#i kept seeing a clip of this scene over and over this morning

[khaopybara]

❝Aren't you going to say it back?❞

FIRST KANAPHAN as AKK PIPITPHATTANA episode 6 of OUR SKYY 2

[chlorinecake]

🎙️ star-crossed lovers 【 薄幸な恋人 】 ⛦

summ✩ry ⭑⭒⭑ As rehearsals and promotions for your big collab stage with Enhypen become progressively more intense, you and Niki face challenges that might effect your secret relationship and standing with the company...

p✩iring ⭑⭒⭑ idol!niki x popstar!reader PREVIOUSLY

cont✩ins ⭑⭒⭑ band au, fluff, secret romance, kissing + a slightly heated make-out scene, mild bullying, LOTS of drama, reader is younger than Niki, 3.6k words

It felt strange having your hair, makeup, and clothes managed by someone else, especially in such a meticulous way.

Today was the big day of the Riot Grrlz x Enhypen fan meeting that Hybe was hosting in honor of your upcoming collaboration stage, the event acting as some sort of promotional.

The fashion theme for the day, as decided by the likes of an online poll distributed by Enhypen's Instagram account, was 'Schoolgirl / Schoolboy,' which meant everyone would be dressed in plaid neck ties and neatly-ironed button-down blazers.

“This'll have to do,” murmured one of the makeup artist's on duty, simply dusting you with a bit of blush, some gloss, and shimmery eye shadow because they couldn't find a foundation shade that matched your skin color.

“I can't find my contact solution!” Serenity exclaimed frantically in the dressing studio, searching through her sparkly teal duffle bag for the fifth time this hour.

Of course none of you were willing to assist her on the aimless contact solution hunt, especially not with the way she verbally harassed the makeup crew for not "lining her eyes right."

“Just let it go, Ren,” Sunghoon said with an annoyed sigh, “the stylists are making all of us wear glasses for the concept today anyways...”

“Okay first of all, don't call me by my nickname. Second, it's not my vision I'm worried about, but my image,” she clarified matter-of-factly, “I wanna impress the Korean fans with a big and bright boba eye moment...”

“You have sooo many problems,” Jade added with a similar irritation, rolling her eyes at the diva before a hairstylist ran over to clip in another track of fake hair.

“Tell me about it,” Serenity huffed despairingly, sticking her arms out like a scarecrow as the fashion crew adjusted the belt around her waist.

“Let's just try and maintain a good mood before the meeting guys,” you started optimistically amongst the tension, “the fans might pick up on our bad energy if we all show up pouting like this...”

“Easy for you to say,” Niki replied teasingly, “you slept like a baby last night… meanwhile, you kept me up with your insistent snoring…”

“Did not,” you whined in protest, looking back at his attractively playful expression, “it’s not my fault that the stories you tell in your groggy bedtime voice are so relaxing.”

Niki meant to reply but was rudely interrupted by Serenity’s stinky attitude, “Aww, late night bonding moment, I see? Hope a little ‘story time’ was as far as it got for you two lovebirds...”

You and Niki shook your heads in unison at her senseless comment, the rest of Enhypen and your band mates soon rushing out of the dressing room and outside to the awaiting limousine as the schedule manager directed.

“Make sure you have everything you need, guys! We’re running a bit behind on time and can’t afford any more set-backs,” exclaimed a tall, broad man in athletic wear, a black Hybe hat topping off his look.

“Got it, sir,” Jungwon replied politely, double-checking his leather cross-body bag before stepping into the vehicle, the rest of you following after him.

You didn’t expect to see Miss Kim in the front seat with the chauffeur, but you greeted her nonetheless.

“Morning, Miss Kim!,” You and Hearin started enthusiastically.

“Morning, Riot Grrlz,” she returned while not looking at any of you, writing hasty yet neat notes down on her clipboard, “I’ll be bold and assume you ladies have never attended any sort of fan event, correct?”

“Y-yes, that is correct,” Jade answered before you, crossing her legs in her seat, “this’ll be our very first experience today…”

���Oh, that’s cool for you then, isn’t it? Don’t worry if you don’t know what to say or do, by the way... just copy us,” you heard Heeseung encourage somewhere behind you, but your mind was more focused on the way Niki’s hand accidentally brushed against yours while you two glared out of the same window...

Accidentally… maybe…

“I was just getting around to that, Heeseung,” Miss Kim continued after clearing her coffee-stained throat, “Korean fans as a whole are pretty cutthroat, and whether you’re a foreigner or not, they expect you to present yourself a certain way…”

“Perfect,” Sunoo thought out loud, “they expect you to be perfect…”

“That’s just the way this idol life goes, I'm afraid,” Jungwon sighed from his seat, not empathetically, but in a realistic sense.

“Either way, you girls should be safe to mirror whatever the boys are doing if you ever feel confused…” Miss Kim trailed off, the limo being just a few feet from reaching the fan meeting center, “Good luck today, you all.”

▶︎ ၊၊||၊|။||||။‌‌‌‌‌၊| • • •

Things were turning out surprisingly smooth at the event, to say the least.

Needless to mention, you and Niki stayed pretty close the entire time, and the fans seemed to be amused by your attempt at famous duo heart poses with him.

“Just extend your hand like this,” he instructed while giggling, watching as your overhead heart ended up looking more like an oval to the audience.

Serenity was received as a fan favorite, too, her “boba eye” look captivating the male attendees while others were more entertained in her beginner Korean skills.

“Hwaiting,” she exclaimed confidently before the fans one too many times for your tolerance, Sunghoon’s face clearly showing just how much he was enjoying not being the cringiest person in the room for once.

Or, at least that was until an older fan requested that he and Sunoo sing and dance to the infamous aeygo Ottoke song for good luck at the show tomorrow.

“The things we do for engene,” the two boys collectively thought to themselves while fastening coquette bunny ears atop their heads, hoping that their enthusiasm would override the embarrassment.

It was all just such a culture shock for you and your group.

“Uhhh, a little help here?” Haerin worriedly called out to Jake as a particularly excited Korean fan approached her with a lot to say that she could barely understand.

“Oh- allow me,” Jake offered between the language barrier, translating to Haerin what the fan was trying to tell her.

“She thinks I’m a what now?”

“A K-pop Idol, mostly because of your trendy look today,” Jungwon giggled warmly, “the prophesied eighth member of Enhypen, in fact...”

Haerin laughed with both embarrassment and flattery, trying her best to explain to the young fan that she was a member of the Riot Grrlz and Riot Grrlz only.

Interactive activities continued just as well after this, the event nearing its end as you and Niki did a few TikTok dance challenges for the fans on stage.

Dance challenges that you had practiced with him in eery hours of the night, or whenever you two were left alone in the dance studio.

That, alongside other things too… like stealing sweet kisses here and there… or nearly melting while staring into each others love struck eyes—

“____, right?” A fan asked, approaching you with a blue marker and square of paper.

“Yes, that’s me. Nice to meet you,” you returned, keeping eye contact with her, despite the dark shades she wore.

“Nice to meet you, too! I have so many questions to ask you about what it’s like working with Enhypen!… and I really like your hair, too! The highlights look really nice with your outfit hehe… ALSO, I've been listening to a lot of your groups songs recently, and my favorite has to be the main track from your most recent album, it’s so unique!…” the fans voice eventually trailed off shyly.

“Oh my goodness, sorry for rambling!! Uhmmm, can I get your autograph by any chance?”

“Aww, thank you,” you smiled brightly, “and it’s okay! I find it cute how interested you are in my experience and music…”

Your hand reached out to grab the marker from her grasp, your body leaning forward slightly as you signed your name on the photo, resting your weight on the desk before you.

So lost in the moment, you didn’t even realize that the photo you had just signed was one of you and Niki hanging out just outside of Yeouido Park the other night.

It was impossible to hold back the gasp that escaped your throat at the realization, your finger loosing its grip around the marker as your stunned eyes met her knowing ones.

“Look like you’ve seen a ghost,” she chuckled in a facetiously sweet tone, you and her hands fighting over the now autographed-polaroid before your grip overthrew hers.

“Where did you get that—”

“Your secret’s safe with me, alright?” She interrupted with a sharp whisper, “So long as you work on distancing yourself from Niki moving forward…”

You blinked in feigned confusion at her words, “I don’t know what you’re talking about, we’re just colleagues—”

“And he’s an idol,” she cut in again, “idols don’t belong to silly American girls like you… you don’t even belong in our world…”

At this point, you're certain she could see how upset you were with her, and you didn't even care to hide it. “Everyone has welcomed me here, expect for you… and to what gain? I’m here with my band solely for work purposes, and I can assure you there is nothing you have to worry about concerning my professionalism.”

Your strong reply seemed to have rubbed her the wrong way, one of her hands fastening the bag over her shoulder while the other adjusted the glasses sitting at her nose.

“Thank you for your time,” she nearly growled at you, that same phony smile plastered to her lips before she hurriedly walked away, disappearing into the crowd of fans.

You let out a breath that you didn't even know you'd been holding, trying to calm yourself down before anyone noticed the silent commotion that had occurred on your side of the meeting booth.

All you could do was hope that this was the only copy or evidence of you and Niki hanging out that night as you folded the paper into a small square, tucking it under your sleeve in a way that no one would notice.

Above all though, you were just glad that the event was coming to an end soon, a few on-set staff members already helping to put away some stage props, meanwhile Sunoo, Heeseung, and Jade helped themselves to bringing along some gifts from fans.

“Hey... uhm, Heeseung? Can I-”

“Yes, Jade,” Heeseung answered with a giggle, “you can have all of my kitty plush gifts...”

▶︎ ၊၊||၊|။||||။‌‌‌‌‌၊| • • •

The limo ride back to the HYBE building was quiet, the sole thought roaming in the back of your mind being that one fan's cruel words…

…𝘴𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘈𝘮𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘨𝘪𝘳𝘭𝘴 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶… 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘰𝘯’𝘵 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘣𝘦𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯 𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘭𝘥...

It wasn’t like you were trying to infiltrate the world of K-pop.

You and your group were simply expanding your collab horizons upon being invited, and it seriously boggled you how anyone would have a problem with that—

“Knock knock,” Niki said with a smile in his voice from behind the door to your private backstage dressing room, waiting for your cue that it was safe for him to come in.

“You can come in, Niki,” you replied softly, standing in front of the body length wall mirror while struggling to fix your hair into a suitable style for the stage practice in a few minutes.

“Hi,” you greeted again once he reached you, watching as his eyes traced your reflection, almost immediately picking up on your nervous demeanor.

“You did great today, ____, y’know that?” He started with a low voice, guiding your stressed hands away from your head and resting them at your sides.

“Niki, I have to get ready—”

“And you already look more than prepared,” he encouraged, securing his hands around your waist before leaving a kiss below your ear, “gorgeous, even...”

“Thanks,” you answered shyly, somehow already feeling a bit better about things now that he was near you.

“So. Are you gonna tell me what’s got you upset or are we gonna make this a guessing game?” He teased, making you chuckle a bit as his attempt to cheer you up.

Your eyes fell to the floor, his grip on you loosening as a little sigh escaped your freshly glossed lips.

“A fan…,” you began quietly, “at the meeting today… she asked me to sign this photo.”

Reaching into your bra, you pulled out the mysterious square photo and watched with a pout as Niki carefully unfolded it from each corner.

“I… I don’t understand…” he stuttered, eyes glazing over the sight of you and him holding hands at the firework show that night.

“I know, it’s my fault that—”

“No…,” he interrupted your words before meeting your guilt-ridden eyes, “I don’t understand why you’re letting this get to you…”

“Excuse me?” You asked with a confused expression, “if something like this gets out, it could ruin both of our careers, y’know?”

“Sure,” he responded nonchalantly with a shrug, “but I couldn’t care less about some jealous sasaeng’s creepy little photo fest… by now, it’s gonna take a lot more than an innocent, harmless photo of us hanging out to make me question our status in this field.”

“You never take anything seriously, Nishimura,” you smiled with a sigh, shaking your head as you watched his fingers tear the photo to pieces.

“Well you’re definitely an exception to that trait of mine,” he smirked, tucking the torn shreds of paper into his back pocket before finding your face in his hands, placing a tender kiss to your left cheek.

“How sweet of you to say,” you whispered softly, grabbing the neckline of his shirt and pulling him closer to your height, “now how about you kiss me properly this time?”

He hummed at your teasing tone, sharp features softening as he tilted his head, sealing the space between you and him with the sweet kiss you’d been waiting for.

“I’ll never get tired of this,” Niki sighed against your lips, his right hand removing the rubber band securing your ponytail so his fingers could roam freely through your curls.

Things were escalating pretty quickly now, both of your breaths sounding more labored with each second as you stumbled backwards onto the desk, his energy leading the kiss as he remained on top of you.

It was almost more than you could handle, his hands roaming at your sides before your eyes barely fluttered open, the sight of his slightly blushed button-nose making you feel like melting on the spot.

Thats when you realized his pink hue was a result of two reasons: (1) The way your hands shyly clung to his shoulders right now, and (2) the shadow of footsteps peeking behind your dressing room door.

Knock, knock, knock.

“Hello? Miss ____, its Kim... Are you decent?”

“Erm, one second!” You responded in an obvious frantic.

Niki helped you get up from the vanity table, kneeling down quickly to hide himself under the it as the stern lady made her way into the room anyway.

“Sorry to intrude,” she began abruptly, not even taking note of your currently disheveled hair and flushed expression, “but I’ve unfortunately been appointed as the bearer of bad news for today…”

“Oh... uhm, w- what is it, is everyone alright?” You asked with a concerned tone, trying to take your mind off the fact that a Niki stained with the glimmer of your peach flavored lipgloss all over his mouth was literally under your desk right now, a mere two feet away from Miss Kim’s leather boots.

“For the most part, yes… but it concerns one of your band mates… Serenity, specifically… Since you are the leader of your group, I found it humble to have at least this much respect to tell you first in private.”

You let out a breath, closing your eyes for a moment before opening them back up, restoring your usually confident aura and making eye contact with the woman.

“Thank you, Miss Kim… I’m listening…”

▶︎ ၊၊||၊|။||||။‌‌‌‌‌၊| • • •

The sounds of shoes rhythmically scuffing, mics going in and out of focus, and layered fits of heavy breathing filled your ears for the next two hours.

Design tech, stage directors, and performers alike were giving it their all to perfect things before the big show coming up.

You paced around the shiny stage, a sweat rag secured lazily around your neck as you and the Enhypen members just got through with rehearsing the main choreo at the performing arena for the first time.

Everyone except Jay and Jade that is, who were still busy with working on their guitar duet for the intro show backstage with the music writers.

“I have no idea how you can still see after being in front of these bright stage lights all the time,” you huffed out tiredly, glancing at Sunoo who only shrugged while taking a few gulps from his grey water bottle.

“I’m not too sure either, but for the lot of us, it’s just something you have to get used to,” he tried warmly before letting himself fall on the ground, limbs spread out like an exhausted snowman as sweat trickled down his forehead.

“Here, lemme show you a little trick I like to use,” Niki offered with a smile while approaching you from behind, his larger frame casting a shadow before you.

“Look down there,” he started, guiding your waist with one hand as he pointed ahead of you with the other, “do you see the tech crew down there?”

You looked to where his finger was pointing, eyes being met with the sight of workers who sat in reclining chairs while others drank some coffee, a few sporadic employees carrying clipboards with stacks of paper, giving out orders to their fellow floor members.

“Yeah, I see them,” you answered, making Niki laugh slightly for reasons you didn’t fully understand.

“That means you’re too close then,” he replied, still holding your waist as he guided you to take a few steps back, which ended up being more steps for you given the leg length differences.

“There’s a rule of thumb that if you can see the audience, they can’t see you… are the lights still bothering you now?”

“Not as much, actually,” you said, turning to face him as he still held you close, everything in your body fighting not to kiss him in this moment given the way he looked back at you, “thanks again…”

“Anytime,” he smirked smuggly, “but uhhh, I think people might be looking at us now—”

“Oh,” you giggled shyly, backing a few inches away from him.

“Ahem,” a nagging voice cleared from beside you two, breaking the wholesome presence of the moment.

“Do you guys think you’re invisible or something?” Serenity asked, crossing her arms while staring the both of you up.

“Uhm…. No?” Niki answered for you, furrowing his eyes at the blue-eyed diva.

“Then why’re you just standing there? You’re blocking my light…”

You let out a scoff at her words, feeling baffled at the thought of how insecure girls like her could have such egotistical tendencies.

“Sorry, Serenity…,” you said half-heartedly, “didn’t mean to disturb your… solo mid-break practice session...”

“Really appreciate it, leader lady,” she replied sarcastically, very intentionally bumping into your shoulder as she walked past you before stopping in her tracks, a loose copy of the stage schedule getting caught under her baby pink sneakers.

She leaned down to pick it up, examining the text before her eyes stumbled over a line of bolded words. All of this was for reasons she didn’t understand, but either way, would soon resent.

“Ugh?!!” She exclaimed with a confused scoff, “HYBE is kicking me from the show??”

Your eyes widened at her words, the furious, confused, and torn look on her face doing nothing but make Niki smirk to himself, “Serenity, I can explain—”

“And you knew about this, didn’t you?” She accused with balled fists, looking between your nervous face and Niki’s shamelessly proud one.

“I just found out today, okay? But Miss Kim specifically instructed me not to say anything about until she revealed it to you herself after practice,” you clarified with a shaky voice.

“Please,” she said with a scoff, “And what’s with the face, Nishimura Nimrod? Huh!? Your little girlfriend told you before she told me, her own band mat—”

“I didnt tell him anything!” You retorted with a slightly raised voice, cracking with nerves you couldn't keep buried anymore.

You never liked being in the hot seat unless you were sitting there with Niki, thanks to his ability to always maintain his cool under pressure...

However, for some reason, even with him next to you right now, you still felt like hurling yourself to the ground.

“You had to have told me him something, so just stop with your insistent lies, ____,” Serenity spat, poking a finger in the center of your chest. Hard.

“You couldn’t wait to get rid of me, its been all over your rotten little face ever since we got here… You’re so jealous of me and it’s honestly depressing at this point…”

Oh Serenity, you thought in your mind, if only you knew this was all brought on by yourself…

You’d had enough of her ignorant speech, holding a fierce eye contact with her while trying to conceal the tears forming behind your eyes.

The sadness growing in your heart…

“None of this was my decision, Ren, so if you have a bone to pick with someone, try taking it up with Miss Kim herself,” you said firmly, walking back a few steps in case she tried touching you again, “I'm sure she'd be more than happy to inform you on her reasons for exiling you from the main activities…”

“What’s going on you guys?” Haerin asked timidly in the midst of the chaos, having just come back from washing up in the restroom.

Serenity practically burned holes in your face with her venomous glare before turning sharply on her heel, footsteps loud and startling as she marched off the stage, murmuring a string of curses under her breath.

“Soooo,” Sunghoon started with a curious accent, “I’m usually not the best at comprehending things, but I’m assuming that whatever just happened was a lot more serious than the usual Riot Grrlz drama, correct?”

“Yeah, what's the big deal ____?,” Jade asked alongside Jake, who gave your shoulder a comforting shake.

You fought with everything in your body to not to let any tears fall...

Because in this moment, it just felt right to cry, but at the same time, was it really worth appearing weak in front of everyone?

Everyone who counted on you to remain strong?

You exhaled with a deep breath, wiping the pricks of moisture from your eyes before speaking, “Serenity won’t be performing with us for the special stage anymore… only the ending song.”

A cacophony of gasps filled the room at your words, Jungwon having picked up the loose schedule copy to analyze it for himself, the bolded words reading:

>> SERENITY TAYLOR Authorized to be PULLED from Furthering Her Performance Activities in Sight of Behavioral Decency Violations Under HYBE's Collaboration and Code of Conduct Standards

“Will she be allowed to attend the award show at least,” Heeseung inquired, not out of empathy, but curiosity as all of this was unfolding pretty fast.

“Perhaps, but for now, we can rest on the thought that we’ll have one less problem while preparing from here on out,” you answered, feeling a large hand take your hand in theirs before giving it a gentle squeeze.

Niki.

“Either way, the show must go on you guys,” he said with a deep voice, the faintest smile being on his face as he looked back at you, dark eyes sparkling with sincerity.

The stage lights flickered from ahead and above you, a key indicator that the radio would be picking up again soon, playing the instrumental to your practice track.

“Mic check everyone and it’s back to rehearsals in five,” yelled out a staff member from below the stage, the ten of you now lining up in formation while adjusting your headsets around your ears.

There was only one thought that remained in your head as the choreographer hopped up center stage to explain how the performance would accommodate for Serenity's sudden absence:

The show must go on.

🎙️For my baby, @microwvdstrawb3rri3s 💕 This is episode 3 for ya ~ Thanks for being so patient with me :3

⛦ TAGS: @squoxle @nikisvanillaccola @yourmomscuntis2tighy @nikimeows @kimjiho1 @nikipedia07 @nishimuradaniel @ashgonedash @laurradoesloveu @caithefly @samhomo @rikikiynikilcykiki @3ngene--frvr @illymontyshit @filmofhybe @whoslug @nikiiitties

🎙️ Feel free to check out more fun reads on the pinned post at my home page ~

[kanmom51]

Jikook in bed - Part 1

I am pissed and in a not good way.

Worked over 4 hours writing this post, saved to drafts only for the whole damn thing to just disappear.

