#posies chapter 3

[diorgirl444]

to all the greasers i’ve loved before - chapter 1.

warnings: bad writing (my first time writing a multiple part fic ), don’t let the picture of dallas fool you he barely features in this chapter i’m afraid, fem! curtis reader though it is never specified whether the reader is a bio daughter or adopted and so can be read as either, doesn’t follow book canon, 1060 words <3

you had always loved love. your parents were more than happy to recount stories of how you would wander around the house dressed in your nightdress with the lace curtain over your hair clutching onto a small posy of daisies and dandelions. you had called it playing weddings and it was your all-time favourite game.

this obsession with love trickled into other things with most of the cookies you baked being heart-shaped or being the only person to still give everyone, even the weird kids handmade valentines after it was deemed uncool at about thirteen. yes, you loved love but there was an important differentiation, you loved the idea of it. so you supposed it was natural that you began to write love letters the way some people wrote diary entries.

you kept them in a teal silk hatbox of your mothers which had long since lacked the hat intended to be in it. there was one letter for every boy you had liked at one time - five in total. Bryon from volunteering at the hospital, Johnny from freshman homecoming, Dallas from two summers ago, Randy from Model Un and Keith since forever. you supposed your letters were less i love you love letters and more goodbye love letters. they were a way of accepting the crush whilst also allowing yourself to let go and move on. that you could sing to the Ronettes and not be singing about him, that you could buy milkshakes at the diner and not wonder which flavour he’d choose. the letters set you free - at least they were supposed to…

Keith Jacobs was a friend of your brothers but you’d always been a bit in love with him. his mother moved to Tulsa all alone with one son and a baby girl just across the street from you and so your parents, lovely people that they were invited the Jacobs round for a fried chicken dinner. you made a peach cobbler for dessert and when Keith asked for seconds - you glowed with pride. by the time he’d finished his third helping you’d already decided what shade of white your wedding dress would be and from that day he was practically always at your house. there was time when it was the four of you, Daryl, Soda, Pony and Keith but then your parents died and it all changed.

Daryl had to grow up and then the other three all started hanging out later and getting into fights which was fine because you had Angela and Sylvia. well, you had Sylvia till the summer before high school. then suddenly over that summer, she started smoking cheap cigarettes and wearing tight jeans where you were still happy to read a silly romance novel and bake cookies. angie was more like Sylvia really but she was like a street dog who you’d given a treat to - loyal to a fault and kept coming back.

which leads you to where you are now, the last day before junior year and the house is packed. you and Daryl were determined to keep up the tradition of home-cooked meals, mainly for Ponyboy but if you were honest with yourself sometimes as you mashed the potatoes with the radio turned up you would close your eyes and pretend your parents were slow dancing behind you. it turned out that most of your brother's friends didn’t normally eat well so they would often come round too. privately you wish they wouldn’t, they were too loud to you with no manners and they didn’t wash their hands before they ate. but for Ponyboy, the baby of the family you put up with it. You break out of these thoughts when Two-bit speaks, because as you hate to remember he’s Two-bit now not Keith anymore.

“guess who scored themselves a girlfriend”

You choke on your broccoli as all the boys cheer and clap him on the back. your ears ring and you feel like you’re gonna be sick. quietly you whisper to Daryl.

“I don’t feel very well. I think it’s my monthlies - I’m gonna go to bed”

he nods ruffling your hair affectionately as if you're still five and not almost seventeen. you don’t mind - that’s Darry’s way - playing dad to you and your brothers.

“g’night kid I’ll bring you some hot cocoa up and one of those hot water bottles wrapped in a towel.”

as you retreat to your bedroom with tears stinging you hear a chorus of “goodnights” and “feel better soon” from all apart from Dallas. despite your pain you still have the energy to roll your eyes, god forbid Winston cares about someone other than himself for once.

once you clasp your box and retreat under the floral quilts that your mom made you finally allow the tears to fall as you reread the letters. you decide tomorrow you’ll draft a new letter for two-bit, an official goodbye to the foolish hope you’ve clung to for so long. You hear the click of the look, and hastily you shove the letters back into the hatbox and wipe any resounding tears. Pony perches on the edge of your bed holding out the hot cocoa and water bottle that Darry had promised you.

“sissy, you okay?”

you bite back a laugh when he calls you that, a name that he called you as a baby that just stuck. then you watch his eyes catch the hatbox with curiosity.

“what’s that?”

clutching the box to your chest you speak.

“nothing just an old hatbox of mom’s that I keep recipes in. I’ve been working on a new strawberry shortcake one.”

you lie easily knowing that since that’s Pony’s favourite dessert it’ll distract him. he grins widely at you and you are reminded how young he is like a stab in the gut.

“promise?”

he says holding his pinky finger out.

“promise baby, I’ll see you in the morning okay?”

standing up you say to him as you press a kiss to his forehead and place the box away in the top shelve of your wardrobe. he’s still at an age where he pretends that stuff grosses him out so he scowls childishly as he leaves the room. you slip into your white cotton nightgown and finally let sleep overtake you. you’ll deal with it all in the morning and yet in that weird stage between sleeping and awake, you swear you hear the door open once more…

hope you like it! xoxo, flo <3

@socgf @heart-shqped-box @jujuheartz13 @r0seb100d @cranberrv @anifever @notagreasernotasoc @honeysmoonn for now i’m just tagging all the people who expressed an interest but if you don’t wanna be tagged or wanna be added let me know <3

[clubdionysus]

[BAD DECISION #31] The Photo Booth

warnings: THE photoboth chapter!!!! a legend amongst bd readers!!!! we meet jaykays mum (shes the best) and his dad (legend), byeol gets her own back for the 'daddy' debacle, teasing, shameless flirting, a lil dirty talk, jaykay is desperate and whiney (just how we like him!!), precum...swapping?? as much as it can be swapped lmao, jaykay does her glitter ::(((((, a date! between friends!! some would argue!!, photobooths, kissing !!!!, oh god I love them so much, very cute, mmmmmm the way he says goodnight!! or alternatively, the way he doesn't say goodnight!!, our babies are v confused <3 cos they are stewpid <33

wc: 9k

bd total wc: 540k (ongoing)

AO3 | MASTERLIST | MINORS DNI

"Mum? Dad?" Jeongguk calls into the entryway of his family home, pushing the door further open with his shoulder.

