#idk what the writers put into this man I'm so addicted to him

[wrathomantic]

in a perfect world that would be me with my face in his tits but alas.

This drawing is in reference to the scene at the very beginning of his route when we hide pressed together in the backroom of a shop. I included a just Keir version becuase I was just too happy with how he turned out to have him partically covered

[spidernuggets]

Oh my gosh! THANK YOU! Fics of Jason Todd, Jason Freakin Todd using the readers body as no more than a slab of meat, saying horrendous things to her, her being no more than a hole for him to spill into. Some of the fics-like firstly are y'all okay!? And secondly you could offer him the Jokers head or a million dollars he's not going to disgrace your body if he's with you he values you, sorry lol

I'm not a maniac I understand the concept of fiction, write what you wanna write but for some characters that just doesn't make sense

On another note and in all seriousness some smut fics make me genuinely concerned and perplexed, writer will be like 16/17/18 saying things about themselves that sound like they came straight out of the mouth of a porn-addicted-woman hating-misogynistic who believes all females are the devil and need to be lobotomised via his penis. Like miss girl I understand your brain isn't fully developed yet but yikes

ABSOLUTELY FACTS ANON!!!

I had this sorta general convo with a friend, not necessarily on Jason Todd, but where I draw the line at dark fics.

But knowing Jason Todd, he would NOT participate in any of these dark fics. Like no the fuck he would NOT plant cameras in your bathroom without you knowing or put his cock in your mouth while youre sleeping??

like if you're into that shit, i dont really care, you do you. And ik this sounds like gatekeeping, and jason is a fictional character bUT PLS. Even ooc asshole HBO live action Red Hood Jason Todd wouldn't do fucked up shit like that.

and ive seen like a misogynistic Jason Todd?? Like no hate to the writer, yous have like really good writing skills!! but Jason would have like an immense amount of respect to women. Like idm the degration kink that people write for him, but sometimes it could be taken a little too far...

But even when he was in a romantic relationship, like Artemis or Rose, he's shown to actually value them as a person.

Seeing as he's spent so long making amends wjth Bruce, even when they still domt see eye to eye, if he were to be in a relationship, mans would be fucking paranoid that he's still the crime lord he was resurrected as. He'd be doing more than the bare minimum to make sure you're comfortable in a relationship. And i think if you were into that dark shit, he'd be uncomfortable with it, knowing he doesn't have your verbal consent to do anything to you because he wouldn't want to hurt you

idk, again, I know jason todd isnt a real person, and I may be gatekeeping n shit, but it is kind of fucked up in my view that people would hc Jason doing dark things when he's someone who has experienced dark things...

[darlingshane]

Ok maybe I’m reading too much into this but hear me out. The more I look at Jon’s works and the different looks they give him, the more I question the decision to make his hair do that thing that it’s doing in The Bear. Like, even when they straighten it in American Gigolo it is styled very well. But when it’s straightened in The Bear it looks *too* straight. Even in Ceres (the episode where they’re cooking in the kitchen) there’s something about his hair that doesn’t sit right with me… I know with the longer hair the writers must be trying to convey Michael’s downward spiral…but I am not sure how straightening it fits with the narrative, you know? What do you think? There must be a reason when they take away Jon’s natural curls, right? Am I imagining it?? lol.

But ofc I will add that Jon is a beautiful man no matter how they style him. ❤️

The reason is that Mikey doesn't know how to use the flat iron properly, he overdoes it every time 😂

No, but you're right, there must be a reason behind it. The Ceres episode was filmed during a lunch break from american gigolo, Jon and Ebon have mentioned this a couple of times, and his hair looks different from AG. I think they overdid it on The Bear. I'm not sure why. On some of the framed pictures they show on fishes , there's a few of Jon with curls when he was younger that they choose to include. Idk, maybe it was part of the image Michael was trying to convey to other people. Like his clothes are clean, his hair is well styled, or what he thinks it's well styled, even his beard was trimmed on fishes. So when people think of him, they remember him being just so well put together compared to what people have in mind of what addiction looks like. Does that make sense?

[mattoidmeerkat]

as the number #1 brain parasites truther on here, i'm curious on your feelings about the upcoming bobby plot. do u trust that they're gonna do right by our boy? or do u think it's possible the brain parasites might strike again? 😭

obviously i'm sooooooo excited to get more bobby lore, but there's just a tiny little part of me that's scared we might end up getting some bullshit ass story that's entirely ooc for bobby. ik he's been safe so far w/ the characterization, but idk man. i always get a little anxious when i hear a character's getting new lore drops

Not sure how I feel about that title. 😅️

I have been unhappy with a Bobby arc before. This was at the end of Season 5 after we had seen him struggle with being there for everyone, clearly heading to a breaking point, and then the resolution of his arc was basically a footnote in Eddie's storyline. (With Athena's visible concerns just being forgotten about completely.) This was the first time I was really disappointed in a storyline involving Athena and/or Bobby. (Sure, never dealing with any of his injuries considering his past has always been annoying, but this felt different.) I told myself it was the end of the season, and they just ran out of time to address Bobby's arc properly. The episode still annoys me, but I've made my peace with it because it left enough space for us to fill in the gabs. (There are some amazing writers out there who wrote their takes on how Bathena managed to go from 5x18 to 6x01, and I'm so grateful!)

Then Season 6 aired and that just felt very thought through. The setup for the Tanya storyline was great and 6x03 amazing. While focused on Athena, the story still showed and developed her relationship with Bobby as well. Hoover (my beloved) then also helped explore their new dynamic as empty nesters. We got episodes like What's Your Fantasy? showing us how comfortably they'd settled into their empty nest leading into the Wendall arc (that we all wished had been set up earlier for more emotional impact of his death) which really showed us how far those two have come together and individually. (Athena's approach to addiction and AA in Season 4 vs. attending a meeting with Bobby; Bobby trying to keep Athena out of his AA life vs. inviting her into his this part of his world)

The back half of Season 6 showed us even more of their development and growth. The blind faith in Recovery? Excellent. The adorableness and sexiness of Mixed Feeling? Perfect. The bitter-sweet anniversary in Love is in the Air? What an amazing way to show us how far they've come. Pay it Forward? *chef's kiss* We saw them really grow into a deep, stable relationship where they enjoyed spending time together not only around others but especially finally also just by themselves.

And then 7x01 happened. Abandon 'Ships. What a fitting title. This episode was no comparison to 5x18 because back then the end of the season productions stress and time constraints played a big role. None of that really applied here. They came off the longest hiatus ever. The actor's strike was still going on when the writers came back. It was the beginning of the season. There really was no other explanation for what they did with Athena, then they actively and purposely decided to put a plot they wanted to tell (Athena's increasingly erratic behavior confusing Bobby for what I assume was the laughs?) above who the characters were at that point in time. And that really struck me. This was the old showrunner coming in and just not caring about the previous episode(s) and season(s).

So now we are here, looking forward to (or bracing ourselves for?) this new Bobby arc at the end of an extremely condensed season, with them still filming much later than usual. With a showrunner who under much better circumstances just recently has shown that he will blatantly ignore established timelines and character development when it stands in the way of the particular story he wants to tell. (And I'm not saying he's not entitled to do that. It's his show.) So I'm setting my hopes and expectations very, very low. Because I'd rather be positively surprised by a brilliant continuation of Bobby's character arc than be deeply disappointed by another case of the brain parasites.

[thatscarletflycatcher]

I watched Man Up (2015) a couple weeks ago, and I have been wanting to write a post about it ever since, because... how can I put this.

Man Up is a romcom that is structured in surprisingly classical ways. The action happens within roughly 24 hours. There's good twists and turns you don't expect. It has sweet quiet moments complemented by high emotion moments. The casting is really good in its aim for naturalism in both looks and performances.

But then... the movie shoots itself on the foot with...

sex and alcohol.

And you'll say "Scarlet, you are a prude!!!" Yes, I kinda am, but the fascinating thing is that it isn't about that? I don't think I've ever watched a romcom where these were problems at the level of plot and characterization in such an obvious, stark way.

Let's talk alcohol first because it will help me explain the plot at the same time.

We open with our main character, Nancy, trying to gather the courage to go to an engagement party. She gives up and orders some food and drinks from the minibar. She ends up going to the party where she has at least two mojitos. The next morning she has a mild hungover, and takes the train home for her parents' 40th wedding anniversary.

She accidentally meets Jack and they go on a date. They chat and drink beers and eat chips. He then takes her to a Mexican cantina where they do tequila shots and chat some more. Then he takes her to a bowling alley where they do bowling, eat some snacks, and drink some beers. Then they go back to the cantina, and bump into Jack's ex and her new partner. They have more beer, whiskey, and another tequila shot. Nancy then goes home to her parents' party, and Jack goes on another date, where he, of course, drinks another beer.

Even at these point and to the end, both characters look and behave completely sober.

Meanwhile, Nancy's sister, her husband, and their parents are preparing for the pary by... you got it... going to the store to purchase booze! An important part of a scene is about setting up the white wine sofa and the red wine sofa.

Looking for Nancy, Jack mistakenly crashes on a teen house party, where there's, of course, alcohol, and he holds a girl's hair while she vomits and he tells her of a hungover cure.

And I'm here like... it's not only a bit ridiculous that apparently Jack's alcohol resistance is over 2L of beer and 4 tequila shots combined, and he doesn't need to go to the bathroom and is perfectly capable of the fade-to-black sex at the end, but... what was the point? Why does this movie focus so much on alcohol and then never says anything about it? It's not a commentary on modern day hopelessness, addiction or consummerism or anything like that.

At what point of your screenplay writing you stop and think "mmm, isn't all this drinking becoming a little repetitive?" IDK. If it has no meaning, maybe switch the first date thing for ice-cream. Maybe they only have food at the Mexican cantina the first time they go there. IDK. But as it is, it is distracting.

Then, sex. The first one is classic and well known: the sex joke that is not a joke. The "writer thinks people saying embarrassing sex things in a public setting constitutes a joke". It's a truth universally acknowledged that a joke must have a set up and a punchline and that the relationship between those two must have a degree of absurdity to it that causes hilarity. "This situation IRL would make people laugh nervously because they'd be uncomfortable" does not constitute a joke, and is, as a general rule, not funny. Putting it several times into the story won't make it funny either.

Then there's... the stalker. Nancy has a stalker, and the movie attempts to play it for laughs. They went to school together. He knows where her parents live. He knows she has no social media. He's taken pictures of her in her bedroom that she didn't know of. He attempts to blackmail her into giving him sexual favors. THIS MOVIE TREATS THIS AS FUNNY IN THE YEAR OF THE LORD 2015.

Jack and Nancy are presented as opposites -Nancy is cynical, Jack is the hopeless romantic that opens his notebook in the middle of the date to write her name and surround it with heart doodles. No, that happens in the movie, really. There's also a running gag that whenever they dance his hands automatically go to her butt. He then grabs it in the middle of her parents' wedding anniversary party. In front of everyone. WHILE EVERYONE IS SPECIFICALLY LOOKING AT THEM. That's... that's not very character consistent, movie.

And then there's... the ending. There's this whole tension throughout the movie about how Nancy is supposed to be at her parents' wedding anniversary instead of her date with Jack. They lose each other when she's too quiet inviting him and he's too distracted to notice that she's inviting him to go with her. Her dad wonders if she'll bring him to the party and if the date won't be their anniversary as well. When Nancy's stalker pretends he's Jake, Nancy is framed as feeling alienated from the party. She comes back to herself to give her speech, and then Jack storms in the middle of it.

All this set up is building the importance of this family and this community as the framework where the kind of committed, trusting, vulnerable relationship Jack seeks and Nancy wants but is afraid of can flourish. Nancy's parents have been together for 40 years and they are happy and they have friends and family they love and are loved by! But the movie doesn't end with Jack being welcomed into this circle.

It ends with Jack and Nancy leaving the party to go have sex in a bathroom, and Nancy telling her stalker that she'll send him pictures. I kid you not. It's just so jarringly anticlimactic that way.

It was such a strange experience, because we often talk of the sex scene or sex-related scene that is there just to have it, but that contributes nothing to the plot and could have been cut without the movie losing anything, but in this case it actually made it a less cohesive, less consistent, less focused story just by being included. That's something alright.

[fayes-fics]

I am feeling eternal guilt for this message being stuck in my drafts for MONTHS. 🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️

I can only humbly apologise. First and foremost, your feedback always ALWAYS floors me - you see things in my writing even I didn't realise were there until you point them out, and that is fascinating. 🥹🥹🫶 I am an instinct writer, and sometimes I don't even see the patterns until after I'm done. You deserve a response as detailed as yours so, let me dive in:

The opening scene was so clear in my head as a way to economically show their friendship and explain its history. I wanted something naturalistic, not the pomp of the event itself but the casual chat between friends that happens in the quiet, tired moments after a hectic few hours - something they have obviously both been working towards for many months. That's when the magic of a connection truly reveals itself, isn't it? A partner for life isn't the one who is there in the memorable moments; it’s the one who makes the small moments seem memorable.

Yes, I wanted to show Benedict as the effortless empath he is and a hint that maybe friendship isn't all he is interested in. The airport scene was indeed another way to demonstrate that charm is effortless to him, just who he is, which means he is more than the man for the job he has ahead of him when they meet her family.