Did I mention I am pissed?

Cause I am.

Ok, let me take a breath and try to put down on paper my thoughts, hopefully I will remember some of them.  Sob sob.

Jikook in bed. 

Who would have thought that I would be writing a post about Jikook in bed? 

Please don't answer my rhetorical question, lol.

Who thought after the Jikook drought we got in 2023 that we would be getting this, eh?  And yet, here we are.  Me losing count of the number of posts I’ve already written about episodes 1 and 2 alone of Are you sure?! And I’m not done yet.  And another episode is coming today!!!

Did I mention just how overwhelmed I am?  In the very best way.  Well, other than being pissed at Tumblr for throwing away my hard work. 😭😭

I’ll be breaking this down into 2 parts because damn it, there is so much to say about these two short clips we get of the two in bed.  Both playful.  Both sus as shit.  If shit is sus – I guess we can ask JM on his thoughts about that – yes I did go there.  Poor man is not going to live this down, and now I understand why he kept asking if this could air – not because he was worried about their flirty handsy moments.  NOPE.  But because of the shit, lol.

Ok, so part 1 will be focusing on the brushing teeth in bed, while part 2 will focus on the handsy cuddly butt wacky master bedroom action.

When watching the whole brushing teeth in bed I had to ask myself a multiple why’s?

Why brush teeth in the bedroom? 

Or more so, why in that bedroom?

Why not in the bathroom?

Perhaps because we would see they are both using the master bedroom ensuite?

It’s not that we couldn’t deduce that from the footage, but that would take more looking into, which let’s be real, most army don’t do.  They watch it once or twice and many don’t pay attention to the details.  A lot of details need us to view the footage multiple times something that most army are not into – they don’t care to find out more.  They see the surface, JK and JM being cute, and that’s enough for them to say “oh, they are so brotherly…. Such brotherly love…” without wanting to see anything else.

But if you do look closer you see A LOT.

You see that JM does the tour of the house, showing us 4 bedrooms, first one being a master bedroom with a king size bed and an ensuite he shows us.

An ensuite we later see JK in while preparing to go out shopping.

So yes.  They were both using the same bathroom in that huge modern fancy house with 4 bedrooms and obviously more than one bathroom that happened to be the ensuite to the master bedroom.

And perhaps they didn’t want it to be too obvious.  Because why use that same bathroom? 

*side note: at this point, when JM goes to check on JK there is clearly a staff member in there with them. The way the camera moves the angle of filming changes, it's clear that is not a static camera, unlike the ones we got from the bedrooms and hallway at night and in the morning. It looks like the staff member is using JM's go pro to film that and as JM walks out of the bathroom the camera changes hands and JM has it. And I state this because most of the time there wasn't staff in the house with them. For a lot of the time they had the house to themselves. My educated guess would be that just like we saw they had control over the cameras in the house, could easily turn them on and off (JK with the hallway camera), they were the ones to decide when the staff can join them in the house to film or resume filming.

Another possible reason why we got the bedroom scene would be that they didn’t want to place a camera in the bathroom, which they obviously didn’t. I mean, that bathroom was rather small – you know, as ensuites usually are, and having them both stand there and brush their teeth would be cramped and uncomfortable (we saw that in Sapporo we did have them place that camera for us to see them brush their teeth side by side).  Also, obviously they wouldn’t want permanent cameras placed in the bathroom for privacy reasons – duh.  Even if they did have control over turning the cameras on and off. In Sapporo it’s clearly a camera they set up themselves, one they could just pick up and take away. They placed it there for the purpose of filming themselves brushing their teeth side by side. 

So basically, imo, this whole brushing teeth in the bedroom JK was supposedly sleeping in was a combination of it all.

They wanted us to see them brush their teeth prior to going to sleep.  They didn’t want us to see that they were sharing the ensuite bathroom (the bathroom connected to the room JM was sleeping in).

And the cherry to top it all is showing us this is where JK is going to spend the night.

Because that was somehow something they needed to show us.

Unlike the cabin with the one bed, that didn’t ‘allow’ for another option, the two spending the night in the same bed while there are another 3 lovely empty rooms available, would be too much perhaps.

You know, deniability and all. 

Makes even more sense seeing this was filmed in July 2023, and the two did not know just yet what lies ahead of them when it comes to their enlistment.

Let’s talk about that for a sec, why don’t we?

Those cameras in the house, they were placed ahead of time.  Before the two arrived.  I’m talking about the permanent cameras – the ones downstairs, the one in the hallway, the one in JK’s bedroom, the one in the master bedroom.

This was decided ahead of time – that they will not be sharing a bedroom.  Not on camera anyway. And this wasn’t their decision!

I don’t think that JM asking while standing in that room whether to sleep together with JK, adding a comment about getting hit was an actual contemplation on his part.  I think it was him signalling that it’s definitely an option and perhaps the reason why he won’t be is because of not wanting to get hit.  Him doing all of that when JK is there in the room with him (probably going through his luggage which was probably there too – we don’t get to see, but it makes sense seeing how small the other room was and the fact that JK was using the ensuite).  We also see JK throw something onto the bed – perhaps a heat pack he took out of that luggage?  But he’s there and they leave the room together shortly after.

"Should I sleep next to Jungkook tonight? Will he hit me again?"...

Again, let me be clear here with what I’m saying.  JM asking this was a mute question, and he knew it, seeing that they were both well aware of the fact that cameras were already placed in the two bedrooms expecting them not to be sharing that bed.  At least not on camera.

And you know where else you see that bemusement about the separate beds?

In the trailer where we get them in Sapporo the two standing in the hotel room JK asking JM which bed he wants to choose.  JM’s reaction super telling. 

And what about the house in Jeju?  Clearly that second bed was brought up from the room downstairs (we know that from the original layout of the house).  Yes, Tae was joining.  But wouldn’t that be less sus them sharing a bed?  We’ve seen them all share beds in previous content.  Tae literally shared one with his mates back in 2022.  I guess that the idea was to show us that when there is an option they won’t share a bed?  That the CT cabin was a ‘must’ as there was only one bed and there was no choice?  Strange, seeing that there were other options for cabins that were not 1 shared bed.  Well, never mind that.  In any case I guess there was need for the deniability, seeing as to how cozy those two were the next day in that one bed in the master bedroom. 

Seeing that plus knowing they shared a bed could be construed as too much perhaps.

Btw, you know what that whole scene in bed reminded me of?

Remember that time JK was asked what his favourite memory from their trip to Tokyo?

Remember his answer?

JM staying up until 5 am on his phone and sleeping in the next morning?

Sorry, but that constant smirk on JM's face... to die...

and

Yes Jeon. "He" didn't sleep at night. That's why both of you overslept the next day.

*Side note: at the end of the interview/sit down JM won a gift which guess who was given straight away?

Well, them in bed together there in CT, seeing those few seconds we were allowed to see (with the many cuts) – that is how I picture them in Tokyo on that trip.  Those calm almost boring moments in bed together.  On their phones.  Snuggling.  Playing.  Just enjoying being next to each other, just the two of them, outside world be damned. 

That is what JK loved most in Tokyo. That is what was most memorable to him (our introvert sweetie).

And he got that here as well.

You could argue: "what's the difference here from the two spending time together in bed in Seoul at either of their palaces?" And my answer to that would be:

EVERYTHING.

How can you even compare? Being back in Seoul, with all the playing around their schedules and stress and pressures and anxiety that still linger even when you are home, even when you are together with your loved one. You can't compare it to this. JM taking the time off to be with him. JK taking the couple of days off during his promotions for his first solo debut. Getting away from it all. Spending those 3 days together alone. No work. No stress. No pressure. Even with JK feeling physically off and JM's diarrhea. Just the two of them, away. Away from everything and everyone. Having those tiny every so important soft moments.

Or in layman's words: having a cuddle at home is not the same as having that cuddle when away, taking that time to spend together as a couple. It's just not the same. It's so much more. And that is also why it was so memorable for JK back in 2017.

I’m getting kind of emotional here folks.  Don’t mind me.

Let’s get back to the brushing teeth in bed, shall we?

Again, in the second bedroom and not the master, even though it’s the master ensuite they are using as a bathroom!!

Why not see them brush their teeth on the master bed?  Yeah, I think I answered that one already.  We weren’t supposed to deduct that JK was using the master ensuite.

We were to know that JK was sleeping in that room, we even got to see him go to sleep and wake up there.  It was very important that we see that.  Not make a mistake that maybe, just maybe, they spent the night together.

What do I think, you ask?  I will tell you, even if you didn’t ask, lol.

I think that JK probably did sleep in that bed for a bit.  A BIT.  Like a really really short bit.

I also think that they spent much time together in that one bed in the master bedroom.  They got the pre-sleep cuddles (that we didn’t get to see) and they got the post-sleep cuddles (that we also didn’t get to see – and I’ll get into that in the next post – just saying that JK walking into the room and out of it after he woke up – the first time he goes in and out – there was a HUGE chunk cut out of the footage).

Oh, and they got the post-JK eating crap for breakfast- cuddles too.

This isn’t going the way I wanted it to, lol.  I’m talking too much about stuff that is meant for part 2 of Jikook in bed.  You see, this is why it is all intertwined and if there wasn’t an issue with image limits or readers losing focus with too long posts this would all be one post.  But 'tis what 'tis and I have to stop talking about the master bedroom!!!

So, back to the toothbrushing.

This was them:

JK literally pulling JM down to lie on the bed.

The giggles (oh, what I want to say now and am holding myself back).

Their playfulness is on another level.

Add the legs over shoulder.

After JM laying his legs on JK's shoulders, JK grabbing the legs and pulling JM even closer in.

I love how with Jikook we live on moments that remind us of other moments. And this one kind of reminds me of another moment back from 2019 during rehearsal for the LY concerts, JM coming in behind JK to hold him and JK pulling JM's arm in for an even closer hug.

And we have cuts, of course.

So many of them.

Including this one.

And this one.

The cuts.  We should talk about them for a sec. 

There is hours and hours of footage, and obviously there are things that are deemed to end up on the editing room floor.  Footage that might be boring or irrelevant to whatever it is they want to be showing us.  There is also a time constrict that needs to be kept.  Understandably not everything can be left in.

But it’s some decisions that make you raise an eyebrow.  Some of those editing decisions that make you think – why cut this?  Why not leave the flow? 

And these moments are exactly those type of moments.

Obviously the fans will go crazy for seeing them be so playful and mucking around.  They are brushing their teeth and it’s clear this isn’t something that is going on for too long of a time.  So, why not allow us to see the FULL interaction?  I think we know the answer to that, don’t we?  Once again it’s those two being too much.  Too obvious.  Too handsy. Too couplie.

How exactly does JK end up with his back to us?

Why is he with his back to us?

Why is the whole scene with JM’s legs hanging over JK’s shoulders cut short?

And why does JK continue to be with his back to us after this has clearly ended and JM is sitting on the edge of the bed?

I kind of think that I know why JK was sitting with his back to us, and why it’s cut at that point and we never get to see them get out of that bed.

Great time to sign off.

See you for part 2 of Jikook in bed.

[i-hate-accidents]

i hate accidents: the ball

femme!reader x benedict bridgerton, femme!reader & the bridgerton family, femme!reader & penelope featherington

summary:  the adventures of a working class femme who befriends a fellow writer, a boisterous family, and a bewitching second eldest son

sections:  I. the beginning / II. the between / III. the ball

y/n:  bipoc, she/her, afab, nonbinary femme, queer, working class, of immigrant parents

content warnings:  classism, mentions of financial survival, microaggressive sexism, microaggressive gender assumption, intersectional low self-image of y/n, positive/supportive families, nondescript mention of gagging (not related to self-image) in [III.iii], sexually charged 18+ interactions in middle to end of [III.iv]—minors dni, please stop at the end of the paragraph that begins "you repeat his words with sped up mockery"; you may resume at "you jut out your hip"

word count:  15.7k (of 38.8k)

story context:  everything in s1 and s2 of the tv series is canon for this story except for the s2 epilogue with the bridgertons.  this story takes place leading up to and into the 1815 season. 

additional notes:  this story is incomplete. scenes that are not written are described in chevrons <> with third person pov or are delineated by isolated ellipses. additionally, the author has only watched s2!  she has not watched any of s1 aside from clips, and they have not read the books aside from quotes used in edits.  they have not yet watched queen charlotte.  the author kinda knows the gist of an offer from a gentleman; they are familiar with sophie beckett (and are excited to meet her/them in the tv series!).

author’s note:  this is the first time the author has written fanfic in 13-15 years.  :)  it is her hope that they have made some progress since her pre/teens.  additionally, this fanfic has been written, on and off, over the course of two years.  the author sincerely hopes you find some sort of joy in it, especially the readers who maybe hope to see themself a little more specifically in the world we so love.

tagged: @omgsuperstarg @stvrdustalexx @bedobeeeee @crazymar15 @kahhorri @mayalopes @benedictbridgertonss @athensflower @02wrldz @queerlavalier @merlslrem @pillsbury-doughgirl @lamourdure3ans and all who have read either/both sections one and two—thank you. <3

𝄆 ⚘ ✸ III.i ✸ ⚘ 𝄇

“you look like a princess, y/n!” hyacinth squeals in delight.

“i regret not being of age yet to attend balls,” gregory sighs.  “i would have been honored to ask you for your first dance.”

you beam at the youngest bridgertons with all the fondness in your heart.  judith, an elderly maid of number five, had attempted to dispel hyacinth and gregory from the room as your hair was done, but you had asked her to please allow them to stay.  the two kept you at ease throughout the foreign process, and their sweet sincerity kept you grounded amidst the anxiety that still floods your veins.

“you are both too kind.  and fear not; tomorrow morning we will have a ball all of our own,” you lean in for a whisper, them following suit to listen.  “and perhaps we will need the talents, and bravery, of a young sorceress and a young knight to save the guests from the intrusion of an unruly wyvern.”

“you promise?!” hyacinth and gregory yell at the same time.  you hold out your pinky finger, just as you used to do with your siblings, and the two young ones wrap their pinkies around yours.

“i promise.”

“you are all done, miss y/l/n,” says alice, placing the last pin into your hair.  she steps back and curtsies.  her formality towards you renders you uneasy; she treats you as above her but you are of the same world.  you school your facial features from showing your unease; you do not want to upset her or have her wrongly think that she has done something wrong.

“no need to call me ‘miss.’  i am simply y/n!”  you grin at alice.  “a friend.”

she smiles, albeit a bit sheepishly. 

“of course, y/n.  are you ready to see yourself?”

you shudder in a breath.  you had asked not to be prepared in front of a mirror.  to have seen your transformation so readily reflected at you at every point of this process—

you exhale frantically.  the maids and genevieve had graciously accommodated your wishes, both going so far as rearranging this room and her fitting room to avoid any lines of your sight with a potential reflection; you were, and are, utterly grateful.  

but i am unable to delay the inevitable any longer.

standing up and squaring your shoulders, you give alice a feeble nod.  she bows her head in response, a small, encouraging smile on her lips, and leads you to the mirror as hyacinth and gregory turn in their seats to watch you cross the room.  

it is just a dress.  it is just a tiara, and just some jewelry, and just some gloves, and just some shoes, and just a bit of makeup.  it is just you.  it is still you.  be the courageous person you are, y/n.

or—

just before you see even a miniscule bit of your reflection in that accursed mirror, you shut your eyes tight.

—be a coward.

you continue step by agonizing step, approximating where the mirror is, and shudder in another breath.

perhaps i am being too dramatic.  perhaps i can faint and feign illness.  perhaps i shall run away by way of the nearest window.  perhaps i—

“the mirror is to your left, y/n; whenever you are ready,” coaxes alice.

you exhale once more.

or perhaps, i should open my eyes.

and so you do.

oh.

“oh,” you say aloud.

the person you see in the gilded full-length mirror is, somehow, a complete stranger and entirely you.

the one time you’ve worn makeup before was for your elder sister’s wedding:  a bit of your mother’s rouge on your cheeks and lips to have some color to your otherwise dull face.  now, your cheekbones glow with a blush much more complimentary to your complexion than a mere red as your lips shine with a gossamer of a similar shade.  entirely new to you are the glimmering minerals on your eyelids that magically bring attention to your eyes and make them shine like starlight.

your eyebrows have been plucked (much to your initial pain but your current appreciation), maintaining their shape and fullness but now without strays.  

soft tendrils of curls frame your face, and your hair—normally worn down when not working—has been pulled back into a loose coiffure and styled with sprigs and small blooms, the crown of your head graced with a silver tiara.

“this,” violet smiled fondly when she first set the tiara on top of your head, “is the tiara i wore to my first ball after my presentation.  i had insisted on keeping it, thinking i could pass it on to my daughter when her first ball had come.  but daphne was resolute on having her own tiara, and eloise was resolute on not wearing any,” violet laughed, her eyes shining when they connected with yours, “i see now, though, perhaps it was always meant to be yours.”

“violet, i— i cannot wear this.  it is too— it’s too—”

sumptuous?  opulent?  regal?  

no.

well, yes, the tiara is all those things.  but those were not what had concerned you then.  it’s too—

“beautiful,” you admitted quietly.

something as beautiful as that surely does not belong on the head of someone like you.

“well,” violet smiled, “then you are merely proving my point, my dear.  it perfectly suits you.”

you hold out your hands, flare out your fingers, and stretch out your arms, examining the dark forest green of your long satin gloves, mesmerized that a muted color with such depth and richness could be achieved through dyes.

moving your hand, you touch one of the small rosewhite pearls adorning your earlobes and, with your other hand, touch the inky oblong pearl that shimmers violet, indigo, and green as it hangs from the thin, black velvet choker around your neck.

“my dear,” mama appeared in your doorway one evening as you wrote at your table, “do you require jewelry for your occasion?”

“oh.  i suppose i do?  i hadn’t given it much thought.”  jewelry had been the last thing on your mind of things that terrified you of the impending ball.

“well, if you have not been offered anything by the bridgerton family yet, i thought— i thought perhaps you might like these.”

she approached you, a small wooden box in her hand, and placed it on your table.  taking the box into your hands, you looked at it and then up at mama.  she smiled at you but something of her countenance seemed strained.  nervous.  you offered her a smile in an attempt to assuage whatever concerns preoccupied her mind and, turning back to the box, unclasped it open.

“these are the earrings and necklace i wore when i married your papa.  they were gifts from your grandmama that were gifts from her mama.  i had tried giving them to your sister when she was to be married, but she thought…  they are plain, nothing like what those fashionable people wear, i am certain; but if you have nothing else, i—”

you shot up from your seat, throwing your arms around your mama, feeling how she reeled from the ferocity of your sudden embrace, as you clutched onto the box of her wedding jewelry.

“they are beautiful, mama,” you said quietly but emphatically as the vehemence of your emotions tried to trap your words in your throat.  “they are the most beautiful things i have ever seen, and i am so— i am so honored to be bestowed with the blessing of wearing them, and of wearing them proudly.  thank you.”

you heard how mama sniffed her nose, and how she tried to hide it, as she gently rubbed your back, as she always had in your moments of vulnerability.

“i love you, my child.”

“i love you, mama.”

you then touch your exposed shoulders.  the neckline of your dress, nowhere near your neck, follows the curved peaks of your breasts to meet and form a small v-shape in the crevice of your bosom.  

“where is the chemise?” was the first thing you had said when you first tried on the gown at the modiste.

genevieve grinned.

“there is none.”

your jaw dropped.

“then what of a stay?  what sort of stay would be worn with this?”

turning slightly, and noting your rather bare upper arms in the process, you angle your exposed back towards the mirror.  another v-shape, its furthest point down a third of your bare spine.  

“my dear, both you and i know that you already know the answer to your inquiry.”

“oh, my good g—”

never, in your life, has the expanse of your upper body been so naked and on display than in this ball gown.

“i do not mean to doubt your artistry, genevieve; truly!, the dress is magnificent, but—” you turned to kathani, who had exclaimed and clapped with immense delight upon seeing you in the gown, “is this—— permissible?”

the viscountess had arched an eyebrow at you then.

“y/n y/l/n, concerned with the rules of society?  and of high society, at that?”

“no— no!” you yelled all too loudly as genevieve chortled and placed pins for final alterations into the dress.  “i just, i just do not want to embarrass you and your family, is all.”

you had not meant for your voice to come out so quiet and small.  the older women’s faces softened immediately.

“you could never embarrass us, y/n,” kathani stated with such tenderness.  then she smiled.  “you look beautiful.”

the off-white base layer of the dress feels luxurious against your skin, the fabric hugging your upper body, puffing out at the sleeves, and, from the underbust, flowing and falling into a cone silhouette for the skirt—but what truly awes you is the artistry of the outermost layer.  a cream translucent silk, the piña seda (you recall genevieve proudly naming it as) of the outermost layer glistens while you sway and turn your body, light shifting and transforming the ever beauty of the dress, the swish of the skirt moving like how waves are described in the passages of your books and in the reminiscing of your parents’ memories.  lined at the underbust begins the intricate thicket of embroidered foliage, painstakingly threaded with innumerable shades of greens and blues, a shimmering teal threaded throughout to gleam in tandem with the sheen of the fabric.  the embroidery of foliage then grows and thickens as it cascades down the middle of the dress and comes to an encircling end a few inches above and around the floor-length hem.  in the negative space of the piña seda are spread out, small ivory embroideries of floral motifs.  

it is a dress deserving of someone most beloved in titania’s garden court. 