Your bag is hooked over his broad back, along with his own, Jeongguk not even considering it a favour. Just helps you out in little ways whenever he can, just because he can. You do what you can to make his life easier, and so it's reciprocated without a second thought.

Carrying a bunch of fresh flowers that had hastily been picked up from the shop across the street, you're a little nervous. There was no way you could show up empty-handed, but had been so scatterbrained when you left your place, it had completely slipped your mind. They're pretty pink posies and are something - which is always better than nothing, even if they aren't all that impressive.

"Oh, you're here!" A sweet voice calls from the back of the house. The sound of indoor slippers scuff against the wooden floors, as his mother scurries to greet you both. "I thought you'd call when you were on your way!"

"Sorry," he apologises and leans down to let the bags softly tumble to the floor, before outstretching his arm for a hug. "Left in a bit of a rush."

Squeezing his mother gently, his back eclipses her from your view. Hands patting his back, you think you can tell a lot about a person from their hands - and she's no exception.

Well-manicured, his mum clearly looks after herself. She wears just two rings - her wedding band and engagement ring. Gold. The only remaining elements of her wedding jewellery that had survived the '98 gold drive.

"Spent my whole life in that house," Jeongguk had said of his family home on the journey to Busan. He'd been opening up. Telling you tales that you'd have never heard if you had declined his offer. Is clueing you in on the life that formed him. Wants you to know. "They held onto it throughout everything. The financial crisis, turn of the century, everything. I'm lucky. We were never well-off, but they never let me know when we were struggling."

It explains a lot about who Jeongguk is, you think. Never wants others to shoulder his burdens. Keeps things bottled up until the glass shatters - but you can see through glass. You always know.

A modest three-bed, there's something nostalgic about the four walls he calls home. Though you've never been here, it somehow feels familiar - but that's perhaps more so to do with the scent of laundry drying, and the fact that Jeongguk uses the same fabric conditioner as his mother always has done.

Swanning Jeongguk out of the way, his mother greets you with a smile that could stoke warmth in even the coldest of hearts - and suddenly, you understand exactly where Jeongguk gets it from.

Dark, round eyes, and a smile as radiant as a spring day, she's got the kind of delicate nature bestowed upon Disney princesses. If you were to learn she'd been a model in her youth, you wouldn't be surprised. 

Introducing yourself,  you hold out the flowers for her to take.

"For you," you offer, a little shy and reserved, in a way that Jeongguk doesn't see too often. Your glitter - toned down today, for some reason - sparkles in the late afternoon sun that pours through the windows. "Thank you so much for offering to host me. I really hope it hasn't put you out too much-"

"Oh, don't be silly," she tuts, flipping her hand away as if to emphasise that it really is no big deal. "It's always lovely to have Jeongguk's friends staying with us."

She glances over to Jeongguk. Leans in a little closer. Whispers just loud enough for him to hear. "Plus I'm sure you'll be a far better house guest than Jimin ever is!"

"Mum!" Jeongguk goes to defend his housemate - but he knows his mother adores Jimin. Treats him like a third son. Knows she's creating an alliance with you, given the little lie Jeongguk told about you previously dating Jimin.

"What?!" She plays innocent, and it's suddenly so easy to see why Jeongguk is the way that he is. A product of the people around him, he soaks up their best qualities like a sponge in search of water. His playfulness must come from her. Taking the bunch of flowers, she smiles. "Let's go put these in a vase. You must be hungry."

"Ravenous," Jeongguk confirms, as if he didn't eat half an hour ago. "What's for dinner? And where's dad?"

"At the driving range," she tuts, encouraging you both further into the house.

Large and open plan, the sitting room is adjacent to the kitchen; a space designed for socialisation, it's clear that Jeongguk's parents enjoy hosting. It's no surprise that they agreed to let you stay without hesitation, and is also why Jeongguk had no qualms about asking.

"Minhyuk got a new driver that he wanted to show off, apparently," she continues. "A Titlelist. Got it in some dodgy back alley sale. Your father reckons he's been scammed, but Minhyuk reckons it's the real deal, so I'll guess we'll see."

"Minhyuk lives down the road," Jeongguk explains to you as his mum rummages around in a cupboard to find her favourite vase. He's smiling, amused by it all. "Bit of a busybody. Likes being in people's business, so Dad likes to return the favour. Petty middle-aged man shit."

"Watch your language," his mother scolds. He apologises immediately.

It's sweet, seeing Jeongguk like this. He's always been respectful, even if he does swear like a sailor and has a sense of humour that would send a prude to an early grave.

"As for dinner, I told your father to meet us at the samgyeopsal place you like down by the beach-"

"Ugh," Jeongguk smiles, beaming from ear to ear. "Thank you."

"Don't know why you're thanking me," she hums sweetly as she arranges the flowers in the vase. A little lacklustre while they were still wrapped up, she manages to preen them to look far more beautiful. "You're paying."

"I'm- what?!" He whines, now, taking on the role of youngest son perfectly.

She's just joking, and you all know it - but you also know Jeongguk will likely try and cover the bill regardless. Glancing over to you with a cheeky grin, his mum playfully shrugs her shoulders. You return the smile, and giggle a little harder when Jeongguk continues to whine.

"Oh hush your moaning," she simply says. "Go take your bags through to your rooms. We'll head out in half an hour."

Jeongguk doesn't protest. Drags you along with him back to the entry hall to retrieve the bags.

"See," he says quietly, finding your shyness all rather curious. You're never normally like this. Never so quiet. "Told you there was nothing to worry about. Mum always likes my friends."

Picking up your bag to hoist it over your shoulder, you simply say, "Nerves are natural."