Another part of “Ben the Empath” is indeed when they finally arrive, and he intuits her needs before even she can see them herself (to steal a line from Anthony in the show, lol!). Realising this is going to be a challenging moment for her and instantly stepping into the doting boyfriend role. And yes of course, it's a very convenient excuse for him to cuddle up to the lady he obviously is into, even if she can't see it quite yet.

The first goodnight kiss, I wanted to be in front of her family as there is that inherent delicious tension - they have a convenient excuse to indulge in a touch of PDA, but the audience tempers it.

I'm glad you picked up on the nuance of communication differences between family members and fellow spouses - I think in ‘big personality’ families, the spouses will always bond a little on what it's like to be married into this crazy. I’m sure all the Bridgerton spouses feel the same lolol.

And yes, I wanted to convey as the story goes on how they both seem almost to forget it's a ruse when caught up in the heat of the moment of pretending to appear as a couple. It's the blurring of truth and ruse that gets them in the end, after all. Like Benedict defending her - there was zero acting there. He is a staunch guardian to those he loves without even realising it. Coupled with that charm, he can put people in their place, but they are almost thankful for it. I really wanted him to both charm her mother but also not quite chastise but let her know he disagrees with the opinions they have about the reader.

As to how I write him sweet and challenging? IDK, to be honest, lol. I just write the Benedict I hear in my head. Honestly, he just lives there rent-free. It's not that hard to transport him into modern times; the vernacular and clothing might be different, but it's still Benedict underneath it all, lol. Or at least the headcanon Benedict I have built off the scraps they have given us on s1 and s2.

And yes, if there is one thing I try to strive for, it's realism during sex. People talk, and the pace slows and quickens, it can be languid one moment, frantic the next. But I always try to make it passionate and intimate and yes, a little unhinged, cos when you are in the moment and it's that good, there is indeed an edgy quality to it that is surprising and addictive. In straight sex, I love to write the man as just as desperate, if not more so, than the woman. And I love it when the man just straight up says don't be embarrassed this turns me on soooo much, like that whole moment you highlighted.

I had to round off with some Christmas morning fluff, which shows how sweet he is and the promise of more to come. Which, YES, I will be writing. This Christmas, I plan to write the sequel.

Anyway, sorry I rattled on; I wanted to respond to many of the things you mentioned. I'm so happy you loved this, and I'm so sorry my response has taken months. It was sitting in my drafts for far too long. I feel honoured when you ask me to write something and I hope you will do so again in the future. It's truly a privilege to write people’s stories. Thank you again, my dear. Your feedback always truly stuns 😁🧡🧡

It's That Time Of Year

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader, modern AU

Summary: It's that time of year... when you could use a fake boyfriend.

Warnings: 18+ smut, minors DNI, oral sex (m to f), vaginal sex, dirty talk, hand as gag, quiet sex, sex in childhood bedroom. Fake dating, family dynamics, lots of feelings, friends to lovers.

Word Count: 11.3 k (eek Im sorry)

Authors Note: Here's my tropetacular winter 2023 Benepic! Request fill for @broooookiecrisp (HERE), who wanted fake boyfriend trope with Benedict accompanying the reader to the USA to spend Christmas with her family. I hope you like it, my dear. Thanks to @colettebronte for the read-through. Enjoy and happy holidays! 🎄

December 20th 

“Thank you,” Benedict clinks his champagne glass against yours, “for everything.”

You blush and look down from his intense blue-eyed gaze, staring instead at the untied bowtie around his collar that seems almost more attractive than when fastened.

“It was nothing,” you demure.

“It was not nothing!” he scoffs, giving you a gentle shoulder bump as you both lean on the high-top table.

“Alright, it was my job then,” you modify, giving him a modest smile as you hotch slightly - beautiful though they are, you cannot wait to take off these high-heels.

“And you are excellent at your job,” he asserts before downing the rest of his champagne and refilling both glasses from the bottle before you. 

He is lingering much longer than you thought he might, long after all his family and all the guests have left. The event was over a while ago, and all around you, the venue staff are clearing tables and stacking chairs.

Tonight was indeed a rousing success. Your first-time event managing the end-of-year fundraising gala for the Bridgerton Family Foundation, they hit a new record amount raised. Standing next to you is the newly minted CEO of that organisation, Benedict Bridgerton, looking far too dashing in his custom-fitted tuxedo. Empathetic and naturally in tune with the needs of others, he is indeed the perfect replacement to run the charitable arm of the family business now that his mother has decided to retire. In previous years, you both took deputy roles - him to his mother, you to your old boss - this was the first year you both stepped up to the plate to run things, and if you do say so yourself, you have both done an excellent job of it. A delightful working partnership built on years of friendship since meeting at university as an exchange student.

“You deserve a long Christmas break after this,” he breezes.

“Going home to the States in a couple of days,” you nod. “I’m both looking forward to it and dreading it in equal measure, to be honest,” you confess, this second glass of champagne acting like a truth serum. You didn't want to or even get the chance to drink earlier, but a little tipple to round off the rewarding night is lovely, especially in present company.

“How come?” he seems genuinely curious, his forehead knitting adorably. Of course, he wouldn't understand; he comes from an idyllic family.

“I am very much the black sheep,” you shrug, twirling a finger absent-mindedly around the rim of your glass. “Being childless, unmarried and single at thirty-three in a midwestern family is unheard of and thus the subject of much ridicule.”

“Wow,” his eyebrows shoot up, “that's…,” he hesitates.

“Judgemental? Parochial? Small-minded?” you supply dryly on his behalf.

“I was going to say traditional… but sure, those work too,” he chuckles.

You giggle a little, then sigh. “So a mixed blessing, really. It's nice to see them all; I just wish they were a bit less them, you know?” you gesture vaguely into the air.

“A boyfriend would really take the heat off?” he queries.

“Hah!” you can’t contain the bubble of amusement at the mere thought. “Chance would be a fine thing. But, yes, that likely would take the edge off the worst of their barbs.” 

“Well, I’m at a loose end,” he comments, seemingly changing the subject. “The family is spread to the four corners of the globe this Christmas. Mum is going to Costa Rica for a retired ladies' trip with Lady D. Don't ask,” he adds amusingly, holding up his hands. “Kate and Ant are taking their kids to Lapland, and my various siblings are travelling or staying with partners. Weirdly, it’ll be our first Christmas apart. At least we will all reunite for New Year's at Aubrey Hall.”

“Aww, that sounds nice,” you offer neutrally.

“What I'm saying, y/n, is…,” he continues slowly as if waiting for the penny to drop, “if you need a fake boyfriend, I am available. It’s the very least I can do after all of this,” he explains, gesturing around the room. “Plus, it might be novel to experience a typical American Christmas,” he shrugs casually.

You can’t help it; you gape at him. Completely floored. The idea is utterly left-of-field and yet so exciting your heart pounds. If there is one downside to working so closely with Benedict these last few months, it has been the exponential growth of your inappropriate feelings for him. He is so sweet and handsome; no one would be immune, frankly. It was bad enough when you were at university together; now, well, it’s slightly lethal. Your mind boggles at him playing the role of a doting boyfriend; your body, however, seems very enthused, a warm flush creeping over your skin at the mere thought.

He chuckles nervously, a likely reaction to your stunned silence. “Listen, it was just a silly suggestion; you don’t have t-” 

“Yes!” you squeak, interrupting and grabbing his jacket cuff boldly when he seems to be withdrawing. “Please,” you add almost as an afterthought, unsure how to thank someone for such a generous offer.

His face breaks out into the most handsome grin.

“Excellent! Then, it's a date!” he exclaims, tilting his glass towards yours again. “Well, a fake date,” he amends with a lopsided grin that makes your stomach flip.

Oh god. What am I letting myself in for?!

___

December 23rd

“Are you sure about this? You can still back out...” you offer, fidgeting in the bag-drop queue at Heathrow three days later. 

“Please. What else am I going to do? Sit around my flat, billy-no-mates, and eat a sad M&S ready meal?! You are literally rescuing me,” he counters, probably exaggerating for your amusement.

Very much following the motto of not looking a gift horse in the mouth, you had texted Benedict your flight details that same night, and he has made it all happen in the hours since. Somehow, he managed to wave the Brigerton magic wand and secure what was probably the last seat on your direct flight two days before Christmas. Unluckily for him, he has to slum it in economy with the rest of the plebs like yourself. He couldn't even get a seat near you; he's stuck down the back, in the middle, near the galley.

“How about we swap seats at least?” you offer, guilt creeping in, looking at your printed boarding pass. Not only is Benedict doing you a favour, but he’s also pretzelling his tall self into an uncomfortable seat. The least you can do is offer him your aisle seat.

“I’ll be fine,” he dismisses, waving a hand and fishing out his passport as you are called to the desk.

“Travelling together?” the pretty, painted lady breezes at you, holding out a perfectly manicured hand to take your passport and ticket. Then you watch her practically melt as she claps eyes on Benedict.

Tsk. Typical.

“Not exactl…” you begin.

“Yes,” he cuts in with a winning smile. “Sadly, we couldn't get seats together, though,” he pouts a touch theatrically.

“Oh! Well, let me see what I can do about that… It is Christmas, after all,” she winks at him conspiratorially, then taps on her keyboard.

A few minutes later, your bags are checked in, and you are upgraded to Premium Economy. The lady was apologetic that you still couldn't get seats together but a row apart instead. You are pretty sure if there was space, the handsome bastard would have gotten you upgraded to business without even trying.

Oh, to be a pretty Bridgerton.

___

Twelve hours later, you are in a taxi, tired but grateful for the additional legroom on the flight, even managing a few hours of light napping. Benedict is similarly sleepy, both of your heads lolling around as the car zips down the road. By the time you reach your family home, it’s evening, but to your body clocks, it's the middle of the night.

As you slide out of the taxi, a long arm wraps around your shoulders, and you startle.

“Best to look convincing from the off,” Benedict mutters as he throws his duffle bag on top of your suitcase and trundles them up the path with his other hand.

You nod and dutifully wrap your arm around his waist over his puffer coat, slightly annoyed at how good it feels, as if your arm belongs there. 

“This is so American it's almost a cliche,” he jests, looking up at your parents' house, holiday string lights twinkling in the dusk.

You giggle at his remark and bump him with your hip, quickly escalating into a friendly tussle. He hauls you into his arms and swings you in front of him.

“What are you doing?” you whisper, your limbic system alive at the feel of him pressed into you even behind heavy coats.

“Just go with it,” he responds with an easy confidence and that dazzling smile. As if in slow motion, his lips descend, and you reel as they lightly brush yours, an explosion behind your ribs at this passing touch.

Over your shoulder, you hear the front door opening and realise it’s for show, for a particular audience. You are grateful for the forethought but completely discombobulated from this partial kiss.

How am I going to survive a week of this?

“Mrs y/l/n, Mr y/l/n,” he calls as you linger in his arms, not wanting to turn around just yet.

“Well, hello there. This must be the famous Mr Bridgerton,” your dad's opening line. “We have heard so very little about you. Before yesterday anyway,” he adds, already twisting the knife in early as you pull up to the porch.

“That may well be because I asked her not to,” Benedict rebuts smoothly, releasing you to give a firm handshake. “I love the element of surprise,” he adds with a smile you have seen him deploy before, a weapon’s grade charm offensive.

Your mother’s face is a picture. “Well, well, we certainly didn't expect someone quite so handsome to accompany our daughter,” she drawls, verging on flirtatious. 

Benedict drapes his arm around your shoulders and nuzzles your hair. “Whyever not? She is simply wonderful,” he sighs, his hot breath tickling your scalp before letting you go again.

Damn, he is good at this.

“Hello, mom, dad…” you greet politely before moving in for a short hug from both.

“Happy holidays, darling. Let's get inside,” your mother fusses.

Within a few minutes, after some casual pleasantries are exchanged as you remove coats, you watch your mother give Benedict a tour of their home, including, to your chagrin, your childhood bedroom, which is a time capsule from your teen years. At least the dog-eared band posters have been taken down. As you drift back to the living room, Christmas music plays from a speaker behind the tree. Your family loves to go all out on the holiday decorating. It does feel festive and cosy, though.

“It will be a full house with all of our kids and their spouses staying tonight. So there are no spare rooms. You are on the sofabed in the den, Mr Bridgerton,” your dad comments, gesturing to the room next door; the message very clear.

“That's fine,” Benedict huffs genially, “and please, call me Ben.” 

“I might actually head to bed now,” you admit over a stifled yawn. “My body thinks it's 2am.”

“Same,” Benedict chimes.

“Oh, you should stay up, try to get into the timezone,” your mother clucks, always with an opinion about how you are not doing things how she would. “Ben has not yet been introduced to Tucker, Travis, Tegan and their spouses. They are all still out at dinner…” she indicates, listing your siblings and looking most perturbed at your decision.

“Tomorrow, Mom,” you assure.

“Alright,” she capitulates with a sigh, mostly when she sees Benedict yawn behind his hand. 

“Goodnight…” you offer to all and go to leave the room, but as you get to the door, Benedict stops you with an arm shooting out.

“Don't I get a goodnight kiss, my love?” he pouts.

At first, you look up at him shocked, then a flick of his eyes over your shoulder makes you realise he is continuing the ruse. 

“Maybe,” you flirt back, jetlag somehow making you daring. An ideal excuse to be coquettish, even though your parents likely can't hear your exchange above the music playing. They can certainly see your body language, though.

“Oh, I see. What do I have to do to earn it?” Benedict plays along, a dangerous smile and a large hand low on your lumbar spine, pulling you into him. 