“indeed,” genevieve affirmed, a smile on her lips akin to kathani’s.  “those in attendance will not be prepared.  you will look the most beautiful of all.”

and perhaps…

perhaps you should be unnerved by how different your dress will be from the others’ of the ton.  perhaps you should be unnerved by how easily you will stand out from the crowds.  perhaps you should be unnerved by the attention, the whispers, the stares you will inevitably receive with your dress, with your appearance, with your presence, with your very existence.  but, instead— 

“i do look like a princess,” you say finally.  quietly. 

you do look beautiful.

like you could belong amidst the ton.  

like you could belong with the bridgertons.  

like you could belong with him.

𝄆 ⚘ ✸ III.ii ✸ ⚘ 𝄇

“are you anxious, y/n?”

you turn to gregory at your side and see the swell of worry in his eyes.

“what gives you that impression?”

“you are shaking terribly,” hyacinth comments from your other side, replacing her usual pluck and wit with a worry akin to her brother’s.  

the two had volunteered to escort you from the dressing room that you had been prepared in to the grand staircase of number five.  with their arms hooked around yours, gregory on your left and hyacinth on your right, the youngest bridgertons have been walking you down the corridor.  your heart aches with anguish:  you know you have failed when the children are the ones to care for the adult.

“i am sorry to have concerned you both.  yes, i— i am anxious.”

“it is reasonable to be anxious.  but there are a great many cakes at these balls, or so i’ve heard, so you can eat one, and then another, to help ease your nerves!”

“how is that of any help, gregory.”

“it is plenty of help!”

“to eat and eat when she is already uneasy?  the last time you were uneasy, you nearly—”

“do not recount that in front of y/n!”

“why not!”

“it is not— it is not proper!”  gregory’s voice jumps in pitch, causing a swift blush to form on the apples of his cheeks.  hyacinth snorts.

“why does your voice do that?”

“i do not know!  kate said it is natural for bo— for young men to experience such a thing!”

“aren’t young men meant to be tall?”

“i am an inch taller than you now!”

“you are not!”

“i am too!”

you laugh.  the youngest bridgertons halt their dispute and look at you. 

“i must say, your usual squabbling is keeping me much at ease,” and you offer a sympathetic smile to gregory.  “i am sorry that it seems to be at your expense, however.”

his eyes shine.

“you need not worry about me!  i am glad to see you smile.”

“i as well,” hyacinth adds.  you turn to her and see how her eyes shine too. 

“i am most grateful to you both for being at my side on such a night.”

“we are most grateful for you, y/n.”

“that is something, and probably the singular thing, hyacinth and i can agree upon.”

you plant soft kisses on the tops of their heads, just as mama and papa and your elder sister had done when you were their ages.  gregory and hyacinth nestle their heads into your upper arms and only part from you when the three of you reach the top of the first set of steps.  

“are you ready?” 

though you wish to say ‘no,’ you brace yourself with a deep inhale and nod.

your heart quickens with each step as time around you slows.  your mouth has gone dry, and your body feels entirely numb, sensation only returning to you when you feel hyacinth and gregory unhook their arms from yours.  turning your head, you see them stepping backwards, away from you, leaving you at the center of the landing to the rest of the grand staircase.  you face forward once more, and ahead, below, you see the gentlemen and ladies of bridgerton house, waiting for you, looking at you.  

you swallow. 

for the very first time, in your dress, by yourself, you take a step forward.

breathe, y/n.  shoulders back; tilt your chin up, but not too much; just as kathani had taught you.  and just, breathe.

but it is hard to breathe with all eyes on you.  with—

i must control myself.   i must not seek him out.  i must not seek out his face.  i must not seek out those o—

you step on the hem of your dress and feel yourself start to fall forward.  thankfully, god, for whatever reason, has blessed you with enough dexterity in this very moment, and you manage to catch yourself from tumbling down the steps as you hear gasps from above and below you.  you mumble an apology (you don’t know why; it is not nearly loud enough for anyone to hear) and offer everyone a smile.  upon seeing their relaxed shoulders and reassured expressions, you continue to descend the staircase.

stupid benedict.  distracting me in remembering how to walk, and how to breathe, and how to— 

oh.  

i am doing it again.

shit.

goddamnit, stupid benedict!

somehow, you reach the landing of number five’s entrance hall without any additional accidents and, approaching the bridgertons, immediately look to the viscountess.  as if knowing you seek her approval, kathani nods her head; a beam illuminates her countenance.  you feel yourself ease, your shoulders relaxing (that you promptly square again; you are, after all, pretending to be a lady for the night), your heart racing less, if only minutely, and manage a smile.  you feel someone take hold of your gloved hand and, turning to face the source, see violet gazing at you. 

“beautiful.”

it is all she says, but with such tenderness in her voice, it makes your heart swell.

“the importance of appearance,” rasps eloise, causing you to turn to her, “and the lengths gone to achieve so-called perfection of such, especially for those of feminine disposition, is an entirely antiquated, offensive concept that must be eradicated from our, and all, societies—— but you do, look, beautiful, y/n.”

you grin. 

“we’ll eradicate it together; and with help along the way, i am certain.”

when she responds in kind, you turn to the gentlemen, and, to your mortification, colin and anthony bow at you.  the high society etiquette directed towards you from your friends overwhelms you with an embarrassment that you cannot even begin to fathom; they haven’t performed such formalities towards you since your first meeting all those months ago.  but, in spite of your horror, the sincerity of their intentions, as well as their countenances, touches you deeply.

“madame delacroix and the maids have outdone themselves,” remarks anthony.  “as mother and eloise have said, you look beautiful, y/n.”

“indeed,” colin beams.  when he turns to benedict, however, his smile transforms into an expression befitting of a fairytale creature; one with mischievous intentions.  “what say you, brother?”

you follow his line of sight and connect with ocean eyes.  the flood of self-consciousness and the tempo of your heartbeats magnify hundredfold under his gaze, the butterflies within you fluttering the most violently they ever have, and you feel as though your entire body has been set ablaze.

anthony, with what looks like a smirk, nudges his brother with his elbow.  as if suddenly aware of where he is, benedict hastily bows at you and, returning his ocean eyes to yours, says,

“you look— well.”

you hear eloise snort.  turning your head towards her, you see she has completely sucked in her lips.  to her left, kathani smiles massively.  to kathani’s left, violet remains ever poised but with wide, sparkling eyes.  you still feel self-conscious but are infinitely amused by whatever is happening to the bridgertons and, with a playful smile on your lips, return your gaze to benedict.

“thank you, mr. bridgerton.  i had felt uneasy with an unnerved stomach earlier, but i am glad to know that my health appears to be in proper order.”

and you deeply curtsy at him. 

from above you hear the sweet giggles of the youngest bridgertons.  ahead, in your periphery, you see how anthony closes his eyes as he sucks in air through his nostrils and how colin, with an unabashed laugh, clasps his hand onto benedict’s shoulder.

“well!” anthony booms, attempting to control his smile on what ought to be an authoritative expression. “i believe we have a ball to commence.  shall you lead the way, viscountess?”

and with an expression both equal in authority and warmth, kathani declares,

“i shall.”

𝄆 ⚘ ✸ III.iii ✸ ⚘ 𝄇

you had grown ease of mind knowing that you would not be asked to dance.  not only were you a stranger to everyone in the ton aside from the bridgertons and penelope, you were also not handsome like the debutantes flitting about the room, swishing prettily in their gowns, strategically but delicately fluttering their eyes at a gentleman with which they wished to dance.  with anonymity and a plain face, you enjoyed the haven of people observing, snickering at the artifice and smiling at the sincerity.  kathani chatting with her guests.  anthony standing by her side.  penelope dancing with colin.  eloise hiding behind a plant.  violet beaming at her family.  (you tried to convince yourself that you had not noticed the absence of a particular person.)  your nerves have finally begun to calm, finding content in your station at the margins of the dance floor.

when colin bridgerton approaches you, hand outstretched in your direction, with a twinkle in his eyes.

“miss y/l/n, may you do me the honor?”

“i’m sorry, what?”

he laughs.

“will you dance with me?”

you gape at him.

“you’re mad.”

“my mind is perfectly intact.”

“this is unwise.”

“this is the best decision i have made this night.”

“i shall surely step on your toes.”

“i have worn my sturdiest shoes for the occasion.”

the corners of your mouth tug down into a moue at the third bridgerton’s stubborn charm.  his grin merely widens as your eyes narrow to slits at him.  penelope approaches from behind the beguiling imp and smiles warmly at you.

“it will be fun,” she encourages. “i promise.”

penelope!  no!

“et tu, brute?” you bemoan.

she shrugs.

“what is a ball without dancing?” penelope offers.  sweet innocence colors her voice, but the delighted glint in her eyes reveals her true duplicitous nature.  she knew exactly how to play the game of this conversation, no doubt a devious plot concocted between her and her beau.

you sigh.

“fine,” you huff, slapping your hand into colin’s palm.  “i would be honored, mr. bridgerton.”

the diabolical duo laughs at the sarcasm that drips from your words as colin leads you to the lineup on the dance floor.  

–

“how is the dance treating you, miss y/l/n?” 

“i hate you.” 

colin guffaws.  (you see in your periphery how heads shift towards him and how eyes narrow at you.  the partner you had just left looks at you with particular scrutiny.)

“if your hatred towards me is the cost of you enjoying the ball, then it is a burden i shall carry, and happily so.” 

“has anyone ever told you how infuriating you bridgertons are?” 

“no, but we very well know that we are,” he grins, “and we take immense pride in it.”

you groan, throwing your head back.  (you hear murmurs around you.  not ladylike.)

“are you truly not having fun?”  the gentleness in his voice makes you look back at him.  his expression is soft.  sad.  guilty.  “we can leave the lineup, if that is what you would like.” 

you consider his words and his offer.

“i am having fun,” you reply truthfully.  his eyes light up at that and your heart warms at the sight.  “it is just— being in a circumstance so wholly unfamiliar— it’s overwhelming, is all, i think.  but…” you feel a smile form on your lips, “knowing that you all—as infuriating as you bridgertons are—are here with me, by my side, wanting me to enjoy myself, wanting me to be happy, it makes all the overwhelming feeling worthwhile.  i am happy.  you all make me happy.”

colin doesn’t say anything.  he just stares at you as the two of you dance still.  you are about to inquire—

“i am grateful to call you my friend, y/n.  becoming your friend has been one of the greatest blessings to have been bestowed upon me and my family.”

you suck in a breath. 

as is becoming yours has been one of mine.

but another thought also lives in your mind.  so, on the exhale of your breath, you smirk.

“only second to falling in love with penelope, yes?”

he laughs, an uncharacteristic shy smile forming on his lips as he looks at his feet and then back at you, eyes shining incandescently.

“i hope you do not take offense to being second.”

“being second to penelope is truly, sincerely, still a victory in of itself.  you are very blessed, indeed, to be her premier.”

you did not think colin’s eyes could shine brighter than they had mere moments prior, but you suppose— no, you are certain that this is the effect that the love of penelope featherington has on the third eldest bridgerton:  the light in colin’s eyes is absolute radiance.

“‘very blessed’ is to put it very lightly.”

with unabashed grins, you and colin continue to dance.  you have to walk most of the steps, often keeping good on your promise and stepping on his toes, but your partner is deterred neither by your incompetence nor by his injuries.  the two of you laugh (drawing leers from the other guests, you notice but brush off) and end your dance with exaggerated flourishes of a curtsy and a bow to one another.

“you underestimate your dancing skills, miss y/l/n,” colin remarks with a beam.

“see if you feel the same after tending to your bruises, mr. bridgerton,” you beam back.

“colin bridgerton!”

you both whip your gazes to the call of colin’s name and see a man fastly, eagerly approaching.

“hastings!” 

hastings?  why does that sound familiar? 

colin and the absurdly handsome man embrace, smiles broad and sincere. 

“i was uncertain you would be joining us on this occasion.”

“we would have seen to arriving early, as we had intended, but augie is proving to be quite unpredictable with his tantrums as of late.”

“he must take after his uncles,” colin smirks with odd pride.  that makes the other man chuckle.

“unfortunately, it seems to be so.”

he then shifts his gaze onto you.  his expression is curious and— sweet?  kindly.  you feel yourself become rather self-conscious as you notice, in your periphery, colin assuming a posture of gentlemanliness.

“my apologies for my dreadful manners.  simon, this is miss y/n y/l/n.  y/n, this is simon basset.”

simon bows most graciously at you.

“good evening, miss y/l/n.  it is a true pleasure to finally meet you.  i am simon basset, daphne’s husband.”

daphne?  

as in daphne bridgerton?

you recall the day you and benedict toured the art gallery:  a portrait, a fairly recent one, it seemed, of a beautiful young woman and a beautiful young man—the duchess and the duke of hastings, the plaque read.

your jaw drops.

“you are the duke!”  you remember the etiquette kathani taught you.  “your grace!”  and you sloppily curtsy.

simon laughs.

“that is hardly necessary.  please, if you feel comfortable in doing so, call me simon.”

“yes— of course!, your— simon,” you compose yourself.  “and you may call me y/n; i would prefer it, actually.”

simon grins.

“then, y/n, may i have the honor of having your next dance?”

your jaw drops again, your composure completely falling away.  you look at simon, who is utterly amused by your reaction, and then to colin, who is utterly delighted by the turn of events, and back to simon.

“that is a mistake.”

that earns guffaws from both of the men.  (you feel stares falling upon them and, once again, scowls falling upon you.)  

“i am more than willing to make that discovery for myself, if you will allow it.”

you throw back your head (ignoring the additional glares shot your way) and, with a sigh, whip it back to look at simon with a fatigued, but earnest, smile.

“i shall allow it.”

colin bows his head at you, his grin having never left his countenance since the end of your dance together, and steps to the side as you place your hand into simon’s outstretched one and are led to the next lineup by the duke.

–

“has the duchess accompanied you to the ball this evening?”

“while it is poor courtesy to speak on behalf of my wife when she can speak for herself, i can say, with confidence, that she would much rather you call her daphne.”

“kathani had taught me your society’s etiquette in preparation for the ball, in the event it would be necessary,” you roll your eyes.  “while i find it all utterly ridiculous, and entirely unnecessary for me in particular, i want to honor the knowledge that my teacher has bestowed upon me as a way to honor her.”

simon grins.

“you are a dedicated student.  indeed, she is in attendance.  the last i had seen her, she was tending to benedict.”

your heart sinks.

oh no.

“tending to benedict?  is he unwell?  did something happen?  is he all right?”

you hear how your voice rises in pitch and grows louder and more frantic with each word.  (you try not to care for the stares that you feel on you.  they are not of importance right now——or ever.)

is that why i have not seen him all night?  because he is in poor condition?  shall i leave the ball?  shall i see where he is being tended to?  shall i—

“y/n?”

oh.  yes.  you were having a conversation with simon.

“sorry, what did you say?”

“i had said that i did not mean to worry you,” simon says sincerely, but there is something in his smile.  not suspicious, neither mocking nor teasing.  it is as if he is withholding the full expression of his emotion.  “i simply mean that she is speaking with him and— encouraging him, is all.”

you feel the entirety of your body, mind, heart, and soul ease; but now, you are perplexed.

“encouraging him?  whatever for?”

“i had not stayed with them long enough to hear the details of their conversation; i had sought you out rather immediately.”

“me!”

the dance had timed perfectly that upon receiving such information, you are forced to turn to another partner (who is unnerved to have you as a temporary companion).  when you reunite with simon, his chuckling has mostly subsided.

“indeed.  the viscount had encouraged me to ask you for a dance.  the viscountess then stated that you required the practice.”

“i—— am utterly lacking in words in how to respond to that.”

“if it is of any comfort to you, it was something i had already intended on doing.”

“that is, rather strange?”

he grins.

“i can see how that is so from your perspective, yes.  but from mine,” and it surprises you how suddenly simon’s countenance softens, “i had to find out for myself how wonderful this y/n y/l/n is to have so easily won the affections of all the bridgertons at number five.  daff and i, as well as francesca, were becoming quite jealous that we did not have the good fortune to spend time with you as the rest of the family has had.”

“the family has… spoken of me?”

“in these past months of knowing you, you have become their most beloved topic of conversation.  hyacinth and gregory idolize how resplendent of a storyteller you are.  eloise adores being challenged by your intellect.  colin aspires to your ferocity of quick wit.  kate cherishes every discussion you share together.  anthony reveres your unwavering resolve.  violet becomes overcome with delight at every recounting of a memory in which you are involved.  and benedict…”

you swallow.

“yes?” 

you hear how feeble and quiet your voice has become.  

“never stops speaking of you; so much so that it would be impossible to abridge what he loves in you.”

you shut your eyes closed at the words “he loves” and attempt to control the tears that threaten to flow at the word “you.”  

the love he has for you is not the love you have for him.

“i— i did not know that they held me in such high regard,” you whisper.

you flutter your eyes open, grateful that no tears have fallen, and are greeted by the gentlest of smiles from simon.  it assuages your soul.

“the highest of regards.  they care very deeply for you.”

“and i care very deeply for them,” you declare softly.  you then feel yourself break out into a smile.  “i cannot say the same for you, yet, but i can see it forthcoming.”

simon throws his head back with a loud laugh, your smile transforming into a large grin (as you ignore the scowls that fall upon you).  simon whips his head back to you, and he too wears a large grin.

“i am honored that you see the potential within me.”

with a final spin, you and simon release the other’s hand, ending the dance in a curtsy and a bow, both of your grins non-faltering.

“thank you for bestowing me the honor of dancing with you.”

you snort.  (you hear scoffs and other suppressed noises of disapproval.)

“i fail to see how much of an honor it is to have someone incessantly knock into you, but if such is your feeling,” you curtsy with much theatricality and, upon your rise, let out a sigh of relief.  “now, i shall retire to the margins once more.”

simon, once again, looks as if he is withholding the full expression of his emotions, but in it you detect— delight?  you narrow your eyes.

“what?”

“you are not meant for the margins, y/n; please forgive me,” and with that, simon bows, his smile still non-faltering, and turns to leave you in the middle of the dance floor.

you are about to call out his name, curious and agitated by his vagueness—

“y/n?”

you turn around to the familiar voice and are greeted by a smiling anthony.

“oh no.  are you going to ask me for the honor of having my next dance?”

the viscount looks as if he is about to howl with laughter and attempts to mask it, poorly, with his absurdly elated smile.

“is the idea of dancing with me truly so appalling?”

“the idea of dancing more is what i find so appalling.”

“i shan’t force you to do anything you do not want to do.”

“but how will your pride take it?”

this time anthony fully howls (earning looks of confusion at the host and their looks, predictably, turning to glares when they trace the impropriety back to you).

“i am always working on humbling myself,” he says, his expression softening.  “i assure you that i, as well as my pride, can manage your rejection if it means that you are happy.  you need not worry about my well-being.”

these damned bridgertons, and their damned charm, and their damned sincerity.

despite your internal accusations, you smile.  you offer your hand (hearing a gasp or a few around you), and beaming, anthony takes it.

–

“you look like a princess, y/n!”

the saccharine words of hyacinth echo in your mind.  with the transmutative magics of your fairy godmothers in mama, violet, kathani, genevieve, judith, alice, and the maids of bridgerton house, the impossible was made possible:  you look like a princess.  but it is not until this very moment, after descending a regal staircase, after entering this enchanting ball, after dancing with two dashing gentlemen and now a third, that you feel like a princess.  you recall how you and your siblings played imagination; how you often asked to be the princess; how you did it so often that mama sewed you a dress from scraps of fabric and papa crafted you a crown out of discarded branches and your elder sister announced you as princess y/n whenever you played and your younger sibling waltzed with you around the first floor of your home.  it makes you elated with childlike wonder how fortunate you are to be here and how lovely it is to be here, how strange and wonderful it is that imagination has become real life; as if it is all a wish for which you did not know you had wished, a wish that you did not know you had wanted to come true until it came true.

but—

“is there something on your mind, y/n?” you hear anthony ask, sometime after returning to him as your partner.  “you seem pensive.”

“ah, yes.  despite my gripes with you, and your brother, and your brother-in-law insisting on dancing with me—”

“i gave you an option not to do so!”

“i am not finished speaking!”

he huffs out air through his nostrils, waiting with what seems to be a morsel of patience for you to continue.

“despite my gripes with you, your brother, and your brother-in-law insisting on dancing with me—” anthony gives you a tired look that of an older sibling; you grin, “i am enjoying myself.  i just wish, i just wish my family could be here with me, to enjoy it too.”

anthony’s expression softens immediately, and it makes your heart tighten.  you know with what gravity, duty, and love he looks after the entirety of his family; you have witnessed it at every given second since becoming his friend.  if someone were to be with you as you navigate this pain, you are glad that it is anthony.

“we shall invite them to the next ball we host,” he declares.  your jaw drops.  “it was a lack of foresight on my part for not doing so for this occasion, and i shan’t make that error again.”

you try to do rough estimations of what costs that would entail for the bridgertons— dresses and coats and shoes and four to six sets of two abstained days of work at least.

