car for you to drop me off then go back to join Mrs. Barnes and Mrs. Harris at the hospital.  She'll be okay.  They're both strong women.  They remind me of my Aunt May."

"Thanks for backing me up," said Bucky.  "I appreciate it."

"Anytime," said the younger Avenger.  "See you."

With a leap they watched him shoot out his webs in the falling snow, still amazed at how easily he could do that.  Getting inside the car both men took a deep breath before Bucky started it up and began driving.  Neither said anything for a good five minutes then Rhodes looked at the super soldier.

"How do you do it?" he asked.  "I wanted to pummel Marty when I saw how Janice looked.  Then he opened his mouth and I wanted to kill him."

"It's hard sometimes," replied Bucky.  "I'm a protective guy, always have been.  But I'm also very aware that with just one punch too hard I could lose all credibility in the eyes of the public.  Right from the moment I turned myself in after the Battle of Earth I've repeatedly told people that I don't kill anymore.  It's the price I have to pay to stay free and be able to look the people I love in the eye.  Having Tracey with me helps.  She's such a gentle caring person.  So is Janice.  I think you were right about them having the same qualities.  Maybe that's how she coped with that beast of a husband.  You meant what you said about Janice?"

"Every word," answered Rhodes.  "I sacrificed all sorts of relationships to the work and now here I am at 56, partially paraplegic, alone, and there's a beautiful woman who likes me and makes me feel good.  I'm going to do all I can to hold on to her and make her feel like she's special every day."

"You're 56?" asked Bucky.  "You should be looking to start slowing down."

"I will, once I get the Avengers up and running properly," he said.  "You're what, 110?"

"108 in March," smiled Bucky.  "But everyone tells me I don't look a day over 40.  I figure I have another ten to fifteen years in me of being an Avenger.  By then our kids will need to have a dad that can be around more.  With most of my settlement in investments I can probably step back and be there for them."

"You'll be a good dad, Buck," said Rhodes.  "I know the younger Avengers already look up to you and I've heard some good things about your volunteer work at the newcomer centre with the kids there.  In fact, we're writing in volunteer work as a requirement to be an Avenger in the future.  It's why Sam and I talked about you being in a leadership role.  What you've come through in your own life is inspiring, it really is."

"I don't like being put on a pedestal," replied Bucky.  "You know I tried to talk to Karli Morgenthau, tried to tell her how she was handling things wasn't the right way.  She called me old.  Said I should sit it out.  Makes me wonder if Ross tried to get her and her followers."

"He did," stated Rhodes.  "She and her followers were his first targets.  Thought he could buy them off like mercenaries.  She wouldn't have it and it made her even more militant.  The man was so single minded.  Couldn't see how his actions made things worse."

"He's still unrepentant, isn't he?"

"Yeah, still thinks there's a way out of this for him.  All it takes is a different man in the White House who agrees with Ross to give him a pardon and he's back in business.  That's why this version of the Avengers has to work.  If Ross ever gets out and regains his influence, we could be back at square one."

It was a warning that both men took to heart as they arrived at the hospital.  Checking in at the reception they were routed to the correct cubicle in the emergency room, where Janice was on a gurney, looking better but with a terrible bruise forming on her face.  Tracey hugged Bucky when they entered as Rhodes went directly to her mother.

"How are you?" he asked, concern etched on his face.

"My head and neck hurts like crazy," replied Janice.  Gingerly, she touched her jaw.  "This is going to keep me away from the New Year's Eve party.  I can't go out looking like this."

"Then we'll stay in," he said, smiling fondly at her.  "It was just an excuse to show you off, you know.  They can wait to see the prettiest woman of my acquaintance."

She smiled and blushed, taking his hand in hers.  Bucky looked at Tracey, an idea forming in his head.

"Is there dancing at this party?" he asked Rhodes.  "Old school dancing?"

"Yeah," replied Rhodes.  "You want the tickets?  There will be some big wigs there.  Might want you for a few photo ops as many of them are fans of yours.  You can stay at my apartment."

"Are you sure you want to go?" asked Tracey.  "I would have to get something nice to wear."

"That's not a problem," said Bucky.  "I just had an urge to take you out dancing."

Her shy smile settled it, and Rhodes gave them his apartment key, choosing to stay in Brooklyn with Janice, expecting her to be released soon.  Bucky called a service for Janice's car to be picked up and taken to the repair shop.  When Janice was released, they all went to the SUV, and he drove them home.  After going next door to get Rebecca, Bucky took Tracey out to buy a dress before the stores closed.  They made some dinner, and the four of them had a relaxing evening. 

The following day Bucky worked at the docks in the morning.  When he got home after making a brief stop, he and Tracey packed an overnight bag then requested a portal to Rhodes' apartment in Washington, staying in his guest room.  When they got ready for the New Years Eve party Bucky pulled out a black suit, and shirt, both of them made of a very fine fabric.  Tracey was surprised at the sight of it.

"When did you get that?" she asked.  "I've never seen it."

"It was a gift from Shuri," he said.  "Thought it would go better with your new dress than my grey one."

Bucky had received a haircut on the weekend and went to shave but Tracey stopped him.

"Leave it," she said.  "I like it when you have a little bit of stubble."

Pulling her into his arms he kissed her on the lips, then moved down to her neck.  He could smell her perfume and he pressed his face into the soft skin.

"I like it when you wear that," he whispered.  "It's Beautiful, isn't it?"

"You should know, you got it for me," she smiled.  "Every time I wear it, I can hear your voice calling me beautiful."

"It's because you are," he said.  Then he let her go.  "We better stop, or we'll never get to the party."

Backing slowly away from him, Tracey undid her robe, revealing the daring underwear she was wearing.  He watched as she took her dress off the hanger and stepped into it.  Turning her back to him he came over and did up the back, stopping to kiss her neck and smell her perfume again. 

"Damn, you look even better in it than when you tried it on," he whispered.  "Hold on a moment."  Retreating to his dress jacket he pulled a small box out and brought it over to Tracey, opening it to reveal a pair of diamond stud earrings.  "I picked these up today before I got home.  Wanted something for you to wear that went with the dress."

"Bucky, you didn't have to get me these," she said, gently touching them.  "They're much too expensive."

"Just in case I don't tell you enough how much I love you, you can look at these and know how I feel every time you wear them," he said, kissing her again.

"You're a beautiful man," Tracey whispered.  "I know that just with how you look at me.  Thank you."

He watched as she put them on, then finished dressing himself, earning a compliment from her on how stylish he looked.  Pulling his phone out he called an Uber and picked up the tickets on the kitchen counter.  When their driver texted them that he was there Bucky helped Tracey on with her coat and they stepped out into the night air.  Their driver did a double take when Bucky got in.

"You're Bucky Barnes," he said.  "Wow.  Would you mind if I took a selfie with you behind me?"

"Go for it," said Bucky.  "Just get us to the hotel in one piece and on time."

The driver snapped the picture and put the car into gear.  There was a long line of taxis, limousines, town cars and other ride services dropping off passengers at the hotel.  When they got to the door a doorman opened their door and offered his hand to Tracey as Bucky got out on his side.  He took Tracey by her hand and began to walk in.  Right away they were noticed, and photographers began taking photos of the couple, calling on them to stop and pose.  Ignoring them just like everyone else they stepped inside and were directed to a coat check for Tracey's coat.  From there they joined the line of people into the event, handing the doorman their tickets and being directed to their table.  Two other couples were already seated, a Department of Justice lawyer and his wife, and a Marine Corps chief warrant officer with his wife.  After introductions were made Bucky got up to get himself and Tracey a drink.  The other two men joined him, and they waited in line at the bar together, chatting amiably.  Bucky couldn't help but notice their attention go to his left hand, but he said nothing.  Finally, the chief warrant officer raised his left pant leg, showing Bucky his prosthetic leg.

"I've been stuck behind a desk for six years because of this thing," he said, then he gestured at Bucky's arm.  "The worst is when I feel like I have to scratch an itch.  It just about drives me crazy.  Can I ask you truthfully if you still experience phantom pain?"

"No, I don't," said Bucky.  "But every once in a while, I wake up with it around my dick, which is weird because I'm right-handed."

Both men looked at him with their eyes wide open then the chief warrant officer started to laugh.  "You're full of shit," he said.

Bucky shrugged.  "Had you going though," he grinned.  "What are you drinking?"

They both told him, and Bucky ordered the drinks for everyone, paying with a tap of his bank card then leaving a twenty-dollar bill in the jar as a tip.  By the time they got back two more Marine warrant officers with their wives, friends of the chief warrant officer, were there and more introductions were made.  It turned out all three military men were long time friends who enlisted at the same time, coming up through the ranks together, an unusual thing.  All three had been sergeants at one point and met at this party every year to blow off steam, as they were now relegated to desk jobs until mandatory retirement.