“Tell me you will miss not sleeping next to me,” you boldly request, a little cheeky smile tugging at your lips to see how far he will let you push this.

A long finger swipes a tendril of hair out of your face and behind your ear, a thumb curling under your chin.

“Every night I'm not sleeping next to you is my misfortune,” he replies, sounding wistful, his eyes seeming to burn with something approaching sincerity. It makes your stomach swoop like you are standing on a cliff edge on a windy day.

“Good answer,” you stumble in acknowledgement, pushing up onto your tip toes, heart in your mouth.

“I do what I can,” he answers against your lips and then draws you into a slow, plush kiss. 

His mouth doesn't open, but it doesn't matter; the hint of wetness on his pursed lips has your body reacting, a charge ripping through your being. A sudden yearning for him to push you against the wall and plunder your mouth with his tongue. When he withdraws, you know your pupils are blown wide, but you are taken aback that his are, too; the dampness on his lip shines in the glow of the Christmas tree. 

Your father pointedly clearing his throat breaks the spell, and you jump apart as if burned.

“Sorry,” you both mumble and Benedict pulls the most adorable ‘oopsie, my bad’ face. 

“Goodnight, y/n,” he says tacitly.

“Goodnight, Ben.”

As you climb the stairs slowly, exhaling the breath it feels like you have been holding since he grabbed your arm, you know that kiss will be replaying in your head for weeks. If he keeps this up, you may well combust. 

This was a fantastically bad idea.

___

December 24th

You awaken on Christmas Eve when it’s still dark outside. A glance at your phone says it’s right after 4:30am. Already knowing you won’t get any more sleep, you throw open your case and grab slippers and a hoodie, deciding to head down to make a coffee.

You almost jump out of your skin when you see a silhouette sitting at the kitchen table.

“Sorry,” Benedict atones as he sees you clutching your chest, “time zones.”

“Same… coffee?”

“Please…”

As you potter around, making a pot as quiet as possible, he scrolls on his phone. You join him once it’s brewing.

“How is the sofa bed?” you ask, wincing guiltily.

“I've slept on worse,” he obfuscates jovially. 

“Sorry, if I’d known there wouldn't be a spare bed, I would have booked a hotel,” you apologise, rubbing your temples.

“No, it’s tradition to stay with family at Christmas,” he rebukes with a smile.

“Thank you again for all this,” you mutter, shoving your hands into your hoodie pockets. “Have you done this fake boyfriend thing before?” your question is only partially in jest.

“No, what makes you say that?” he huffs bemused.

“You, uhh, have been doing an excellent acting job,” you shrug. “Thank you, by the way. I don’t think they quite believe I could land you, but I’d argue you have been very convincing regardless….”

“Don't say that,” he frowns, cutting in. 

“You don’t think they buy it?” concerned things may not be working as well as you believed.

“Not that,” he waves a dismissive hand, “the other thing. Why wouldn’t they believe you could ‘land me’?” he rounds off with a quotation gesture.

You bark a laugh. “Have you seen you?  

“Stop,” he seems genuinely ticked. “That is all shit. I would be lucky to have you,” he mumbles, not meeting your eye, staring out of the French doors into the inky blackness. It won’t be sunrise for another three hours this time of year. “I am lucky, in fact, to have you as a friend,” he adds, his thoughts sounding far away.

“Well, same. I still have no idea how to repay you for all of this…” you admit.

“I already said, none needed. Why would I not choose a little foreign adventure with a good friend when the alternative is Christmas alone?!” he scoffs as the coffee machine beeps.

Unsure quite what to say, you get up to make a cup, knowing without asking how he takes his. Retaking your seat, you pick at the idea again.

“I think we should strategise…” you mutter into your mug.

“About what?”

“The plan. Now you have some inkling of what they are like, maybe we should talk tactics…?” you trail off, not sure even yourself where you are going with this.

“It's simple, isn't it?” he counters, taking a gulp of coffee. “We hold hands, hug and kiss occasionally, you know, act like a couple….” he shrugs as if it's the simplest thing in the world. Maybe it is to him; his heart probably doesn't pound when you so much as touch.

“Okay, well, I guess we can improvise. But let me know if it all gets too much. Send me a secret code or something,” you offer.

“Like a safe word?” he chuckles.

“Something like that,” you allow, trying to mask the heat you feel creeping up your sternum at the very thought.

Just then, his phone vibrates on the table.

“Sorry, it's Ant. I should probably take this,” he apologises, standing up.

You swallow a sip of your coffee, trying not to think too hard about anything, when suddenly he leans over your shoulder from behind, the phone still buzzing in his hand.

“By the way, my safeword is Byron,” he rumbles silkily into your ear. “Not that I’ll ever need it,” he adds, walking away casually while you try to bring your heart rate back to normal.

Dear God, this man is going to kill me.

___

You take your coffee back to bed when Benedict doesn't reappear after a few minutes and end up passing out again for a couple of hours. By the time you are awake again, the house is a hive of noise and activity. You pass Kallie, your oldest brother's wife, in the hallway, and she punches your arm lightly.

“Welcome home, and well fucking done!” she winks, and you frown, confused what she’s talking about. She jerks a thumb over her shoulder. “That delicious slice of Britishness in there,” she elucidates. 

Shit! It just occurs to you that by falling back asleep, you left Benedict alone to fend for himself in the melee of your family. The poor man must be mauled alive by now.

So when you enter the kitchen, the last thing you expect to see is the sight before you. Benedict, with an apron on, tossing American-style pancakes like a pro on the hotplate while your family chatters around him, applauding as he serves up another perfect-looking batch.

“Darling!” he calls when he sees you. “Come here!” he exclaims warmly, holding out his arms.

Unsure what else to do and powerless to resist the opportunity, you walk over and allow yourself to be swept into his arms. He presses a kiss onto your cheek. He smells like butter and syrup, and you want to burrow into him.

“Sorry I left you alone in the lion's den,” you say close to his ear so only he can hear.

He smiles into your hair. “They are fine, honestly; I can handle it,” he assures mutely.

You pull back and swipe a tiny fleck of batter from his face, enjoying the round of his cheekbone as you do. What makes an odd weight land on your ribs is how his pupils dilate fractionally as you lick the dot off your thumb.

“Delicious, Mr Bridgerton,” again, unable to stop yourself from flirting with him now you have the excuse.

Something in him looks almost wild as your gaze locks.

“Get a room!” your brother, Tucker, jeers from the table.

Part of you wants to sass back some version of ‘apparently we’re not allowed’ and ‘I wish’, but all you can do is smile at Benedict as he mirrors your expression.

“More, please, Mr Brid-un,” your youngest nephew toddles over, holding up his plate expectantly.

Benedict finally looks away and ruffles the little kid’s hair. “Certainly, Brandon,” he offers warmly.

“What I find fascinating is how a proper British gentleman knows how to make good old-fashioned American pancakes,” your mother pipes up from her seat at the kitchen island.

“Oh, my nanny was an American,” Benedict waves the spatula as he pours more batter onto the hotplate and begins a new batch.

“Your grandmother was from the colonies?” Travis mocks, feigning outrage.

“Oh no… not that sort. My umm nanny nanny, as in the lady who looked after us as kids,” he explains, looking somewhat sheepish.

“Shhiittttt,” your sister Teegan drawls, looking up from her phone for the first time. “You’re like actual rich, huh?”

“Language Tee!” your mother warns from across the room.

Teegan pulls a face and then turns her attention back to Benedict, awaiting his response.

“Please, can you all not be so… y/l/n,” you cut in, holding up your hands to the gathered family. “For once, can you all just…?” you taper off, hoping they will read between the lines.

“How’d you two meet?” Dean, Teegan’s husband, calls out, ignoring your plea completely.

“We actually met at university many years ago,” Benedict explains, flipping the pancakes as they bubble. “But we started working together last year on various projects, and well, we grew much closer.” 

So far, so truthful.

“Then, well, one memorable day, when we successfully wrapped up a project we had worked on so hard together, I realised she meant so much more to me than a friend,” Benedict continues, sounding so sincere you almost believe it yourself. A tiny flutter in your chest that the project he refers to could be the Gala. “I kept it to myself for a while, but late one night, I couldn't resist, and I confessed my feelings. I am the luckiest man alive because it turns out she felt the same. And, well… here we are,” he concludes, shooting you a look so loaded you forget it's a yarn for a few seconds.

“Friends-to-lovers, I stan,” Claire, your other sister-in-law, comments. She always has her head stuck in some romance book.

As Benedict serves the next batch, the focus of the room is pulled to your nieces and nephews as they overload their pancakes with toppings, and you are grateful to be out of the glare of the family spotlight temporarily.

“How did I do?” Benedict murmurs into your ear as he sidles up next to you, wrapping an arm around your back. There's a tinge of pride in his voice. He knows he has them eating out the palm of his hand, and fuck if it isn't so attractive.

“I should tip you…” you joke, not wanting to give away quite how flustered you are.

“I accept payment in kisses,” he breathes, his smouldering stare sliding down to your lips as you crane your head to look up at him. 

It's only a few minutes later, as you grab a pancake from the stack that you realise he didn't say that at volume anyone else could hear… it was purely for you. And you have no earthly idea what to do with that thought.

___

The rest of Christmas Eve passes with your family’s usual rituals, with Benedict beside you, playing the doting boyfriend to perfection. Each brush of his makes your adrenaline spike—a divine torture. 

While dinner is cooking in the afternoon, your parents usher most of you out of the house for a walk in the bracing cold to build up an appetite. And so you stroll, Benedict’s gloved hand in yours.

“So Ben, is everyone in London not married with kids, or is it only my sister who can't seem to figure it out despite her old age?” your sister Teegan digs as she pushes the buggy next to you.

“Well, we are a similar age, and I'm not married with kids either,” he points out breezily.

“Yeah, but…” she halts, realising there is no response she can think of. “Wait, why don't you have kids yet? Don’t you want a family? I thought you said you had lots of brothers and sisters?”

“I do come from a big family, yes. And I suppose one day, yes, I do want kids of my own,” he adds, seemingly honest as you listen intently, your heartbeat in your ears, “but I feel no rush yet.”

“So you’re not knocking this one up anytime soon then?” your brother Tucker stirs, checking your shoulder roughly from the other side.

You can't help but feel a blush darken your cheeks at that and refuse to look up at Benedict. You open your mouth to tell Tucker to shut up, but Benedict cuts across you.

“If anyone has come close to being someone I would consider having kids with, it's your sister,” he admits casually, as if talking about the weather. But for you, it feels like you are back on that proverbial cliff edge about to dive over, heart racing. It takes every fibre of your being to keep walking and acting naturally, grateful for the gloves between your joined hands; not sure you could handle his skin touching yours as he says such things.

“Ooooooo,” Tucker singsongs, “going to the chapel, and they’re gonna get mar...”

“Cut it out!” you grouse.

He peels a laugh, then jogs on ahead to catch up with Dean.

“I’m sorry about that,” your apology hushed as you keep walking, Teegan falling behind you to deal with one of her kids' tantrums.

“Why? It's an inevitable question when you meet your other half’s family,” he points out, squeezing your hand reassuringly as you wander as a pair.

“Yes, but… it's a bit much, considering they just met you hours ago. They are intentionally stirring the pot. Trying to scare you off,” you frown, realising what they are doing as you say it aloud.

Benedict stops walking, and it makes you halt, too. “Nothing could scare me off,” he assures, his face soft with understanding as he cups your jaw. His cold, damp glove is a balm to your flushed, embarrassed face.

“Right,” you nod, “cos this is all fake…” you add quietly, trying to hide the defeated tone.

“Anyone who knows how great you are would not be scared off by the idea of a future with you,” Benedict says soothingly, a thumb stroking your cheekbone.

“Well, when you meet a candidate who fits that bill, send them over to me, yeah?” you quip brittly as you look off into the distance, unable to meet his hazy, sincere eyes.

His response is interrupted by your niece tugging on his coat.

“Uncle Ben, can I sit on your shoulders? Please? Daddy already has Brandon, and my feet are so tired,” she whines in that dramatic way only little ones do.

Benedict laughs and releases you. “Certainly, Sofia,” he smiles as he hauls her onto his shoulders, uncaring of the mess her little boots smear onto his coat as he does so.

“Faster! Go faster!” she orders, and genially, Benedict obeys, moving ahead and breaking into a light jog as she giggles loudly and holds onto his chin.

You try to ignore the flutter in your chest at the sight of him with a kid on his shoulders, as if he were born to do so.

This was such a mistake…

___

“When are you moving home, y/n?”

You knew this was likely coming. The question your mum has to ask every time you visit. And every year, your answer is the same.

“I don't think I will be, Mom,” you explain calmly as you pass the plate of peas to your sister, not wanting to look at Benedict, who sits opposite you at the long table. “I love London. It feels like home,” you add with a shrug.

“Yes, but this living abroad thing is supposed to be a phase—a young person thing. You are mid-thirties now. It's time you settled down,” she frowns.

“I am settled,” you reply neutrally, “I have a place of my own that I love.”

“Yes, but an apartment, sorry ‘flat’,” she self-corrects sarcastically, “that’s not a real home. A home is a house with a garden in a safe town with good schools for your children,” she lectures.

This line of discussion used to annoy and rile you up, but you have become weary of it over the years. The rest of your family is tucking into their food but listening smugly, having towed the traditional family line.

“I think home can be many things,” Benedict pipes up from across the table. “A home is about where you feel safe and secure, surely Mrs y/l/n?”