“anthony, i cannot possibly ask you to—”

“you did not ask,” he grins.  “i offered.  and i do so wholeheartedly.  it shall not be a trouble for us, just strategic planning as kathani and i work the books.  and before you protest—” you frown, both disappointed and flattered that anthony could sense your retaliation, “it is something i—as well as the rest of the family, i am certain—wish to do.  if you won’t consider it for yourself and your family, then perhaps consider it as a gift to us selfish bridgertons.” 

that makes you laugh loudly as you feel tears form in your eyes (whispers of you be damned).  expression turning gentle once more, anthony continues,

“it would be an honor to finally meet your family.  if they are even an inkling like you, then they must be truly wonderful, indeed.”

with a small sniffle of your nose and all the gratitude in your heart, you smile.

“they are.  they are truly wonderful.  i love them so much.”

anthony smiles in return with a nod of his head.

“then it is settled.”

“you are a good brother, anthony.”

you have wondered often if that is something anthony knows.  while the bridgertons’ love for one another is apparent in all that they do and say and breathe, you haven’t heard them say very complimentary things to one another, particularly to the eldest.  it is typical of families to tease and to jest, you know that intimately, but you also know how important, then, it is to tell your family what you truly think of them, how you truly feel of them.  they ought to know just how much they are loved.

though his overall demeanor is composed and dignified, the softness in anthony’s eyes reveals his true emotion.

“and you are a good sibling, y/n.”

< their dance eventually comes to an end.  someone approaches them. >

“good evening, brother,” benedict turns his ocean eyes to you.  “good evening, y/n.”

“good evening, benedict.”

you vaguely hear something in your periphery.  you turn to it and see a brilliant grin lighting up the viscount’s countenance.

“huh?”

“i had said that the viscountess is calling me over to her.  i must pardon myself.”

“oh.  yes.  farewell, anthony.”

his grin broadens, dimples forming in his cheeks, and he bows.  you see how, as he brings himself upright, his eyes shift towards his brother, the delight in his grin never leaving but something in his eyes… softening?  before you can fully process it, he has turned and now walks towards kathani.

you turn back to benedict.

“i—— good evening, y/n.”

“good evening, benedict.  though, we have already greeted each other this night, just moments ago.”

“ah, yes— that—— that would be correct.  and— is… correct.”

he is anxious.  your heart aches at the sight, and you want to reach out and touch him, comfort him, ease whatever his concerns are—but you refrain.

benedict clears his throat.

“are you— are you enjoying yourself?”

while heavy by benedict’s current state, your heart cannot help but glow brighter at his question.

“yes, tremendously so.  the dancing has been plenty fun, despite how horrendous i am at it.”

that makes benedict laugh, and relief floods your body, mind, soul, and heart.  it is good to hear him laugh.  to see him smile.

“i do not think you are as horrendous as you think you are.  your form has been quite good.”

you cock your head, feeling the scrunch of your eyebrows and the smirk on your lips.

“you have been observing me?”

his jaw drops, his body stiffening again.  suddenly shy, he looks at his shoes and, with a cough, looks back up at you, and you attempt to hold in your gasp.

how.  

how is that, after all this time, he makes these butterflies within me flutter still.

“i— i do not have a clever diversion for that.  yes; yes, i have.  i suppose i have been building the— the courage within myself.”

“‘the courage’?  the courage for what?”

he swallows.

“to ask you to dance with me.”

oh.

“oh.”

he looks… he looks scared.  exposed.  vulnerable.

you feel them within yourself, too.

he offers his hand.

“may i dance with you, y/n?”

you place your hand in his.

“yes.  yes, you may, benedict.”

i am terrified of nothing else and would love nothing more than to dance with you.

benedict leads you to the floor, his ocean eyes never leaving yours, your eyes never leaving his.

the quartet starts up, and you detect how it is music for a waltz.  of all the dances you were taught, even you can admit that you were best at learning the waltz.  

…

you curtsy as he bows.  benedict places his hand on your waist, and you try not to elicit your gasp from feeling his touch.

< their dance commences.  they are silent.  a lot of staring and shit.

< notably, y/n is not cognizant of the ton’s perception of her while she dances with benedict as she had been with her previous partners.  it seems her sole focus in this moment is dancing with benedict, being with benedict.  her heart, mind, body, and soul is with him.

< y/n’s mind goes Rampant when benedict places his hand on her exposed shoulder. >

do not close your eyes, you reprimand yourself.  if you close your eyes, you will indulge.  you will indulge in this sensation.  in this touch.  in his touch.  in benedict’s bare hand on the expanse of your exposed skin.  in imagination.  in fantasies.  in thoughts.  in other thoughts on other parts of your body that you so, so very much want him to—

“i had not spoken properly.”

you try not to shudder a gasp upon hearing his voice.

“pardon?” you say, a bit breathless.  the dance calling for it, benedict twirls you, and you are now face to face again.

“earlier; when i had commented on your appearance, i had said you looked well.”

you snort, recalling the peculiar word choice, and that earns a smile from benedict.

“what i had meant to say is—“ he swallows, “you look beautiful, y/n.”

“i think,” you respond perhaps too swiftly, “that is testimony to genevieve’s skill and not to my appearance.”

“i think genevieve only enhances what is already there.”

you want to change, you don’t want to change— you do want to change the topic.  you cannot handle whatever— whatever benedict is insinuating.  the indecipherable, intense, attentive gaze of his ocean eyes on you.  it is so much; it is too much.

“she spoke of you.”

shit.  why did i say that?

his face immediately falls, ocean eyes transforming with it.

shit.

“genevieve spoke of me?  with you?  why?”

“kathani had accompanied me to the modiste, and i had shared with genevieve how i became acquainted with penelope and the bridgertons,” you half-truth.  “talking about the family, and then you, was a natural consequence.”

“what did she say?  about me?”

you try not to wince at the urgency in his voice.

“she shared how you and she had— an intimate and passionate acquaintance,” you divulge, using the words your friend had to describe the artists’ relationship.  perhaps you imagine the sensation, but you feel benedict wince as you dance.  “and that it was brief and no more.”

“she said that?  ‘brief and no more’?”

“indeed.”

he sighs.  you detect relief in the exhale, but perhaps you had, once again, imagined it.  you always had an active imagination; trying to bend what you perceive to what you wish was real.

“i see,” is all benedict says.

“do you care for her?” you inquire.  it is truly masochistic, what you are doing.  but you cannot help yourself.  it is something you often do when benedict is near.  when you and he are so close.

there is a small silence.

“i did.  at least, i think i did,” he shares. “i was hurt when our— acquaintance came to an end, but i was not heartbroken.  i had known nothing of heartbreak, not until—”

and he suddenly stops speaking, sucking in his lips.

“until?”

“nothing.  nevermind.  forget i had said anything,” he says all too quickly.  you laugh, and he scrunches his face in adorable disapproval at you.

“well, that only makes me the more curious, benedict!  the mystery of it, and your very clear blush, indicate it must have been quite the event.”

“i am not blushing!”

“you cannot lie about something i can literally see.”

“you are infuriating.”

“and what do you think you are?”

benedict just pouts at you, though you see the twinkle in his ocean eyes.  you want the twinkle to be of affection, but you will settle for amusement.  for friendship.  you take pride in how you can elicit this reaction out of him.  you take joy in how he can elicit this reaction out of you.  you love him, and you are grateful that is something you can say and know and feel.  even if he does not love you as you love him.

“the first time i felt heartbreak,” he begins, finally giving in.  you perk up in anticipation.  “was when— was when you had walked out of the house after i had crumpled the paper to the floor.”

you nearly stop in your tracks, halting your waltz with benedict entirely, until you find a way to recover and continue the steps with him.  he is looking intently at you, waiting for your response.  you inhale a breath and on the exhale say,

“oh.”

it is a pathetic response, but it is the only one you can muster at this moment.  breath has entirely left your lungs, your heart palpitates at a maddening rate, the lightning of benedict’s touch and proximity magnifying at every passing second.

“i had hurt you, this person whom i—” he swallows, “whom i care for, deeply and completely.  i was, and am, ashamed of my deed and the arrogant thoughts and beliefs that led me to do it.”

“i have long forgiven you for that, benedict.”

“it is something of which i am not deserving.”

“you cannot tell me what to think or do,” you challenge, arching an eyebrow at him to add levity to the conversation.  benedict smiles, despite himself, and it makes your body flood with relief and joy. 

“i would never dare.”

“as you shouldn’t,” you grin, then inhaling and exhaling through your nostrils.  “you need not flagellate yourself for what you did.  that accomplishes nothing, and guilt is entirely useless in the structures that be,” you say resolutely.  more softly, you continue.  “my forgiveness is something i gave you willingly because it is what i truly wanted.  because i knew, and know, how you wish to do better.  i see that in everything you do; in your art, in your character.  it is something i admire in you.”

benedict simply stares at you, his ocean eyes impossible to decipher again.  his gaze is overwhelming, but you refuse to break it.

“i was about to say how undeserving i am of your compassion,” he says, “but then swiftly realized you would have just admonished me.”

you laugh.

“you were correct in thinking so, yes.”

he looks at you still, his expression still impossible to decipher, but there is something soft about it.

“thank you, y/n.”

the butterflies within you flutter once more.

“and if you ever wish to discard your paper again,” you diverge from your feelings, “simply hand it to me.  i am always in need of more.”

he laughs fully, the corners of his eyes crinkling with delight, and you feel the flutterings violently rage within.  perhaps diversion was not the wisest choice (or perhaps it was, if it meant that you were the one to make benedict laugh like that).

“i have gotten quite good at maximizing the amount of negative space on a sheet, but nothing would delight me more than to support your writing.”

“i am most grateful for your patronage, mr. bridgerton.”

benedict makes something of a gagging noise, and you snort loudly.

“you are making it strange with the master-servant relation, y/n.”

“ah, so you are learning,” you comment with a sagacious nod of approval.  it is now benedict’s turn to snort.

“what can i say?” he grins.  “i have the greatest of teachers.”

“they have done quite well; please give them my regards.”

“i shall.”

and with the music coming to an end, you turn to face one another, wide and wild smiles on your faces.  you curtsy as benedict bows.  

“may i fetch you a drink?” he inquires after you are both upright again.

“is alcohol served at these occasions?”

benedict laughs.

“champagne it is.”

he gives you one more bow, lingering a moment more with one more smile, before taking off to retrieve your drink.

you try to bite back your smile, but it’s entirely useless.  you twirl in your spot, feeling the swish of your dress in the spin, for you cannot help yourself.  you cannot help how much joy radiates off of you in this moment, how giddy you are.  it feels like a fairytale.  you look in the direction benedict took off and feel your smile widen.

it is dangerous what you are doing— indulging in this.  but you do not care.

this is undoubtedly the most wondrous night of your life.

“so you’re the pauper that the bridgertons have invited to their ball.”

you freeze.

“how else would you have been asked to dance by the host—the viscount and a bridgerton, nonetheless; his two brothers; and the elusive duke of hastings?  it is an endearing sight, really.”

her posse snickers.

“the bridgertons have always been so kind and thoughtful in that way, extending their hands to the less fortunate.  why they chose you, however, remains a mystery.  if it were a pretty face that appealed to them, i perhaps could have understood, but you are simple at best.”

“you are cressida cowper,” you state.

penelope and eloise had warned you about a cruel creature amongst the ton, and the young woman before you matches all of the criteria they had described:  icy platinum hair, draconian eyes, and a haughty disposition that ought to be reserved for the royals.

cressida daintily gasps and smiles at you with what seems to be all the mockery she can muster.  

“i see that my reputation precedes me!  though, only those of my standing can refer to me as such.  cannot have my name tainted by the mouths of the lowly.”

you feel the gazes of other guests on you.  you hear muffled sneers.

this is entertainment for them.

you should say something, stand up for yourself— against cressida, against her posse, against the ton— but you don’t.  you can’t.  your mouth has gone dry, your mind has gone silent, your body has gone numb.  you have never, ever felt more powerless.

“your dress— did the bridgertons pay for it?  of course they did.  pity, though, for their wealth to go to waste on such an offensive thing.  allow me to assist you—”

and she pours her drink onto you.

you try not to gasp at the chill of the liquid making contact with your skin.  looking down, you see a reddish purple stain seep into the cream fabric of your ball gown as it continues to travel downwards.

you hear cressida giggle.  you look up.

“better,” she simpers.  “beautiful at last.”

her posse sneers with delight.  the guests who had tried to suppress their laughs do nothing to hide their mirth now.  

this is entertainment for them.  my humiliation— it is entertainment for them.

you step into cressida’s space, eliciting a stunned gasp from her as the others follow suit, and shove your face as closely to hers as possible.

“if we were not in your domain, i would rip out your delicate hair and strike my hand across your pretty little face.  but i am a lady—not in blood nor in title, but in character.  and with your words and your deeds, you have shown just how utterly undeserving you are of such a title with your complete void of morals, compassion, and integrity.  i do not care what you think of me, cressida, or what drinks you pour on me because i can rest easy in my sleep and waking hours knowing with perfect certainty that i am nothing like you.  i bid you good night.”

and maintaining the ferocity of your glare on her horrified eyes, you muster up the most mocking, deep curtsy you can, turn, hitch up your skirt, and run away.  you cannot care for the booming silence from that creature and her posse, for the murmurs and glowers of the ton thrown your way.  you cannot take time to process what words a flutters-inducing voice snarls at cressida.  

no. 

you must simply run away, quickly and efficiently, because you refuse to give into these monsters’ satisfaction of seeing your tears.

𝄆 ⚘ ✸ III.iv ✸ ⚘ 𝄇

the cool air of the night whips your face as you run as far and as deep as you can into the gardens.  you curse your damned shoes, for they are slippery and nothing like your sturdy boots, and they make you realize even further how much you have fucked up in allowing yourself to get this far.  in allowing yourself to go to the ball, in allowing yourself to dance, in allowing yourself to fall in—

feeling your shoe catch on something, you fall forward and throw your hands out in front of you, your gloved palms digging into the bark of a tree trunk as you attempt to steady yourself.  you attempt to control the staggered rhythm of your breath, the sobs that choke out of your throat, the palpitations that threaten to collapse your heart.

why did i allow myself to get this far?

“y/n—”

you snap your gaze over to the call of your name as your stomach knots, somehow, even now, with flutterings upon hearing his voice.

“benedict, no— just— no,” you manage to croak out, stepping away from where he approaches.  you hold up your hand, as if it is a magical force that will push him away.  it does not.  “just go, please, just go.”

“i refuse to leave you, y/n, you are hurt—”

you cackle, sniffling the snot that tries to escape your nostrils.  you push your remaining hand off the tree and turn towards him.  

“hurt?  what gave you that impression?  is it the tears?  they are just water, benedict, they will dry.”

“this is not the time to jest!”

“then what do you want of me!”

“to allow me to help you!”

“why!  why do you care!  why do you care for some, some low status person like me!”

“that is not how i see you!”

“THAT IS WHAT I AM.”

he freezes.  you feel yourself clenching your hands into fists, your nails digging into your palms through the satin of the gloves that were bought for you.

“you are the son of a viscountess, a brother to a viscount.  i wonder every day if my family will have enough food to eat at our one meal.  we—” you gesture between the two of you, “—are not of the same world.  and maybe, maybe it should have stayed that way.  to, to have stayed in our own worlds.  we should have stayed in our own worlds!”

“and is that what you want?” he shoots back.

“what?”  you snark.

“is that what you want?  for us to stay in our own worlds?”

you fall silent, words suddenly failing you, breath suddenly leaving you.  he huffs out a breath and continues.

“if that is what you want, i shall stay away from you.  i shall never bother you.  i shall never hurt you as i have.  we shall—” benedict swallows, “we shall forget each other.  if that is what you want, y/n, i shall give it to you.”

you do not respond to him.  you stare into him as he stares into you.

“is that what you want?”

you shake your head as you feel fresh tears rush to your eyes.

“then what do you want?” he softly asks.

you flutter your eyes closed and breathe in.  on your exhale, you open your eyes to the tear-blurry sight of benedict still looking at you with such tenderness in his ocean eyes.

“i want you,” you whisper.

you barely have time to process anything else when benedict surges forward and wraps his arms around you in a crushing embrace.  tears fall even harder than before as you cry into his chest and wrap your arms around him.

benedict pulls back from the embrace to look at you, to cup your cheek, to wipe away the tears that fall so quickly from your eyes.

“i want you, y/n.  i want to be yours.  i want to be in your world, i want our worlds to be one.  i want to go wherever you go.  i want to make you laugh and to make you smile every day and every night; i want to do everything with you.  i want to be with you, to share this life with you.  from the moment i met you, from the moment you intended to shake my hand, i have wanted nothing more than to share all the time i have on this earth with you.  i do not care for balls, i do not care for the ton, i care— i care for you, y/n.  these are not the circumstances in which i wanted to confess this, with you crying and us yelling at one another, but i must be true with you.  i—”

“benedict?”

“yes?”

“may i kiss you?”

benedict’s jaw drops and you laugh at his shock, sniffling your nose as you beam at him.  he quickly recovers, breaking out into the smile that has always made you flutter with butterflies, the smile that you always secretly hoped, dreamed, wished was reserved for you.  and you begin to think that, after all this time, perhaps it is.

“good god, please, yes—”

he barely completes his ‘yes’ when you jump forward to crash your lips into his.  benedict practically trips backwards with the force of your eager leap, the two of you laughing into your kiss at the messiness of it all, as he holds you both steady.

this is your first kiss.  you are so glad that it is benedict.  

and somewhere within you blooms the hope that he is your last first kiss.  

you have no idea what you’re doing, or what you should be doing, but you are far too much enjoying having benedict’s lips on yours, your hands on his cheeks, his hands on your waist, and your bodies pressing more and more into each other to give the slightest care.  and the smile you feel against yours makes you think that benedict doesn’t mind—at all.

you pull apart to breathe, but your lips do not move far from one another.

“i love you.”

“i love you, too.”

“and i am sorry.”

“for loving me?”

you feel benedict jump back as he holds you, his face absolutely crestfallen, panic flooding his eyes, and he’s about to open his mouth to speak when you giggle and peck his parted lips with yours.

“i’m teasing you, my love.”

benedict’s eyes soften but quickly glint with mischief.  you’re curious about the expression when you feel him tickling the sides of your waist.

“okay, okay!” you gasp with laughter as he tickles on. “i— i yield, i yield!”

benedict grins victoriously, his tickles fading into him softly rubbing circles on your waist.

“i am sorry for saying that is not how i see you, when you spoke of your social standing.  i had not meant it that way, but i understand now how it was understood, and i should not have said it as i did.  i know that i have lived a life of unfathomable ease with the wealth and circumstances into which i was born.  the privileges i hold are not things i had reflected on, really, until— until i met you.”

you soften at his earnestness, by the way he humbles himself before you.  but you cannot help the giddy mischief that bubbles from within.

“did you only reflect on your privileges as to win a femme’s favor?”

benedict’s jaw drops again, but you see how his ocean eyes shine with like-minded playfulness. 

“do you truly think so lowly of me?”

you grin.  

“perhaps.”

you feel benedict teasingly threaten his hands into tickling position onto your waist, and laughing, you shoo them away.  he grins and softens his gaze once more.

“what i wanted to say to you earlier is— i wish you did not speak of yourself so harshly.  as if you are unworthy of care from me because of your status.  i care for you, i love you, y/n,  as you are.  as you were, as you will be.  with all your circumstances, all your experiences, all your deeds, all your words, all your thoughts, all your feelings.  for your heart, for your mind, for your soul.  i love you because you are you, and i wish for you to see that, for you to see you as i see you.  as so many of us see you.”

“i— i do not know what to say.”

“you do not have to say anything; just to, if i may ask of you, seed my words into your heart and mind and soul and know them to be true, wholly and completely,” a playful smile forms on his lips.  “though, i must say, i am rather pleased with myself for rendering a writer with ferocious conviction speechless.”

you roll your eyes, but your voice is soft.

“you have had that effect on me for quite some time, benedict.”

benedict swallows and gently rubs circles onto your waist again.

“i love you, benedict.”

“i love you, too.”

< y/n and benedict, hand-in-hand, start to walk towards the house; they are taking their time. >

“are you certain you want to return the ball?” benedict inquires.  “we can stay here in the gardens and wait until the last of the guests have gone.”

you hum.

“i would like to dance.”

“ah, was there a gentleman or a lady who caught your eye, miss y/l/n?”

“oh, loads.  i hope it won’t make you terribly jealous, mr. bridgerton.”

“it will, but i shall simply stare at them maliciously if their hands are to roam.”

“yes, my form is reserved for your hands and your hands alone.”

you exchange grins.

“indeed.”

benedict nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck, and you laugh.  he lifts his head and plants a soft kiss on your temple.

“are you certain?  i do not mean to doubt you or your wishes to dance.  we can dance out here, under the bright light of the moon.  i want you to feel content and safe.”

“i do feel content and safe.  with you.  with the family.  within myself.  i shan’t let the ton or cressida ruin my first ball.  though, the idea of dancing in the moonlight is quite enticing.  perhaps another night?”

“you have my word,”  and bringing your hand to his lips, he kisses your knuckles.  a serene silence falls between you two until benedict makes some sort of a noise in his throat, as if to clear his voice.

“i, uh, must say,” benedict begins, “your confrontation with cressida was, uh, quite— alluring.”

you stop, letting go of his hand, and stare at him.

“alluring?”

a delicious blush colors your love’s face.

“indeed.”

a newfound bravery blooms in you.

you step into his space, not breaking eye contact with his blown out pupils, the ocean of his eyes mere outlines.  you sneak your lips towards his ear and hear a soft whimper emit from his lips.