Jeongguk doesn't entirely disagree, but really thinks there's no need for you to feel this way.

"Yeah, if you're meeting, like, a girlfriend's parents," he says. "My parents are nothing to be scared of. Idiot."

"Doesn't matter if I'm not your girlfriend, Gguk. I still want them to like me," you remind him. "And let's be realistic here, parents aren't one for subtleties. You've brought a girl home and have hickies on your neck - I need to touch up the foundation, by the way. If they notice, they're gonna add two and two and get five."

"Well actually," he interjects. "They'll add two and two and get four. You are the girl who gave me them."

You laugh. He's got a point. "But I'm not your girlfriend ."

Yep , he thinks. Thanks for the reminder.

It's not like he even wants that. He knows that things are good as they are. Knows that any indication of things getting serious will likely make you run for the hills.

Things feel easy, now. He doesn't wanna do anything that will complicate it. Won't tell you how he's feeling, 'cause he knows the second it does, things will change.

He doesn't know if it would be for better or for worse, but he knows you. Knows his own lived experiences.

The mistakes made with Hayun have contorted his ability to go with his heart, because he knows the pain it can cause. Will take the nail-biting uncertainty of his feelings for you over the soul-crushing certainty of rejection any day of the week.

You're equally as shaped by your own experiences.

Once had a man who would declare his love for you on a Monday morning before his monthly business trip, only for him to spend the entire week in bed with a girl from the accounting department. You've no trust in words. No trust in anything, really, when it comes to matters of the heart. All you can trust is how you feel - but even that's a little more confusing than usual, these days.

"And thank God for that," Jeongguk teases, which seems to settle the woes within you. He tilts his head to the side and guides you up the hallway. "C'mon. I'll show you to your room."

He deliberately doesn't show you his own room. Will show you later, once he's had the chance to hide away most of the embarrassing stuff he hasn't touched since he was a teenager.

Instead, he leads you straight into his brother's old room, and winces.

"It's worse than I remembered."

Jeongmin's bedroom walls are coated in the Lotte Giants; like an oil slick on the surface of a road, or ice cream dripping down the side of a cone. Unsubtle, garish and impossible to ignore, the man is an interior decor menace.

Flags, shirts, commemorative posters, you name it; Jeongmin has it. You think he must have personally spent enough money to fund an entire season of the KBO.

It's a pretty inoffensive colour scheme - white, blue, red - but it's still an eyesore. The rest of the house is well-decorated. Tasteful. Roses do come with thorns, you consider. Maybe Jeongmin and Jeongguk's rooms qualify for that position.

"So your brother likes football?" You deadpan - although you're sure if there was a Lotte Giants branded football, you'd be able to find one in this room.

Jeongguk just shakes his head. Doesn't even dignify it with a proper response.

"It's a miracle he even managed to get girlfriends during high school. This shit is... I didn't recall there being so much."

Signed baseballs, bobbleheads, foam fingers. God. It's endless. Trading card binders, house slippers, even a rubber duck. It's overwhelming.

"What about now?" You ask of Jeongmin's passion. "Still obsessed?"

"Less so," Jeongguk shrugs. "Did call his dog Seagull, though."

The prospect of a dog being called Seagull has you bursting into laughter. You half think Jeongguk is joking - but quickly realise he isn't. For some reason, that only makes it even funnier.

"Will he be at dinner? Your brother?" You ask, setting your bag down on the freshly made bed. The scent of laundry detergent wafts up, and it reminds you of being back at Jeongguk's place in the city. You've never felt more at home in a stranger's bedroom.

"Why?" Jeongguk asks, narrowing his eyes, remembering what you had said earlier. "You're not allowe-"

"Oh give over," you laugh. "You know I won't."

You've never seen his brother, but already know Jeongguk must be the brother. The one that the girls go crazy over.

Then again, Jeongguk did say that his brother is a fuck boy. Perhaps he's just as handsome.

Impossible .

Thing is, Jeongguk doesn't know you won't go for his brother. You made threats earlier. Knows he ignited a fire in you the second he pulled the 'Daddy' stunt. Knows you're competitive. Regrets it a little bit now. Only has himself to blame.

"Anyway, piss off," you playfully tell him. "I wanna get changed."

Jeongguk doesn't care. Takes a seat by his brother's desk, instead. Smirks. Raises his brows in that promiscuous, boyish way that always disrupts the butterflies who peacefully rest in your diaphragm. "Okay. Get changed."

"Gguk," you deadpan. He's pushing his luck, and he knows it. Glances over to the door. It's ajar, but pushed shut enough to obscure any unwanted eyes. Just means he needs to keep his deep voice quiet.

"What?" He flirts. "Nothing I haven't seen before."

"Your mum is down the hallway!" You whisper-shriek. Sometimes you forget how much of a boy Jeongguk is, and then he pulls shit like this.

The worst part?

You love it when he's like this; all cheeky and brazen, audacious in his quest to get what he wants.

And when it's you that he wants? Oh, it gets you all hot under the collar. He has that effect on people, you think. It can't just be you.

"So?" He licks his lips. Rakes his eyes down your body. Looks fucking hungry - and to him, you look like a 5-course meal he'd gladly get on his knees and beg for. "She's not gonna come in."

His lips press down against one another, tightly. His lip ring does the thing. You whine.

"Gguk."

"Byeol." He teases. "It's not like you're getting naked. Not like we'd be doing anything. Seen you in your underwear so many times."

He'd like to know that he still can. Wants to know he hasn't fucked it all up by getting you a little vulnerable earlier.

"Maybe I am getting naked," you whisper back, feeling challenged now.

"Are you?"

"Should I?" You tease. He sits up a little straighter. Tries to be subtle as his hand drops between his legs, the heel of his palm pressing against himself. Fails. You know he's adjusting himself. Know that it means he's getting a little excited.

"Think if you need to, then you should," he simply replies. "Just a little revision of a bird, no? Nakedness ? It'd be good."