“Well, yes…” your mother falters, slightly taken aback by his interruption but still charmed by his effortless congeniality.

“Then I would say your daughter’s home is London,” he smiles disarmingly. “You should see her there; I encourage you to visit sometime. She has a home she has made beautiful. She has many friends, and she is amazing at her job. She is happy. I, for one, cannot imagine her anywhere else.”

Again, you can feel your heart beating at his sweet words, even knowing they are all for show; it's lovely that someone has your back for once, defending your choices.

“But what of the schools, Mr Bridgerton?” your dad piles in, “I have heard nightmares of the school system in the inner cities, in this country and yours,” he shudders.

“My family has always gone to a superb prep school in Chelsea. I see no reason why our children could not do the same when the time comes,” Benedict responds with a winning smile.

You almost drop the corn casserole at that line.

Plonking it heavily on the table and taking a deep breath, you finally pluck the courage to look over at him. Looking back at you is a playful smile and a wink. And suddenly, you know what he is doing. It likely appears genuine to others, but you know him too well; you know all his facial tells. He is doing this for sport. To entertain you. The kaleidoscope of emotions you feel is near exhausting, relief mixed with a tang of disappointment that it's all for show.

“Well, that's wonderful news, Benedict,” your mother squeaks. “I cannot wait to hear more once you are engaged,” never failing to find an opportunity to take a dig.

“You will be the first to hear, I promise,” he smiles winningly and takes a bite of food. “This is delicious, by the way,” he adds, “I hope you will share the recipe with me, seeing as we will likely be family one day...”

And just like that, he expertly manoeuvres your mother onto the only topic she loves more than marriage - cooking. As if he could intuit how to steer the conversation. Relieved, you sit back and finally take a deep breath, then a bite of your admittedly delicious plate. You are even grateful he manages to distract them long enough that there are no jibes about your weight.

Maybe this wasn't such a mistake…

___

A few hours later, with the little ones tucked up in bed, the adults gather around the tree with the fireplace roaring and the festive music softly playing. It's time for gift exchange, a family tradition away from the hubbub of Christmas morning with the focus on the children ripping through all the gifts Santa left for them.

You are enjoying the buzz a second large glass of wine provides when the focus turns to you. Benedict sits beside you and slides a hand onto your knee. Still, your body reacts, but you attempt to act as if it doesn't make your blood pump hard in your head.

“Benedict, we didn't know you were coming, so I'm sorry we have no gift for you to open,” your mother says sheepishly, “and y/n, we have done as you always ask; we have sent you a gift card over email,” she explains, “which makes me sad as you have no gift to unwrap….”

“That's fine, Mom, thank you. And don't worry, I don't need a gift,” you assure, taking another swig.

“Actually….” Benedict clears his throat, “I have a gift for my girlfriend if that is okay?”

You look agog at him.

“But… I didn't get you anything,” you splutter, even as he moves his hand from you and reaches behind his back, revealing a small navy velvet box.

“Don't worry. It's nothing really, just something small,” Benedict assures, even as you can feel everyone’s eyes on you as you reluctantly let him place it in your hands.

Slowly, you pull at the tail of the lovely soft gold ribbon until it relents. With your heart in your mouth, you snap open the box. Nestled in more navy velvet is a tiny, beautiful crystal penguin, your favourite animal.

“Ben…” you are lost for all other words, tears prickling the corners of your eyes.

“I remember you loved the larger one my mum had on her desk,” he explains lowly as you stare transfixed by all the facets catching the twinkling light. “Every time we had a meeting, you would stare at it or play with it. So I knew I had to get you one too, for your desk… or wherever you want to put it,” he modifies sweetly.

You can't help it - the swell of emotions makes you throw your arms around him as you clutch the precious item. It's like he has managed to distil everything you could want from a Christmas gift - something personal, tailored to you, nothing too extravagant but small, elegant and beautiful. And that he had the forethought to bring it across the Atlantic with him makes your heart burst even more. He is possibly the best friend you could ever have. You fervently wish he was so much more.

“I can't believe you remember that,” you mumble. “This is perfect and beautiful. Thank you, Ben, thank you so much.”

“Merry Christmas, my love,” he says into your hair at a volume you know is designed to be heard by the room.

“Merry Christmas,” you return quieter, only for him.

Vaguely, you hear your mother moving on to hand a gift to another, perhaps embarrassed by the display of affection between you. Grateful that the family focus seems to have shifted to someone else, you go to pull away from the embrace, but Benedict draws you tighter into him. 

“Lovers don't let go so quickly,” he whispers. “Now I'm going to kiss you again if that is okay…”

Your tummy flips. “Okay…” you barely struggle out the word.

Then his hand is on your cheek, and time seems to slow like treacle; his eyes burn into yours as he moves in, then flutter closed as his lips meet yours. Again, it is like a rollercoaster, a thrilling plunge as his lips move over yours. It's like the previous night, respectful with a closed mouth but so sweet and promising, so much more a whole ripple runs through your body. You need more, so much more, desperate to climb into his lap and demand a real kiss, audience be damned.  When you part, he tilts his forehead against yours and smiles gently, licking his lip as if savouring the taste.

“I'm glad you like it. The gift that is,” he clarifies, a sweet mumble.

You giggle. “I love it, Ben, thank you. I'm sorry I didn't get you anything; I feel terrible.”

“Being here with you is gift enough,” he assures in a voice that melts your insides, which you assume is for the audience.

My god, this man will be the death of me.

The rest of the evening passes in a pleasant fog of wine, your siblings holding court and telling stories as you listen, feeling the weight of Benedict’s hand again on your leg as he sips on a whiskey. Once again, you feel the creeping of jetlag and decide to turn in around 10pm. You give Benedict a peck on the cheek before he can draw you into another confounding kiss and make your escape upstairs with a glass of eggnog and your book.

As you settle into bed, you try not to let your thoughts spiral as you catch sight of the crystal penguin in its box. Instead, you tell yourself he is a good friend and rich; it's likely nothing to him, and not to read too much into it.

___

December 25th 

At some point, you drift off to sleep, book in hand, the timezone still catching you out. You only realise it when you are awoken suddenly around 2am by a knock on your door.

“Come in,” you croak, sitting up and rubbing your eyes to adjust to the light; you had fallen asleep with the bedside lamp on low while reading.

The door opens ajar, and Benedict’s handsome face pops in. “I saw your light on…” he says softly, “just wanted to check on you.”

You put your book aside, pull the covers around your neck and feel an odd flutter as he closes the door behind him. He looks cosy in long tartan pyjama bottoms and a soft dark t-shirt.

“I'm sure your dad would kill me if he knew I were here,” he jests as he hovers a few feet away.

“Come sit,” you pat the bed next to you, even as you feel strange about him being here, dead of night on Christmas Day. 

He nods gratefully and perches on the edge of your bed. It's a full-size mattress, bigger than a twin, but not a double bed. You can feel his weight tugging the bedding tight over your thighs.

“Thank you again for my gift, truly,” you gesture to the box on your bedside table.

“I had to. I couldn't think of anything more… you...” Benedict smiles that demure smile with downcast eyes that always makes you want to shake him and tell him to stop looking so fucking adorable. Or mount him. Or both. You have to bite your lip to stop blurting out your errant thoughts.

“But still to buy me such a wonderful gift and put up with my family… I mean… you deserve a medal,” you shrug.

A hand clamps onto your knee through the bedding, but it still surprises you. 

“Stop it,” he gruffs. “I'm going to need you to stop. Seriously. I chose to come here. It's been fun. Something different. Yes, your family is a bit… intense, but everyone’s is. Each has its own special blend of crazy. You’ve seen the Bridgerton brand of dysfunctional up close,” he points out, knowing without saying more how much you have watched them bicker over the years.

“But you’ve said all those lovely things, made up all these amazing believable stories…” you argue back weakly.

“Every single thing I have said to your family has been the truth,” he responds solemnly.

You replay a few choice record-scratch moments in your head. “But what about the stuff about me being the person you could see yourself having kids with and where these imaginary kids would go to school…” you point out, wincing as you do.

“I told no lies,” he answers each syllable enunciated slowly, staring you down.

It feels like your whole world tilts when he utters those words.

“What are you saying?” you query, breathier than you mean to sound but needing him to spell it out.

He sighs, but a mischievous grin twitches the corner of his mouth. “You are much smarter than this; don't be obtuse now, y/n,” he rumbles, something in the challenging way he says it catches a fire behind your ribs.

“Ben…” you warn, so many contradictory feelings at once.

“You are all the things I said and more, and you must know how amazing you are,” he offers softly as you feel your eyes misting.

“Please don't,” your last vestige of resistance, still not believing what he says can possibly be true, too close to a festive miracle. Part of you thinks that at any moment, you will wake up alone and bereft.

His fingertips brush your cheek, and you inhale sharply and look up to see him inches from your face.

“Fine, if you don't somehow believe my words, maybe you’ll believe my deeds…”

It's the last few words out of his mouth before his lips meet yours.

This time, it's not for an audience; it's just for the two of you, and it almost stops your heart. A hesitant, soft, sweet brush that becomes more as he leans in and deepens the kiss. His lips part yours as your mind grinds to a halt, tentatively following his lead, kissing him back… the catalyst, the permission he needs. A large hand rounds behind your head and pulls you forward. Suddenly, it's a tidal wave, his tongue rolling greedily over yours, becoming hungry, urgent, desperate, your body awash with chemicals, scarcely able to believe Benedict, the star of every one of your spicy dreams, is here in your childhood bedroom, kissing the very life out of you in the early hours of Christmas Day.

“Lay down,” he murmurs into your skin as his lips glide over your cheek, and you follow his order without thought, shuffling down obediently until you lie flat and stare up at him transfixed. 

It’s as if he’s taken your disbelief as a challenge to prove how very real this is. With one hand, he tosses aside the covers and crawls over you until he is engulfing you, surrounding you with his scent that makes your mouth water. His lips are hot on your neck as his hands map your body, lingering in places you are self-conscious about. 

“Do you have any idea how sexy you are?” he sighs as if disputing your internal monologue, his breath ghosting warm over your collarbone. 

“Stop…” you demure, wriggling under him, feeling bashful.

“No..” his crooked smile is lethal as his head pops up from worrying your throat with a little edge of his teeth. His hand skates your clothed breast, and on instinct, you push up into it, your nipple hardening as the heat of his palm seeps through your nightshirt. “Please take off your top,” he implores, his mouth finding your lips again. “I can’t tell you how many times I’ve dreamt of touching your naked body.”

“I can’t believe this…” you mutter, shaky, confounded that it could be true—the man you desire desiring you back just as wantonly. He lowers his body between your legs, surging his hips so you feel something insistent inside his pyjamas.

“Now, do you believe me?” he dusks into your ear.

“Benedict…” falls from your lips as an excited shudder.

“Say my name again, please,” he huffs right against your cheekbone, pinning you under him with his pelvis.

“Benedict,” you repeat, revelling in the effect it seems to have on him.

It gives you the courage to whip off your top. The noise he makes as he realises you are naked underneath it is a beeline right between your legs.

“Shh,” you hush, giggling, a rush through your veins, not wanting anyone to disturb this, as he slides his lips down over your skin towards your breasts.

“I cannot,” he remarks gleefully,  “not with such a bounty beneath me.” 

His lips clamp onto your left nipple, sucking and swirling his tongue with an intensity that steals the breath from your lungs.

“Might wake fam…” you stumble out, impressed you can even do that.

He pulls up, his biceps in tense relief as he balances on his fists curled on either side of your waist. “Then lock your damn door,” he growls in a way that has you clenching.

“No lock…” you squeak, wishing beyond belief you had one.

“Shit, really?” he sighs, leaning back down to kiss over your sternum. “I’m not sure I can be quiet; I’ve wanted this for too long…”

You go to query that statement, but he moves to your other breast and does the same, so the only sound you are capable of is a guttural moan.

“Shh,” he hushes you back cheekily, tilting his head up from your chest, eyes sparkling and face so achingly handsome you still can barely believe this is happening,

“We really do have to be quiet…” you point out reluctantly.

“I know,” he sighs into your breastbone, dropping a soft kiss there. “I want to tell you so many things….” 

“Whisper them to me…” you beseech, running your fingers through his lush, thick head of hair, tilting your breast back up to his mouth.

He smirks and catches your unsubtle hint, once again using his talented mouth to make you shudder under him. He runs a finger down your centre line to your belly. 

“Your body is perfect,” he sighs. You go to protest, but he shoots you a disapproving look, so you bite back your words. “I could get lost for hours tracing your lines,” he hums, his featherlight touch tickling as it crosses under your belly button, making you giggle. “Hmm, a little ticklish too,” he sounds utterly captivated by that discovery, throwing you a very troublesome expression.

“Don't use it against me…” you warn, knowing he will ignore you, a fizzy feeling at this playfulness.

“Oh, I just might…” he chuckles as he runs his tongue lower over your torso, a hot, damp line that leaves fluttering in his wake. “I could do this all night…your skin is so soft,” he purrs, inhaling deeply, nuzzling his nose above the line of your pyjama bottoms. “You always smell so fantastic,” he sighs, using his teeth to tug on the ribbon. 

You’ve never had someone be this vocal during intimacy. It makes you feel reassured but also slightly bewildered by just how aroused you are getting, Benedict’s resonant voice skittering compliments over your skin, making you embarrassingly wet. Your hands greedily pull at his t-shirt, hoping he will get the hint.