Dinner was punctuated with conversations about missions, people they had served with, and places they had been.  Tracey watched as Bucky let the conversation ebb and flow, occasionally asking questions for verification or emphasis.  When the dishes were cleared, and the band started to set up the conversation turned to him and although he answered questions about the Howling Commandos no one brought up the Winter Soldier, until the slightly drunk lawyer asked how he seemingly survived with his sanity intact; how he didn't put a bullet in his own head at some point.  The chief warrant officer looked a little angrily at the lawyer, having had a few drinks himself and he turned to Bucky.

"Sarge, you don't have to answer him," he said.  "We three have been there at one point or another, wondering if what we went through was worth it all.  I stay because of this beautiful woman who still loves me, and these two assholes that won't let me go.  You have nothing to prove to us."

Smiling slightly, and patting Tracey's hand, which had gently been placed on his when the lawyer asked his question, Bucky cleared his throat and looked at the lawyer. 

"I ask myself that every day," he said, not really angry at the question because he knew so many people wanted to ask but were afraid to.  "A whole life was stolen from me and when I got free there were times I wanted to put a gun in my mouth and end it but then HYDRA would have won.  I'm just asshole enough to want to prove to them that I'm still here, doing some good in the world, and they're not.  So, every morning I wake up and I see this beautiful woman beside me, and I thank the universe for bringing us together.  With her I'm going to have the life I want; a house, a family, and people who love me for the man I am, not for what my abilities can do for them."  The music started and Bucky stood up with Tracey then he turned back to the others.  "In the words of Auntie Mame, who my 94-year-old sister so happily quoted a few months ago: "Life is a banquet and most poor suckers are starving to death."  Gentlemen and ladies, I'm no sucker.  I'm going to have my fill of life and I've only just begun."

With a smile to them he led Tracey to the floor and began dancing as the band started playing "The Way You Look Tonight." The several hundred people at that Washington New Year's Eve party that night all noticed the tall, muscular and handsome man dancing with the beautiful, dark-haired woman.  Word had already gone around that it was Bucky Barnes and his wife.  Together they glided effortlessly over the floor, so obviously in love, with their eyes only on each other.  If there were any negative whispers about what he once was the couple ignored them.  What mattered to them was the here and now, and for several hours they just danced.  It's what they came to the party to do.

Chapter 27>>

Series Masterlist

Please support the author by reblogging.

[thecrayonindisguise]

Chapter 4: Unspoken Bonds || Bonds and Barriers

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x Original Female Character

Masterpost || << prev || next >>

Word Count: 9.4k

Warnings: no particular warnings

Authors Note: And here we are at Aubrey Hall people!! just a little note, some scenes here were inspired by some from the second season, obviously, I changed something, we don’t like to copy and paste. We are getting to know Caterina a little more... and I loved writing Teresa and Caterina's relationship here, they are my favorite!

Dearest gentle readers,  

It appears that the winds of fortune have once again swept favor upon the Medici family, though perhaps a bit sooner than expected. In an unusual twist, the illustrious Miss Caterina Medici and her sister Miss Teresa Medici were extended a private invitation to Aubrey Hall, before the rest of the ton, no less. Some might wonder what could inspire such a gesture from none other than Lord Ducker, especially given that the entire ton has yet to receive their own summons to the Bridgerton family estate. It seems some are destined to arrive at the party early. I would venture a guess, dear readers, that romantic interests are afoot. But, Miss Medici is the true object of Lord Ducker’s favor?  

On another note, last night’s ball provided more than just invitations and dance sets. One might have heard a certain Mr. Paxton’s pride shatter as he found himself unexpectedly sprawled on the floor, courtesy of a certain Miss Medici. What caused such an ungraceful display, you ask? Let’s just say that Mr. Paxton should be more mindful of his tongue when speaking about women, especially in Miss Medici’s presence. She has proven, once again, that her wit is as sharp as any sword.  

Until next time, my dear readers. It seems the Medici sisters have much to look forward to in the coming days. Aubrey Hall awaits, and who knows what further intrigues might unfold behind those grand doors? I, for one, will be watching with great interest.  

Yours in gossip,  

Lady Whistledown

─────────

The Medici carriage slowed as it approached the grand entrance of Aubrey Hall. 

The sprawling estate, with its expansive gardens and towering manor, rose before them like a testament to the Bridgerton family’s wealth and legacy. Sunlight bathed the honey-colored stone in a soft golden glow, while the breeze stirred the trees that lined the long drive. 

Caterina leaned slightly toward the window, her sharp eyes taking in the details, impeccably manicured lawns, ivy creeping up the walls of the estate, and the grand stone steps that led to the entrance. 

Beside her, Teresa practically hummed with excitement, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her gloves.

“ Dio mio , it’s even more beautiful than I imagined,” Teresa whispered, her voice full of awe.

Caterina merely nodded, her expression unreadable but betraying a flicker of admiration. “Yes, the Bridgertons certainly know how to make an impression.”

The carriage came to a halt, and before the Medici sisters could compose themselves fully, the door swung open.

Footmen, dressed in the Bridgerton livery, stepped forward to assist them down. As Caterina alighted gracefully from the carriage, her gaze immediately fell on the figures waiting at the top of the stairs.

The entire Bridgerton family stood assembled to welcome them.

Lady Violet Bridgerton stood at the forefront, beaming warmly, with her children gathered around her in a welcoming line.

Daphne and Simon stood close by, as did Benedict, Colin, Eloise, and Anthony. But joining them this time were the younger Bridgertons, Francesca, Gregory, and Hyacinth, whom neither Caterina nor Teresa had yet met.

“Lady Medici, Miss Caterina, Miss Teresa!” Violet greeted them with her usual enthusiasm, stepping forward. “We are so thrilled to welcome you to Aubrey Hall.”

Lady Medici inclined her head politely, her soft smile belying her regal composure. “Thank you, Lady Bridgerton. Your home is even more beautiful than I imagined.”

As the Medici family exchanged pleasantries with Lady Bridgerton, Teresa's wide eyes lingered on the grand entrance of Aubrey Hall, her lips parted in awe. 

Caterina, though poised and regal, couldn’t help but admire the lively scene before her, a family so intertwined in each other's lives, filled with an undeniable warmth.

Violet waved away the compliment with a gentle laugh. “It’s an old home, but it’s filled with love. Now, allow me to introduce you to the rest of the family.” She gestured to the three younger Bridgertons. “This is Francesca, Gregory, and Hyacinth. They were eagerly awaiting your arrival. and of course my lovely daughter Daphne.”

"Lady Medici, Miss Caterina, Miss Teresa," Daphne greeted them, stepping forward, her face aglow with kindness. The Duchess of Hastings was radiant, her hand resting lightly on Simon’s arm. "I hope the journey wasn’t too tiring for you?"

Caterina smiled softly, inclining her head, her gaze briefly flicking over Simon’s tall, imposing figure before settling on Daphne. "Not at all, Your Grace. The journey was pleasant enough, though I must say, arriving at Aubrey Hall makes the journey feel worthwhile."

Simon nodded, his expression serious yet warm. "We are pleased to finally welcome you both here”

Teresa, unable to hide her excitement, stepped forward with a grin, her voice bubbling with enthusiasm. "Your Grace, I’ve been looking forward to seeing Aubrey Hall. It’s even more magnificent than I imagined."

Daphne laughed lightly, exchanging a quick glance with her husband. "I’m glad to hear that, Miss Teresa. We hope you will both find your stay as pleasant as possible."

As the conversation continued, Lady Medici and Violet shared a quiet exchange. "You have raised a fine family, Lady Bridgerton," Lady Medici said with sincerity, her regal tone softening slightly. "It is easy to see the bond between all of you."

Violet smiled proudly. "Thank you. Family is everything to us, and I believe that’s something we share in common, Lady Medici."

Before they could exchange further words, the familiar figure of Lord Ducker stepped forward, his presence commanding attention. 

He had been lingering toward the back, but now his eyes were fixed on Teresa, his lips quirking into a small, appreciative smile.

"Ah Edward," Violet greeted with warmth, "I see you've come to greet our guests as well."

Edward offered a low bow, his eyes never leaving Teresa’s as he straightened. "Indeed, dear aunt. It would be quite improper of me not to welcome the Medici family." He turned his full attention to Teresa, his voice softening. "Miss Medici, I trust your journey was pleasant?"

Teresa blushed slightly, her fidgeting hands stilled as she met his gaze. "Very pleasant, my lord. Thank you for asking."

Caterina observed the exchange with quiet interest, a small smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. 

Edward’s admiration for her sister was unmistakable, and it filled her with a sense of quiet relief. 

Despite all the complications that had arisen since their arrival in London, this was falling into place.

"Lord Ducker, you’ve been quite the gracious host in London," Caterina added, her tone smooth and measured. "It’s been a pleasure getting to know your family during our stay."

Edward’s gaze flicked briefly to Caterina before returning to Teresa. "The pleasure has been mine, Miss Caterina. But if I’m honest, I am always particularly looking forward to this visit to Aubrey Hall. The countryside, the fresh air… it offers a welcome respite from the chaos of London."