You don't need to get fully undressed. Not in the slightest - and you're not gonna.

In fact, Jeongguk isn't gonna see anything - but you're still gonna fuck with him a little first. He deserves it after this morning.

You turn away from him. Shrug the jacket off your shoulders. Toss it onto the bed. Open up your bag, and have a little dig around.

"I'm not sure what to wear," you hum, sounding a little defeated. It's intentional. Want him to think you're being genuine.

Turning to face him, you hold lingerie in either hand. Packed deliberately just to fuck with him. Had figured you'd wear it discreetly, letting him know as and when he deserved to know. Would use it to wind him up - and not to give him any satisfaction. He's right in thinking he's ignited a little competition in you.

Didn't realise you'd take him to war, instead.

He's not seen you in either of these. Has never really seen you in your 'nice' stuff. All of your underwear is nice to a certain extent, because you're intentional with your purchases. Like feeling good beneath even a pair of sweats.

However, Jeongguk has only ever been treated to matching sets.

After all, you've never tried to seduce him. He's your friend. You fuck each other, sure, but it's cause it's comfortable. Safe.

The lace in your hand is far too exciting for your established arrangement.

In your left hand is a lace bodysuit. Mesh panels make up the structure, but it's the ornate, hand-sewn lace that really makes it beautiful. The neckline is fairly high, so sometimes you get away with wearing it at a top on nights out. Been a while since you went that risque.

In your right hand, it's a classic black garter belt. Jeongguk has no idea what the fuck they're called, just knows he likes them.

He swallows. Licks his lips. Doesn't know where to focus his eyes. Barely realises he's gripping himself now. Is so fucking hard.

"Which is your favourite?" You ask, eyes innocent, voice nonchalant.

Jeongguk thinks he'll die if you wear either.

"Both are fine," he manages to say, eventually.

"Fine isn't good," you pout.

"Well what do you want me to say, B?" He whispers, clearly a little frustrated. Not with you. With himself . "That as soon as you put them on, I'll wanna take them off you? They're fuckin' hot. Both of them. Fuck ."

He tilts his head back. Whines a little. Moans. "Why do I do this to myself?"

"Think you might be a masochist," you giggle now, tossing the lingerie back down by your bag. Will save it for later. Poor boy is going through it. "You did this to yourself."

He looks at you with a huff and a frown that is far too sweet for the situation at hand.

"I'm stupid," he pouts. "Pea brain. You're the one with a big brain. You should tell me to stop doing pea brain things."

"You wouldn't listen to me even if I did," you smile fondly as you walk towards him - 'cause even if it looks like he's admitting defeat, you don't trust him yet. His cock is too hard to be making sensible choices.

Coming to a stop between his legs, you don't stop Jeongguk when his large hands stroke up the backs of your thighs. Your own hands are toying with his hair. It's all very amorous; affectionate despite the allure.

"You don't know that," he whispers, still. Cupping his strong jaw, you tilt his head upwards. Your hair is still up from earlier, and he regrets it now. Always loves it when your hair tumbles around his face. Likes being consumed by the entity of you. The scent of your shampoo, the softness of your well-conditioned hair. Heaven.

"You made a bad decision this morning," you remind him. "Would have done it even if I told you it was a bad decision."

Regretfully, Jeongguk thinks this is true. That instant gratification of his ' Daddy' stunt made it worth it.

Worth it at the time, at least.

He's not so sure, now.

Sinking to your knees, your hands stroke up his thighs. Jeongguk looks down at you, tongue wetting his lips. There's a change in his breathing. Anticipation.

"You know," you say quietly, making sure no sound travels at all. You're not looking to get kicked out of Jeongguk's house within an hour of being invited in. Looking directly at his hard crotch as your hands squeeze his thighs, you simper. "I really thought you were gonna take charge this morning. Thought you were gonna get me where you wanted me."

"Yeah?" he husks, pulling on his shirt, releasing it from the belt around his waist. Lifts it a little. Gets his abs out. Is doing shit he knows will make you salivate. One of your hands follows his encouragement and pushes up his chest. Hard beneath your warm hand, his body really is a gift from the gods.

"Yeah," you tease.

"What did you think, huh?" He says, his hand cupping your cheek to raise your gaze to his. It'd embarrass you, if it were anyone else; but for some reason, you don't mind worshipping Jeongguk unabashedly. Are on your knees like his body is your alter. Whisper words of sin like you're in a confessional. Pray that you'll never have to give this up. Religion is wasted on you, and Jeongguk is a false God, but you've never felt more holy than when you're committing cardinal sins with him. "Where was I gonna get you?"

Smiling in that coy way you so often do whenever he gets you a little vocal, your eyes rake back down his body.

"Right here," you shrug. Give him those eyes; the ones that make Jeongguk think he's seeing fucking stars. Smirk, before you say, "thought you were gonna get your cock in my mouth."

"Shit," he curses as you press down over the hard ridge in his pants. He's always so pleased to see you - especially like this. "You want that, huh? Wanna suck on it?"

Nodding, you bite on the lip, sin written in the constellations Jeongguk's gazing at. "Wanna make you feel good, Koo."

If Jeongguk doesn't get his cock in your mouth within the next minute, he's pretty sure he'll die. Has wanted it for weeks. Months . Wants you in any capacity he can get you, granted, but there are few things in life better than a good blow job. Good pussy, is, admittedly one of those things, but he already knows you have that. Thinks your mouth must be just as good.

His hands drop to his belt. Metal clangs as he races to get it undone. You let him. Don't stop. Watch on with sated pleasure as he hurries. Undoes his buttons, and then his zipper is down, too. His Calvins are on display. There's a teeny tiny damp mark showing through; evidence of how badly he wants you. "We don't have long. Be quick, B. Gonna nut so fuckin' fast."

Smirking, there's something so painfully endearing about how needy Jeongguk is as he untucks himself from his boxers. Thick and firm, his cock is just as pretty as it always is whenever he's desperate for you. The little bead of precum pooling at his tip is begging for your tongue, the freckle on his shaft deserving of a pretty little kiss.