“If you want something from me, you have to say it,” he teases as he switches to using his fingers to undo the bow on your pyjamas. 

“Please take off your top, Ben,” you mewl, even as your heart pounds at the idea you will soon be naked under him.

“I will,” he promises, “in a minute…” 

As if sensing your apprehension about removing your last item of clothing, he leaves it in place, shuffling lower and stretching your legs wide with his shoulders. You gasp loudly as his mouth, hot through the thin cotton protecting your modesty, sucks insistently over your slit. A large hand curling around your hip to stop you canting off the bed. Your clit throbs, and your pussy leaks copiously down your bottom.

“Fuck I can tell how wet you are even through this fabric,” he stutters.

“I'm sorry...” you squirm, embarrassed.

He surges upright, grabs your hands from around his head and cages them on the mattress beside your hips.

“Let's get two things very clear,” his voice stern but achingly seductive. “One, your body is incredible, and you should know by now how much I desire you. Two, if you ever apologise again for being turned on, I will be annoyed. Do you know how proud I am? That I can do this to you? How absolutely rigid this makes me?” rutting his hard cock against your left calf to prove his point. “I want your desire running down to your knees. I want you mindless and trembling with need for me.” 

“O-okay,” you stumble out, entranced. This filthy poetry and feralness is beyond anything you could imagine him capable of. You have seen hints of his menacing potential, but full force, it’s breathtaking.

“Good,” he smiles crookedly, releasing your hands. “Now lift your hips so I can get you properly naked,” the slightly bossy rejoinder really working for you.

Mutely, you do as bidden, his fingertips trailing fire down your hips as he tugs the material over your thighs, impatiently pulling them from around your ankles and tossing them over his shoulder, his gaze locked onto your body. He groans a curse, and you again find yourself clenching around nothing at his untamed response.

Whispering his name is a reflex, your fingers carding again into his hair as he lowers his mouth and suckles the skin of your hip before slowly, almost torturously, winding his way lower towards your centre. Every place he touches feels alive and fluttering, him whispering reassurance and praise into your flesh, like a sensual requiem that catches your breath. By the time he trails his nose down the crease where your thigh meets your body, you are panting, eyes screwed shut, head tilted back, anticipation knotting your guts.

“Look at me,” he orders softly, his face framed by your thighs as you gulp and look down the plane of your body to him. “Don’t look away; I want to see your eyes when I do this,” his breath hot on your slit.

He unfurls his tongue and ploughs through your wet flesh, making your toes and fingers curl. You have to bite your lip and curse behind your teeth, the sensation overwhelming, his eye flashing fire in his blown pupils at your bodily reaction. You hiss loudly, needing to call out so bad your lungs ache. You twist your pillow to bite down on a corner but keep your eyes on him as told. He chuckles pridefully, the sensation shooting up your pelvis, then keeps going. Teasing around your clit with a lathing action that is nothing like you've had before, devouring, using his whole face, strong arms wrapping your thighs in a vice-like grip, held lewdly open It feels so good that within moments you are panting. Still, part of you is tense, scared about your ability to be silent.

“Relax,” he breathes, shaking your hip gently in his grip, sensing the tension in your being. 

“I'm worried I won't be able to stay quiet enough,” you admit, muffled around the pillowcase, looking away to stare at the ceiling as he busses a soft kiss onto your inner thigh.  

“One moment…” he withdraws and hops off the bed. You watch, vaguely dazed, as he drags a heavy chair against the door and wedges it under the handle so it can’t be opened. “There, now we should get some warning.”.

When he turns back around, you instinctively pull the cover over yourself to hide your naked body, even as you can’t help but stare at the tent in his pyjama bottoms, mouth watering at visions of what lies beneath.

“Don’t do that,” he reproaches softly, “show yourself to me.”

Reluctantly, you push the sheet away again, squirming slightly as his eyes roam your body lasciviously as he prowls over to you, stripping off his t-shirt as he does. His naked torso is perfect, toned and honed, and as he crawls over you, you are hypnotised by the view. 

“You are so beautiful,” he sighs, dropping a kiss on the tip of your nose, the scent of your arousal on his face. “Never cover yourself in front of me; you should be proud of your body.”

You’ve never had someone say that before, and your insides are molten, a need for him that burns so bright, an inferno purely of his making.

“Tell me what you want,” he proposes, lacing your fingers with his, kissing your fingertips, then sucking them into his mouth, looking at you expectantly as you stutter at his warm, wet, talented tongue lathing over your fingertips.

“Everything…” you blurt out honestly. “Anything. This is all wonderful… Can I return the favour for you?” you deflect, brushing your other hand tentatively over his bulge as he hovers over you.

“Yes, you bloody can,” he growls, releasing your fingers from his lips as his eyes flash dark. But he grabs your hand away from his cock, calming his tone. “But not tonight. Another time…”

“Another time?” you echo, temporarily stunned by the idea this isn't a never-to-be-repeated Christmas miracle.

“Yes. Why would you think this a one-time thing?” his brow knits as he drops a kiss on your cheek. “What about my actions and words tonight suggest that?”

“Nothing, I suppose,” you concede, “just history…”

He cups your jaw. “The past is the past. This is now and me,” he states clearly, running a thumb tenderly over your lip. “I will do whatever you want. If you tell me to leave this room right now, I will, and I won't think any less of you…”

“Don't you dare,” it's a snarl from some dark recess deep inside you, your legs twining around his to lock him in place.

“There she is…” he chuckles, that lopsided grin taking over his face before kissing a line down your throat. “Now tell me what you want, y/n.”

“I want you inside me,” you confess, running your hands over his naked back, loving the play of muscles under warm skin.

He groans at your words, an edge of teeth on your jugular, making you ripen, feel daring. If he wants to know just how wild he makes you, you are going to show it. You grab his face and drag it up until he is over you again, his pupils blown and his hair a mess from your tugging.

“Fuck me, right now, Ben,” you demand hotly, pushing your body up into his and delving a hand inside the back of his pyjamas to grab his shapely rear, keen for him to be as naked as you.

He snarls and pins your arms beside your head on the pillow.

“Do you have any condoms?” he breathes hot in your ear.

“Ah shit,” your head thumps back, chastising yourself for not planning better. But then this seemed like such an unlikely outcome, frankly miraculous; why on earth would you have?

“Good thing I came prepared then,” he teases, releasing his grip to produce a small packet from the pocket of his pyjamas.

“You….” you scold, equal parts impressed and irked, running your fingers around his waistband. 

“It was a sincere wish, not an expected conclusion,” he smiles bashfully, his lips meeting yours for a searing kiss as he slips off the last of his clothing.

A shiver runs down your spine as he bears you into the mattress, naked, his rigid cock brandishing the inside of your thigh. He keeps kissing you over and over until your lips feel tingly from the slight hint of stubble around his. You wrap all of your limbs around him, craving for your bodies to be melded.

When he pushes up slightly to rip open the packet, you glance down and see, nestled in a patch of trimmed hair, a sizeable but very pretty cock. You can’t resist reaching out and touching it, loving the feel of steely strength under the silky texture; his soft groan is like music to your ears. Sighing his name, you are impatient for him to be inside you, already knowing it will feel wonderful, part of you craving skin on skin. 

Again he wears that demure smile, looking up at you through his lashes, so you take over, eagerly rolling the condom onto that pretty cock and then pulling him down on top of you forcefully.

“I like it when you are just a little bossy,” he confesses into your mouth, one hand pulling the cover over you both, then sliding between your bodies to guide himself towards you.

“I like it when you are a little bossy,” you counter, but then all your words die out as his cock slides insistently into you.

Your eyes roll back as he inches inside, so much heat and girth, your body stretching to accommodate his invasion. You both seem to utter a curse, and your hands grasp each other tight.

“You feel amazing…” he murmurs as he bottoms out, the feeling of fullness so perfect.

You whisper your agreement as he withdraws and surges back in, your feet curling around his legs, toes sliding into the light fuzz on the back of his calves. There are soft sighs, both of you trying to muffle your sounds as he sets a languid pace, your body rolling with his; each push has your walls clinging to him, your breasts squashing against his broad chest. What strikes you most as you move together is that nothing is awkward; it all feels natural, predestined, an easy intimacy that suggests months or even years together rather than a first time.

He feels so good moving inside you, so perfect; all you can do is cling to him, trying to convey with your eyes what you dare not voice. Afraid that if you open your mouth, you will release the noises you are fighting to hold in, blazing in your lungs. His stare is blistering, too, a blush across his face that speaks of desire and denied words, his neck corded, a pulse beating wildly in his prominent vein, a sheen gathering on his forehead as he pushes into you over and over.

His breath is hot on your temple as he shifts, dropping a shoulder and reaching down, looping your leg into the crook of his arm, the sheet pulling taut around your knee as he does. He hits a new spot deep inside with his next thrust, which has you digging your nails into his back and whimpering behind your sealed lips. It's as if he is doing his damnedest to break you, make you cry out, and it's the best torture you have ever known.

You huff out of your nose as he does the same, both sounding winded, as he picks up the pace, your teenage bed starting to squeak in protest.

“Shhh,” you plead with the furniture as much as him.

He stops moving, buried in you, and reaches above, stuffing a throw pillow between the bedframe and the wall, his arms flexing deliciously right over your face, the scent of his body spiking your need. It makes you grasp your thighs around his hips and flip him over, landing with a bounce, him still inside as you are on top of him now.

“Wow, that was…” he looks both astounded and exhilarated.

“Surprising?” you supply with a triumphant crooked smile of your own, your hands tracing the lines of his pectorals.

“Wonderful,” he clarifies, his hands grasping your hips as you start to ride him. The way he looks up at you, with dark pupils and a bitten lip, makes you fearless. Starting a leisurely pace, you place your hands over his on your hips, fingers lacing as his eyes slip from yours briefly, transfixed by his cock disappearing into you.

He groans low, undulating beneath you, pushing up as you sink down, his eyes back to your face, a prideful expression as your mouth drops open, his cock nudging deeper than ever before, almost a dull ache that you need, moving faster now, chasing that hit with every downstroke. You can feel your body flushing hot from the exertion, your thigh muscles burning slightly. Still, you don't waver, too addicted to that feeling of being so utterly filled, his cock dragging all the right places inside that switch off your brain and forget everything, every doubt, every uncertainty about yourself and your body, and just chase pleasure. 

“My god, you are beautiful,” he gasps, “I love to see you like this, so untamed, so free…” 

The compliments just drip like whispered jewels from his tongue as he guides your joined hands up to your breasts and grabs them with a force that fans the heavy, hot feeling in your pelvis, his knuckles snagging your sensitive buds. It makes you want to ride him forever, your clit throbbing each time you sink down, tugging temptingly but not enough to quite tip you over. The clawing sensation of being so close makes you drag your fingernails down his torso and clench around his cock. He stutters and looks at you hungrily, possessed, and then, before you know it, the room tilts as he rolls you back under him, again never leaving your body.

He withdraws and thrusts back into you with such force the wind is knocked out of your lungs, the pillow muffling the thud against the wall. Something in the atmosphere shifts; an urgency, like the heat that has been simmering, is now boiling over for both of you. He grabs your knees and encourages you to wrap your legs high around his torso, tilting your pelvis to a new angle, and when he moves, you cry loudly behind your lips, his body glancing at your clit.

He hushes you with a prideful chuckle. So you grab one of his hands and place it over your mouth, knowing you cannot trust yourself to stay quiet now. The hitch in his breath as you gag yourself with his palm is like poetry. 

Oh, Ben, you have no idea what I may want from you one day…

Your errant thoughts run to your darker fantasies, things you’ve never done before but are intrigued by, and in every one of them, it's him. Treating you just a little rough while you beg for more.

“Whatever you are thinking,” he gusts into your ear, moving faster now, “I hope it involves me.”

You nod, feeling his fingers flex across your face.

“Good, I can't wait for you to tell me,” he rasps lowly.

A bead of sweat forms along his hairline as the whole bed rocks now, the trapped pillow muffling the sound, his punishing pace pushing you ever closer to orgasm, pleasure spiking with each thrust. His hand grips your jaw; something about that pressure and the sweet words he murmurs is a contradiction of primal and tender. Sex before has always been one or the other for you; blended together, it's a potent elixir.

He takes you hard, without mercy, and you silently beg him with your eyes for just that; his cock feels so hot and rigid, pounding into you as your cries are muffled by his tangy palm. The onslaught is perfect, and you are teetering on the edge just as he pleads roughly with you to come with him. So you let yourself go, your mind blanks out, your body bucking under his violently. Shuddering convulsions fanning out from your pussy, gripping tight around him and racing through every ounce of your being, muscles taut, eyes screwed shut, a scream trapped in your lungs. He stills above you, his hand releasing your mouth as that bead of sweat splashes down onto your nose. He curls around you, coming hard, huffing gulps of air and twitching almost violently with tiny aftershocks.

After a pause filled with panted breaths and strokes on overheated skin, he carefully withdraws and discards the condom.

“Merry Christmas,” you giggle into his neck as you collapse together.

He hauls you into his embrace, tucking you under his arm and kissing your dewy forehead. 

“Merry Christmas indeed,” his answer ragged, wrapped in a warm laugh.

And that is how you both drift off - exhausted, sated bodies entwined, damp skin pressed together.