Daphne, watching the exchange with amusement, chimed in, "Indeed, Aubrey Hall has that effect on everyone. And I daresay a few days in the countryside will be just what we all need to clear our heads."

Just then, Benedict approached from the side, his expression unreadable as he met Caterina’s gaze briefly before bowing slightly to the group. "Lady Medici, Miss Caterina, Miss Teresa," he greeted formally, though there was an edge to his voice that only Caterina noticed. "I hope you find the estate to your liking."

Caterina met his gaze steadily, though the tension between them was palpable. She inclined her head, keeping her voice cool and measured. "It’s lovely, Mr. Bridgerton. A home filled with history and charm."

Before anything more could be said, Anthony stepped forward with a broad smile. "Right then, we’ve gathered enough in the courtyard, haven’t we? Let’s not keep the ladies standing any longer. Let us show you to your rooms, and afterward, perhaps we can all enjoy a walk through the gardens before dinner."

Violet nodded in agreement, her eyes sparkling. "Yes, please. You must be tired after your travels. Come, we’ll show you to your chambers so you can rest."

As they made their way inside Aubrey Hall, Teresa, still flush with excitement, fell into step beside Edward.

The two exchanged quiet words, their conversation flowing naturally, while Caterina found herself walking next to Benedict, though the silence between them stretched uncomfortably.

Until the little Hyacinth, with her eyes twinkling with curiosity, stepped forward, eager to meet the new guests. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Medici,” she said, her words directed at Teresa. "Mother says we’ll be playing Pall-Mall later, and I do hope you're ready. We Bridgertons take it very seriously.”

Teresa smiled brightly, her excitement matching Hyacinth’s. “I think I’m more than ready,” she replied, casting a playful glance at Caterina, who stood back with a raised eyebrow.

Gregory, looking ever the mischievous younger brother, grinned and added, “Just don’t let Benedict put you off, he’s notorious for bending the rules.”

Benedict, who was standing to the side, raised an eyebrow at the jab. “Notorious? Gregory, I’m wounded by your lack of faith.”

“And here I thought it was part of your charm,” Caterina chimed in, her voice laced with dry humor, her eyes glinting. 

Benedict smiled, clearly amused. “I’m afraid I can’t deny it. A good strategy, bending the rules, especially in Pall-Mall.”

Caterina gave him a sidelong glance, her lips curving into a knowing smile. “And here I was, thinking you were the noble one in the family.”

Benedict let out a soft laugh. “Noble? In this family? You wound me, Miss Medici.”

Caterina laughed, her posture relaxed as she teased him further. “Let’s hope that charm of yours isn’t the only weapon you bring to the field.”

Benedict leaned in slightly, his smile widening. “Oh, I don’t doubt that. But I should warn you, if you thought the ballroom was a battlefield, you’ve yet to witness the chaos of a Bridgerton Pall-Mall match.”

As the playful exchange between Caterina and Benedict unfolded, Lady Bridgerton cleared her throat, smiling at the pair. “Now, now, let’s leave the game talk for later. Why don’t we settle you into your rooms first?”

Teresa glanced at Caterina, excitement bubbling in her voice as they followed the family inside. “I think I might actually enjoy this weekend,” she whispered.

Caterina smirked, eyes still dancing with amusement from her banter with Benedict. “Oh, I’m sure it will be interesting, at the very least.”

Inside the manor, the atmosphere was as welcoming as the family themselves. 

The grand foyer was filled with warmth, chandeliers glittering above, and family portraits adorning the walls. 

As the Medici family took in the grandeur of Aubrey Hall, Caterina couldn’t help but admire the subtle elegance.

As they were shown to their rooms, Benedict lingered near Caterina. “I’m glad you decided to come,” he said softly.

“Are you?” Caterina responded her tone teasing but with a curious undertone.

Benedict chuckled, leaning in slightly as they walked. “Of course. Who else would I spar with during our matches? You keep me on my toes.”

Caterina met his gaze, eyes glinting with both challenge and amusement. “Then I suppose I’ll have to keep you guessing, won’t I?”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” he replied, his voice low and playful.

As they continued up the staircase, the light banter between Caterina and Benedict didn’t go unnoticed by the rest of the Bridgertons, or by Teresa, who shot a quick smile toward her sister. 

It seemed Aubrey Hall was already full of intrigue, and the weekend had only just begun.

─────────

The sun was beginning to dip lower in the sky, casting a golden hue over the sprawling grounds of Aubrey Hall, as the Bridgertons and their guests made their way to the garden where the Pall Mall course had been set up. 

Lush green hedges framed the open field, and the wicket posts stood ready, gleaming in the sunlight. Flowerbeds burst with color along the path, their vibrant hues reflecting the competitive but playful mood hanging in the air.

Daphne, always graceful, stood with Teresa and Caterina Medici in the shade of a large oak tree.

The sisters, ever poised but clearly eager for the challenge ahead, listened attentively as Daphne outlined the game’s nuances. 

Teresa leaned in, her eyes bright with curiosity. “Can I ask the rules, Your Grace?” she prompted, though it was clear she was already picking up on the tone of the game.

"Pall Mall is less about the rules," Daphne began with a small, knowing smile, "and more about the goal." she chuckled softly. "The goal is simple, hit your ball through each wicket. The first player to reach the last wicket wins. But," she added, her eyes glinting with mischief, "if you’re feeling particularly wicked, you can use your turn to knock an opponent’s ball as far from their next wicket as possible."

Caterina's lips curled into a devilish smile, exchanging a glance with Teresa. “I believe we will enjoy this game very much,” she said, her tone laced with anticipation.

Daphne continued, her voice filled with amusement, as though she was letting the sisters in on a Bridgerton family secret. “The real trick is knowing your opponents. Colin is crafty, he’ll strike when you least expect it, so always be on your guard. Eloise,” she glanced toward her younger sister, “focuses entirely on beating her brothers. She’s so absorbed in her rivalry with them that she often forgets about the rest of us.”

Teresa raised an eyebrow, clearly impressed. “And Lord Bridgerton?”

Daphne laughed. “Anthony is ruthless. He plays to win and doesn’t care who he steps over to do it.”

Caterina, ever observant, leaned in slightly. “And your other brother your Grace?”

“Benedict?” Daphne smirked. “he is a solid shot. He avoids conflict, mostly. But don’t underestimate him, he’s full of surprises.”

Caterina’s eyes sparkled at the mention of Benedict, already plotting her next teasing exchange. 

Before she could say more, Anthony approached, carrying the Pall Mall mallets with his usual air of authority.

“Ladies, gentlemen,” Anthony announced, his voice carrying over the group, “I regret to inform you that we are one mallet short.”

“Oh, no need to worry!” Teresa interjected, her voice full of enthusiasm. “Caterina and I will share. Besides, it’s better that way, we wouldn’t want the garden to turn into a serious battlefield.”

Caterina smiled, watching her sister defuse the tension with her light-hearted tone. 

But before she could step forward, Benedict appeared at her side, his tall frame almost casting a shadow over her.

"Ready to be defeated, Miss Medici?" Benedict’s voice was low but teasing, the corners of his mouth curling into a grin.

Caterina looked up at him, her expression playful but challenging. "It’s far too early to declare victory, Mr. Bridgerton," she countered, her tone dripping with mock confidence.

Benedict feigned a deep sigh, placing a hand over his heart as if wounded. "Wounded already," he said dramatically, "and we haven’t even started."

Their playful exchange didn’t go unnoticed. Daphne, standing a few steps away, smiled quietly to herself. She had seen many Pall Mall matches over the years, but the way Benedict and Caterina exchanged banter hinted that this game might be more intriguing than most.

As the others gathered to begin the game, Colin suggested tossing a coin to decide the first pick of mallets. Eloise quickly reminded everyone of a promise made the year before to let the youngest choose first, while Anthony insisted they follow alphabetical order. 

The Medici sisters stood back, enjoying the friendly bickering that ensued among the siblings.

Teresa leaned in to whisper to her sister, “You already know which one?”

Caterina nodded. “Of course.”

Just then, Daphne cleared her throat, bringing order back to the group. “The only fair thing to do is let our invited guests choose first,” she announced, gesturing toward Teresa and Caterina.

Edward, standing nearby, smiled graciously. “Ladies, please. Choose your mallets.”

Teresa strode forward confidently and picked up the green mallet, holding it up as though inspecting it. 

Anthony chuckled, looking at Benedict out of the corner of his eye. “An excellent choice,” he said, his tone light but teasing.

Caterina, catching the glance between Anthony and Benedict, couldn’t resist. She sidled up to Benedict, her voice low and teasing. “Is this yours?” she asked innocently, the faintest smile tugging at her lips.

Benedict blinked, then shook his head, a faint frown of concern flickering across his face. 

“Thankfully, no,” he muttered, though he couldn’t hide the amusement in his eyes.

Caterina’s soft laugh reached his ears, and she leaned in closer. “I wish you the best of luck, Mr. Bridgerton. You’ll need it,” she whispered before moving away to rejoin her sister.