“is that something of interest to you, mr. bridgerton?” you murmur, your bottom lip barely grazing his earlobe.  you feel him shiver and inhale.  “when you see someone be put in their place?”

he exhales frantically.

“it is something of interest to me when— when you do it,” he admits, as if out of breath.  you smile, pressing your bottom lip softly into his earlobe.  he does nothing to hold back his moan as you do everything in your power to hold in yours.

“that is good to know,” and quickly rip away from him.  

in your step back, you take in benedict’s state—flustered, expectant, ruttish—and wink at him.  you turn and walk away at your leisure, putting on a performance of superiority as you hide your own arousal.

it is only a few moments later that you hear benedict follow you.

“you,” he says, voice still fraught with desire but full with love, “will be the death of me.”

you look back at him and grin.

“and what would you like me to put on your epitaph?”

“benedict bridgerton, he who, in life and in death, loves the best soul to have ever existed.”

you cannot help your giddy self and close the distance between the two of you once more, grabbing his face and pressing your smile into his.  benedict happily obliges as he places his hands at the low of your waist and pulls you closer into him.

< they get into it! 

< y/n takes off her gloves so that she can touch benedict; she is about to throw them on the ground. >

“wait—”

and he takes your gloves.

“hm?”

“your gloves.  they were costly to make,” benedict states as he stuffs them into the inside pockets of his jacket.  “i don’t want to be flippant in letting them be discarded to the ground.”

you gape at him.

“you concern yourself with the cost of my gloves?”

“why, yes, of course, it is something i—”

you clutch onto the lapels of benedict’s jacket and push him backward into a nearby hedge, his mouth now agape and his pupils dark with a desire you very much want to satisfy.

“i find your consideration quite alluring.”

in the midst of his apparent arousal, benedict giggles, and that makes you grin.

“what is it?”

“a hedge, y/n?  of all things to anchor me against?”

you roll your eyes.

“it was this, benedict, or the bark of a tree.”

“ah, so i should be grateful then.”

you repeat his words with sped up mockery, making him laugh and the corners of his eyes crinkle in the adorable way that is so very distinctly benedict, and you capture your love’s lips again to shut him up, smiling and laughing into the kiss.

…

“what do you want?”

“you.  whatever you want, benedict, i want it.  please.”

“are you certain?” he breathes into your ear.

“god, yes, benedict, please, yes.”

“then—”

benedict positions his head downward, burying his face into the crevice of your bosom, and before you can even begin to tease him for his absurdity, you feel the wetness of his tongue flat against the curvature of your right breast.  your gasp of surprise quickly transforms into an ungodly guttural wail, feeling yourself dig your fingernails into benedict’s back, arching into him to steady yourself, as he painstakingly drags the flat of his tongue from your right breast against the expanse of your exposed chest to the length of your right shoulder.  dazed and euphoric, you feel how benedict sneaks towards your ear, hovers it, panting ragged breaths,

“i’ve wanted to do that since you descended the stairs in that dress.  and—”

taking your left hand, benedict pushes your middle finger and forefinger fully into his mouth.  he methodically works his tongue against them as he guides your hand to pull and push in him, his blown out pupils never once leaving your intoxicated stare.  you feel the desperate urge to throw your head back at the incandescent eroticism that throbs from your fingertips to the rest of your body, but may god smite you if you willingly tear your eyes away from the divine sight of benedict’s almost oceanless eyes gaping into you as his gorgeous mouth sucks on your fingers.  just before you feel as though you are to fully blank out and ascend into the heavens, benedict rips your hand out of his mouth, the action creating an obscenely delicious ‘pop’ sound, and, wrapping his hand around your wrist, pulls you back into him, your face finding respite just below his shoulder.

“i’ve wanted to do that since first drawing your hand.”

you laugh-cry into his jacket.

“shit, benedict.”

your love laughs and nudges his head into yours and rests it there as he softly rubs circles on your back with his thumb.

“please—” good god, breathe, “please remind me to ask you more frequently what you want.”

“did you enjoy it?”

“no, benedict, i quite plainly hated it.”

“i’d be glad to accept your critiques.”

“i know you would,” you smile into his jacket and, lifting your head, are greeted by your favorite sight:  benedict, with his soft smile and his gentle ocean eyes.

“i have never felt like that before,” you admit in a whisper.

“nor have i,” he whispers back.  that shocks you, and you must have made your reaction visible because benedict emits a laugh through his nose, soft smile and gentle ocean eyes unfaltering.

“but you have been with others before; you’ve had similar experiences, yes?”  

you had assumed that your exhilaration must have been, apart from it being benedict, rooted in your lack of experience in such things.

benedict brushes a loose strand of your hair away from your eyes and tucks it behind your ear, his hand moving down to cup your cheek, his thumb gently rubbing it.

“yes, but those were different.” 

you cock your head in response.  he smiles, as if it is apparent.

“because they are not you.”

the sweetness of benedict’s ocean eyes are quickly replaced with shock then delight and then you don’t know what because he closes them as you crash your lips into his.  whatever you had just felt before, you want it again.  you want benedict.  all of him.  and you want all of him to feel what you just had.

you lick his teeth, and granting your wish, benedict opens his mouth more, groaning, bringing his hands to the curvatures of your ass, pushing your bodies even closer together though no space left exists between the two of you.  you move your hand to the back of his head and, gripping a tuft of his hair, pull it roughly just as you capture his tongue with your mouth and suck hard.  the sounds that benedict produce in reaction are entirely inhuman, but you vaguely deduce he is trying to say your name, and you’ve never attended a concert but, my god, nothing will ever sound as harmonious as the symphony that is your name gutturally trapped in benedict’s throat.

continuing with the work you’ve done to undo benedict thus far, you take your other hand and start to rake it against his body, starting at the base of his throat, taking time and leisure to explore, lowering and pressing into his chest, wondering wildly what beauty exists behind his damned shirt, lowering and feeling the firmness of his stomach and trying not to completely undo yourself with the sinful, transcendent thoughts of putting your tongue there, lowering and lowering and touching something curious and unfamiliar and hard and—

when he pushes you off of him.

“benedict, i— i am so sorry,” you panic, “please, what did i—”

“no, no,” he swallows, “you did— you have nothing to apologize for, my love, you were— uh— you were doing quite——” he clears his throat, “you were doing quite well; very well, actually…”

you continue to frown, still concerned.

“then why are you so tottery?”

“because— because if we were to continue, i do not think— i know i would not last for— um, for very much longer.”

you jut out your hip, putting the knuckles of your fist on it, and furrow your eyebrows at him.

“benedict bridgerton, i still do not understand what you are trying to convey.  speak plainly.”

“we should stop.”

your jaw drops, as does your hand from your hip.

“why?” you practically whine.  you should be embarrassed by your desperation, but to be entirely frank, you couldn't care less.  benedict huffs out a laugh, still breathless, and, stepping towards you, lays a tender kiss on your forehead.

“as much as i would love for us to continue, i think being in the family gardens with a ball being held a few meters away is hardly an ideal location for the more— involved aspects of such activities.  the aspects i’d like to explain to you,” he takes another step into your space, lowering his voice to an unfamiliar but enrapturing gravel, “the aspects i’d like to show you.”

you swallow your whimper.

“i—— i would very much like that,” you manage.  and then you grin, “though, exploring such aspects in the family gardens sounds like it would be quite the adventure.  a calculated risk, if you will.”

the alluring tone of benedict’s voice is completely replaced with a giggle, and your grin broadens as you press even closer into him and nudge your nose against his.  benedict rests his forehead against yours and flutters his eyes closed.

“what did i do to have you love me back?” 

you flutter your eyes closed.

“you were you.  you are you.”

𝄆 ⚘ ✸ III.v ✸ ⚘ 𝄇

< ahead, y/n sees kathani.  she makes the connection that kathani must have accompanied benedict as a chaperone so that y/n wouldn’t be “disgraced” by having a man by himself chase after her.  

< as the two approach the viscountess, kathani recognizes how disheveled y/n and benedict look and promptly fixes them to look more presentable. she takes some hedge leaves out of benedict’s hair. >

“i see that you are well, y/n?” inquires kathani.

“never better, actually.”

she laughs, a smile falling on her lips.

“i am sincerely glad to hear that.”

< they walk closer to bridgerton house. >

“you are fortunate that it was not anthony who volunteered to chaperone.  he would have not reacted well to his loved one being dishonored, as he would say, particularly on family grounds.”

“oh dear,” you say, nervous and suddenly self-conscious.  you do not want to be the target of the eldest bridgerton’s wrath.  “what have i done to dishonor—“

kathani laughs.

“i wasn’t referring to you, chellam.  i was referring to him,” and she juts her chin out at benedict.

“me!”

“anthony will be furious when he finds out that you have been— private,” she says, gesturing to his newly tidied appearance, “with y/n in the gardens.  not very gentlemanly of you.”

“he won’t find out!” benedict pauses. “he won’t find out— right, kate?”

kathani just makes a face of feigned deep thought and you chortle.

“kate!”

“i do not keep secrets from my husband, benedict.”

“but what if it’s for love?” he implores.  he says it facetiously, but you feel with what conviction he exudes his true feeling.

kathani’s expression softens as she looks between you and benedict.  you offer a small nod and a smile, confirming her thoughts.  she beams at you but then narrows her eyes at benedict.  there is no heat to her gaze; she is, however, having the most sublime time making her brother-in-law squirm.

“i do not keep secrets from my husband, benedict,” kathani repeats.  benedict groans, throwing his head back like a disgruntled child, and you belly laugh at him.  

“i hope you are ready for gregory to be your second,” she continues.

you almost double over as benedict snaps his head forward to look at his sister-in-law.

“gregory!”

“indeed.  it is a shame as well— anthony’s accustomed second being the one he has to duel,” she sighs dramatically.  “oh well.  colin will make a fine replacement.”

“this family is ridiculous,” you declare, grinning like mad.  “gregory seems a tad young, though.  what about eloise?  i am sure she would be a more than suitable second for benedict.”

“oh, i have no doubt,” grins back kathani, “but i would not dare involve a woman in the idiocy of men and their ludicrous concepts of honor.”

you and kathani laugh loudly, delighted by how much you are enjoying yourselves, untroubled by benedict’s moping.

“it has been wonderful being in love with you, benedict,” you state simply.  “it’s a pity that it has to come to an end so soon."

kathani snorts.  benedict stops in his tracks and gapes at you.

“you think i would lose the duel!”

“anthony is more stubborn; he would let it fuel his will to live.”

“i think you underestimate how much i love you and how that fuels my will to live.” 

you smile.  in your periphery, kathani smiles. despite his current displeasure with you, your love smiles.

“i suppose i do.”

𝄆 ⚘ ✸ III.vi ✸ ⚘ 𝄇

< upon returning to the ball, y/n, benedict, and kathani see how anthony and violet are ensuring that the cowpers are leaving.  before the family leaves, y/n approaches cressida. >

“i do hope to see you at another one of these events.  if you find a way, of course, not to have yourself kicked out.” 

and you curtsy.  you turn to your love, his mouth in a wide smile and ocean eyes sparkling, and offer him a wink. you hear the quartet start up. 

“i believe it is time for another round of dancing.  care to be my partner?” 

“i would love nothing more.”

< they dance.  it is sweet, silly, romantic, and delightful.  both y/n and benedict touch each other beyond what is considered proper, like hands laying too low on the waist or eliminating the space between their bodies, but they truly do not care.  their unabashed joy is abundantly evident to everyone in the ballroom, but they are only focused on one another.  they are in their own world.  they giggle, they grin; it is the happiness they both deserve.  

< they dance the next set.

< after her and benedict’s third dance together, y/n makes eye contact with violet, who is at the margins of the dancefloor, eyes wide with joy. >

“as much as i love dancing with you, my love,” you beam, “i think i am in need of a new partner.”

< y/n approaches violet and with a bow asks her for the honor of being her next dance. though delighted, violet remarks how she is too old, and y/n says that the youngsters can learn a thing or two from her wisdom and skill. >

“we would need permission from the host,” offers violet.

“from anthony!  you birthed him!  you granted him permission to exist!”

that makes violet laugh.

< violet agrees, and they walk hand in hand to the dance floor.  in this dance, y/n and violet are partnered, benedict partnered with penelope, kathani partnered with anthony. >

…

“you’ve told each other."

“has anyone remarked how keenly insightful you are, violet bridgerton?"

“no,” the dowager replies with twinkling eyes, “but it is something of which i am well aware, and take great pride in.  i am happy for you both.”

“i am so glad to have your approval.”

“oh tosh!  as if a mother’s approval or disapproval can get in the way of real, true love.”

“perhaps so, but it is affirming to have the blessing from someone you so dearly love in a matter such as this.”

“you make it easy to love you, my dear.”

< the dance calls for a switch in partners.  y/n becomes partnered with penelope, and violet becomes partnered with benedict. >

“thank you, pen.”

“whatever for?”

“for bumping into me at the markets.”

penelope laughs.

“accidents are quite good, are they not?”

“i despise them, actually,” you declare with a grin.

< penelope reveals that benedict shared with her why he was not seen for the first three dances of the night. >

your jaw drops, and penelope merely titters in response.

“is that why i didn’t see him!  because he was lurking in the crowds to prevent men from approaching me?”

“it has been my discovery that the bridgerton brothers do not handle their jealousies well.”

“do you think gregory shall be the same?”

“oh, i am entirely certain.  he shall likely be the worst of all.”

the two of you snort as you are sent back to your partners, penelope with benedict and you with violet.

“and what has you and penelope in such giggles?”

“making barbs at your sons.”

violet laughs.

“they make it awfully easy to do so, do they not?”

< the dance comes to an end.  violet plants a soft kiss on y/n’s head.

< turning, y/n connects eyes with benedict who wears an incandescently happy expression. >

how could you not see it before?  how in love he is with you.

< tired but elated, y/n takes a break from dancing.  she reunites with the rest of the bridgertons at the ball.  y/n finally meets daphne, who remarks that she has heard so much about y/n.  eloise shares how the family wished to check in on y/n when she had returned to the ball to see that she was well; in a rare smile rather than a smirk, eloise shares that, upon seeing her dance and dance again with benedict, that she looked quite well indeed. at some point in the conversation with the bridgertons, y/n inquires when she can meet francesca.

< time passes, and joy is had amongst the bridgertons, penelope, simon, and y/n.  y/n cannot believe her happiness.

< the last dance is called.  benedict approaches y/n. >

“may i have the honor of being your final dance of the night?"

“you aren’t tired of me yet?”

“i shall never tire of you, y/n.”

upon taking your hand, benedict twirls you once then twice as he leads you towards the dance floor.  giggling and grinning, you decide to do the same to him, causing him to giggle and grin right along with you.

< they dance a fourth time. >

𝄆 ⚘ ✸ III.vii ✸ ⚘ 𝄇

< the guests have made their leave from the bridgerton ball.  colin, eloise, and violet have gone to their respective bedchambers.  

< anthony, benedict, kathani, and y/n walk up the steps of the grand staircase. anthony has his hand clamped on benedict’s forearm and pulls him up the steps with particular determination and quiet fury. >

“i know where i sleep, brother!  i have slept there since we were children!”

“i am well aware of that, benedict, and i am also well aware of how you— roam when enticed.”

benedict looks at anthony, to you (you just shrug as you look on at the exchange with excitement), and back to anthony.

“do you people really think so little of me!”

“i do not think little of you, brother, i just know you.”

benedict’s shock deepens incredulously, though you see the smile underscoring it all.

“i am a man of honor!  i am a gentleman!”

“yes, as am i, as is colin, as was father; all bridgerton men are, and all bridgerton men are idiots around the persons for whom they have affections.  now, go into your bedchamber,” anthony finishes as he shoves his younger brother into the room.

“you are a nightmare!” you hear your love shout from within.

“and you are to stay here for the remainder of the night!” he shouts back, leaning forward to grab the knob to benedict’s bedchamber and pulling the door shut with a loud thud.  he turns to kathani, composure returning to his senses. 

“my dearest, may you call samuel and lawrence, please?  i shall have samuel stationed here and lawrence stationed outside benedict’s window.  they will be paid double their wage for these extemporary responsibilities.”

you laugh with your whole stomach and feel tears sting your eyes.  you have no concern in hiding your howls until you remember hyacinth and gregory are asleep and promptly clamp your hand over your mouth.  your hand succeeds in muffling your laughter, but marginally.

kathani rolls her eyes at her husband and deeply sighs.

“i shall,” she replies, smiling at her love’s antics.

pleased with her answer, anthony right about turns at benedict’s door, places his hands behind his back, and stands up tall, taking his temporary duty as guard with the utmost gravity.  something then eases in his posture, and he turns to you.

“i hope you have enjoyed your night, y/n.”

your heart swells.

“it was wondrous, anthony.  thank you.”

he beams, brilliant delight in his eyes.

“i wish you good rest.”

and with a bow of his head, anthony turns away from you and assumes his station once more, gravity and perfect posture and all.

the viscountess turns to you, her smile having softened, and says, “let me escort you back to your bedchamber.  i shall help you prepare for bed.”

–

“despite his many flaws,” kathani says with all amusement and fondness in her voice as she removes the pins from your hair, “anthony is, indeed, a man of honor and honesty.”

“i never had my doubts, but—” you snort, “that has certainly proved it.”

“it is because he thinks so highly of you,” she shares, looking at you in the mirror.  you turn around in your seat and connect with her eyes, eyes that are filled with so much warmth.  “he cares deeply for you, y/n.  anthony is only that overbearing and overly protective when it comes to his family, and he sees you as our family.  we all do.”

you suck in air through your nostrils, feeling the swell of your heart.  how did you get so fortunate as to be so loved by this family?  

though, you detect something in kathani.  her words are sincere, of that you are not doubtful, but they do not seem complete.  it is as if she wants to say more, if the blossoming twinkle in her eyes is indicative of anything.  but kathani does not elaborate.  

instead, she picks up the brush on the vanity and gently brushes your hair.  it reminds you of when your elder sister used to brush your hair before bedtime.  you close your eyes, humming.

“i see you all as my family, too.”

𝄆 ⚘ ✸ III.viii ✸ ⚘ 𝄇

< the next morning, late morning.  the dining room. >

“you are infernal,” benedict deadpans to anthony, staring at his brother and taking his seat next to you.

“you are incorrigible; i was correct,” anthony responds, his eyes not leaving his paper.

“correct about what, brother?” hyacinth asks.

despite their current rivalry, benedict and anthony both freeze.  kate speaks on their behalf.

“your eldest had deemed it necessary to have lawrence stationed outside below benedict’s bedchamber window in the early morn and was proved correct in doing so; your second eldest had attempted to escape by way of that route.”

“stationed outside his window?  why would that be necessary?” gregory inquires.  he turns to benedict.  “and why were you trying to leave through your window?” 

in his periphery, benedict sees you whipping your head.  you seem to have suddenly found some interest in the painting on the wall faced away from the current scene.  he notices how you hide your smile behind your fist and how you attempt to suppress the convulsions of your laughter.  kate, on the other hand, unapologetically laughs.

“i am certain you will learn in due time, gregory.  it is something of a tradition, it seems.”

“will i get to participate in this tradition?” hyacinth enthuses.

“NO!” benedict and anthony shout in tandem.  they look at each other, and the elder gives a ‘see!’ face to the younger.  benedict just rolls his eyes.  

his eyes eventually land back on you:  you have now totally hidden your face in your hands with elbows perched on the table for support, any attempts at hiding your laughter now entirely gone.  your entire body vibrates as you somehow squeak and guffaw into the palms of your hands.

“ugh, why do adults always speak in such vague statements!” hyacinth grumbles as she slumps in her chair and crosses her arms.  she then suddenly shoots back up and looks at you.  “y/n, you only speak in riddles when we play!  may we play now?”

“yes!  may we play now?” gregory pipes up.

“please!” the two youngest plead in tandem.  benedict looks to you, and wiping away your hands to reveal your face red from laughter, you say,

“i would be— i would be delighted to do so,” you take sharp breaths in between attempts at controlling your laughter.  “perhaps—” you full on snort, and it makes benedict break out into a grin, “—perhaps, after the young sorceress and— and the young knight slay the wyvern, they— they will save the— the—” you laugh hard again, “the princess, captive and forlorn in her tower.”

gregory and hyacinth shout their joy and take off from the table.  

“you haven’t been excu!— oh, nevermind,” anthony grumbles in an uncanny, childlike resemblance to his youngest sibling.

benedict watches as you use your forefingers to swipe at the corners of your e/c eyes, fits of laughter still bubbling out of your mouth.

i love her, and she loves me, he thinks in awe.  it has been on repeat in his mind since you confessed to one another in the gardens just the night prior.  she is mine, and i am hers.

“your lordship,” you giggle still as you look at anthony, and benedict snickers, “may i be excused to play make-believe with your youngest siblings?”

anthony rolls his eyes with much theatricality, but his smile at you is sincere.

“you are not my sibling,” he states, but benedict catches how his elder brother quickly glances at him with eyes that say ‘yet,’ “you need not my permission, but yes, you may.”

you bow your head in dramatic gratitude, causing kate to titter and anthony to look to the ceiling, and you lift yourself up from your seat.

before you follow after his siblings, benedict reaches out and gently takes your hand.  you look at him, and he feels how his stomach flutters when his blue eyes makes contact with your e/c.  just as it did the first time, just as it did every time after.

benedict feels you softly rub three circles on his hand.  he softly rubs four circles on yours.