And then you pull back. Look at his pretty, needy face and raise a brow. Poor baby .

"Said I wanna make you feel good," you smirk. "Not that I will."

You get to your feet. Walk away. Giggle to yourself as Jeongguk fucking whines as quietly as he can. Needs that door closed. Needs you to know that this balling is gonna kill him off. Head thrown back, cock in his hand, he's gonna fucking die .

"B," he growls a little, faux sobs echoing from his throat.

"What?" You smile. He looks like a fucking state, desire taking hold of the way he's staring you out, chest heaving a little bit. And then, to add insult to injury, you remember to 'address him properly'. "Something wrong, Daddy ?"

His face bunches up. Regret embeds itself into the lines on his face. He whines. "You're so mean, Disco Ball."

He's cute. Really fucking cute.

It makes you feel bad.

And fuck, you want him.

Seeing him like this gets you all sorts of fucked up - but he deserves it.

He watches you cautiously as you walk a little closer.

You crouch between his legs this time, instead of getting down on your knees. Replace his hand with yours. Have missed how it feels to have him in your grip.

Eyes on his, you watch as his chest begins to beat a little fast. His lips are ajar. Eyes forlorn, he's desperate . His cock twitches in your hand, so you tighten your fingers. A hushed moan lets you know he likes this. Likes every fucking thing about it.

Licking your lips, you position yourself a little better. Glance down. Think it's a miracle you haven't given him head yet. Have never wanted to choke on a cock more - cause what are friends for, if not that?

"I'm not mean," you whisper. You drag your wet tongue across the tiny slit that is fucking oozing for you. It takes everything in you not to give into what you want. "I'm so nice to you, Koo."

You've got a point to prove, though. Ease your grip. Stand. Replace the now empty space in your hand with his chin between your thumb and index finger, grasping onto it as you tilt him upwards.

You hold your tongue out, encouraging him to do the same - and without even a second fucking thought, he does it.

Eyes wide, Jeongguk wants this. Want you. Wants your tongue on his.

And what Jeongguk wants?

Well, eventually , he always gets it.

Your tongue swipes against his; traces of his own precum sinking onto his tongue, masking the taste of you.

He wants more.

Wants you to do it again. Wants to taste you. Wants you to sit on his lap, tongue in his mouth. Wants to be too fucking busy with his lips to remember how to breathe.

And, like always, he will get it - just not now.

Eventually, yes.

Immediately, no.

"You're gonna fuckin' kill me one day, B," he whines as you walk away from him again.

"Good," you smile, talking at full volume now. Playtime is over.

You do, however, take off your shirt, and let him watch. All he can see is your back, but even that drives him insane. He can't remember the last time he was this worked up without any indication of a release. He's been horny all fucking day.

Pulling a fresh shirt over your head, you're a little sad to see he's tucked himself away when you turn around again.

"Go get ready," you say fondly. "We don't have long."

Jeongguk is pouting. A crease between his brows, he looks hard done by.

" So mean."

His stroppy demeanour makes you laugh. It's so classically him. A Ggukism, if you ever did see one.

"That's what you get for making me call you Daddy," you say quietly. Find it funny how much of a baby he's being - and consider that maybe he's the one that is better suited to the nickname.

He whines again. Louder this time. You glance to the door. Make sure you're still without disturbance.

You want to call him baby.

Just because it works, and it's funny, and - fuck it - maybe it'd be nice.

But it would also be a step too far, you think.

"Shush," you say affectionately, not accenting your command with 'baby' like you really want to. Instead, you walk over to him and cover his mouth with your palm. "What if someone hears you whining, huh? I don't wanna have to tell your mum you've just been tasting your own cum in your brother's bedroom, do you?"

"You're so fucked up," he wails, feeling incredibly hard done by. He needs to learn how to resist you. Never wants to have to endure this again.

"We're so fucked up," you correct. "I wouldn't be so mean to anyone else - but you deserved it."

He can't even argue against it. He knows that this is a product of his own creation.

"Go, get yourself sorted out," you encourage him along. "We don't have long."

He nods. Sighs. Gets to his feet, and does his trousers back up. Is convinced he'll die before your trip to Busan finishes if this is the game you're playing.

Leaving you to get ready (and to let his raging boner die, even if he won't) Jeongguk returns within 15 minutes. He's nonchalant, as if what happened the last time he was in the room was simply a fragment of your own imagination.

You're sitting by the floor-length mirror (which is, of course, adorned in Lotte Giants memorabilia), doing your makeup. Hair claw-clipped now, Jeongguk is a little sad to see your space buns go, but understands why. You seem to be a little more demure than usual.

He nudges his knee against your back, gentle in how he touches you, your body swaying ever so slightly.

"Don't," you smile, pulling the liquid glitter away from your face. "I'll get it in my eye."

There's an innuendo to be made there, but Jeongguk knows better. Just smirks. Plonks himself down next to you; cross-legged, knees up, arms hugging around them. He looks like a condensed version of himself like this, sitting as close to you as he possibly can just so he can see himself in the mirror.

"Little disco ball," he says fondly, watching you dab the glitter onto the inner corners of your eyes. It's not something he often calls you these days, but there's something about hearing the name now that makes you smile.

"Strange, isn't it?" You muse. "This time last year I was just disco-ballin' in your club. Didn't even know your name."

He nods. Smiles. "And now you're in my brother's bedroom turning yourself into a disco ball."

"Funny little lives, we live," you muse fondly. How far you've both come. If it wasn't for the glitter, you don't think you'd recognise yourself.

"Would you have ever predicted it?" he asks. Knows he was intrigued by you from the very moment he first saw you. Has no idea what you thought of him. Wonders if you had 'what if' thoughts about him. Who he was. Who he could be. What you could become. "That you'd end up here?"

"Honestly? Sorta wanted to curl up and die after you found me in your living room."

The memories are a little hazy, but you still remember the look on Jeongguk's sleepy face in the early morning sun that was intruding on his living room at the time.