The group assembled on the lawn, ready to begin. Daphne, standing at the head, raised her mallet with a flourish. “To the field of combat!” she declared with dramatic flair.

The Medici sisters grinned wickedly at each other as they stepped forward to take their place in the game.

“Ladies!” Their mother’s voice echoed from the terrace, where she was seated with Lady Bridgerton and Lady Ducker. “Remember, you are guests! This is not a war zone!”

Caterina and Teresa exchanged a glance and burst into laughter before hurrying to join the rest of the players.

The game began with the usual chaos and laughter. 

Teresa and Caterina, always one step ahead, worked seamlessly as a team. They whispered to each other between turns, their strategy becoming clear as the game progressed. 

Their movements were calculated, but subtle enough to go unnoticed by the other players.

“They’re too quiet, don’t you think?” Lord Ducker mused, watching the twins closely. He stood next to Benedict and Colin, who were equally absorbed in observing the sisters.

“They’re up to something,” Benedict agreed, his gaze flickering over to Caterina, who was laughing softly with her sister.

As the game progressed, the usual chaos of a Bridgerton Pall Mall match erupted. Eloise accused Anthony of cheating, her voice rising in frustration. “Anthony, you clearly cheated! My ball wasn’t there!”

“I did not cheat!” Anthony retorted, crossing his arms defensively. “How could I?”

Eloise pointed angrily at the lawn. “Your ball was right next to mine, and now look where it is!”

The Medici sisters exchanged sly grins as they stood off to the side, watching the Bridgerton siblings argue. Their strategy was working perfectly. With each turn, the Bridgertons were becoming more distracted, allowing the sisters to move ahead unnoticed.

Meanwhile, Colin sidled up to Benedict, who was watching Caterina with a distant smile. “Your head is clearly elsewhere, brother,” Colin teased, nudging him with his elbow. “Otherwise, you never would have given me such a shot.”

Benedict sighed, his gaze lingering on Caterina, who was now in a deep conversation with Eloise. “I admit,” he said, “my thoughts are far from the game.”

Colin raised an eyebrow, a knowing smile tugging at his lips. “You fancy her, don’t you?”

Benedict let out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head in disbelief. “I can’t stop thinking about her. It’s frustrating.”

Colin clapped him on the shoulder. “Frustrating? It sounds more like you’re in trouble, brother.”

Back on the field, the Medici sisters were edging closer to victory. They had expertly dodged every attempt to knock their balls off course, while the Bridgerton siblings continued to bicker amongst themselves. 

Their mother, watching from the terrace, exchanged a glance with Violet Bridgerton and Lady Ducker.

The soft murmur of conversation drifted across the terrace as the ladies sat comfortably under the shade of a large pergola, watching the lively game unfold in the garden below. 

Lady Marie Medici sat beside Lady Bridgerton and Lady Ducker, her expression a mix of pride and nostalgia as her eyes followed her twin daughters, Caterina and Teresa, who were now fully immersed in the chaotic fun of Pall Mall.

The game had brought out both their competitive spirits and infectious joy, and it warmed Marie’s heart to see them so carefree.

Edward’s mother, Lady Ducker, leaned in with a smile, her voice full of warmth and admiration. “Oh, I must compliment you on your daughters, Lady Medici. They are a credit to you. So poised and full of charm.”

Marie turned her head, her eyes twinkling as she glanced at her daughters. 

They were laughing with the Bridgerton siblings, their movements graceful yet determined as they played. 

“Thank you, Lady Ducker,” Marie replied, her voice soft yet touched with pride. “They are my greatest blessing indeed.”

Violet Bridgerton, always one to appreciate a well-timed remark, chuckled lightly from her seat beside Marie. “And perhaps our greatest challenge too,” she teased, exchanging a knowing look with Marie. “Especially during the marriage mart, wouldn’t you agree?”

All three women laughed at that, the sound light and easy, floating in the soft breeze. 

The season’s trials and tribulations were well-known to all of them, and there was a shared understanding of just how daunting it could be for mothers trying to secure good matches for their daughters.

Marie sighed, leaning back slightly as she looked out over the vast, beautiful grounds of Aubrey Hall. “Yes, I never imagined the season could be quite so… cutthroat,” she admitted with a wry smile. “Even in Italy, it is not quite the same. here, everything feels more intense.”

Lady Ducker nodded in agreement. “Oh, it can be quite an ordeal,” she said with a knowing look. “But your daughters are handling it beautifully, Lady Medici. They’ve already made such an impression.”

“It is kind of you to say so,” Marie replied graciously, though her tone held a hint of wistfulness. “It’s their first season here in England, and yes, our first time on English soil as well.” She paused, her gaze softening as her thoughts seemed to drift. “We needed a change… a fresh start after my husband, well passed away..”

Both Violet and Lady Ducker exchanged quiet, understanding glances, the atmosphere shifting to something more tender. 

Marie’s voice wavered slightly, but she kept her composure, her eyes still on her daughters. “It was a tough and painful time for all of us,” she continued, her voice barely above a whisper. “Especially for Caterina. She shared so much with her father. Not just his looks…” She chuckled softly, though it was laced with sorrow. “But also his spirit.”

There was a moment of silence as the other women let her words hang in the air, fully understanding the weight of what she had just shared. Grief was a familiar presence in all their lives, but it was never an easy topic to discuss.

“I quite understand,” Violet said quietly, her tone full of sympathy. 

Her gaze turned from the game below to the familiar surroundings of Aubrey Hall, the home where she had raised her eight children, the home where her own late husband’s memory was deeply embedded. “Aubrey Hall holds many such memories for me as well.”

Lady Ducker placed a gentle hand on Violet’s, her face soft with affection. “Violet, dear,” she said warmly, her tone rich with comfort.

It was clear that the bond between these women was strengthened not just by shared experiences but by their ability to support one another through their grief and their joys.

Marie smiled, though it was tinged with sadness. She understood Violet’s words deeply and felt the same sense of longing and loss. 

Aubrey Hall may have been Violet’s sanctuary of memories, but for Marie, England represented a fresh chapter.

─────────

As the lively game of Pall Mall raged on, with Bridgerton siblings arguing and shouting at each other from every corner of the field, Lord Ducker quietly approached the Medici twins. 

Teresa and Caterina stood side by side, eyes gleaming with quiet amusement as they exchanged secretive glances. 

Their strategy had been working perfectly, and no one had even realized what they were up to.

But Edward, ever observant, was not one to be fooled so easily. 

With a sly smirk, he sidled up to the sisters, causing them both to jump slightly in surprise. 

His voice was calm but knowing as he spoke, “Was this your intention from the beginning, is it not?”

The twins exchanged a quick, guilty look, but Teresa recovered first, raising an eyebrow at Edward. “Whatever do you mean, my lord?” she asked, feigning innocence.

Edward chuckled, the knowing smile never leaving his face. “Making the Bridgerton siblings fight amongst themselves so they forget about you and leave you unhindered. Very clever, I must admit.”

Both sisters blushed faintly under the scrutiny, their earlier confidence faltering slightly under Edward’s perceptive gaze. 

Caterina bit her lip to suppress a smile, while Teresa straightened her posture, her chin lifted in quiet pride.

“Well, I suppose we can’t take full credit for that,” Teresa replied, her voice smooth, though a hint of mischief danced in her eyes. “After all, it’s not so difficult to distract them. They seem to enjoy bickering with each other quite naturally.”

Edward laughed, nodding in agreement. “True, very true. Still, I must say, I feel fortunate to have avoided your clever trap. I don’t usually play Pall Mall with the Bridgertons, so I assume I was a little more difficult to figure out, wasn’t I?”

His tone was teasing, but his smile was genuine, his dark eyes twinkling with amusement as he regarded the sisters.

Teresa gave him a polite smile, bowing her head slightly in acknowledgment. “I believe you’ve sussed us out, my lord. My congratulations.”

Caterina, who had remained quiet during the exchange, now stepped forward with a teasing glint in her eye. “It’s true, Lord Ducker. That’s exactly why we chose to play together,” she added with a chuckle. “We needed to be left alone, you see. To avoid any... hindrances.”

Teresa laughed softly, picking up on her sister’s meaning, while Edward raised an eyebrow in confusion. “Hinder whom, exactly?” he asked, his brow furrowing.

“To hinder you, of course, Lord Ducker,” Teresa said smoothly, flashing him a dazzling smile before turning away.

Before Edward could respond, Daphne’s voice rang out from across the field. “Miss Medici! It’s your turn!” She sounded slightly exasperated, likely from trying to manage her bickering siblings, who continued arguing about their balls' placement.

The twins exchanged one last amused glance before both laughed and dashed off toward their ball, leaving a bemused Edward standing there, shaking his head in disbelief.

As Caterina passed the mallet to her sister, Teresa positioned herself carefully and gave a decisive swing.

The ball connected with a loud crack, and to everyone’s surprise and delight, it soared high through the air, far beyond anyone’s expectation. The target? Lord Ducker’s ball, which flew off the field entirely, disappearing into the bushes.