___

A few hours later, you are awakened by overexcited nieces and nephews thundering down the stairs, eager to see what Santa has brought them. It takes a moment to recall what transpired overnight, a telltale delicious residual pang between your legs, followed by the realisation you are alone. Part of you relieved Benedict has snuck back to the safety of the den, but a larger part sad not to be waking up in his arms. Sighing, you roll over and spy a jaunty cartoon penguin Christmas card propped up on your bedside table. Upon opening, you beam, immediately recognising the beautiful, looped handwriting.

Y/n 

Thank you for the most magical night. Leaving this bed might be the hardest thing I have ever had to do. I can’t think of anywhere else I would rather be on Christmas Day or, indeed, any other day of the year. But I don't want your father to be angry with me. I have a lifetime to disappoint him… if you will let me. 

I can't wait to see you downstairs.

Merry Christmas,

B xx

P.S. I may have just booked a hotel for the rest of our stay. I think we deserve some privacy ;)

You giggle, elated; the exciting prospect of nights in a hotel and the pledge of a lifetime ahead makes your stomach leap—this could be the start of something. You momentarily clutch the card to your chest, revelling in your joy, before burying it into your book for safekeeping and going to take a shower.

When you descend the stairs, out of the picture window, you see most of the family gathered on the street with the kids circling on their new bikes. But as you round into the living room, a sight melts your heart. Benedict sitting cross-legged on the floor with Sofia, a novelty Santa hat perched on his head, surrounded by shreds of wrapping paper, festive music playing in the background as he puts batteries in some loud plastic toy that will no doubt drive everyone up the wall for the rest of the day. 

She whoops with delight as the toy noisily springs to life and runs away to play with it. That's when he looks up and sees you watching from the doorway, his face lighting up. Slowly, he gets to his feet, and then you gasp as he wordlessly pulls you into his arms, brings your hand to his face and kisses your knuckles before starting to waltz.

“I didn't know you could dance like this, Mr Bridgerton,” you tease, impressed, allowing him to lead you around, dodging haphazard toys and boxes.

“Oh, there are so many, many things you have yet to learn about me, Ms y/l/n,” he proclaims alluringly as Frank Sinatra croons from the speaker.

♫ It's that time of year  When the world falls in love Every song you hear seems to say Merry Christmas May your New Year's dreams come true. ♫

“I hope you don't have plans for New Year's,” he whispers into your hair as he brings you to a halt. “I would very much like you to accompany me to Aubrey Hall. As my girlfriend,” he explains, grinning. “Not fake,” he adds drolly after a pause.

You laugh, feeling lightheaded and giddy, but just as you go to answer, you are both interrupted by a little hand tugging on his jeans. 

“Uncle Ben, you are my favouritist,” Sofia declares solemnly. “Will you visit every Christmas?”

Meeting your gaze, his expression contains multitudes. 

“It would be my greatest honour, Sofia,” he replies to her, even though his eyes never stray from yours.

Benedict taglist: @makaylan @foreverlonginguniverse @iboopedyournose @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @margofiore @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @angels17324 @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @benedictspaintbrush @miindfucked @sorryallonsy @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @truly-dionysus @fictionalmenloversblog @zinzysstuff @malpalgalz @panhoeofmanyfandoms @kinokomoonshine @causeimissu @delehosies @m-rae23 @last-sheep @kmc1989 @desert-fern @starkeylover @corpseoftrees-queen @magical-spit @bunnyweasley23 @how-many-stars-in-the-sky @amygdtjhddzvb @sya-skies

Lights divider by @/saradika [x]

[daddyissuesducks]

Im not going to tag this on anything but I really do just need to breakdown for myself why I'm not enjoying this show at the point I'm at in it.

So my GF and I have been watching the vampire diaries because it's a show that means a lot to them and I genuinely did really enjoy it. Mostly because I found it genuinely well written and engaging. I liked the characters, I cared about their relationships, but I'm half way through season 4 and honestly these last few episodes have been such a massive downgrade in quality. The plot is so convoluted that I myself, a new viewer, am having to explain why the fuck anything that is happening on screen makes sense to my girlfriend who's a long time fan. And that's not on her. I absolutely understand why it's confusing as fuck because if you miss like 2 line of dialogue or don't remember a random legend told as back ground filler 6 episodes ago it makes literally no sense. I'm surviving on a meta writers instinct of hearing that legend and going "oh that guy's giving villian energy, that's gonna be the plot" and putting the pieces together through a writer's lense of what makes the most sense to write dramatically which isn't how you should be expecting an audience to view your show. It makes me historically very good at predicting twists which you shouldn't want your audience to be. The other plot of the love triangle was really really interesting for the first couple of episodes but since the sire twist has become almost unwatchable. I liked the love triangle this season because it was literally Elana at a transitional stage in her life choosing what kind of person she wanted to be. Each love interest represented a different kind of life she could live and she had to chose that. But now it is the literal opposite. But I can deal with bad plots as long as the characters are interesting and

Elana: has literally had all her agency removed by magic despite her drive and agency being what made her an interesting protagonist in the first place. She bucked the trend of a love triangle hinge in that she was active in her decisions. I felt like I had a really clear idea of her inner thoughts and motivations. But now she has literally had all her agency but her love for a man removed by the plot

Stephan: was interesting at the start of the season. I like when he shows his flaws and his stubborn resistance against letting Elana break his moral system to the point of nearly killing her was interesting. It showed a flaw. He was appealing because he respected her choices as a human but as a vampire, he can't because he is terrified she will end up like him. It's the issue with empathy and empathy one of his major traits as a vampire is going to be heightened and so is it's downsides. He is putting himself in her shoes but not realising that his own bias' effect how he believes she's going to behave. But then it turns out he's right and she should have just been able to do what he said but couldn't because plot, fundamentally less interesting. He is now serving the only purpose of sulking that she dared to sleep with the person she was obviously going to sleep with when they broke up. I get that her sleeping with his brother is bad but like, my guy you knew. You literally said you couldn't be with her because she had feeling for him. And I'm getting less vibes of "I'm mad my ex slept with my brother because it's my brother and feels shitty" and more "I'm mad Elana is having sex with anyone but me even though we broke up" which is very much not how he behaves. Idk, I fell of team Stephan with the bridge incident, the fact they ever dated after that point is honestly insane imo. I get he was a ripper at that point but given how that's a metaphor for addiction, I don't buy it. It is possible absolutely to love an addict and they deserve that love but you have to put boundaries down. If your alcoholic boyfriend threatens to kill you while drunk, makes you fully believe they're going to do it, before saying sorry lol I was never really going to, you fucking leave. Yes the alcohol made them do it but you get out and maybe try and make sure they're getting a different kind of help if you can when you do. I don't mind the plot having her date him again, people are complicated and so are emotions in relationships like that, but it should realise that when he did that he stopped being the good choice.

Daemon: honestly he's still fine but he's not allowed to do anything but pine over the siring and love triangle. He's not carrying enough plot for him to save it

Tyler: honestly bores me a little. I liked him when his plot was just him and Caroline but he leans way way too much on toxic masculity for me to be invested. I do not care about wolf pack power dynamics I'm sorry, I just don't. I don't feel the stakes. I just feel like half my time is spent watching people fight over their egos. Werewolves are an interesting concept but I get so turned off them by pack dynamic plots. It doesn't help that his actor is pretty terrible too

Tyler's wolf girl friend: performance is very flat imho

Ric: I love him but dead

Jenna: love her but dead

Carol: love her but dead

Bonnie's grandma: love her but dead

Anna: love her but dead

Lexi: love her but dead

Rose: love her but dead

Meredith: written out

Everyone on the council but the cop: dead

The sheriff: oink oink

Elijah: my blorbo but absent

Katherine: facinating but absent

Bonnie: relegated to literally just a macguffin. I hate this for her. In the Jenny Nicholson video she mentions this being a big problema ndnfor the first 3 seasons I didn't believe her but she was completely right and I hate it. Bonnie is a deeply interesting character with interesting relationships with the main cast but she's not even close with any of them anymore.

Caroline: I loved her so much but shes just mostly doing the dull love triangle plot and isn't getting to be anything beyond a bitchy best friend sterotype, which was what she started as an initial refution of

Matt: I do not care about him basically at all. Any affection I had for him was killed by him fucking kidnapping Elana and getting her killed.

Jeremy: I don't care as much about him as I do Elana but also a victim of a plot based removal of agency. This is a theme and I hate it

Shane: i just don't find him an engaging villian I'm sorry. I don't understand him enough to.

April: she's ok, I just don't feel like I know her enough beyond dead dad and sweet

Klaus: I do like him. But I like Klaus when he's not supposed to be intimidating me because he can't do it. If Klaus is acting like a charmer or a snot nosed kid ruler having a tantrum he works amazingly. If he is being treated like the big scary unpredictable villian I don't like him anywhere near as much.

Kol: annoying and boring. The worst original by like 10 miles

Rebekah: literally the only reason I'm still watching. She is my baby, she is my darling sweet cheese. She deserves all the love and attention in the world and she can kill, torture, and maim as much as she needs to get it. I'm glad she's undaggered so she can save this show.

[misterbitches]

i had the misfortune of finally watching/getting through what happened in whatever episode where he gets raped so im gonna talk about it and tag it cos that's what a bitch fuckin feels like, got it? i do what i want aint no limit bad ass bitch aint never been timid. woopsie realized i got the nicknames confused oh well lmao

it's just logistically and plot wise like there's literal plot holes in this and i'm taking the production and set-up into account along with the actual content and development. im an ARTIST OKAY im jk i mean i am and i am pretentious and terrible but look. i didnt get that degree and im not in a house worth of debt for nothing ok. it's called writing on tumblr about my grievances of shows that dont matter and do not respect me as a fat black american woman either so it is my fault yet here i am.

anyway it was worse than i imagined and their talk after (with chengren) was even worse. that's what i mean about making the lines their own (the actors) bc teng teng sounded like a straight up motherfucking moron and im like

bECAUSE IT'S HIM EVEN THO IM LIKE WHAT THE FUCK DID U JUST SAY U STUPID BITCH? but then it's like awwww and they also care about his wellbeing obviously??? but no? but it's like ok still teng teng said it even if it's stupid because he is a character and charles puts that forth. the people that fail the most to do that are xing si's family but that's not the actors fault because it's the literal material. you're like wait what but you just said...?

so i know they have no script editors i guess i think i find this season ACTUALLY fascinating because of just how egregious it is. i also went back and watched history: obsessed which i thought i liked because of their chemistry even though god the production....but i tried rewatching it and i was like wow this is worse than i remembered and the production issues were even worse because some of the music was SO LOUD AND BAD HOLY FUCK and their whole rship isssssss a sight to behold lmao

so man i guess it really is the power of anson/charles. which is good cos we love to see it...sort of but also a lot.

i honestly....because i've been able to pay attn more to the aftermath of the rape going back and putting it into more context and focusing (just barely lmao) is hm even worse. the inconsistencies are insane. it's not even just about the act but the writers have zero idea where they are going because they have no interest in exploring it. but the way in which it happens is like fascinating. yong jie literally thinks he owns xing si and it doesn't matter if he was kissing him or not or asked for a kiss on the lips (which dude what the fuck? i'll get to that) because he was plied with "extremely strong drinks" and his mom knew about it....which girl congrats you're an accomplice to the rape of your son by your other son?

but first of all...the kissing thing. in what fucking world would he (xing si) want that unless he thought he (yong jie) was someone else. i can't say their attraction is evident because we are being lead by this team to think so; they create this false sense of sensuality already so to me that signifies that they never intended for them to have a bond as brothers. it just feels cheap and fucking lazy (which it is.) even if he did, which doesn't make sense considering the context THEY CONSTRUCTED, it wouldn't matter because he was so fucking drunk which.... at that point nothing is fun, you feel sick, who wants sex like that? does he not have whiskey dick? did they have a condom? was it not painful for him considering? even if this was something to easily get over like was the dick good? it couldn't have been. and then, on top of that, there's the fact that you can change your mind or whatever but also that people do get aroused in these situations bc it is human nature (that's if they can literally get aroused which if the drinks were allegedly sooooo strong that nigga would be out so....again like even practically here it doesnt add up. have these people ever been drunk? if not, write what you know girl. cos sometimes it's like i think some of u r trying to be cool when u dont have 2 b lmao)

so yong jie coming on to him previously may be seen as like push-and-pull but here's the thing. right after it happens (the rape and it's rape so call it that you'll be okay) xing si gets up and goes home and is terrified and upset. he acts like what we have seen or even felt after a violation. he's scared, clutching his bag, it's like...you know...decently coming off as truly distressing (the actor isn't bad at all and i like that he's dark. i just massively hate this for him but hey at least he can show some chops.) like honestly man that fucking sucks and hurts to see. if we've been there we feel it. or part of it is realizing belatedly what happened. a lot of times that drop in your stomach is the worst.

but somehow for some reason, to which i cannot understand, the three of them begin to talk as if xing si pressured him? which maybe i missed something and that is possible—dont feel like going back to look—but that also made no sense. like what kind of false memory is this? why would he think he wasn't willing? and if he thought yong jie wasn't and that he pressured him how does he remember like...anything about the sex?!?!??!? besides waking up and being with him. like i guess he felt yong jie's MASSIVE DONG imprint but ??!?!?!?!??!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!??!?!?!?!??!? MAKE IT MAKE SENSE!!!!!