Jeongguk nods. Smiles. Remembers it far better than you do. "Yeah, wasn't your finest hour."

You turn to look at him, chin resting on your shoulder. There's a glow about you now that Jeongguk can't seem to get enough of. Wants to drink you in like purple starfuckers at 2am in the heat of full-capacity Dionysus nights.

"I mean, I don't know," you say with a small shrug. "How often do you become friends with your punters?"

"Not often," he admits. "How often do you become friends with your bartenders?"

You're coy as you smile. "Not often."

Not ever, actually.

Yeonjun doesn't count - you've never spent any time with him sober, even if you do always enjoy seeing him behind the bar. Even then, it doesn't compare to the way you seem to light up whenever Jeongguk is serving your drinks.

Jeongguk's the first. The only.

Taking the liquid glitter from your hands, Jeongguk scoots a little closer. Gets more product on the wand, and sets the tube down beside him. Pinches your chin between his index finger and thumb.

There's no opposition from you; just a silent acceptance of Jeongguk dictating your movements. Lips parting as he draws a little closer, there's apprehension to the way your eyes flicker between his own pair and his lips.

Jeongguk is pleased, but tries not to let it show. Fights his smile. Battles the inner voices telling him that kissing you would be a good idea.

Breath hitched as his dark eyes survey your face, you're regretful of the way your body responds to him. Friendship tainted by desire; a natural by-product of fucking someone you really care about, you think.

It's no secret that you adore each other, but doesn't everyone feel so fondly about their best friends?

He's slow as he dabs the end of the wand against your cheek, following around the curve of your eye socket. Jeongguk always thinks you look so pretty when you highlight yourself with glitter there. It catches the light so easily that he always notices it. Might have even been the first glitter of yours that he notices in the dreary lights of Dionysus, the hedonistic haze of neon lights and dark shadows creating the disco ball effect he likes so much.

"There," he says quietly as he finishes evening it out. "Pretty little star."

"Careful," you say back just as quietly. "You'll give me an ego."

"Just returning the favour," he jokes, screwing the wand back into the tube, his hands working quickly. "The Daddy thing really did a number on my ego this morning."

Rolling your sparkly eyes, you gently push him away.

"Fuck off, Jeon," you playfully reprimand him for mentioning it again, getting to your feet. Smoothing out your clothes as you check yourself over in the mirror, you're pleased to see that Jeongguk has applied your glitter just the way you like it. Dabbing it out slightly, your heart swells a little with how attentive he is.

Still sitting exactly where he was, Jeongguk strokes up the inside of your leg. It's all very innocent. Just touching you 'cause he likes the comfort that comes with it. You're in sheer tights, there's a softness to them that Jeongguk likes. He tries to forget the garter belt you were holding earlier. Doesn't think you'd wear it out for dinner with his parents.

He's right.

No matter how hot it might be working him up in public, you're not about to go and do it in front of his parents . You have some morals at least, even if Jeongguk does make you momentarily forget about them from time to time.

Reaching down, you scratch his hair a little, just behind his ear. Eyes closed, he leans into your touch like a little puppy dog. So docile and devoted. Cute.

"C'mon," you encourage him, but remain fixed in position. Head versus heart. Wanna stay right where you are in the cocoon of Jeongguk's family home with him, but know you have places to be. "Shouldn't keep your mum waiting."

He nods, head resting against your leg. Sighs. "Yeah. You're right. Let's go."

You offer him a hand up, of which he gladly takes. Checks himself over in the mirror. Is still wearing the outfit he drove in. Considered changing, but he's aware of the way the girls at the service station were ogling him earlier. Knows the outfit probably has something to do with it.

He doesn't mention the change of your outfit; the fact that you're wearing a white shirt too, now. It's tucked into a little black skirt, he's certain you're probably gonna wear those slightly worn out Converse of yours - and he intends on doing the exact same.

"C'mon, kids!" Jeongguk's mum calls up the corridor, echoing your thoughts about needing to leave.

It's nice, you think, to be grouped with Jeongguk in such a way. Makes you feel like this is the way it's always been. Doesn't matter if you're in your twenties, and Jeongguk's mum met you an hour ago. There's an acceptance of you; of your place in her son's life.

He glances over at you, scrunching his nose a little. Is a little awkward. Likes the idea of you being part of his life since childhood. Is sad it'll never be the case.

"You heard her. Let's go."

Ushering you back down the hallway, a hand on top of your shoulder, thumb rubbing the nape of your neck, there's a casual intimacy to the way Jeongguk always finds an excuse to touch you.

It's not scary, nor daunting in the way that you always deem intimacy to be, but it is something . Gets you feeling a little flustered. Has you wriggling out of his grip with a laugh, as if he was tickling you.

"Stop annoying the poor girl," his mother scolds fondly as you come into her line of vision, which just simply earns another protest from Jeongguk.

"She's the annoying one."

You scoff. "That's rich coming from you."

It's all in good humour, and his mother appreciates this. Likes seeing Jeongguk goof around, especially knowing how stressed he's been lately. Has barely called. Missed his father's birthday to study.

All she wants is for her children to live happy, fulfilled lives, and if there's one thing to be noted about Jeongguk's current demeanour, it's that he's undoubtedly happy.

Whether or not that has anything to do with you, she doesn't know - but she wasn't born yesterday. His desire to visit home is understandable after the pressure of his studies. He needs rest - and somehow, he factors you into that rest.

Of her two children, Jeongguk's always been the more introverted one. He needs his time to recharge. Would be the life and soul of the party at school, then come home and remain silent until dinner time.

For a few years, it bothered her. Thought that maybe Jeongguk was unhappy at home - but it was quite the opposite. It's his safe space.

And now he's bringing you into it.

"Is the room okay?" she asks you, knowing that the sheer amount of baseball memorabilia in Jeongmin's room is... a lot to take in. "Interior decoration was always more of Jeongguk's speciality. Had Jimin to give him pointers. Jeongmin... Well, he had an acquired taste... As you've probably already gathered."