The remaining players gasped in shock, but none more loudly than Edward himself, whose jaw dropped as he watched his ball vanish.

Colin, ever the enthusiastic cheerleader, clapped his hands and let out a whoop of delight. “Woo! That was amazing, Miss Medici!” he shouted, grinning widely.

Teresa flushed with victory, and smiled proudly, her eyes gleaming as she gave a small curtsy toward Colin and the rest of the group. 

Caterina, watching the scene unfold, couldn’t suppress her own laughter as she turned to face her sister.

Edward, finally regaining his composure, couldn’t help but chuckle as well, though he shot Teresa an exaggerated look of wounded pride. “You are more ruthless than I anticipated, Miss Medici.”

Teresa tilted her head, her smile turning wicked. “A necessary skill, I’m afraid, when playing a game like this. No hard feelings, I hope?”

Edward shook his head, still smiling despite his ball having been sent to oblivion. “None whatsoever. I must say, though, I am impressed. I will not underestimate you again”

Caterina, still grinning, nudged her sister playfully. “Well, sister, it seems we’ve made quite the impression.”

Teresa giggled, clearly enjoying her triumph as they both turned their attention back to the game, while Edward, with a rueful smile, prepared to fetch his lost ball.

───────── The dinner at Aubrey Hall was a lively affair, the long dining table illuminated by soft candlelight as the Bridgertons and the Medici family gathered for the evening. 

The air was filled with the scent of freshly prepared food, and the clinking of glasses and cutlery harmonized with the conversation flowing easily between the guests.

Daphne, seated next to Teresa, turned toward her with a warm smile. “Are you enjoying your time, Miss Medici?”

Teresa, whose cheeks were slightly flushed from the excitement of the day, returned the smile. “I am, very much. The buzz of the city is thrilling indeed, but I must admit that I always enjoy the peace of the country. There’s something so calming about it.”

Anthony, sitting further down the table, chuckled dryly as he leaned back in his chair. “Though I dare say, it is not quite so peaceful with my entire family in residence,” he said, casting a mock-exasperated look at his siblings.

Teresa’s eyes sparkled as she met his gaze. “I understand, my lord. While I cannot compare my family with your brothers and sisters, my sister and I were known to be quite a pair of troublemakers ourselves. So, we quite adore it as well,” she replied, her voice playful.

Edward, sitting beside Teresa, couldn’t help but smirk. “I can perfectly imagine that after today's match,” he teased, glancing at Teresa with a knowing smile.

The color in Teresa’s cheeks deepened, though she laughed softly, brushing off the compliment.

 “What about it?” Daphne asked, curious, her eyes flicking between Teresa and Edward.

Teresa chuckled, her gaze dropping to her plate before lifting again to meet Daphne’s. “Well, I think it’s time to reveal our little secret about today,” she said, casting a quick look at Caterina, who was seated opposite her.

Lord Ducker grinned, leaning forward slightly in his chair. “I must say, they were perfect in their intent. So much so that even you, Anthony, were unaware of their cunning,” he said, his tone light yet filled with admiration.

Anthony frowned slightly, his curiosity piqued. “What do you mean?”

The sisters exchanged amused glances, clearly enjoying the moment of intrigue they had created. 

Teresa, sitting tall with an air of confidence, arched an eyebrow. “I believe there’s a hint of resentment in your voice, my lord,” she said playfully.

A ripple of laughter spread around the table, and even Anthony cracked a grin. “Perhaps a little,” he admitted, shaking his head as he chuckled along with the others.

“Well, the truth is, Lord Bridgerton,” Teresa began, glancing at her sister for support, “that it was us who managed to pit you all against one another. We examined your personalities and… well, thanks to your guidance, Your Grace,” she said, nodding toward Daphne, “we were able to discern which sibling was most likely to trick the others.”

The room went still for a moment as everyone processed what she had said, and then Colin, who had been sipping his wine, nearly choked in surprise. “Wait - what?”

Caterina smiled, joining in with a glint of amusement in her eyes. “Miss Eloise, for instance,” she continued, “was far more likely to bicker with one of her older brothers, especially if she believed her ball had been tampered with. So, we made sure her ball was just slightly out of place, enough to cause suspicion but not enough to give us away.”

“And Lord Bridgerton,” Teresa added, her eyes flicking toward the viscount, “was so focused on ensuring no one else cheated that he didn’t notice his own ball had mysteriously moved further away. You were, of course, too busy defending your honor to realize what was happening.”

Daphne, listening with rapt attention, suddenly laughed, shaking her head in disbelief. “You two are far more clever than I gave you credit for,” she said, clearly impressed. “I didn’t even realize you were strategizing all along!”

Colin, who had been listening in silence, raised his eyebrows. “Wait, so you were using all of us to win? That’s brilliant.”

Caterina and Teresa exchanged a smug glance, clearly enjoying the admiration. “It was all part of the plan,” Caterina said lightly. “We observed everyone’s habits and tendencies and played accordingly.”

Almost everyone at the table was stunned by the revelation. Eloise, shaking her head in disbelief, chuckled. “I’m stunned. Did you figure it out all by yourselves?”

Violet, sitting at the far end of the table with Lady Medici and Edward’s mother, leaned in slightly, her expression one of surprise. “My goodness,” she said softly.

Marie Medici, however, didn’t seem as surprised as the others. She sighed and then chuckled fondly, shaking her head as she glanced at her daughters. “When they were younger, they were often called the ‘Daughters of Hermes,” she said with a nostalgic smile.

Benedict, who had been quietly observing the exchange from across the table, looked up, his gaze catching Caterina’s. “The god of mischief?” he asked with an amused quirk on his brow.

Caterina met his eyes, raising her glass to her lips. “Precisely,” she replied, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

Teresa, unable to contain her laughter, nodded in agreement. “We had quite the reputation growing up, I’m afraid,” she admitted, her voice warm with amusement.

Eloise, still marveling at the sisters’ cleverness, leaned back in her chair, her eyes wide with admiration. “It’s amazing,” she said, shaking her head. “I’ve never seen anyone manipulate my brothers quite so effectively!”

The entire table erupted into laughter, the mood light and playful as the conversation continued, filled with admiration and teasing remarks. Especially Benedict who could not stop looking at her.

─────────

It was a bright and crisp morning at Aubrey Hall, the golden sunlight streaming through the large windows and casting warm glows across the estate. 

The sounds of birds chirping and the distant rustle of leaves in the soft breeze filled the air, signaling the start of another busy day.

Inside, the house bustled with quiet activity as the Bridgerton family and their guests began their morning routines.

Violet Bridgerton could be found in the morning room, sipping tea and quietly chatting with Lady Medici and Lady Ducker about the upcoming balls.

They spoke of fabrics and guest lists, of marriage prospects and social expectations, their voices low and measured, the easy familiarity of experienced women who had long understood the importance of such gatherings.

Daphne and Simon were enjoying the fresh air in the gardens, their quiet conversation peppered with shared laughter as they watched their sons toddling about, chasing after butterflies with wild enthusiasm.

Anthony was already dressed for the day, out on the estate grounds with Colin, discussing matters of land management, both men appearing engaged in a serious conversation, though Colin's intermittent jests broke through the formality. He was always able to lift the mood, even in discussions of responsibility.

Meanwhile, Eloise had retreated to the library, searching for a particular volume of political essays that had piqued her interest the night before. Her brow furrowed in concentration as she ran her fingers along the spines of the books, seeking distraction from the relentless talk of balls, marriage, and societal expectations that seemed to consume the household. 

And then there was Benedict, who had slipped away from the others. 

Ever the solitary artist, he found solace in the quiet corners of the house, drawn to the makeshift studio he’d set up within the estate. While others were preoccupied with the duties of the day, he had retreated to the one place where he could lose himself, where the pressures of family and society could momentarily fade.

As for Caterina Medici, she had taken to wandering the hallways that morning, her steps light and thoughtful. 

She had woken early, before the house had fully stirred to life, needing space to breathe and think. 

Aubrey Hall, with its grand corridors and quiet elegance, offered her an escape from the complexities that weighed on her heart.

It was during this quiet wander that she found herself drawn to a room she had never entered before.

The door was ajar, revealing a sliver of light that beckoned her curiosity forward. 

Pausing for a moment, she glanced over her shoulder, making sure no one had seen her before slipping quietly inside. 

The faint scent of oil paints and the musky, earthy smell of worn canvases filled the air, a stark contrast to the fresh lavender scent that drifted through the rest of the house.

The room, though cluttered with artistic remnants, exuded a serene stillness. 

Unfinished canvases leaned against the walls, their images frozen in the midst of creation, half-formed figures and landscapes that seemed to tell a story, though none were yet complete. 

Charcoal sketches covered the walls in a disorganized but somehow intentional arrangement, capturing fleeting moments and emotions in rough, bold strokes. 

Caterina’s gaze flitted over each of them, drawn in by the raw emotion embedded within the lines.

Her fingers grazed one of the pinned sketches, the rough texture of the paper grounding her. 