“good day, princess,” you say with a wink at your love, slowly slipping your hand away from his and then turning to walk out of the dining room.  benedict stares at you as you leave.

i love her, and she loves me.  she is mine, and i am hers.

“when do you intend on proposing, brother?” anthony smirks as he puts his teacup to his lips.

benedict smiles, looking off at where your laughter is heard. 

“later this afternoon.”  

anthony chokes on his tea, and kate, patting her coughing husband’s back, arches an eyebrow at her brother-in-law, amusement dancing in her eyes. 

“without a ring?” 

benedict turns to look at the couple and grins.  

“who said i don’t have a ring?”

“you are joking,” anthony says matter-of-factly.  “we all are excited at the prospects of y/n officially joining this family, but you just confessed your love for one another not even twelve hours ago.  we are still breaking fast!  there were guards at your door and your window!  how could you have already procured a ring?”

benedict smiles, digging into his pocket.

“i do not jest, brother.”

and, with pride, he holds up a thin band made of twisted paper.

“now, if you will excuse me,” benedict announces, lifting himself out of his seat, giving a kiss to the top of kate’s head, and ruffling anthony’s hair.  “i must be going.”

“and where are you off?” anthony demands as he straightens out his hair.

“do you think i am going to propose to y/n without asking her family’s permission first?  would not be very gentlemanly of me if i did.”

“how do you know where she lives!”

“that is what you were asking penelope last night,” kate answers.  anthony looks at his wife, incredulous and in awe.  benedict grins.

“exactly so, sister.  i’ve always known you held all the intelligence between you two.  i would have seen to it sooner, but—” 

an image of e/c eyes and ink-stained hands flashes in his mind, the flutterings in his stomach intensifying.  butterflies— that is what he will paint next, he decides.  

after he finishes his portrait of you.

“—i was held captive in my tower.”

[theemporium]

im not sure if we’re allowed to combine prompts, so if we’re not, then feel free to choose!

can i request a violet fluff 💜 with nicojack??

"Come back to bed."

"Please, never apologise for wanting to be loved."

thank you for requesting!🫶🏽

49. “Come back to bed.”

.

It was late.

The game ended hours ago, a brutal loss to the Devils that stung for everyone—the players, the coaches, the fans. It was a game of stupid mistakes and missed opportunities and it laid heavy on everyone’s shoulders as the seats at the Prudential Center emptied after the final buzzer sounded through the arena. 

It was bad, but it wasn’t season-breaking. It was still in the early months of the season, they had time to recover from the loss and move up. And all things considered with how the last season went, things were looking bright for the Devils chances to clinch a playoff spot and have a solid foot through the door for the Stanley Cup.

But that didn’t stop Jack’s brain from spiralling the second he stepped off the ice after the heartbreaking loss. 

Everyone could see the way he closed off and it wasn’t unusual. They were competitive athletes, it was in their DNA to thrive and push and aim for the win. It was disappointing when they didn’t get it. It was normal for them to just have moments to themselves to come to terms with the game before leaving it in the past and moving on.

But Jack couldn’t seem to let go. 

It was borderline obsessive the way he was watching tapes from a game he played hours ago, watching the same clips over and over and over again like he could somehow rewrite the outcome. Even getting him to eat dinner was a struggle, the boy uninterested and untempted by the plate lying beside him. 

You thought maybe he needed to sleep it off, that maybe he would talk to you or Nico in the morning. 

Instead, you woke up at three in the morning to find his side of the bed empty and Nico just as confused as he tried to blink away the sleep from his eyes. 

“Where’s Jack?” Nico grumbled, biting back a yawn as he reached towards the empty spot in bed, the sheets now cold.

“I can take a guess,” you murmured, throwing your legs over the side of the bed and wincing slightly at the cool floorboards beneath your feet before you walked out towards the living room. 

It was unsurprising to find Jack sat on the couch, tablet in hand and eyes glued to the screen. His shoulders were tense, his posture was horrible and his lips looked red and raw from biting down on them so much. 

“Babe,” you called out in a soft voice, watching Jack jump out of his skin as he turned to find both of you standing in the doorway. 

“Oh, hey,” he cleared his throat, his cheeks flushing a little when he realised he had been caught. “Couldn’t sleep?” 

“Jack,” you scolded in a soft voice.

“Schat, this isn’t healthy,” Nico frowned as he took in the scene in front of him, brows furrowed and concern written across his face. “I know you’re upset about the game—”

“I lost us that game,” Jack whispered, his voice breaking. “Look at all these mistakes! You kept setting me up and I kept fumbling and—”

“Hey,” Nico shook his head, rounding the couch until he was kneeling in front of Jack. He took the younger boy’s face in his hands, his thumbs soothing over his cheeks. “Everyone makes mistakes. It’s not one person’s fault. We are a team. We win together, we fail together. You know that.”

Jack swallowed harshly. “I know but—”

“No,” he frowned. “Together, Jack. You can’t keep kicking yourself about this. Not like this, okay?” 

He nodded softly. “Okay.” 

“Come back to bed,” Nico murmured as he stood up, pulling the boy up with him as they shuffled towards where you were standing.

“I’m a part of that together too, by the way,” you commented as Jack approached you, sinking into your embrace as you wrapped your arms around him and pulled him into a hug.

“Of course, babe,” he rasped, letting out a sigh as he leaned his head on your shoulder. “M’taking middle spot, by the way.”

You snorted. “Fine. Just this once.”

.

[mara-and-its-the-same]

hello there! I would love to read any of your thoughts/fics about Cal and/or Danny!

OR?! I could never pick between them, but for the sake of introductions let's start with thoughts because the fics are coming don't you worry. They just need a little fine tuning

Teeny thoughts/HCs for both below the cut (it's yap central up in here)🥰

Cal

I'm so obsessed with the way he talks, like absolutely entranced by his cadence and I love every scene of him telling some story. and I know that he'd know that, maybe not right away but eventually he'd recognize the look you give him around the bonfire while he's talking to the group is the same one you give him late in the evening close to the final page of your date nights. OH MY GOD!

when you find out he speaks french! i'm woozy just thinking about it, (i don't even care that i can't understand quebecois for the life of me) you'd ask him to say something to you just so you could hear the sound of it. even if he's gotten a little rusty since he hasn't has anyone to speak it with, and even if all he can recite are the few stories he remembers from his childhood, or motorcycle parts he's learned from the translations on the back of manuals. like a late night and you cant sleep and you just want the sound of his voice to relax to...he might not totally understand the attraction, but he's not one to look a gift horse in the mouth and if you're into it who is he to deny you such a simple wish?

and I don't think he'd be the type to be one of those "my old ball and chain" guys, like he's undoubtedly in love with you and in love with being around you as often as possible. so if you're home while he's working in the garage he's setting up a lawn chair for you to relax in, just to keep him company, if the weather's nice he's putting it out in the sun for you and if it's a little too hot he sets you up in the shade with a little cooler with whatever the two of you are into that week. and he's certainly not letting you lift a finger. not because he thinks you'll break something (which like you might, but who am i to judge) but because he doesn't want you getting grease all over your outfit or roughing up those soft, pretty hands of yours. he just wants your company

Danny

for right now in this moment, i'm all over the idea of being his "girl back home" like he's out in chicago with all these bikers getting into god knows what kind of trouble, while you're safe at home just thinking about him every hour of every day. of course he calls whenever he gets the chance, but it's never a sure thing with the amount of time he spends out on the longer runs. and long distance calls are expensive, but every time he does it's so precious. the few times you hear some new midwestern phrase or pronunciation slip in and get a few extra seconds on the call just to poke a little more fun at him.

the guys get ahold of his wallet one day and can't believe he's kept you a secret this long. 3 different pictures of you sit in the accordion folded holder between the fold of his wallet and he thanks god for the feeling he got that morning he should change the ones he had in before (much more,,,invigorating if you will), for these three that he brought with him too, just to be sure he can see all your different expressions every time he reaches into his back pocket.

AND WHEN YOU COME TO VISIT!! at first he's not so sure it's the best idea, worrying you won't like the guys or something might happen once you're there, but all that is secondary the moment he thinks about how long it's been since he's last seen you, and before he knows it he's calling you back and taking you up on that offer to get a week off of work and coming to see him. Once you're there he's not leaving your side for a minute, firstly because he feels the need to let everyone else know you're his (and that you are real, as much as Zipco and Wahoo tried to get him to admit to the pictures in his wallet being magazine clippings because what's a girl like you doing with a pinko "college-boy" like him) and second because he's missed you so much for so long and he doesn't know the next time you'll be back so he's getting every second he can with you

and oh goodness are you impressed with this new look he's adopted. so different from what he used to wear to class or out walking around the city together, but still it fits him so well. your knees almost give out the 3rd day of your visit when he comes out from his bedroom in a black tank top and his denim vest...and maybe you do feign heat exhaustion just so he'll take you home early on the back of the bike he's spent so many phone calls telling you about...just because the heat was a more internal kind doesn't mean it's any less real. or maybe the exhaustion was just that you were getting tired of seeing him look that hot without doing anything about it. either way he hasn't seen you pull him up his apartment stairs that fast since you first started dating

and not maybe, but certainly, your trip goes from one week to two to a month until the tragic reality of responsibility sinks in and you realize you really are running out of clothes...

[niffler-gold]

Burning

Just a short injury fic focused on Scott with some comfort thrown in.

His muscles burned in agony as he tried to get up this morning. Apparently doing two mountain rescues back to back with a lot of climbing followed by rigorous water training led by Gordon did not agree with his muscles. Still nothing a hot shower and some stretching wouldn't fix.

He slowly pulled his legs over the side of the bed and stretched up towards the ceiling his joints loudly cracking to show their disdain at being moved from their current position. He quickly pulled on his running gear and was about to head out before his hot shower. Leaving his room he could already hear Gordon furiously swimming in the pool at this early hour.

Just as he was heading down the stairs to start his early morning routine John popped up on his com. He groaned internally before answering, knowing his hot shower was going to have to wait. "What's the situation John", he asked, ever the professional. "Another climber got into difficulties". Scott paused before answering, "That is the third one in less than 2 days, what are these people thinking, we should start charging for these at least that might be a deterrent", he rambled on. John cut him off before he could get any further, "even so this guy does need our help", he paused for a second before continuing, "it's an unusual one, he was climbing a large cliff face when he said the cliff seemed to move under him, next thing he knew all of his belay wall clips started pinging undone and he fell around 50 metres getting tangled in the line as he went... The unusual thing is I haven't detected any seismic activity around that area nor does it have any implications in the surrounding geology that any seismic activity has taken place in the last 100 years. "He's probably just imagining it and didn't secure his clips properly enough", grumbled Scott in response. "Could be" replied John, "but I did a quick background check on this guy and he's been climbing professionally for about 30 years and has never called us or any local rescue teams out to aid him before." "Hmmmm, that is odd" pondered Scott. "I'll take 1 alone, no need to wake up the bear this early for a pickup.. see you in the sky thunderbird 5", "fab scott, safe flight" and with that John had disappeared and Scott was running towards one's launch shoot to gear up.

Sitting in the pilot's chair of one he slowly tried to stretch his burning muscles out once more but to no avail. He really could have done with that hot shower he thought to himself. Nevermind it could wait. "Approaching the danger zone now thunderbird 5" he called through the coms. "Fab thunderbird 1" John called back through to him. He tried one last futile time to stretch his muscles out before coming into land at the bottom of the cliff face.

After exiting one and surveying the scene before him he knew the best option was going to be to climb up after the man rather than using the jet pack due to the unknown unstable condition of the rock face. Thankfully he could use the grapple gun in order to get up there with speed as the man looked to be hanging on his side completely covered in rope. With precision he fired the grapple into a secure spot of the wall and started his accent.

His limbs were once again burning with the strain of the climb by the time he had reached the man. But still he kept face and called out to the dangling climber. He quickly learned that the man's name was Ben and started trying to secure him to a new line before tackling the rope that was binding him. Luckily Ben seemed unharmed apart from a little bit of rope burn where it had dug in and caught him.

Ben kept chatting to him as he worked and he soon found out he was a seasoned mountain rescue operative on a holiday as he called it to get a little alone time. It was definitely something that Scott would have done if he ever had more than a few hours to himself and he kept wondering how the climber had managed to get himself in such a bind. Soon enough though Ben was free and was back secured against the wall. However before Scott could lower Ben down back to the ground again they had to get his gear cut down so they didn't tangle up with it on their way down.

As Ben was helping him sort it out he noticed something odd. One of the belay wall clips looked chard and burnt and the rope around said clip was in similar condition. He looked at Ben and asked if his equipment was this damaged when securing it to the wall. Ben confirmed it most definitely was not in that condition, then he noted that when assessing the rope to be cut down back to the ground, that would of been the clip that failed when the cliff started moving. This puzzled Scott even more.

Once the gear and ropes had been safely thrown back down to the ground Scott got ready to lower Ben down to safety. But before he could he asked Ben if he knew whereabouts on the wall that the burnt clip had been secured. His Tracy senses were tingling alarmingly but not in a good way at all. Ben said it looks like it was the clip about 10 meters above them, so Scott decided he needed to take a look before returning to the ground. Scott slowly lowered ben back down to solid ground before slowly climbing to the spot Ben had previously pointed out to him.

He quickly found the spot where the clip had been as a small black spot protruded out of the crack where the clip had been secured. Small cracks could also be seen in the burnt section of the wall. He slowly felt around inside the small fisher to see what could have caused the damage as nothing natural would do this type of carnage. His fingers slowly curled around something metallic small and sharp. He cautiously pulled it out and held it to the light to better examine it. He could just make out the chaos crew logo.

His hand flew up to his com button to alert John but in a split second a fireball had engulfed a section of cliff high above him to his right. An ear splitting explosion suddenly came from his left much nearer to him than the first. He started rappelling down the cliff as fast as his equipment would take him. Another explosion just above him and he could feel the heat lick the side of his face. It had detonated where he had just been a second before. Next thing he knew he was falling. The explosion had dislodged his grapple.

He fell as fire and debris surrounded him on all sides. He fumbled with a new grapple cartridge, discarding the old one out of the gun and fired. The line caught him less than 10 meters from the ground. Before he had a chance to get moving again a last fireball explosion detonated just below his right leg.

He was lying on the ground his ears ringing. He could see smoke floating all around him as his vision swam. His right leg was numb with scalding pain shooting all around it. His vision swam when he tensed it unknowingly. He could hear muffled movement round him someone shouting his name. The next time his eyes peeled open against the heat a figure loomed over him. He seemed to be yelling something but it sounded so far away. Green and blue swam in his vision as he lost consciousness once again.

He could hear low murmuring voices all around him. His head swam with confusion. He could feel soft cotton sheets wrapped around him and the tell tale sting of an IV line inserted into his left arm. His body felt numb and his right leg had an odd feeling of coolness about it. Gingerly he opened one eye to figure out what was going on.

He was greeted with the sight of all his brothers sitting around the bed he had been put in. He heard a low chorus of Scott being said around the room as his eyes adjusted to the light of the room. He felt a hand on his and saw Virgil gently holding it looking like he hadn't slept in over a week. "What happend" he gently asked looking at his little brother in the eyes. His voice came out quite horse and raspy much to his surprise. "The chaos crew" Virgil replied quietly and solemnly. Suddenly the images of the rescue and the carnage that had surrounded him came back into his mind. "How bad he asked" still looking at his brother. It was John who answered instead on the opposite side of his bed. "Unconscious for 3 days, bruised ribs and a definite concussion..." He seemed to trail off towards the end. Scott knew he was avoiding telling him something but before he had a chance to enquire further Gordon finished off for John. " Your right leg", he stated nervously. "When we found you it was blackened and chard, your uniform was missing and the parts that were still there were fused into your skin". "The doctors managed to save it though" he said cheerfully trying his hardest to lighten the mood. Alan chose this moment to interject, "you've had multiple skin grafts and surgeries to assist with its healing, for now it's got to stay in the specialty brace to keep it healing and healthy." So that's why, he thought to himself, it felt slightly cold.

He could already feel the sleep tugging at his eye lids as he looked at his brother's noticing how worried and anxious they all seemed to look. Virgil gently brushed the hair back of his forehead, "sleep Scotty" he gently whispered as everything started going black again.

A month later and Scott was sitting at his father's desk keeping an eye out on the rescue that the rest of his brothers were on. He still was on crutches as he wasn't allowed any weight on the leg just yet. The brace that surrounded it kept it nice and cool though.

He thought back to that morning where all he wanted was a nice hot shower but had decided to go running instead. He should have just had the shower he thought to himself. At the moment all he was allowed was a gentle cold shower due to his injuries. He sighed to himself knowing it was still gonna be a little while until he could have the hot water pouring down his skin.

"SCOTT WHAT ARE YOU DOING", yelled Virgil having just materialised on the holo projector in the middle of the room. "What" Scott replied with his cocky grin on his face. "I'm sitting down" he tried not to laugh at the expression on Virgil's face. "You are meant to be elevating that leg, not sitting at the desk". Well at least some things never changed.

[radioisntdead]

So…I was rewatching Bones for the 80th time (literally my single most favourite show) and I got to my favourite Hodgins scene where he chokes out Pelant. And the first thing that came to mind made me smile.

If your interested in what I’m referencing, look up on google (since YouTube doesn’t have the clip) “Hodgins chokes Pelant” it’s on the website tjthyne.com.

Anyway, onto my request. Sorry for being so long. I would like to see Angel with his boyfriend who’s mostly all smiles and fairly reserved, suddenly lashing out and choking the overlord out. Threatening to kill him if he laid another finger on Angel before strutting out of the building carrying Angel over his shoulder all grumpy and such.

Or something like that. Again, sooo sorry for taking up your inbox like this. Love your work!!

Good evening my dear! My apologies for taking so long to get to this, I do hope you enjoy!

Ray of sunshine

Angel dust x m! Reader

Warnings: reader was likely a murderer when alive! Unfortunately not my best work, It's a little messy, Also I imagine the reader wearing a cardigan

You were probably the healthiest romantic relationship that Angel had ever had, you were like sunshine, like the leak of sunshine through a curtain in the mornings, you were warm and comforting, always there when he woke up.

You were there for him when he needed you, you went on dates with him, and you packed him homemade lunches before he left the hotel for his work.

Unfortunately there were the days where he forgot to take his lunch, and this happened to be one of those days.

You decided to visit him at his workplace, under Valentino because you clearly didn't learn from Charlie's mistake.

Unfortunately the moment you walked into Angel's dressing room you witnessed Valentino's filthy hands around your darling boyfriend, the love of your afterlife, the only spider you weren't afraid of's neck.

The minute Angel dust spotted you from where he was essentially being strangled, his eyes widened with fear, what if Val hurt you? His practically harmless boyfriend? His sunshine in this literal hell?

You were calm at first, tapping the piece of flaming purple shit on the back, Valentino turned around confused, looking down at you, you were shorter than him by a few feet.

"Could you please put him down," you asked far more politely then you wanted as you rolled up the sleeves of your shirt.

"Who the fuck are you?" Valentino asked dropping Angel dust onto the floor, leaving him to gasp for air.

"Who exactly do you think you ar-" you didn't let him finish before moving to Angel, gently helping him up, "Angel darling, can you step outside for a moment?" You asked gently, he started wide-eyed at you for a moment, unable to say anything because he was being strangled just a moment before, you gently guided him out, locking the door behind him.

Valentino opened his mouth to say something but was unable to as you pounced on him, digging your claws into his neck.

You were warm as sunshine, you were polite and kind, but you were also in hell.

The sun was warm, it brings light to people, but it is also a deadly laser that can also burn people and give them skin cancer.

You wrapped your own hands around the moth and squeezed, his arms flailed around him trying to get you off, he failed as you were practically attached to him, wrapping all the limbs you had around him.

Your claws dug into his neck drawing out blood, just barely piercing his neck.

You blankly stared straight into Valentino's eyes, you didn't grin, you just stared at him as you gripped tightly onto his neck.

He stumbled back knocking over a few things before eventually falling to the ground, you never let go of his neck, no matter how much he flailed around trying to get you off, you were smaller than him, faster, stronger.

You heard Angel dust try to get in, jingling and dangling the doorknob trying to get in to no avail.

You kept your hands on Valentino's neck until he eventually stopped moving, you simply climbed off of him, wiped your hands on the bottom of your cardigan and swiftly turned on your heels to open the door to Angel.

You simply smiled at him as he fretted over you, only seeing a glimpse of the corpse of Valentino before you picked him up bridal style and carried him out, asking if he ate and what he wanted for dinner as if nothing had happened, as if you hadn't just killed his boss.

You were a ball of sunshine, a very scary ball of sunshine.

Good evenin' folks! I do hope you enjoyed, I just listened to the great Gatsby soundtrack, I had a very VERY quick fixation on the great Gatsby back in like January, and I WAS TOLD EVERYONE DIES was thoroughly disappointed when that wasn't the case, anyways Nick is a homosexual, I'm all for platonic feeling with friends but whatever he had with Gatsby was NOT strictly Platonic on his end, anyways hope you enjoyed this! Thank you for tunin' in and goodnight!

[le-trash-prince]

em. em please. tell me about q6 please

please

oh god okay (tldhb speculation/potential spoilers under the cut)

so like

Exhibit A. BenzGarfield have had three days of filming together so far. Q5, Q6, and Q7

BenzGarfield bts uploaded during Q5 (only counting shots of them together)

BenzGarfield bts uploaded during Q6:

literally nothing except Garfield was in the bg of a clip of Benz if you squinted???