Laughing a little, you nod. "It's grand. Thank you for letting me stay. I really appreciate it - and I grew up with a Lions-loving Dad. I'm used to it."

"Ohh," his mother winces, then addresses Jeongguk. "Keep this one away from Jeongmin."

You also turn behind you now, raising a brow. He's just rolling his eyes, a soft smile on his lips.

"Samsung Lions - and their fans - are the scum of the earth in Jeongmin's eyes," he explains, then looks over to his mum. "Is he coming to dinner? Do we need to sit them at opposite ends of the table?"

Shaking her head, she laughs. "No, he's got plans, apparently. I did tell him you were visiting, but you know what he's like."

Jeongguk just sort of accepts this answer. Nods. Shrugs his shoulders, as if it's to be expected. An air of disappointment clouds around Jeongguk, lips pursed, eyes stern.

He and his brother are cut from the same cloth, but have been sewn together with different stitches. For all their similarities, they have stark differences, too. This one has always been the most challenging for Jeongguk; how little his brother seems to care about maintaining a good relationship.

Jeongmin seems to think their status as brothers is enough to keep the bond strong. Doesn't seem to care about fostering an actual friendship with him.

It's part of the reason why Jeongguk is so reluctant to let go of friendships that no longer serve him. They're filling a void. He never wants to be the one who gives up. Doesn't wanna be the reason things fall apart.

"Alright," Jeongguk's mother smiles at you both. "Ready to go?"

It surprises you that she's the one driving to dinner instead of Jeongguk - but it makes sense, given the fact you and Jeongguk will stay in the area afterwards.

She insists that you sit up front, even if all forms of hierarchy would dictate that Jeongguk should be there instead. He doesn't complain. Sort of likes how you and his mum are ganging up on him like a little team.

When you arrive at the samgyeopsal place, his father is already waiting.

He's everything you expect him to be: funny, a little dramatic, and the spitting image of Jeongguk, just with a few more grey hairs and even deeper creases beneath his eyes. Introduces himself with as much gusto as a cartoon character; full of life and pleased to have another person to relay all of Minhyuk's misdemeanours to.

You learn more about the Busan Driving Range circuit than you ever could have predicted - specifically about Minhyuk, the legitimacy of his 'bargain' driver, and how Jeongguk's father is convinced he's been tampering with his balls.

Jeongguk chokes on his drink when his dad mentions that last point. Earns himself a talking to for thinking with such a dirty mind - but after a few drinks, his parents are giggling about it, too.

There's something incredibly easy about being around Jeongguk's parents. It's no wonder he's grown into the person he is.

You feel a little shy. Don't understand the in-jokes at first - but someone always explains them to you. Normally Jeongguk, but sometimes his mother. Never his father, 'cause he'll go on a twenty minute long tangent explaining the lore and the back story. They've learnt this the hard way.

Still, he's a dab hand when it comes to grilling the meat. Takes charge of it all. Plates his wife up first, always. You second, Jeongguk third, and then himself. Head of the house, he takes his place in the hierarchy seriously, but not at the expense of the ones he loves. Will make sure they're provided for first.

Jeongguk is much the same. In charge of refilling the soju and beer, he'll pour for his father first, then mother, then you. Puts the bottle down before he fills his own, which is when you step up and fill his glass. He'll nudge with you his knee beneath the table to make you wobble, but never enough to make you spill it.

Subscribing to drinking norms is something that you never really do with Jeongguk. He's a bartender, after all. Things are always a little unconventional. He's normally the one making you drinks and sorting himself out, too.

Something about this feels incredibly domesticated. Natural. Pleasant.

By the time dinner is done, Jeongguk's parents have to order a taxi. Had a little too much to drink- but you're bloody glad for it. Made it a lot easier for you.

"Your parents are fun," you beam, walking down the promenade of Gwangalli with Jeongguk. It's your favourite of all the busy beaches in the city, but you rarely ever get the chance to see it after dark. There'll be a drone show, soon. You've definitely never seen that. Can't wait for it.

"They sure are something," he laughs, a little embarrassed. They have big personalities, which he's glad of, but he knows they can be a bit much sometimes. "Dad drinks well, so we probably had a bit more than we should have done. Sorry."

Shaking your head, you don't mind in the slightest. Are at that giddy stage of drinking, where everything seems marvellous, and bad decisions cosplay as good choices.

"Are you forgetting how we met? I don't mind having one too many, Gguk."

"True," he agrees, checking the time on his phone. Still a good half an hour before the small show. It's just a free thing that the city council puts on every night, not a huge deal to him anymore, but he understands why people romanticise it. Knows that you have to see it.

Tugging on your hand, Jeongguk checks the road before he crosses, dragging you along with him.

"Hm?" You squeak, taken by surprise. A little tipsy, your reflexes aren't as fast as usual, just like tipsy Jeongguk isn't as good at voicing his thought processes as sober Jeongguk usually is.

"Photos," he simply states, leading you into a small retail unit that houses only photo booths.

It's the standard set-up: wall partitions between self-timer camera units, and curtains instead of doors to the small spaces. Each booth has a different colour background, adding to their own individual charms. The walls of the entryway are lined in discarded pictures; friendship groups, couples, first dates, anniversaries, birthdays. Life events, big and small. Moments of time captured to last forever.

Accessories and props are abundant in the entry area - hats, glasses, wigs, signs. Your favourites are always the headbands. Kitty ears, normally, though sometimes you branch out into bunny ears if you're feeling fancy.

There are five booths in total along the back wall, but one in particular grabs your attention: the one advertising Sanrio-themed frames instead of the standard solid colour outline.

"Oh my god," you gasp, and then it's Jeongguk's turn to squeak with confusion. You point to it. Specifically, to the My Melody and Kuromi figures by the bottom of the ad. "It's us."

He smiles. Doesn't really understand your hyper fixation. Agrees nonetheless. "It is us."