It reminded her of the days spent in her father’s studio, her hands smudged with charcoal as he taught her how to capture the essence of a subject with just a few strokes.

The thought of him lingered like a ghost in the room, unspoken yet present in every detail around her.

As she continued to explore, her eyes were drawn to a particular canvas in the corner, its colors muted yet striking. 

Something about it called to her. It was a portrait of a woman, but her face was incomplete. 

The strokes that formed her features were delicate, almost hesitant as if the artist had been unsure whether to commit fully to her image. 

But it was the eyes, those partially painted, haunting eyes, that held Caterina captive. 

Though unfinished, they seemed to look right through her, and for a moment, she felt as though the woman in the painting was a reflection of herself, half-formed, caught between worlds, unsure of where she truly belonged.

Her hand hovered over the canvas, her fingertips barely grazing the surface of the drying paint. 

The warmth of the room seemed to wrap around her, and she found herself lost in thought. A bittersweet smile tugged at her lips, but it was tinged with the sharp edge of loss.

Just as she was about to turn away, a voice cut through the stillness, shattering the fragile moment of reverie.

"It's still unfinished," came the quiet, familiar voice of Benedict Bridgerton. 

Caterina jumped, her hand retracting from the canvas as though she had been caught doing something forbidden. 

She turned to face him, her eyes wide with surprise and a flicker of embarrassment. 

Benedict stood by the door, his presence calm but unmistakable, as if he had been observing her for longer than she realized.

"Mr. Bridgerton," she stammered, struggling to regain her composure. "I—I hadn’t realized, anyone was here. I—"

Benedict's lips curved into a gentle smile, one that was neither mocking nor accusatory.

"There's nothing to apologize for," he reassured her, stepping further into the room. "I often forget this place exists myself. It’s easy to get lost in it, isn’t it?"

Caterina’s heart raced, not just from the surprise of being caught but from the intimacy of the moment. 

Something about the way he looked at her made her feel vulnerable, as though he could see the thoughts she had tried so hard to hide. She took a deep breath, her eyes drifting back to the unfinished painting. "So you paint too…" 

"I do," he admitted, his gaze following hers to the canvas. "Though recently, it seems I have more unfinished pieces than completed ones. But it’s a passion I can't seem to let go of. you?" he asked, his voice gentle. "Do you paint?" in hoping, this time, for a response.

For a moment, Caterina hesitated. She hadn’t openly spoken about her love for art in years, not since her father passed. 

The words felt foreign on her tongue as she nodded. "I used to… paint and draw," she admitted softly. "It was my greatest passion."

Benedict’s curiosity deepened. He could hear the weight behind her words, the unspoken story that lay between them. "Why did you stop?"

The question hit her harder than she expected, and for a moment, Caterina was silent, the memories pressing down on her. 

When she finally spoke, her voice was quieter, tinged with sorrow. "My father, as you heard at the exhibition, was an artist as well.  He passed on his passion for art to me… but when he passed away, years ago, it felt like my love for painting died with him." 

She paused, her eyes glistening slightly as she glanced up at Benedict. "It felt like my love died with him. I couldn’t bring myself to pick up a brush after that."

Memories of her father, of the countless afternoons they’d spent in his studio, the way his hands moved so fluidly over the canvas, teaching her how to see the world through color and light. It felt like a lifetime ago. 

When he had passed, too hard was her desire to create. She hadn’t picked up a brush since.

Benedict’s expression softened, genuine sorrow in his voice. "I’m so sorry… about your father."

Caterina smiled, but it was tinged with sadness. "It’s been a long time, It doesn’t hurt as much as was before" she murmured, her fingers absentmindedly trailing near the painting’s edge again. "But sometimes… sometimes it’s as if I see him in every painting I look at."

Benedict’s gaze softened, his expression one of genuine empathy, and watched her closely, his mind turning over her words. 

There was something about her, the way she carried her grief, the way she guarded herself so fiercely, that both intrigued and moved him. 

For a long moment, they stood in silence, the unfinished paintings surrounding them like silent witnesses to their conversation.

Caterina could feel the vulnerability in the air between them, the shared understanding of loss and creativity, and it unnerved her. 

She wasn’t used to revealing so much of herself, especially to someone she had only just begun to know.

"O god, I don’t know why I told you all this," she said abruptly, her tone shifting as she pulled herself back behind the walls she had so carefully built. "It was inappropriate of me. You must excuse me."

Without waiting for his response, she turned and moved quickly toward the door, her movements graceful but hurried, as if she needed to escape before she revealed any more of her.

Benedict remained where he stood, watching her retreat.

He didn’t try to stop her, though part of him wanted to. 

As the door clicked shut behind her, he turned back to the unfinished painting, his thoughts lingering on her words, on the sorrow that seemed to haunt her eyes.

There was something about her that he couldn’t quite put into words, a complexity, a depth of feeling that resonated with him in a way he hadn’t expected. 

She was like one of his paintings, half-finished, a mystery waiting to be unraveled. 

And as he stared at the canvas before him, he realized with a start that the woman in the painting, the one with the haunting, unfinished eyes, looked startlingly like her.

─────────

The rest of the day at Aubrey Hall unfolded like the delicate pages of a novel, each scene filled with small interactions and moments that brought the family and their guests closer together. 

After a morning of quiet pursuits, the day slowly shifted into an afternoon of lively company and playful activities.

In the late morning, Violet suggested a light stroll through the gardens, encouraging the women to take in the fresh air before luncheon. 

The afternoon was spent leisurely, with some guests opting for quiet pursuits while others engaged in lighthearted games or conversation.

Eloise had retreated once again to the library, where she sat, books in hand.

In the drawing room, Daphne and Simon entertained their children, with Teresa and Lord Ducker joining them to play with the toddlers. Teresa watched him carefully, taking note of the gentle way he interacted with the children. 

The scene only solidified the feelings growing within her.

─────────

The dining room at Aubrey Hall was bathed in the soft glow of candlelight as the Medici family sat down with the Bridgertons for dinner. 

The long table, adorned with fine china and silverware, was set impeccably, the rich aromas of roasted meats and seasonal vegetables filling the air. 

The chatter of conversation rose as the family members began to exchange pleasantries, but amidst the warmth and lively atmosphere, Caterina felt a knot of tension tightening in her chest.

Seated directly across from Benedict, she could feel his presence even without looking at him. 

Every time he spoke, her ears seemed to prick up, her pulse quickening. 

She was acutely aware of how their conversation from that morning in the studio hung between them like an unspoken weight. 

The vulnerability she had exposed, telling him about, her feelings, her confession, made her feel exposed in ways she had never anticipated. 

Now, beneath the watchful eyes of both families, she was doing everything in her power to avoid his gaze.

Teresa, seated beside her, seemed oblivious to her sister’s inner turmoil. 

She was in lively conversation with Lord Ducker, their easy laughter mingling with the conversation of the others. 

Lady Violet spoke warmly with Lady Medici and Lady Ducker, discussing family and the countryside, while Colin and Anthony debated something jovial about the hunting season.

Caterina, on the other hand, found herself barely able to focus on the food in front of her. 

She picked at the delicate portions on her plate, her eyes steadfastly avoiding the direction of Benedict, who was seated a few chairs down. 

Once or twice, she caught herself glancing in his direction, only to quickly avert her gaze when she saw him looking back.

Benedict, for his part, seemed equally distracted. 

Though he participated in the conversation, his eyes kept straying toward Caterina, studying her in the flickering light of the candles. 

There was a quiet intensity in his gaze, something that made her heart skip when she could feel him watching her.

At one point, Eloise, seated nearby, seemed to notice the tension. "Miss Caterina, are you enjoying your time at Aubrey Hall?" Eloise asked, her bright voice breaking through Caterina’s haze of thoughts.

Caterina forced a smile, grateful for the distraction. "Yes, very much so. It’s a beautiful estate, and the hospitality has been wonderful."

Eloise, always observant, seemed to sense there was something more but didn’t press. 

Instead, she turned the conversation back to a lighter topic, involving Hyacinth and Gregory in a humorous exchange that earned a ripple of laughter from around the table.

Despite the pleasant atmosphere, Caterina’s mind remained on Benedict, and the words they had shared that morning.

His silence afterward had left her unsure, and now the uncertainty gnawed at her. She wished she could simply enjoy the evening, but with Benedict so near, every stolen glance sent her mind reeling back to their conversation in the studio.

As the courses continued and the evening unfolded, Caterina’s resolve to keep her distance weakened.

 She wondered if there would ever be a moment where she could face him without feeling the weight of her own vulnerability, or if the dinner would pass with this tension left unresolved.

Her hands tightened slightly around her napkin, reminding herself to focus on the present, to stay composed despite the whirlwind inside her. 

But even as she tried to remain steady, she couldn’t help but wonder what Benedict was thinking and whether the silence between them could last much longer.

─────────

Caterina and Teresa shared a room at Aubrey Hall, the soft glow of the moon filtering in through the large windows, casting gentle shadows across the room. The house was quiet now, the day's activities finally settling into the background. 