BenzGarfield bts uploaded during Q7:

Essentially there is a pattern of lots of pics of them together, but during Q6… nothing. Even though they WERE on set at the same time, we didn’t see zip of what they were doing. Why was the staff suddenly keeping things locked down tight? To drive me insane, perhaps???

Exhibit B: the house

Methas, JJ, and Plawan were all seen at the house used during Q6 (and so far used only during Q6). (The room Benz is sleeping in is behind the TV)

Possibly for whatever reason this could have been Plawan’s house, except during Q7, they filmed in what was really apparently Plawan’s home, with model pictures pasted all over the walls

Not only a diff set but also the same place used for Jeff/Charlie’s apt

Which implies that Q6 house is JJ’s house, and Methas had a scene/scenes there. That the staff didn’t show.

Exhibit C: the timeframe

They filmed at a market with Sailub in the morning and then moved here afterwards. Despite not having a morning shoot, and having a day off the day before, Benz was napping on the couch in the middle of the day. Perhaps to prepare for a late night shoot? Because they went late, like 2am at least, because staff kept consistently posting set pictures (with no cast) hour after hour into the night. Again, driving me crazy because at this point the jokes that “oh they’re not showing pics bc they’re fucking” are in full force, but we don’t know if Pon is there still or what is going on (and won’t have confirmation til the next day that this is JJ’s house). Pon tweets about going to bed but absolute radio silence from Benz and Garfield (and Garfield likes to whine about being sleepy)

And as for Exhibit D………. The most damning evidence of all but also it’s a foot jumpscare SORRY

Staff uploads this at around 1:30am Bangkok time??? Someone in a TOWEL watching replay footage and clenching his feet in a way that makes the staff laugh?? By someone I mean Garfield, don’t ask me to shame myself, just trust that these are Garfield’s feet—I told you the evidence wasn’t even funny ahdjfjdnd

Anyways yeah they absolutely filmed a love scene, or SOMETHING with a be-toweled Garfield at JJ’s house with Methas there that the staff didn’t want us to see!!!! Me and my moot felt so insane yesterday but like there’s no other explanation. I had hoped they’d give MethasJJ the AlanJeff treatment in terms of “expanding from the novel and giving them kiss/love scenes” but didn’t want to get my expectations up but like….. yeah now I’m just trying to brace myself LMFAO.

[on-softs]

Maxiel Bachelorette AU Snippet

Since I'm never going to finish it, I'm just throwing up the first scene of the Maxiel bachelorette AU I started writing. Enjoy!

Max doesn’t actually meet him on the first night. He only sees him for a second, through the doorway of the mansion, which is done up in this sort of Italian only it is not Italian way, American-Italian, maybe, with all this wood framing and tile.

The doorways in this house are massive, excessive, meant to be peered through. Max first sees him when he’s outside meeting her– Heidi– in the big, exploding garden that’s the front walk. The driveway and walk are both still wet from it raining earlier. Max had been so dizzy with nerves after the first impression that he’d been worried about tripping up the front steps on his way in. His dress shoes are still wet, and so are the shoulders of his tuxedo, though the wetness has spread and seeped by now. His armpits are wet for other reasons. He should not take off his jacket, tonight, even though the producers said they may not go to sleep until four or five this morning. It all depends on Heidi, of course. He should already be thinking about how to get his one on one time with her. Jos had jabbed a finger at the video clip on his laptop and said: Look at him. The ones who don’t get one on one time the first night are as good as worthless. They complain and are dead weight. 

Max takes a sip of his drink, which is something mixed served in these short, thick-plastic tumblers made to look like cut glass. There are non-alcoholic options on the sideboard, but a producer in a black t-shirt keeps stocking all the mixed drinks on a tray in the middle of the table, so Max has obligingly kept drinking them. All the producers are wearing black t-shirts. When he turns his eyes to the side over the rim of his cup, the other contestants are watching the guy having his introductory conversation with Heidi, so he feels fine to keep staring along, too. They can’t hear anything, this far away. It’s all been hard to make out. Some of the guys have started chatting with each other, sometimes speculating about what could be going on, but it’s become a sort of sport, this waiting on the couch for the next new man to come in, greeting him, then going back to watching. Sometimes, it’s as long as twenty or thirty minutes between the new contestants because of hair and makeup. 

A doctor from the east coast of America, but not New York, with dark hair and veneers, tried to talk to him earlier, when Max had first come in, still rattling with nervousness. He hadn’t really remembered what Heidi’s face looked like, when he saw it up close. Not even after studying her Instagram photos for several weeks, before. He hardly remembered what he’d said. 

“Where’re you from, man?” the doctor asked, politely extending his hand in a– Max quickly adapted his own open hand for the fist bump. 

“The Netherlands,” says Max. The doctor made a surprised face, maybe at the accent. 

“Oh, I heard about you. Dutch, huh? Little boy with his finger in the dike?” 

It took Max a second to know what he was talking about, what kind of joke this is. 

“That’s what they call me,” he said, graciously. 

“You were on Love is Blind, right? Oh, or, is it bad to talk about that here? I don’t know what’s a faux pas with the reality TV people. I’m just a guy.” 

“Yes, a while ago. Just for a little bit.” 

Max mostly remembers the brutality of the body work, before that one. His shoulders needed to read, said Dad. All for two stupid episodes, which he could hardly watch when Dad played them back on the house TV, later, so they could go over them together. Twenty thousand more Instagram followers. He knew the people who make this show know he was on Love is Blind, too, of course, but he wasn’t really sure whether or not they could talk about it, either. That hadn’t been in the paperwork. 

“Seems like that show would suit you,” said the man. It took Max another beat to understand that he was being insulted. “Nah, I kid, I kid,” the man says quickly. 

Max laughed, like he was hearing a funny joke, and it wasn’t even a fake laugh, or a bland one, but as real as he could make it. He was proud of how it sounded. Guys like to joke, says Dad. They don’t care if you get upset or not. The ones who try and get you upset will be off the show soon, anyways. 

Then a bulky guy with slick hair appeared at the threshold of the room and the producers needed quiet to compose a suitably upset reaction shot, so they’d thankfully stopped talking. 

I don’t even need to say it, but don’t make buddies, Dad had said. That seemed easy so far. 

The guy outside talking to Heidi isn’t a buddy. Max isn’t even sure why he stands out, at all. He’s shockingly good looking as the rest of them. Dark, curly hair, long on top and short on the sides. Nose a bit too big, but then again, Max hasn’t fixed his own, either. That sort of thing tends to be obvious on camera. Max blinks as the man reaches into his pocket and pulls out what looks like a corny shark-tooth necklace and hands it to Heidi. Maybe he’s a surfer. He can only see the scooped back of Heidi’s dress so he’s not sure what she thinks of it, until she reaches up to give him a ginger hug, which the man reciprocates, hands resting chivalrously on her upper back. His hands are tan as the rest of him. 

“We’re moving to the pool table room,” someone says, nearby. A producer. Max suddenly realizes a lot of the guys have already left the couch room. The producer’s got an iPad clutched to her chest and an Airpod in one ear, looking busy. 

“Do you need anything?” she asks. 

“Ah, no,” says Max, and gets up.

[pissholesinthesn0w]

caught - kept girl au

contains: smut 18+, mean condescending matty ofc

the late morning light shines in through the window into the your shared tour bus bedroom. you're propped up against the headboard, and you've been scrolling tiktok for far too long. matty left a couple of hours ago for a photo shoot, along with the other band members. so, you were left to your own devices for awhile.

your mind wanders, images of last night flood your vision, your eyes flutter closed and you try to fight off the surge of warmth pooling in your lower belly, the labored breaths that begin as you picture the scene. visions of deft fingers, his sly smirk as he enters you, the sound of your muffled whimpers underneath his palm pressed tightly over your mouth.

you toss your phone in frustration, no longer interested in stupid dance videos or cute cats. no, you had other things in mind now. you curse yourself for being so fucking needy all the time. he just brought it out in you, and the thought of feeling his weight on top of you made your heart race. you could still smell his cologne in the bedsheets.

you wonder how much longer can he really be gone? he’d already been gone at least 3 hours…

it wasn’t often you felt the need to touch yourself, but matty brought out a fire in you that can’t be put out, an insatiable, carnal need that you didn’t know was possible until him.

it couldn’t hurt to watch some videos of him. i mean, thousands of people did every day, probably got off to some of them… you felt silly for even thinking it, but it may be just what you need to hold yourself over.

— —

you didn’t notice the door crack open right away, your headphones in and your focus solely on your phone screen. you circle your bundle of nerves underneath your underwear, imagining it was matty’s calloused fingers. “fuck, matty,” you moan under your breath.

the door swings open and your eyes fly to the doorway, a smug faced matty stares at you. heat rises to your cheeks and your stomach drops. caught.

“what are you watchin’, darling?” he asks, crossing his arms and leaning against the doorframe. he looked gorgeous, curly hair perfectly slicked back, and that fucking gray streak. his clothing was pristine, a crisp black suit and tie.

you scramble to close out of your app as you pull your hand out from between your legs, trying to come up with an excuse. anything other than what you were actually doing.

“i- just- just porn, actually. embarrassing,” you mutter under your breath, wanting to pull the blanket over top of yourself and sink into the mattress, never to be seen again.

“let me see.” matty says with his eyebrows raised and a smirk pulling on his lips. you knew it was not a question, but an order.

“just regular stuff, matty.” you pause, closing your eyes for a beat before trying to come up with your next move. “been thinkin’ about you, anyway,” you mumble.

“let me see, need to know what my girl is gettin’ off to,” he says half jokingly, almost innocent, rolling up his sleeves, exposing the littering of tattoos on his arms.

fuck. you could lie, you could do a quick google search and find a random video to show him. but you didn’t have much time, and lying didn’t feel right either.

“s’embarassing,” you whine. “you’re gonna laugh at me.”

he pulls off his jacket and hangs it behind the door, closing it softly. “alright love, on with it,” he says, crawling into bed beside you pulling down the blanket you used to hide your embarrassment.

you exhale through your nose, pick up your phone and go to your liked videos. he’s got an amused look on his face, stroking your hair mindlessly while you find it.

your face is burning hot as you open one. it’s got short clips of matty on stage. some running his hand down his body and grabbing himself, some with his bottom lip between his teeth, pained expression on his face. all the things he did on stage that made everyone go crazy. you watch, horrified, too nervous to turn your head and look at him. the video begins again, and as you go to swipe away matty firmly grabs your wrist. “don’t be shy now, love.” you feel his breath hitch as the video plays again, and again, his fingers still gripped around your arm.

“poor girl,” he teases, voice low and dripping with condescension. “wants daddy to fuck her so bad she’ll watch little videos of him on her phone while he’s away.” he releases your arm and takes your phone from you, tossing it across the bed. you bring your hands over your face, shame painting your cheeks and chest pink.

“none of that, darling,” he tuts, harshly pulling your hands away from your face. “you wanted to get off so bad, then show me.”

matty sits up on his knees, crawling down to sit below you, looking at you with dark eyes and a smug look you could slap off his face. warmth fills your veins and you can feel your thin panties stick to your core.

you go to close your legs but he grips them and opens them wide. “what’s wrong, baby?” he asks, cocking his head and jutting out his lower lip with faux concern. “you got me live, and in person,” he says and you roll your eyes. “i don’t think you’re in any position to act bratty, now show me how you were touching yourself.”

you weren’t normally this embarrassed, you’ve touched yourself in front of him before. but he’s never fucking caught you getting off to videos of him, that was a new low, even for you.

he taps your hip with his fingertips, motioning you to lift your hips so he can help you take off your underwear. “makin’ a mess,” he shakes his head, tossing your underwear haphazardly.

“was rubbin’ my clit, daddy, just like you do. doesn’t feel as good though,” you moan, teasing yourself. he rests his head on your upper thigh, drawing mindless circles on your opposite leg with his thumb, eyes fixated on your wet cunt. “m throbbing for you, please help,” you whine, wiggling your hips to try to get him to touch you.

“filthy girl,” he mutters, leaving a trail of kisses on your inner thigh, making his way towards your center. “can’t be away for a few hours without my slutty little kept girl fucking herself for me. pathetic,” he says, his mean words shooting straight to your pussy, already begging to cum.

“if you wanted videos of me, baby, you just could’ve asked. i’ll make some especially for you, how does that sound?” he asks, you feel his hot breath on you, hovering over where you needed him the most.

you nod feverishly, still circling your bud but it wasn’t enough. “yes, please daddy. would watch it all the time.” you whine, your wet cunt sticky under your fingers, hot and needy and god you just wanted him to touch you already.

“whatever my needy girl wants. want me to fuck you? is that what you’ve been thinking about?” he mutters, harshly spitting on your pussy, illiciting a gasp from your throat. you nod, any words escaping you.

he pushes your hand away and replace it with his own, his thumb pressing into you in slow, deliberate circles. “like this?” he asks.

“mmhmm, feels so good daddy,” you mewl, gripping the bedsheets beneath you. you look down at him and realize he’s got all his fucking clothes on still. you tug at his shirt collar, a silent bed for him to take it off.

“greedy girl,” he spits, “need to make this little pussy cum first, yeah?”

“inside, inside, please,” you beg, bucking up your hips, needing to feel his thick fingers slide home. you’ve lost all reservations, you felt so hot you could burst.

he pushes your hips back down harshly. “you’ll fuckin’ take what I give you, yeah? do i need to remind you what you were doin’ when i walked in, sweetheart?” he pauses, contemplating. “i could just leave you here, all riled up and needy for me. i could make you wait,” he says lowly, never taking his eyes off of yours.

the thought made your head spin, like you could die from the pent up desire that needed released. “no,” you whine. “please matty, don’t leave,” you mewl between gasps. he pushes his middle finger inside of you, his thumb still circling your clit agonizingly slow.

“fuck,” you cry, running your hands through his hair, tugging at his roots.

“shh, shh, i know, sweet girl. this what you were thinking of, sweetheart?” he asks as he slowly pumps in and out of you, just short of that spot inside of you that he knew drove you crazy.

“yes,” you whine, unsure of just how much longer you could take him teasing you. but then again, you were walking a fine line and if you said the wrong thing, you wouldn’t put it past him to just leave you there.

his hot mouth meets your clit, making your whole body jolt from the feeling. he harshly sucks, licks, eating you out like a man starved. you feel your walls clench around his digit, mouth hanging open, you couldn’t hold back your screams if you tried.

“fuck, fuck, ‘m so close, matty, shit,” you stumble over your words as he relentlessly fucks into you, mumbling praises, his grumbles sending vibrations that licked pleasure up your spine.

your orgasms rips through you, your vision whites out as you feel yourself flutter around him. you grip into his hair, hard, as if it’s the only thing keeping you from floating, from sending you into space. his finger slows, but you have to push his mouth away from you as he continues lapping at you, at your juices. tasting just what he does to you.

he sits up on his haunches, eyes half lidded as he wipes your slick off of his mouth with the back of his hand. his gelled hair was disheveled, but he was still somehow perfectly pristine from the neck down. your eyes travel down to just below his belt buckle, the tent in his pants and the damp spot as he drags his palm over it to relieve some of the pressure.

“now what do i do with you?” he asks, a pretty pink flush covering his face. “didn’t know my girl got off to videos of me, must be a big fan.” he smiles, and for the first time tonight it came off as genuine. his tongue between his teeth as his eyes crinkled in the corners.

“yep, huge,” you say, heavy on the sarcasm. you may as well play into it now, since he doesn’t seem to be letting it go so easily.

he nods. “don’t blame you, i’d want to fuck me too if i were you.”

you can’t help but smile at that. Matty was nothing if not confident. (some may say cocky but he could always back it up)

“that’s kind of a sexy thought,” you tease, sitting up, knees to your chest. he was still touching himself through his pants. it looked painful, how much the fabric was straining. “I mean, look at you.” you scoot closer to him, running your hands up his thighs. you put your hand over his, pushing down to apply more pressure. he lets out a low grumble, eyes fluttering shut as he throws his head back, exposing his neck. you sit up straight on your knees and put your lips to his pulse point, sucking on the salty skin there. “so. fuckin. sexy, daddy,” you whisper into his skin between wet kisses.

“let me take care of you.”

— —

[lightofraye]

glen powell glen powell GLEN POWELL!!!!!

i wannahear what u think of him and the gigi paris mess!

... my gods, I've turned into a gossip columnist. 😏

All joking aside... there's really not much to tell. Glen, Gigi, and Sydney all kept it out of the public eye. Lots and lots of gossip magazines went nuts, so did fan speculation. I think it was later addressed, eventually, with very vague interviews that only stated something along the lines of "It just didn't work out" and Sydney insisting that she and Glen were only really good friends (that and she was happily engaged, with her fiancé being right there as a producer as they filmed).

As I said, the gossip mags and tabloids made a lot about it.

Whenever Glen and Sydney weren't filming on set, they took tours and trips around Australia. They went to local Sydney (as in Australia, not the actress) sites, Taronga Zoo, and even the Sydney Swans locker room.

There was a behind-the-scenes clip of Sydney on Glen's lap that apparently sent fans into a tizzy.

What's interesting--and noted by many--is that when a lot of those couple-y photos of Glen and Sydney came out, Gigi came to visit Glen in Australia. And he greeted her with flowers.

Anyway, back in April 2023, rumors of affairs stirred up when someone noted that Glen's then-girlfriend, Gigi Paris, unfollowed him and Sydney on social media.

That happened right after Glen and Sydney finished filming Anyone But You.

To many a fan, that meant that was confirmation of an affair. That and Gigi's "break-up" IG post, which was cryptic as heck but also very pointed to anyone who could read between the lines.

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Gigi Paris (@msgigiparis)

(Interestingly, Glen actually 'liked' that post.)

Gigi and Glen had been dating since 2020. They had a ton of cute photos on Instagram (both of theirs) and in public. But roughly around the time of filming wrapping up, Gigi and Glen hadn't been seen together since she came over during filming.

Sydney and Glen were also incredibly flirty during the press tour. When they appeared at the 2023 CinemaCon. During an exchange, Glen joked that the actors love to see themselves on screen, and Sydeny responded with, "Oh please, Top Gun."

Glen replied with "I love when she calls me that."

Eventually, June of 2023, Sydney said the supposed affair was just good acting. She claimed that the photos they saw were all of them on set, in character.

While social media and gossip magazines and paparazzi fanned the flames, Glen admitted the intense speculation took a toll. During an interview with Men's Health in November 2023, he admitted, "When all that stuff happened, you know, publicly, it felt disorienting and unfair. But what I'm realizing is that's just a part of this gig now."

He spoke about it six months after Sydney addressed the rumors.

Of course, Sydney fans were puzzled: wasn't she engaged? Yes… yes she was. And still is.

Sydney became engaged to her long-term partner, restaurateur Jonathan Davino, in February of 2022. When she guest hosted SNL in March of this year, she confirmed that she was in fact still engaged with him, and he was on-set for the entirety of Anyone But You. (They co-produced via her production company, Fifty-Fifty.)

Glen made a special appearance on SNL in the audience, and during Sydney's monologue, the camera zoomed onto him instead of her fiancé. A lot of folks found it funny. I found it cringe-worthy. (Link to her monologue.)

Thankfully the rumors began to die down, though there were smatterings of gossip about Jonathan being seen without his ring and "moving" out of Sydney's place. But that too died down.

Meanwhile, Glen's been busy with a number of movies--Hit Man, Twisters, and apparently working on a mini-series (I think) about Chad Powers.

I do remember Glen talking about how finding love is hard when he's constantly working. There's aspects of the industry that makes it hard to have a relationship, especially when they're on the go. He said, in an CBS Mornings interview:

“This is a time where life is moving so fast that I don’t even know if I could bring someone into it … in a healthy way, even if I tried,” the Twisters star explained.

“If love comes and hits me in the face and knocks me over, I welcome it with open arms because that’s something I really want,” Powell said, noting that he wants a family and kids. "At the same time, I realize that it’s going to take a very specific type of person to navigate this. It’s a lot.”

For now, Glen has his adorable dog, Brisket, to keep him company.

[solstramaii]

Misfits on the first day

See (Masterlist) for warnings!

★ SYNOPSIS! Nishimura Niki, a boy who’s apart of one of the biggest boy bands. Obviously he’s still a teenager so he is still in high school. Now he’s quite famous at school himself. Niki thinks he’s 2 cool 4 skool. He wasn’t interested in school until he seen you sitting in his music class. Arguing about how you weren’t gonna sing. Finding out that you, yourself were in a band aswell. But in one of his rival companies. What are you gonna do when the most popular boy wants to be your friend?

Y/ns pov

It is currently 6:30 am. Your only running on two hours of sleep getting ready for the first day of school. You were stressing over the fact that you didn’t know if you had a concert later that day.

Not only that but you guys were performing at a very big venue. So it made you anxious not being able to get sleep. But now you most definitely regretted it. Your not only Cranky, you’re also upset that your first class is music. Anxiously typing on twitter about your day as you try to get through it. You were looking for Chae but didn’t know where she was. Just heading back to class.

Leaning back on your chair in the class room with your eyes closed you couldn’t help but doze off a little. I mean you looked decent for school. But the bags under your eyes certainly didn’t help your case at all.

“Students!” The person you dreaded the most. Ms Deul.