god then the logic of the top/bottom thing is like i said i wasnt going to get into it but it's actually really funny. this whole thing was hilarious. honestly because I DO NOT UNDERSTAND WHAT THAT MEANS. he could have totally raped him in that way but how did you get to this CONCLUSION FROM THAT??????? BY YOUR LOGIC THAT'S NOT HOW IT WORKS? IF HE IS THE BOTTOM AND PENETRATION IS THE ONLY FORM OF TRUE CONSUMMATION AND RAPE BECAUSE APPARENTLY, BASED ON ANATOMY, IF YOU HAVE A DICK IN UR BUTT UR A GIRL THEN HOW. DOES. THIS. MAKE. SENSE. AND THEN

AND THEN

AND THEN

AND THEN

this whole stupid conversation happens so we get to the conclusion that xing si violated him ok cool but that means that something is wrong. that is the CONCLUSION WE CAME TO A SECOND AGO?

also the other rapist is a villain and muren isn't in love with him so, once again, you're breaking the rules of your own world about acceptability which is why most of this is absolutely mind bogggglinG that iit's fuckign comical. like i actually when i can stomach it start laughing or my jaw is slack because it's so insulting as a viewer because there is like 0 logical followthrough.

because whatshisface barges in, kisses him in front of his friends without permission, then says whether you were willing or not which is hm. at that point how u gonna change that around but let's not bother with logic here. i am simply here to point out how this makes no sense according to the rules they set up even outside of the basic rule of life which is hm dont rape people maybe.

so now we know xing si was raped, they believe he was raped, he himself believes he was raped, and whatshisface literally says he doesn't care even if he was willing (he wasn't) so he admits to rape. i don't believe in the police and i hate them (BL industry needs the cops but dont get me down that road) but no one...thought to go?

because according to history 4 logic nothing matters so im sure if he went to the police you could handwave the homophobia since there's no actual context for anything besides their whimsy. but they dont want to do that because they aren't interested in an arc of growth; redemption isn't possible unless he is removed from the family but again no work on thinking this through or thinking about the victim's feelings. because gay sex? who fucking knows. supposedly progressive taiwanese writers of gay shit (like how supposedly progressive the world is. as in it is not and this behavior is the norm and bl perpetuates that) can't think of transformative justice?

and then they gave bad advice so we wont acknowledge that because teng teng doing anything wrong/stupid is frequent but hurts me and also that storyline is not real so i pretend they are not there outside of this post

so all of this is just straihgt up clownery now because it's fucking absurd like logically, practically, human-wise. the kissing thing is inconsequential but it was such a lazy cheap way out lmao cos they really wanted it to seem consensual but that's not how it works. on top of that their attraction makes no sense because whatshisface is just there. he is just there. he's nothing and no one so the sentiments are even more empty and on top of that he doesnt listen to a single request fucking obviously because the basis of their relationship is fucking rape so fucking listening and respecting his partner is not on his list of fucking priorities. he's literally so fucking annoying even without being a rapist it's like someone please beat his ass.

and then after all of that you want us to feel bad? with your horrible writing, poorly misplaced music, stupid costumes (those fucking SHOES THEY ARE HIDEOUS, AND MOST OF THIER CLOTHES DO NOT FIT IT'S LIKE WHY), questionable fucking editing. we're supposed to wnat them together? this sounds literally fucking crazy but bear with me lmao even with the rape they could at least have SOMETHING i mean like i cant believe im fucking saaying this. but like in addicted heroin which is fuckin tragic and awful at least there's a MODICUM of interest but honestly that show s a fucknig drag. idk they lookd good together? here we have 0. nothing. and it doesnt motivate. watching obsessed again i can see why i liked it in the beginning bc they have good chemistry but the acting and production adn like everything about it plus the rape-y vibes it's just too much. you need to pick one thing so if you're going to be a shit writer at least supplement it with something. this thing is nothing.

and even more nonsensical and what boggles my mind frankly out of all this is the mother's involvement and the father's final response. there are NO consequences? theyre all happy?

ok so lets go through this:

1. 2 boys grow up 2gether, one of the boys is fucking psycho, the mother knows but does nothing??????????????

2. one of the sons moves out so his father doesn't get a hint that's he's fucking gay. ok fine. he has 2 best friends, a job, an apt. he is fine.

3. aforementioned brother is obsessed with him for SOME REASON besides being crazy?

3.5 no one has done anything during him growing up to help him not be crazy?

4. mom says to husband who is their father also just in case we forget "im afraid he will lose his humanity"

4.5 again, do nothing. 0. just like oh man hes crazy. guess that's just our son ;)

4. who cares. plies him with alcohol purposefully to rape him. not even dubious (even though dubious is fucked and not okay or is just not. fucking real. these shows are contextless when they want to be or even movies or whatever so it's like largely not up to the task to understand complexity in human rships and then oversimplifies it constantly because that's what we do IRL. but people have fucking feelings you know and we realize when things don't feel good or right to us either very quickly after or having to process it. and once you're eyes are opened you may feel as something was fucking ripped away from you. for the modc couple this would be a very logical conclusion for the high schooler the thirty year old dated but again logic or feelings are up to their whimsy. no one cares bc everything can be counted as dubious so honestly it's a fucking stupid fucking topic like again why are we litigating what is and isnt consent when you could just like idk. read cues? consent? wait? not be a freak? like we all know what is proper human shit so even if we are watching this uncritically which u cant bc it's glaring and stupid it's just even more dumb) so it was honestly a rape plot like he literally planned it soooooooooo??!?!

5. aftermath of rape the victim is like literally fucking bereft and confused. and a rape victim. like that's what they are insinuating and what also he is to be clear.

6. boy tells him "idc if i raped u i luv u lmao"

7. mom ENCOURAGED THE BOY to get him drunk because her other son was too nice? she encouraged her adult son to rape her adult step-son (but her real son because she repeatedly says you are my son and the dad does too THEY GREW UP TOGETHER WHEN THE KID WAS IN AN IMPRESSIONABLE STATE) so THIS ALSO MAKES EVEN LESS MOTHERFUCKING SENSE

8. everyone finds out about his rape and he isnt mortified he's just concerned about himself being gay to his dad?????? except it's not really about his gayness bc now it's about his sudden love for his rapist brother? which? hm ok. understandable the dad is like wow i do not think i like this

9. dad knows all of it is fucked up, everyone does, knows the mother fucked up, knows he fucked up. doesnt like it because he is normal. so we know this is terrible? ok great so—

10. father says "i can't accept this...but i'm willing to give you my blessing" ok see here's the thing. when you write you have to think about the things you are putting on the page and what you have written previously. this quite literally made no sense how the fuck are you going to not accept them but give them your blessing? does this crew know what the fuck words are? i'm assuming they went to some sort of school to obtain jobs here bc there cannot be natural talent or experience. maybe most of them are rich. fuck i do not know but this also makes no sense. just the literal logic of it it's like fucking insane the whiplash.

10.5 apparently this father is also shitty. everyone here sucks and they are basically begging me to think xing si is a fucking idiot so i dont even want to look at him if he is an object he doesnt matter so now i want to kick him. thanks a lot you made the victim get absolutely fucking nothing

they KEEP PUSHING the brother thing it is so insane and it's liek GUYS WE GET IT WE UNDERSTAND THEYRE "RELATED" BUT NOT RELATED SO IT'S OK HE WAS "RAPED" BUT NOT RAPED but you're GOING BACK ON YOUR OWN RULES!!!!!!!!!! WE GET THAT THEY ARE BROTHERS!!! WE'RE OVER IT NOW BUT WHAT IS THIS WHEN WE ALREADY ESTABLISHED SOMETHING? I AM CONFUSION? they flip flop between my son, my brother my actual brother, and cannot fucking distinguish between love for your father and love for your romantic partner? so to me what i see is that the father wants to fuck the son. that's the conclusion i am garnering now considering nothing matters and his love for his "brother" is the same as his love for his dad lmao. they couldnt even do that in a way that made sense. like damn anybody can get anything. these ppl who are doing this have to be fucking rich and/or have connections.

also this guy sounds literally like a textbook abuser like he says constantly "im the best choice" is a rapist is awful holds capital (oh hees "saving" smh ur trapping her!!!!! RETIRE!!!!) also wears terrible shoes so i am like ur alllllllllLLLLL FUCKING CRAZY ur all literally crazy and then they are trying to set rules and boundaries in their fucking house like WHY ARE THEY LIVING TOGETHER EVEN? even tho oh my god they know he raped him and for some reason they are both allowing to live in the house but they dont want them to have sex??!?!?!??!??!?!?!?!??!?!?!?!?!?!?!??!?!!?!?!?!?!!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!??!?!??!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!!??!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!??!?!?!?!?!?! i get that this is their house but this is like at this point these ppl are writing anything and now whatshisface is acting like a 2 yr old again and we are supposed to find this cute? like it makes 0 sense why do u fucking care u literally encouraged ur son to rape him so they cant have consensual sex under your nose now and have to wait four years? this is coming from the son who couldnt wait until someone was sober enough to realize hes fucking psychotic and should be killed also the fact that they act like being 20 means u have no fucking brain like this kid is in med school supposedly how do we know like hes a liar and an idiot so. also wait do they mean undergrad? how are you in med school at 20? is he a genius? girl i dont care lmao i guess i missed that but it's not like it matters so whatever

even if we ignore the stupidity of the literal acts, the grossness of the content, the absolute inability to write coherently or even remotely in a way where we would even want to see them together which is like....u set it up at the beginning so he punches "the love his life's best friend" also holy fuck im sorry remember when he punches muren because xing si got too drunk. so i'm guessing whatshisface is that good of a bartender that he makes super strong drinks and gets xing si drunk but his alcohol is magical therefore it doesn't make him sick. his alcohol is the type that gets you drunk but somehow doesnt get to your liver even though that's how we get drunk but dont ask guys he's only in med school and a bartender so i think he knows best (seriously have the main writers had a day of fun in their lives? have they ever been drunk? are they toddlers? drunk babies could probably do better tho.) i get that he was also jealous but if this kid is SOOOOOO genius (he understands social cues lmao he has the cpacity to project onto his victim so im like miss me with the not understanding shit. go to a fucking therapist like seriously did no one care abt this kid? his mother thinks he's like almost a goddamn murderer. how is she not dead? how are they all not dead? how do any of them know how to drive with this type of brain?) then he would understand that they are very clearly friends since he watched them part in a very platonic way and since he apparently knows what love is cos he thinks....he can....make someone fall in love with him bc he loves them? again, i wouldnt know hes 20 and taiwanese and im 29 and black from AMERICA so im WESTERN* so you know. different life experiences i guess XD

even if we do mental gymnastics to get it to a place where they "had sex" and he didnt rape him there's 0 ZERO ZERO ZERO ZERO ties to the literal story they wrote and the rules they set up. i'm going ot assume they dont know wtf theyre doing and i know for a fact we all care more about their dumb show than they do but it's actually startling how piss poor this is it's like idek what to compare it to. the continuity is awful awful awful they needed a script supervisor majorly and they are making bank and are going to make fucking bank fof this shit. and itll just continue like that until IRL material changes and that's facilitated by these very same groups they choose to profit off of and exploit by propelling it into the mainstream and litigating homosexuality through capitalism. and i'm being specific with homosexuality. i dont want a GL market like at all and i know why we wouldnt have it either and that has everything to do with the nature of BL, capitalism, coercion, and the fanbase being young girls and women. i don't think in this day and age we can safely say all the fans are straight; i'm sure a majority but many women or people on the gender spectrum and sexuality spectrum also consume it. frankly, it's possible the women who write it could be or something too. i dont rly believe any1 is str8 lmao but im just saying it's not out of the realm of possibility. but it isnt about that at all. that's why we wont see "good" female characters (like well written) often that's why we won't see trans women or kathoeys or fat people or black asians in it. a lot of it is is a choice we participate in whatever. but holy fuck dude u could at least respect the audience's fucking intelligence. i'm talking about everything i think that is encapsulated in the project but it's even more jarring and worse because it's so insanely inconsistent and poorly done. like how we jump from one conclusion to another is wild to me. even their first "night together" and he wakes up im like girl....u no ur ass felt it. this nigga broke into his house and was like "im gonna have u" like it's getting weird

just make xing si suffer offscreen not us the stupidity is staggering, mind blowing, hilarious.

how wong kar wai, a straight man from HK (or at least married to a woman), or barry jenkins, a striahgt black man, write/do stories well about people they wouldnt knw about their experiences directly is....well thinking like using their brains and like knowing all types of people? the man who co-wrote moonlight is a hOMOSEXUAL, leslie cheung was fucking gay or queer (and he committed suicide and that's important also RIP homie) both are hailed as queer cinema like WKW wanted to do something else and invested time into it, changed the way he played around with structure, moved away from his crime oriented stuff. he THOUGHT about it and this film is about their reality. it's a harsh film, idk how i feel about it (but my fav movies of his are the crime ones or the messy ones where it's clear he didnt write a script lmao fallen angels is one of my fav movies its' abt assassins kinda) but i know it means something. and he didnt like what HK had previously wasnt enough. it is not the only cinema that should be shown since it's such a stark reality and depressing but it is a real depiction so we can have all sorts of stuff. no this isnt WKW level or moonlight level but i know for a fact these people think they are doing something because artists always do i say this as one and someone who is equally as useless. you're making a statement.

i also hate the westerner component of peoples analyses. first of all dont do cultural relativism. we can critique and respect. but second of all how are we going to keep saying "dont put western ideals on this" when that is what is happening anyway because that's part and parcel for soft power and capitalism. how about taiwan's history with the KMT? what about the regimes young people fought about? aided by US imperialism which permeates through society and affects material conditions, views, democracy, identity and that goes into culture and media. hm? what about that? is that reality too fucking western for people? that we are doing the same thing again now? is that okay to talk about or is that only on your time?

then there's the argument that this is just entertainment. yea no shit but the thing is if we r gonna talk about marginalized groups and watch bc of marginalized groups and then be expected to identify then i dont see why i cant put this in context. even if it wasnt fucking serious we'd still judge it. but it's so pompous and again like i wouldnt say EYE think it's art but it is "art" in the literal sense and no self respecting artist would ever go "man this means nothing." of course im not sure if they do respect themselves so hey but u cant just go oh man it's entertainment when it literally rests on the fact that HOMOS are MARGINALIZED. it literally rests on the fact that WOMEN ARE OBJECTS. you either want progress or you dont. i dont understand being so demanding but not beign specific in the demands and not trying to use your brain. if you dont want to use your brain don't. but if you are looking , engaging, and keep making these arguments or telling ppl it doesnt matter whilst complaining about how much others care is hypocritical at best, willfully obtuse at worst. both bad. :)

(also all this + another thing; it is insulting to have this like wedding happen based off of this stupid relationship when people fought so hard and had to push it. now they can use the material conditions to their advantage but it's so ridiculous. also because there is difficulty still in getting married in taiwan i'm honestly like....the boldness of the writers...)