But sleep seemed far from the minds of the Medici sisters.

Caterina lay sprawled on her bed, her head dangling off the edge, her long hair spilling onto the floor. 

“You know what could help me sleep?” she asked, her voice lilting with mischief, a glimmer of amusement lighting her green eyes.

Across the room, Teresa sat at the vanity, brushing her hair before bed.

She paused and turned toward her sister, a playful smirk on her lips. “Why do I have the distinct impression that you’re plotting something? And that I will, as usual, be dragged into it?” she teased her tone light, but her eyes were filled with excitement.

“Maybe because we’re twins, and you know me too well,” Caterina replied, sitting up and smoothing her nightgown. She grinned at her sister, her mind already racing with ideas.

Teresa put down her brush and turned fully in her chair, crossing her arms and raising an eyebrow. “I had no doubts you were scheming. Speak, sister.”

Caterina’s grin widened, her mischievous nature fully on display. “Well, I may have overheard where the kitchen is…” she began, her voice low and conspiratorial.

“And?” Teresa asked her curiosity now fully piqued as she leaned forward in her chair.

“And where they keep the exquisite whisky we had tonight.” Caterina finished, her grin growing as the two sisters exchanged a knowing look, both of them practically vibrating with excitement at the prospect.

Within moments, the sisters were creeping down the grand staircase of Aubrey Hall, their bare feet making barely a sound on the polished wood. 

Caterina led the way, her hand wrapped around Teresa’s wrist as they stifled giggles. “This way,” Caterina whispered, peeking around the corner to make sure the coast was clear.

“I missed doing this,” Teresa whispered back, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “It’s been too long since we snuck around like this.”

“Tess, we do this all the time at the Langston's house!” Caterina reminded her, her voice barely above a whisper as they made their way through the hallway.

“Yes, but that was family. This is different. This is Bridgerton’s house,” Teresa replied, her smile widening as the thrill of sneaking around in someone else’s home, especially one as grand as this, only added to the excitement.

They made their way down another hallway when suddenly, the sound of muffled laughter and the faint clinking of glasses made them freeze. 

The sisters exchanged a quick glance before they crept toward the source of the noise. 

They reached the door, which was slightly ajar, and peered inside, holding their breath to avoid making any sound. 

“Who’s still awake at this hour?” Teresa whispered, her eyes wide with surprise.

Caterina shrugged, motioning for her sister to be quiet as they continued eavesdropping from either side of the door.

The room beyond was a billiards room, and inside, the Bridgerton brothers, Anthony, Benedict, and Colin, along with their cousin, Lord Edward Ducker, were gathered around the table, the sound of billiard balls clacking together filling the room.

Inside, the men were laughing and exchanging jests, their conversation seemingly lighthearted until Anthony’s voice cut through the noise. 

“And what about the twins that are our guests, cousin?” Anthony asked, his tone casual but laced with curiosity. “Which one caught your attention?”

Teresa and Caterina looked at each other, their eyes widening in surprise. They could feel their hearts pounding as they listened more intently.

“It’s clearly the sweetest one, brother,” Colin said with a laugh, and the men burst into laughter once again.

“Stop laughing at me!” Edward chuckled. “you all already know the answer.” There was a pause, followed by more laughter.

“Miss Teresa Medici caught my eye from the very first moment,” Edward admitted, his voice softer but filled with certainty.

Caterina’s mouth dropped open, and Teresa’s cheeks flushed a deep crimson as they both stared at each other in shock. 

Teresa brought a hand to her mouth, her breath catching as the reality of Edward’s confession hit her.

“And you, brother?” Colin’s voice rang out again, his teasing tone directed at Benedict. “You seem to have taken a liking to the other sister. You couldn’t keep your eyes off her today or any other day before today. May I say that she’s beyond your abilities? Too beautiful and too clever, even for you.”

“She seems to have a certain temper too,” said Anthony  “A very attractive minx I may add,” added Colin laughing. again “with those malicious eyes”

There was a round of laughter, but Teresa could see Caterina’s face tighten, her mouth pressed into a thin line.

Benedict’s voice, normally so lighthearted, was stern when he spoke. “That’s enough, I don’t like the way you’re speaking,” he said sharply, cutting through the room's joviality.

There was a moment of silence, followed by Anthony’s surprised exclamation. “Benedict Bridgerton, this is not like you! You’ve always adored such talk,” Anthony teased, though his voice was filled with confusion.

“I think our brother is starting to develop an affection for the naughty twin,” Colin added with a laugh, clearly enjoying himself.

The sisters stifled their giggles, trying desperately not to make any noise.

“Oh, he doesn’t,” Anthony said, his tone suddenly mischievous. “He’s still visiting the modiste regularly, or perhaps he’s taken a fancy to one of his models again.”

Caterina’s cheeks burned with embarrassment, and Teresa whispered something to her sister that was drowned out by the men’s continued laughter. 

Realizing they were about to be discovered, Teresa gestured for them to move. 

Caterina nodded quickly, and the two of them crept away from the door, their hands covering their mouths to stifle their laughter.

Once safely inside the kitchen, they let out a breath they hadn’t realized they’d been holding. 

The sisters burst into laughter, their hands clutching their sides as they tried to catch their breath.

“Oh. My. God! Tess, you’re going to get married!” Caterina exclaimed, holding a bottle of whisky she had snatched from the pantry. Her face was flushed with excitement as she poured herself a glass.

Teresa, still laughing, took a swig from another bottle she had grabbed. “I can’t believe we actually had the chance to listen to them talking about us!” she exclaimed, her voice filled with disbelief.

Caterina nodded as she downed her drink. “So… will you accept him?” she asked, her eyebrow raised as she leaned against the kitchen table, swirling the whisky in her glass.

Teresa’s face softened, and she smiled as she paced the kitchen. “I think I will. I really like him, Kitty. Everything I’ve told you about him over these past days has only grown stronger,” she said, her eyes glowing with happiness. “Do you think I’m in love?” she asked, looking over at her sister with wide eyes.

Caterina laughed, shaking her head. “Why are you asking me that? I’m not the expert on love.”

Teresa sighed, taking another sip. “I am. I’m in love, Kitty. I love Lord Edward Ducker!” she declared, her voice almost giddy as she lifted her bottle and glass in a triumphant toast. 

Caterina laughed and joined her, both of them cheering as they clinked their glasses together.

“But what about you, sister?” Teresa asked, her words starting to slur from the alcohol. “Didn’t you hear what Benedict said about you?”

Caterina rolled her eyes, not as far gone as her sister. “He didn’t say anything. It was just assumptions made by his brothers,” she said, trying to downplay the moment as she took her sister’s arm.

They both laughed again, the alcohol making them feel carefree and light as they began to sing drunkenly, recalling old songs from their childhood.

By the time they reached the stairs, they were barely able to hold back their laughter. 

Caterina nearly tripped as they ascended, and Teresa had to pull her up to keep her from falling.

“Do you remember the fairy tale we used to perform?” Teresa asked, her eyes shining with nostalgia as they reached their room.

Caterina grinned, nodding as she flopped onto her bed. “The one about the dumb prince?”

Teresa jumped excitedly. “Yes! That one!” she exclaimed.

And so, the night continued with the two sisters reenacting their favorite childhood tales, laughing and playing well into the early hours of the morning. 

[whatgaviiformes]

Fic: Grannies - Part 4 (Finale)

Summary: Gordon's committed to the bit. The bit just happens to be an obnoxious amount of granny squares.

A/N- In the finale: warning for a bit of whump. Whole lotta love though. Words for this part come to 2K.

Part 1 here | Part 2 here | Part 3 here | AO3

Thank yous: craftyfam, patient readers, my yarn stash for inspiration, Kat for the read through and assuring me this was post ready. FFXIV I can't thank you because you are a menace and a distraction no matter how much I love you.

*****

Part 4: Finale

Because Gordon never goes half-assed into anything, Virgil is still finding granny squares. 

He has to keep reminding himself that he appreciates Gordon’s dedication. He actually relies on this part of his brother’s character. Frequently, in fact. 

But as he pries a stray granny square out of his sock drawer and tosses it into the project basket housing its companions, Virgil has to roll his eyes. Fondly of course. In the project management world, they call this scope creep - with no real end in sight, the project keeps getting bigger and more involved, and it’s all too easy for it to just keep living on indefinitely. But then, Gordon is one big Scope Creep anyway since he was never one for boundaries in the first place. 

His definition of an appropriate time to stop was very different from Virgil’s. 

At this point, the new square isn’t anything Virgil hasn’t seen before. He knows by now what to expect from Gordon’s work. And, honestly, it’s just like Gordon to somehow manage to desensitize Virgil away from everything he knows about color theory, however briefly. So, neither the presence of the piece of fabric nor the color combination provides any shock value anymore. 

What it does do is remind him that he’s got his own project balancing to do. That of actually… you know… finishing the damn thing. And figuring out what to do with the rest of the squares, he reminds himself as he slides on his socks and laces up his boots for the day. 