Watching as the older women put all her stuff down and her clip board out to take role you couldn’t help but stare at her in tiredness.

“Y/n!”

“Hi” you say in a monotone voice not wanting to be there at all. I mean who does. At this point you’d rather take math first thing in the morning.

“Nishimura Ri-ki?” Couldn’t help but turn around and at-least try to put names to faces. Just to keep yourself awake. But as soon as the kids in class heard that the teacher earned giggles.

“Mam we all know he isn’t coming!”

Raising a brow you looked at the girl. Not caring you turned around.

“Okay then he’s not coming I guess?” Ms Deul said confused as well.

As soon as she was done she wanted to get the class to sing. To try and find their vocal ranges. “Y/n why don’t you get us started for today. Sing a note so the other students can get comfortable.”

Looking at her you didn’t budge. “No thanks.” Making her a little pissed.

One thing turned to another. She kept pushing your buttons and you said something. And here you both are now arguing loud as all out doors all because you simply nicely rejected her offer.

“What do you mean no thanks? Young lady I asked you to do something.”

“And I said no thanks? What are you not getting?” You responded.

Causing a scene with the teacher you couldn’t help but feel a little bit of your anger issues start to come out. Some would say it’s spunk. But the real ones know it wasn’t anything to look at cutely.

You were quite scary.

The two of you started to bicker for about 15 minutes very loudly.

But suddenly stopped when a guy appeared in the door way dumbfounded by the two of you arguing.

“Can I help you?” Ms Deul looked away from you and to the taller boy. His hair was blonde he had a mole under his eye, many piercings on his ears, he looked almost as if he didn’t belong here quite majestic others would say.

“Uhm. Your ms Deul?” The boy looked at her. The rest of your classmates mouths were open. As if they weren’t expecting this person to be here.

“Yup that would be me. You are?”

“Nishimura Riki mam” You couldn’t help bet let your eyes linger on the boy. He was handsome but you couldn’t afford to pay attention.

Grabbing your stuff you quickly found your way out the room slightly shoving him on your way out. You couldn’t stand being there with Ms Deul any longer.

Niki didn’t know why the girl left? Shit he didn’t want to be there either but I mean who does? He was almost close to asking if she was okay. But he didn’t want to. Deciding to mind his business.

She was just Different..

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Taglist is open! Just send an ask to be added!!!

[shirohige-pirates]

Birds of a Feather

CisFem Reader x Marco

CW: Violence, blood, language, adult themes and scenes. 18+ only

Summary: Life has not been kind to you. After a string of bad relationships, you're a little jaded and a little depressed in all honestly. The worst day of your life seems to be the turning point, but the roller coaster ride that follows could either throw you soaring free, or have you caged forever?

Chapter 12: The Firebird

Getting out of the car, you already saw Kid leaning against one of the bay door frames. The day was barely started and he was already covered in grease, shop uniform giving way. Knowing him he’d been working all night and hadn’t slept yet, versus having gotten up early enough to be in that state.

“Usopp here yet?” You call out, heading up to the shop proper, Marco coming up behind you.

“Yep,” Kid answers, squinting against the morning light as he cleans his hand up a little with a rag that’s seen brighter days. “Only just got here though, so you haven’t kept ‘im waiting much, Mouse.”

You roll your eyes and jerk your thumb toward Marco. “Eustass Kid, Newgate Marco,” you step aside as Marco steps up. “Marco, Kid.” You say, finishing your lazy introduction.

“Pleasure.” Marco says, taking Kid’s mostly de-grimed hand and giving it a shake.

“Sure thing.” Kid tilts his head toward the parking lot. “That yours?”

Marco looks back at his car and smiles as he looks back at Kid. “It is.”

“… Lemme put her up on a rack so I can get a good look at ‘er and I got a hood arm for you, no other charge.” Kid offers, still squinting against the light. Looking back and forth between the two of them you realize Marco’s the only person you know who could look Kid in the eye, damn giants.

Somehow Marco looks smaller than Kid, but probably because he’s not nearly as broad.

Marco looks to you and you smile. “I’m not gonna lie, I’ll be under the rack getting my fill too, if you’re okay with it.”

Marco chuckles. “Alright, it’s a solid deal, yoi.” He admits. “I’ll bring the car up. That bay?” He asks, pointing to one that looks like it has a lift in it.

“Yup.” Kid answers, his tone a little more friendly and a little less business.

“I’ll go talk to Usopp while you do that, and get things rolling.” You state, heading into the shop proper to find your car and Usopp.

The young artist is setting up his gear near your car. You start to say something to him, but the sight of your car catches your attention. In several pieces to make it easier for the paint job, everything has been reworked. If it wasn’t for the distinct body style and design of the interior, you’d almost wonder if it was your car.

“We either replaced or refurbished just about everything.” A familiar voice says from behind you. Looking over you see the wild blonde hair of Kid’s childhood friend Killer, one of the co-owners of the shop, poking out from behind the frame of a van with flames down the side of it. He turns to get a better look at you, lifting up his welding mask and giving you a smile.

“We kept what we could, but strictly original parts barely make up 10% of her now.”

“Did you guys redo the entire frame then?” You question, giving a wave to Usopp as Killer comes over to walk you through what they did to the car.

“Just about. You didn’t have near as much rust as we expected to find. Kid might not say so, but you took care of her really well, honestly. The engine had to be scrapped. There wasn’t enough machining to save it, and truthfully, the newer engines are just far too efficient.” Killer starts pointing at a few places while he explains. “Replaced all the clips and lines, new brake assemblies and tires. You got that sky blue base color, so we went with white for the interior. You had that dingy 70s silver before, so Kid didn’t think it was too different to bother saying something before hand.”

“Nah, white’s fine. It’ll be a challenge to keep clean, but y’all do detail jobs, right?”

“A-yup. Heat an’ Wire mostly, but I don’t think you’d hear a single complaint if this was the car they were cleaning.” Killer continues on. “Left the manual windows, and there’s an emergency release for the seat, but we did add fully adjustable controls to the seats.”

“Oh, programmable?” You prompt and Killer tilts his head.

“Here Kid was worried you’d be irritated by technology invading your precious time-capsule.” Killer grunts and you wave him off. “Yeah, you can put things were you want and save three different settings, so have fun with that. It’s still good old fashioned key-bound entry,” he continues on. “Kid says since you won’t have to worry about jumping her with the new, well, everything, that we could set you up with one of those magnetic keys for extra security if you wanted?”

“Hmm, I’ll have to think about it. Restored like this I’m going to have to get a new coverage policy, that’s for sure. It’d be cheaper on my end with the added security of a fancy key like that. Any chance I could have three for this car?”

“Three keys?”

You nod. “For now, one for me, one for the shop, and one for my house, in case I lose the one I keep with me.”

Killer tilts his head a little, and then nods. “I don’t see why not. I think we can order up to four for a single ignition without raising any concerns.”

“Perfect.”

“Whaddya think of her now, Mouse?” Kid asks, coming over to where you are with Marco not far behind.

“I think I’m going to go kick Victoria’s tires if you don’t stop calling me that.” You grumble.

Kid snorts. “Yeah, well, don’t kick Vicky’s tires, or your new car’s tires.” He warns. “Steel-belted, you might actually break a toe.”

“Hells Kid, are the windows bullet proof too? The security on this is already high enough as it is.” You tease, and Kid seems to consider.

“I mean, they could be.” He muses.

“No, no, that’s -,” you pinch the bridge of your nose and shake your head. “Thanks Kid, you guys did a great job.”

“Of which you had no doubt.” Kid retorts. It’d be arrogant, but he and the guys have the skills to back up his statement.

You smile and sigh, seeing no reason to give him an actual response. You turn to Usopp and give him a smile. He’s the only person in the entire shop that isn’t towering over you, it’s refreshing.

“Let’s talk design, Usopp.” You begin cheerfully. “The faster we get on the same page the faster I can look under Marco’s car’s skirt.” You hear Marco cough as Usopp laughs. Pulling a paper out of your pocket you unfold it and hand it off to Usopp. “I was thinking this kind of design.”

Usopp looks at it, looks to your car, and looks back at it. “That’s the original insignia design for the most part, isn’t it?”

You nod. “The expansion of the tail feathers would be unique, and I was thinking, one chain could go down each side of the car, and the third could come down through the headlight assembly?”

He tilts his head and looks back and forth again. “Yeah, I can see it. Do you know what colors you want to go with?”

“I think so. So if we do the outline of the wings in a kind of teal, with a metallic gold accent? I was thinking maybe a less metallic gold and more of a… hmm… dandelion gold for the chains.”

“Hm… rimmed in the metallic gold would be a nice touch.” He offers.

“Ooooh, yeah, that would. If the clear coat was a gloss finish too and not matte that would add to it.” You agree.

You’re too distracted with Usopp to notice, as Marco covers his face with a hand, listening to the two of you talk. Kid notices, looking over at him for a second before looking back at you. He keeps his voice low.

“You alright?”

“Huh? Oh - yeah, yeah. I’m good.”

“Wait, what if we invert the gold and yellow on the chain?” You prompt, and Marco makes a strange pained sound only Kid hears.

“You sure?” Kid presses a little. “If you’re going to hurl in my shop, step outside first.”

“No, I’m fine, yoi.”

Kid’s eyes narrow for a moment, and he seems about to say something when his eyes go wide.

“Oi, Mouse, I’m borrowin’ your boy toy for a minute.” He barks, grabbing Marco’s collar and pulling him away from everyone else.

“Hey, hey, don’t you-!”

“It’s alright.” Marco says, waving you off and giving you a smile as he and Kid go to the other side of the shop.

Your face twists a little, but Killer pats your shoulder. “I’ll keep an eye on ‘im, stay focused with Usopp for a bit.”

“Yeah, thanks Killer.” You murmur, turning back toward Usopp after giving Kid and Marco one more glance. Kid didn’t look happy, but Marco didn’t look bothered, so you did your best to pull your attention back to Usopp.

“The phoenix?!” Kid hisses, caught between disbelief and anger. “You’re Marco the gods-damned phoenix?!”

“Was.” Marco answers flatly. “Twenty years ago. Been a vet for over a decade.”

“The Whitebeard pirates were legendary.” Kid states. He opens and closes his mouth a few times, unsure of what to say. Caught between admiration and disbelief, he finally settles on the only thing that’s coming to mind for him. “Is she in danger?”

“No one’s been safe since Roger tried to right the world.” Marco answers a little more sourly than he means to. “But in danger because of me? No, not so far as I know. We stopped being pirates and the government stopped being a problem. Less trouble to just leave us be, yoi.”

“… Are you really immortal?” Killer asks, looking over his shoulder and giving a thumbs up before turning his attention back to the other two.

“I age,” Marco replies, tilting his head a little. “Past that, I don’t know. Nothing’s even so much as left a scar on me, yoi. But I’m not exactly testing the limits of things by taking care of cats and dogs.” He’s quiet for a moment, rubbing the back of his neck. “I haven’t talked with her about this yet, so I’d prefer-.”

“I’m not going to snitch,” Kid grumbles. “Talking about that stuff’s gotten fuckin’ touchy over the years, and considering mine keeps the shop running smooth I ain’t so stupid as to go around yappin’ about someone else’s business.”

“Happy to have your understanding.” Marco says quietly.

Having finished with Usopp, you came over to the other three, looking a little tentative until Kid waved you over directly.

“We all good?” You prompt, looking from one set of eyes to the next.

Marco smiles. “Exceptionally.”

You narrow your eyes a little and Marco looks taken aback for a second before you turn on Kid. “You didn’t go and do that whole big brother routine, did you?”

Kid rolls his eyes. “The hells would I go and do that? Yer doc’s alright.” He grumbles. “Let’s look under this car before Usopp paint’s the whole damn shop teal an’ gold.”

He pauses for a second, and turns and looks at you. “What made you pick those colors anyway?”

“I don’t know,” you admit, looking back over your shoulder at your car. “Just seemed right.”

[apologeticallyfat]

Watching the Kids Choice Awards with my nephew and actually don’t remember liking the KCA when I was a kid, in fact, even then I thought it was corny. I thought that while actively a kid, so imagine watching this now, as an alleged adult.

I’m pretty sure Xtina and Britney were nominated several times, so I’m not sure why some of these nominations surprise me. But this particular nephew definitely was not listening to any of the songs nominated, he’s 7… though literally the night before we put YouTube on the tv and watched the Eminem video for Tobey, out of curiosity. It ended with him donning a Jason mask and dismembering himself, and I swear there was no build up to that, you didn’t see it coming. Kid promptly told his mother in great detail the following morning with glee (as if he hadn’t been horrified by it). You know the scene, *the mom slowly turning her head in my direction as he finishes his exposé*. Snitches get stitches, my homie Stelio Kontos got somethin’ for the kid on the playground come next month, trust. All that to say I wonder what the age range is for the “kid” demographic.

The slime gimmick does not fit for this generation. Slime was part of the whole Nickelodeon culture, ooze, goo and slime were part of kid culture in general during my childhood. It really has no place as part of the KCA in 2024.

Honestly it’s kind of funny because the aesthetic is overwhelming SpongeBob. This could just as easily be called the Spongies. My nephew kept getting hype over YouTuber sightings and honestly I’ve never been so disappointed in a child so close in my proximity since earlier in the day. All the A Listers skipped the show and sent these hilarious low effort instagram reel thank you speeches.

Something about spongebobs 25th anniversary? Every time I see a clip of “new SpongeBob” I cringe. The same person from 99’ voices SpongeBob, but SpongeBob sounds like someone who’s trying to sound like SpongeBob, at this point there is a lot more new SpongeBob than good Spongebob.

What the fuck am I going on about? Lol. Damn, didn’t anything more important happen today 07/13/24? No, nothing at all.

[enlightmentenlightment]

It’s always on cold mornings that things like this occur. Things like heading to work, getting ready for school, or finding a tape of a girl who long had died. She was no less than seventeen when the video was recorded, tall, brunette. She seemed like a good kid. A recording from maybe twenty or thirty years ago was uncovered near the old wreckage of a neighborhood, long forgotten due to the moving of a new, and better-built community. The ruins left behind were inhabited by homeless people who had nothing else. I was the one who had found it on the way to school. An old tape that belonged to a hand camera, lying dirty on the ground with no label. I thought nothing of it but was rather curious. I had always had an eye for old things, owning cassette players, records, and all the junk most people throw out nowadays. With a bit of hesitation, I pocketed it and headed on my way to school. I forgot about the tape for the rest of the day, going through my routine as normal and enjoying the day. I only thought of it when I entered the house, taking my jacket off and feeling the dent in my pocket. I groaned and headed to my room, not bothering to let my mom know I was home, and closed the door.

My eyes skimmed through my mess of a room and found the cassette player. I grinned and headed over, taking the time to get some wet wipes hoping to wipe down the tape of the grime it held. I gently swiped the wipe over the cassette, making sure it wasn't damaged, once I had confirmed it was still playable I let out a breath of relief. When I turned the cassette tape over I did not notice anything odd so I inserted it into the machine. The screen was black for a few seconds but lit up after a beat. “Hi, this is my project for art class.” rang the voice of a girl who didn’t seem too far off my age. She held the camera shakily, trying to prop it on the counter. Once it was properly propped she backed up and smiled. I could tell she was a bit nervous but I kept watching. The first few minutes were about her project, a film. The tape cut off, showing another scene of her floor, I assume. There were papers scattered and clay in places, showing sketches of her project. I watched with mild interest until my ears caught the sound of what followed.

“I’ve decided to try a new medium of art, but I need inspiration to–” A loud, ear-piercing static cut the girl off, yet there was no visible damage. The camera switched to a scene of her in the woods, pointing out flowers, trees, and rocks. Yet the static drowned her voice out. It drowned everything. I felt the need to cover my ears yet I could not look away. I couldn’t move. My heart raced as I stared at the screen. There was a man in the woods. Whether or not he was following her I could not tell, yet I couldn’t help the sick feeling I felt when I noticed him. The clip ended and I let out a breath I wasn't aware I was holding in. The static subsided, but the screen showed the girl sitting on the tiled floor. Her tear-streaked face in the frame as she whispered “Did you see that?” Her eyes occasionally glanced to the door. “Did you see him?” it felt like she was speaking to me, and it terrified me. I shook slightly and scrambled to turn it off; the screen turned dark again, making me sigh in relief. 

I got up from the floor and headed to the kitchen, now more interested in finding my mother, or anyone else rather than watching whatever that was. It was probably part of the film, I assured myself. I greeted my mom, asking her about her day, she smiled back, speaking of the things she did. Listening to her took my mind off of what I had witnessed earlier. I went on with my evening, as usual, trying to forget. I spent the evening playing video games, and catching up with my dad while he was watching the football games on the TV. Later that evening I ate dinner and told them about school, yet I hadn't mentioned the tape; I didn't want to. I headed to the bathroom afterward and washed up for the day.

I stared into the mirror, my hair wet and my face flushed from the shower, but I smiled. What a weird day that was; I thought. I dried my hair and dressed for bed, heading to my room. I closed my door after getting in and turned off my light, flopping into bed. I pulled the sheets over myself and closed my eyes, relaxing on the mattress. That was before I heard it. “Did you see him too?” I sat up immediately, looking at the cassette player, the screen on as the girl sat on the same tiled floor, breathing rapidly, matching mine. I felt my heart race again and the pit in my stomach grew. Her cries ceased once the cassette tape was over, yet my curiosity and terror did not. 

That night was the first of many that I didn't sleep.

It bothered me all morning. Wondering if the girl was alright, or at least alive. Not even questioning why I was back in that dump, staring at all the shabby houses and grimacing. I recognized a house, and went up to the door, trying it a few times before it opened. The stench of rotten food hit me and I gagged, doubting my goals before pushing into the abandoned building. I looked into run-down rooms and found the same bathroom floor. I held my breath, feeling my anxiety rocket, but I felt a bit excited. I kept looking and discovered what seemed to be the girl's room. It was pretty empty but I took notice of the papers still scattered about. In the corner of the room were a few boxes. I looked through them and found more cassettes. I grinned, shoving them into my bag and taking one final look at the room. I ran to school, a bit late, but went on with my day just as normal apart from the little race of my heart, wanting to go home to finish the rest of the tapes. 

Once I got home I made a beeline to my room and examined the cassette tapes, noticing the slight water damage a few had experienced. I cursed under my breath but popped one into the player after taking the last one out. 

“I’ve been going to the forest lately.” The girl said, looking happy as if nothing had happened. “I found all these pretty things but even cooler; I found a village.” I saw her hold up a few objects that seemed like prehistoric artifacts. I watched, engrossed in what she said, as she picked up the camera and headed to the forest again. There was no static this time– thank god– and the forest seemed pretty empty apart from the huts she pointed out. “This could be perfect for my project, just imagine–” An object clattered behind her, causing her to turn to it, falling silent. She slowly walked to the hut, and I heard her gasp, dropping the camera with a thump as I faintly heard her step back. Just before I could see what happened next the screen turned black. I sighed in annoyance, realizing the water damage had gotten to it. 

I was about to eject the tape before I noticed that the screen had not turned black. In the dark depths of the screen, I spotted a pale face staring back at me. A corpse, skinny and dried, lying lifeless in that hut. Its face, although all features were missing, stared at me. The thing was mummified, yet… a sheet of skin, akin to hide was wrapped around its head, ridding it of all features. It was a good minute in which I stayed, staring at the thing before the girl returned, trembling as she picked up the camera. “What was this place?” she whimpered, and with that she turned the camera off, signaling the end of the tape. 

I felt my stomach turn, not feeling as assured as I did a few minutes ago. It felt real. So I watched another, after another, looking at them and seeing each scene. Films of her going deeper into the forest flashed upon my screen. Strange symbols, ancient structures, and old corpses appeared before my eyes. I couldn’t help the gut feeling I felt, watching this girl slowly grow insane as the tapes went on. I had finally reached my last tape. Written on the tape faintly read: “Enlightenment.” I inserted into the old player and sat down, my hands trembling as I watched. I felt the sweat drip down my neck, my heart raced as I watched the black screen come to life.

“Please god, please.” I heard her whispers. The camera pointed at her, shrunken against a wall, her trembling figure begged whoever held the camera to spare her. “Please, please, stop.” Two cloaked men crouched down and held her down as she screeched, the girl writhed in their grasp. “Stop! Stop it!” Her cries rang out from my player, a sound that still disturbs me. I saw them hold her head still, another cloaked figure came into view, he had what seemed like a layer of skin, and the blood had stained the holder’s hands as they brought it closer to her face. She whimpered, she tried to kick and cry, yet the figure slowly pressed the skin to her face, as the meat completely covered her features. She started suffocating as they sewed on the fleshy mask, only giving her relief once they punctured little holes for her to breathe. “Enlightened.” The thing whispered. “He will lead you, the man with no face. Our God, our freedom, our Enlightenment.” The thing turned to look at the camera, slowly revealing its featureless figure, and my heart sank. All of them; All of them were faceless. I ejected the cassette, not being able to stomach the rest. I got up, ran to the bathroom, and vomited. I huffed and caught my breath as I took a look at the gunk, I processed what I had witnessed. I then got up, flushed the toilet, and rinsed my mouth, hesitantly, I walked to my room, looking at the tapes, yet my eyes slowly were drawn to the window, staring into the forest. A man with no face stood in the forest line, static slowly filling my ears as that wretched thing stared at me. 

I saw him too.