[bottlecaprabbitgames]

I'm just genuinely curious, but are you just generally against anything morally ambiguous and dark? Like I've seen writers tackle less than savory topics, but it's not like I would go so far as to demonize them for exploring such subject matters? I suppose part of me feels like fiction has always been a space meant to explore anything, regardless if it's bad or not? Idk, I guess this is your opinion at the end of the day and there will always be a disparity in personal experience coming to play.

I... no? A lot of my writing has that lol. My issue comes from a point where a lot of other points authors have to, y'know, consider:

A. Who is my audience? How will what I create affect them? How do I want it to affect them?

B. Is the trauma/mental illness (if that is being used) necessary to being used? Am I demonizing the people who suffer from it? Have I researched enough to be able to accurately show it versus y'know Hollywood bullshit.

C. Have I put appropriate warnings on my content? Have I made sure to put the more serious/major warnings in print where people will see them clearly?

D. Is my use of whatever I'm using necessary (be it suicide, self harm, depression, drug addiction,what have you)?

Sounds like a lot, but it's really not! It's the difference in making a dark experience feel real and not doing what Hollywood does versus potentially causing my audience harm or demonizing a group of people unfairly. (By "unfairly" I mean like... demonizing depressed people is ??? shitty and gross versus demonizing like... neoNazis. Nazis. Racists. those sorts.)

I don't know if you're here about Tierra, Samuel, or Devon lol so idk what you're referring to exactly so:

Tierra did not have proper warnings, and in my personal opinion the scene is absolutely unnecessary and is done in bad taste. (And as some people seem confused, I'm talking about a scene in S1. Not whatever is apparently going on in S2??? I read to S1 Ep7 and I had to stop so.)

Devon constantly uses dark topics for shock value, and among the things he uses is r*pe, sexism, misogyny, and in some places the sexualization of people in a sexually harrassing/r*pe situation. If you don't see an issue with that, coming from a white conservative older man... buddy, I really can't help you there.

Samuel... lord, Samuel is just... same as Devon, he uses shock value, but he's also been shown to be a pretty nasty person... still not over how when someone leaked the awful shit he said about some staff on CoG (SPECIFICALLY WOMEN, I MIGHT ADD), he pretended someone stole his username and had his friends back him up... who have all also shown icky behavior on and off forum (Samuel included). He's also been shown to attack lady authors and send his cronies after them. Absolutely rancid behavior, still don't get how he's not 100% permanently banned along with his alternative account.

So, no, I don't have an issue with dark content. I have an issue with how people treat it and handle it, and for all the shit Malin's done, that's one thing I have to hand to him, he did actually do a great job with dark content, at least in book one of FHR.

[paradise-creator]

Hellooo!! I love love LOVE the diamond box matchup you did!! You're amazing!! Your blog is incredible!! Now I'm here for a romantic haven box Haikyuu matchup pls🥺

Appearance: My name is Kay! She/her, black, straight, 5'1, I have a slightly athletic & curvy-ish figure (lol idk), short-ish hair(like mid-neck), dark brown eyes, shoe size 9, I like to dress comfy so I'm always in oversized hoodies, sweatpants, sneakers, sweatshirts and shorts. I like colorful clothes too, high waisted jeans and shorts and boots. I'm not very fashionable but I try lol.

Personality:

Basics: infp-t, Hufflepuff, Taurus sun, scorpio moon, sanguine, chaotic good, ambivert.

Some positive traits: I'm optimistic, friendly, energetic, organized, enthusiastic, observant, happy, open-minded, loving, encouraging and inquisitive!!

Some negative traits: I'm annoying, perfectionist, insecure, forgetful, easily distracted, kinda lazy, argumentative, too nice at times and clingy.

I love learning new things!! Currently I'm learning Korean, how to draw, how to paint and songs on the saxophone.

When I'm up for it, I love fun physical activity!! Going for a hike, going to the gym, bungee jumping, mountain climbing, going camping and etc :D

Although I love going out, nothing beats lazy days at home. I can spend hours by myself and still be happy. When alone I usually sleep or watch a movie/anime or practice my drawing or saxophone or try and learn something new!

I have a horrible memory and can never remember important dates 😭 I've forgotten my own birthday a few times (rip) so people can get mad at me for missing appointments, forgetting birthdays and other important days. I try my best to organize everything necessary on my phone calendar so I can be reminded.

I love seeing people happy! Nothing can fulfill my day more than knowing I put a smile on someone's face! I usually try my best to help out anyone who needs it and to the best of my ability! This has led to me getting taken advantage of in the past but I can't help but try and make others happy. I've developed a thicker skin and some trust issues as I've grown up because of it.

I love hyping my friends/family up!! Do you need a boost in confidence? Here I am, ready to help you remember the absolute king/queen/royalty that you are!! I'm usually very energetic and enthusiastic about many things and I love spreading positivity around!!

My love language is physical touch! So touch is very important to me in my relationships. Though I am insecure so I tend to think that I smother the people I care about with too much affection idk lol. I live for hugs and cuddles and hand holding 👉🏿👈🏿 but because of that I feel like I'm very clingy and annoying skskfksjd

I'm introverted in nature so although I mean usually full of energy and love making new friends, I can't do it for too long lol. My social battery runs out really fast and I have to hide away and recharge before I can be fully social again, otherwise I won't be my best self. I treasure personal time and understand when people need time for themselves too.

I love spontaneity!! I love living in the moment and doing stuff just for the hell of it!! Wanna go on a road trip? Dance in the rain? Build houses for charity? Go to McDonald's at 2am? Go on a long walk? SIGN ME UP!!

I can also be lazy and unmotivated to do stuff. If something doesn't interest me, I'd find myself incapable of doing it or I'd do it with great difficulty. I'm one of those 'do something when inspiration/motivation hits you otherwise it'll be absolute shit' types.

But when I do have motivation/inspiration that's when my perfectionism comes in and I have to do it in the best possible way and anything less is an insult to me, my family, my ancestors and descendants lmaoo. Unfortunately I subconsciously set a very high bar for myself which can be overwhelming and stressful but when I manage to produce work of that quality, it's very satisfying and rewarding jshkshdhsj

I have more to add but I feel like this is getting way too long 💀 lemme just move to the next section heheheh

Hobbies: I LOVE listening to music, learning new things, watching movies/anime, sleeping, reading, writing, playing saxophone (I'm still learning tho lol), swimming, drawing, journaling, making friends, and cooking!

My music taste: any type of rock (punk rock, grunge, j-rock, metal), pop, KPOP, RnB, jazz, dubstep, lofi hip hop, rap, trap, krnb, anime OP's and bangers from: Elvis, the beach boys, Queen, Khalid, Ateez, Harry styles, Kendrick Lamar, p!atd, mcr, fallout boy, Nirvana, BTS, mxmtoon, Marianas trench, twenty one pilots, stray kids, Jay Park, crush, Dreamcatcher, Skrillex, MJ, troye sivan etc

Fun facts:

I'm more of a cat person but I live dogs and think they're adorable!!

I have four piercings and I plan on getting more soon!!

I'm a night owl, and get super grumpy in the mornings especially when woken up unexpectedly >:/

Although I love making friends, I only have like 1/2 super close friends and like 20+ acquaintances lol

I want to get a tattoo soon but idk what to get :(

I'm super addicted to coffee (rip) and if I don't take some for some time (like a week) I'll get the worst migraines and I won't feel better until I drink some coffee 😭

That's it!! I hope i wrote enough stuff!! Did I leave anything out? If you need more pls tell me and I'll send another ask :D Take your time!! I'm in no rush. I'll patiently wait even though you get writers block or have a large amount of asks 😌 pls stay safe and healthy!! Drink lots of water, sleep well and have an amazing day/night!! 💙✨

↬ ──:.⃗➹ +.*༉‧ᵕ̈°`*↷. ೃ₊✎⸙͎˚- ̗̀✧: ──↫

┊         ┊       ┊   ┊    ┊        ┊       ┊         ⊹

┊  ⋆｡   ┊       ┊   ┊    ┊        ┊      ⋆｡˚. ੈ

┊         ┊ ⋆｡  ┊   ┊   ˚✩ ⋆｡˚  ✩

┊         ┊       ┊   ✫

┊         ┊       ☪︎⋆                                      ⋆✩

┊ ⊹     ┊                     ⋆｡˚. ੈ

✯ ⋆      ┊ .  ˚                                   ⊹

           ˚     ✩

Dream catcher loading...

ɴᴏᴡ ʟᴏᴀᴅɪɴɢ

□□□□□0%

■□□□□20%

■■□□□40%

■■■□□60%

■■■■□80%

■■■■□90%

■■■■■100%

*ﾟ ﾟ･ ✧.｡. *. •.°

┊┊┊┊           

┊┊┊☆                 

┊┊☁️　　

┊┊┊    

┊┊                  

┊☆　

┊┊       

☁️   

┊  

☁️

Hello and Welcome my Starlight!

The Haven box includes:

- Match up

- Sun drop

- Journal of Feelings

- 3 am shenanigans

───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡✱ ───

I'd match you up with

Sugawara Koushi, Vice-captain of Karasuno

───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡✱ ─���─

Sun drops

- OKAY so like, as I read your description I thought of Akaashi or Yaku or Sugawara

- Me being the indecisive author I am had trouble picking

- But then I remembered that you loved to do spontaneous things.

- And that's when I realized that Sugawara is THE ONE

- You two would be deemed the "3 am couple"

- Or in the team it would be "Epitome of Chaos"

- He takes care of you

- He will alway remind you that you don't need to be perfect

- Insecurities? BE GONE

- Nagativity? BE GONE

- That's basically his motto

- He is both your mom and partner in Crime

- did I mention he will take care of you?

- CUDDLES AND KISSES FOR DAYS

───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡✱ ───

Journal of feelings

- Once this man realizes that you LOVE physical affection. He will give it to you. EVERYTIME HE SEES YOU

Kay entered the gym to watch her boyfriend play. She tried sneaking in and so far it has been great. She thought she was off the hook but then felt a familiar arms wrapped around her waist. "I found you~" Sugawara said with a smile.

- You both would often plan pranks and majority of the times, it would succeed

"Okay okay, so what are we doing today?" Kay asked the silver haired male. "Oh~ maybe we can scare Asahi or anyone for that matter with a beetle?" Sugawara suggested. "That's--no," Kay responded.

───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡✱ ───

3 am shenanigans

It’s 3 am in the morning. Almost everyone is fast asleep or in their homes, well almost. The night sky is littered with diamond in the sky. The streets were silent but it was comforting. A few people walked here and there. And a few cars passes by there and here. “What are we doing up so late?” A silver haired man said as he yawned. “We’ll be going to Mc Donald’s! What else?” The female responded as she smiled at him. “Is it even open at this time?” He asked. “Koushi, darling, it is open,” Kay, the lover of our beloved silvered male man said as she smiled. Sugawara chuckled and held her hand, the smile on his face was evident. “You know, we should be sleeping by now right?” He said as he pulled her closer. “And so what? I wasn’t planning on sleeping early! I slept the whole day yesterday and missed the chance to hang out with you,” The girl responded.

A small blush appeared on the male’s face and he giggled. “That’s very sweet bu-“ He was about to say but was silenced by the girl. “That was very sweet but we could’ve done this later on or tomorrow. Well, sorry to break it to you, Love. But, we are here,” She said as she pulled the male inside the fast food chain. And soon enough, the two got their orders and enjoyed their meal. “I don’t know why but this hits different,” Kay said as she eat a French fry. “It really does. Especially since you are here,” Sugawara stated as he patted her head. Now, she was the one blushing. As the two chatted, the other customers and staff glanced at them every now and then. None of them were annoyed at their interactions. On the contrary, they enjoyed watching them,

Some felt envious of their relationship. Some dreamt to have something like that. And others remembered the times of old. The two were so sweet, it’s almost too much. Laughter and chattering echoed through the building from both the couple and the people around them. Then they were dub the “3 am couple” as the two would often venture in that restaurant at 3 am in the morning.

───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡✱ ───

Author's note

I'm so so sorry for the long wait! This week has been hectic. Anywho, I hope you enjoy this matchup~ and thanks for requesting!