The newest acquisition - two rounds of golden yellow followed by two rounds of aubergine purple and a final in white - doesn’t look as visually discordant alongside its peers, the scrambled rainbow they are.  They are all the ones that didn’t make the cut for Gordon’s afghan, the  squares Virgil keeps finding anew, and inevitably the future ones Gordon will continue to make until he receives another lightning strike of an idea.

Right beside it is a second project basket. Gordon likes a big blanket, so enough squares to fit a king sized bed are already packed up and labeled in their sequential order. As he’s had time, Virgil has started sewing them together based on the design Scott helped with. There’s enough space still for him to store the bolt of fabric John helped him find too, once it finally arrives. 

Virgil’s grateful for their help, and their part in the project has made it just that bit more special. He hopes Gordon feels that way too. It took Scott reminding him that it wasn’t his own aesthetic he was trying to please for the design to come together. Otherwise, Virgil has no doubt what he would’ve designed would’ve been lesser for his own misery trying to force order into chaos. 

Somehow, with the power of math, Scott’s perspective on patterns and probability and randomization had been just the ticket. Gordon also probably hadn’t realized just how many squares he’d made that started with the shade of yellow or orange or his typical bright shades. Just that little bit of consistency was all he and Scott needed to figure the rest out as they laid out the squares. It wasn’t a pattern, a fade, or even entirely randomized. But a couple edits later, they had the final layout, the squares numbered, and Virgil had gotten to work joining his own granny stitches into his brother’s work in the only color Gordon considered “neutral” - yellow. 

Unable to resist the smile it brings, Virgil tugs the blanket out of the basket and unfolds the two rows he’s finished, with the third halfway complete. It doesn’t bother him that his connecting yarn is still live - the hook has his last loop stabbed into the working skein, and even if it does come unraveled a little, crochet is not so difficult to start again. 

It had taken a few tries to find the right hook to help him match Gordon’s stitches. Even though Virgil taught him a few years ago, no two makers’ work was exactly alike. And Gordon was as carefree with his gauge as he was in the rest of his life. 

Excitement thrums through him; it’s morning, the birds are chirping, and he’s feeling motivated and productive. The crochet work is soft in his hands, the next square in the sequence visible in the project basket below but hiding the rest of the queue for the third row. It’s the perfect day to grab some coffee, hide away in his studio for a few hours, and let the project surprise him. 

That’s the way a WIP should work: it should inspire along the way. 

Virgil has just thrown a towel over the basket to make it seem like it could be laundry - just in case he runs into a wayward squid - when the alarm in his room sounds and John’s voice comes over comms. 

They have a rescue. 

~*~

Virgil awakes to the smell of antiseptic and the uncomfortable feeling that his mouth tastes like cotton. 

Something about that makes him want to giggle, except he can’t actually do that. 

“Easy, Virg.” Hands, soothing, graze his hairline. “They’ve got you on the good stuff.”

He can tell. He hasn’t opened his eyes yet to know if he’s in a hospital or the infirmary, nor does he know what happened to land him there.

Based on the cotton in his throat and in his head and in his lungs, maybe he ate Gordon’s blanket. 

The giggle turns into a groan. 

“You’re okay now. Rest, Virgil.” 

Since the voice is Scott, he does so.

~*~

The next time he remembers waking, he’s in the infirmary on the island. Again, this he knows not because he’s opened his eyes to figure it out, but because his senses tell him so. Only one brother knows sea shanties enough to be familiar with that one and, if Gordon is here humming it, they’re both definitely not in a hospital.

The words he wants to say trudge through the molasses on their way out.

“Wha’ happ’n?” 

“Virgil!” It’s surprise, and excitement, and relief all rolled into one, but Gordon has the good sense to keep his voice low once the original shock of him waking settles.  

Gordon knows the drill well, his voice barely above a whisper as he closes the blinds and scoops some ice chips into a cup. Virgil’s grateful for the gentle way he moves about the room; he can hear him shuffling around, dictating as he goes. By the time Gordon returns with the cup of blessed relief for the feeling in his esophagus, Virgil has managed to tearily blink his eyes half-open. 

Beneath his brother’s brushed fringe hides a bruise the size of a fist, purpling so harshly at his hairline that Virgil ignores the ice chip Gordon offers him in favor of reaching up to check the injury out for himself. Immediately, his body protests the movement, and Gordon urges him to lower his arm back to the support of the bed.

“Yeah, maybe don’t try that?” Gordon waves him off. “I’m fine. What do you remember?” 

Through the pain in his lower half and the color of Gordon’s face, the memories of the rescue come back clearer. Unfortunately, of all things, they’d been called out to a mudslide. He’d checked Gordon out in the field, he remembers. A panicked civilian with a wayward right hook while Gordon was calming his husband. The man had been incredibly apologetic, and Gordon assured him no harm was done, but Virgil pulled him off duty as a concussion risk and left him in Two with  Grandma talking to him.

Then, when Virgil went after a lifesign in a toppling two-story… 

“A house hit me.” 

“Well, more mud than house. You’re ok though. You were buried from the waist up. Had some compartment syndrome. Everything you’re feeling - or not - is temporary.”  

“You came to get me.” Virgil could argue that grounded meant grounded, that Gordon should never’ve gone after him in such dangerous conditions, that he’s the big brother and Gordon’s the little one and he should keep himself safe when he’s told to do so. But there’s a challenge in his little brother’s warm honey eyes already, and he remembers faintly words spoken in worry and fear, assurances that tighten in a coil around his heart.

“I did. There wasn’t anyone else.”  

He owes Gordon everything.

Virgil hums, “Thank you.”

Between the pain medication and water soothing the grittiness in his throat, he feels more aware by the minute and ready to try sitting up for a time. Gordon helps him settle a few pillows into position and raises the head of the infirmary bed to the appropriate level. He’s got to let Scott know he’s awake - and Grandma -  Gordon tells him. Before either of them decide to have scolded Squid for dinner. 

Virgil doesn’t have the energy to chuckle, but it does as he knows Gordon intended: leave him with a smile for the few moments Gordon needs to step away to communicate Virgil’s situation. 

His heart is music, his soul is color. Where sound is oversaturated with the wisps and hums of machinery tracking his vitals, his heartbeat in rhythm, color becomes his touchstone. Outside the window will be the cerulean of the sky and sea. Green, which he thinks in its most basic form because it’s every combination of the hue throughout the robust plant-life of their Island. Dandelion yellow - the sun and safety and Gordon’s baldric. 

Past the shut blinds, it’s all just a sliver. More prominently, there’s just white and infirmary clean grey.  He has to blink away the dullness, as he tears his gaze away from the window and finally musters the strength to glance at himself and especially at his lower half past the pain where Gordon promised his lack of feeling, muted through painkillers, was temporary. 

Color, so much of it that it’s blinding, greets him with the neon of signage amidst the Las Vegas cityscape and the celebration of the New York Pride parade they attend each year. The blanket draped across his lap is authentic Gordon through and through, in familiar squares assembled in a chaos true to their variety. No rhyme, no reason. 

So much care. 

“Grandma will be in shortly.” Gordon plops into the chair at his side, wiggling in the armchair to reacquire the work he’d placed on the seat cushion. He catches him looking, wide-eyed. “It’s not your project, promise. Though I did bring it in for you to work on when you’re feeling better. It’s over by the holoscreen whenever you want me to bring it over. You’ll be here for a bit healing, so I figured…” He shrugs, trailing off. 

“Gordon?” He slides his fingers between the stitches and curls them gratefully into soft, comforting colors. “What are you doing?” 

“I’m - uh -” Gordon flushes in dim light. “I’m weaving in my ends finally,” he admits, holding up the darning needle. “Sorry if you had another idea for the squares, but once I finished putting yours together, I realized we had enough still to donate some more blankets and those really should be finished.” Gordon weaves a red tail end back and forth between the strands the way Virgil taught him, and the way their mom taught Virgil. “I really did go a little overboard on granny squares didn’t I? I just figured it would be okay for me to help you along. So you could finish what you were working on. Was that ok?”

“More than.” 

It also tells him a significant amount about how serious his injuries were and how long he might have been out of commission, if Gordon’s found the time to finish as much as he has. The concern for what he’s put his family through spikes his heartbeat again, and his younger brother glances up to check on him, the monitors, back at him.

Virgil gives him a weary smile, tugging the blanket further up his chest. “I’m ok,” he assures him. “Thanks to you.” 

“Don’t do it again,” he admonishes, shaking his head.

Neither of them can promise the other, not in their line of work, and they both know it. 

The words go unspoken, but they are woven delicately in the strands of their gifts to each other. Virgil feels the care against his skin, in colors that chase away greys, and soft cotton that sifts fear and worry out through openwork patterning. And when Grandma finally makes her way in to check in on him, his heart is so full with the chance he’s been given, the support he’s always had by the people he cares for, that the love hits him with a wave of exhaustion. 

Into sleep he falls, deeply into dreamless rest by the time Grandma finishes her checks and  Gordon tucks him in with a thankful salute to the stars above.

The End