The pair of you goof around, picking props. Jeongguk learns that you find him in any sort of animal ears absolutely hilarious, but the second he puts on a yacht captain's hat?

"Take that off right this second," you tell him, voice stern, eyes wide.

He's bemused. Snorts a little. Teeth on show, he's dangerously pretty. So handsome and yet such a little shit. "Why? Like it?"

You turn your nose up. "Hate it."

"I know you're lying," he laughs. Tilts it down. "Is this getting you all hot, B?"

"I'm leaving," you say, because it's so much easier than saying yes.

Something about him in a white shirt, with that hat? White with a navy peak, gold embroidery on the sides? God, you see why the old money girlies like boatmen so much. Decide that you're never getting on a boat with Jeongguk if you want to retain your sanity.

He takes it off. You don't even realise it, but you pout.

"You're so confusing, Byeol," he says as he playfully puts it on your head - and then he's feeling all fucked up too.

Something about a captain's hat. Just really does the trick.

You've both had too much to drink. There's no reason for you both to be getting flustered because of a stupid hat and yet -

"I don't think we should ever touch hats again," Jeongguk says very quickly.

But then you put a pair of kitty ears on and he starts questioning whether or not furries are actually kinda onto something.

He furrows his brows. Picks up a pair of ears. Bunny ones. Black. They're satin and a little too sexy, he thinks, but he's gotta see himself in them.

And when he does?

He kinda gets why girls dress up like cute animals for fancy dress parties. Doesn't wanna blow his own trumpet - but shit. He does look cute.

"Oh my god, YES," you exclaim when you clock his new attire, and quite literally drag him to the booth. He gets no say in the matter, and honestly doesn't care. Is having too much fun with you to take any of this seriously.

You pick the Sanrio framed booth, because of course you do. Jeongguk pops his card in the slot, and lets you click through on the options that you want - 4cut, vertical frame. The classic style. Your favourite.

Turning to Jeongguk, you tweak his glasses a little. Can't decide if they look better hiked up, or further down his perfectly sloped nose.

All Jeongguk can think about is your nose, and much he wants to nudge his up against yours.

And so he does just that.

Doesn't give a fuck.

The camera flashes.

You're caught, forevermore, in your state of Jeongguk-induced hypnosis. The pictures will survive beyond you. Will be stored in boxes to be looked at once, maybe twice by future generations.

One day, no one will know the name of you nor the boy you're with. They won't know how the scent of his aftershave lingers, nor the way your soft exhale of air sounds as you smile. Your present will be lost to history, this photograph? Your legacy.

Nothing will be known of you, and yet this picture alone will tell them everything they need to know.

"We're gonna waste shots," you whisper. The booth takes six photos, but you'll only be allowed to choose four for the printed picture at the end.

The more to choose from, the better.

"So?" Jeongguk smirks. Holds your neck just beneath your jaw. Strokes across your cheek with his thumb. Looks at you with sparkly eyes and a boyish smile that is just begging to be kissed. "Don't you wanna see what it looks like when we kiss?"

"It's intimate," you remind him.

"Maybe - but it's also fun," he reminds you.

The camera flashes again. That's two shots wasted, now.

If you let this carry on, it'll be three, and then one of them will have to be used in the final print.

And yet as Jeongguk nudges against your nose a little deeper, you let him.

When his lips ghost yours, you let him.

When his lips press down, you let him.

You'll let the third photo be taken, because you'll be too busy kissing him back to pay attention.

The fourth, too.

Lips on yours, Jeongguk kisses you in a way that he hasn't done before. It's delicate, and gentle, but his lips are strong. Intentional. There's no intrusion of tongue, no fervent need to get you moaning, even though it feels like you will regardless.

Your brain screams at you. Something about rules, and breaking them.

You ignore it.

'Cause all you can think about is the way this feels.

You don't think you've ever had a kiss like it.

And it's terrifying.

It's not until the fifth shot flashes that you both pull away; smiles smitten, eyes glossy. Both of you felt that. Ain't no way he couldn't have.

You think that maybe that's even more terrifying.

And so for the sixth shot?

Both of you pretend to throw up, disgust plaguing your giggly smiles and blushed cheeks.

There's distance between you, but as soon as the camera flashes, Jeongguk is pulling you back to his side again. It's just so that you're both ready to look through the pictures that are about to pop up on the little touchscreen. He's being helpful. Glances down at you, and has to stop himself from pressing a kiss into your hair.

Things are just so easy with you.

As soon as the pictures load, you're laughing. "We have to retake these."

"No, no, no," he swats your hand away, then taps on one of the photos, adding it to the preview frame. "My jaw looks really good in this one."

It's shot number four. Mid kiss. His hands on your cheeks, yours out of frame because they were on his waist. His jaw really does look fantastic - but it's sort of devastating when you realise just how happy he looks. He's smiling into the kiss. The most devastating thing of all?

So are you.

"How is that even us," you giggle. Seems so bizarre to see yourself like this.

"Gross isn't it," he smiles, adding more of the pictures to the frame, but you're the one correcting him now, tapping his hand to move him out of your way.

"We need them in order," you say. "A chain of events."

Eventually, the order is settled: the nudging of noses, the innocence of a kiss with the sin of Jeongguk's sharp jaw, the slightly startled look in both of your eyes as you'd pulled away, and then, of course, both of you pretending to vomit.

As they print, you pick out props for the next set of photos - Jeongguk in a pair of purple heart-shaped glasses and a Kuromi headband, you in that damn sailor's hat - and discuss which poses to actually do. This time round, it's all peace signs and finger hearts; goofy angles too close to the camera and a little laughter to set the tone.

"C'mon," Jeongguk says softly as you finish sliding the pictures into the thin plastic sleeves next to the booths. He normally doesn't bother with them. Likes that you seem to care about preserving the integrity of your memories. Hand outstretched, he encourages you to take it.

"Your bird," he says. "Said we'd do it in Busan."

The look you give him is coy, eyes a little sultry, lips a little pouty.

When you're silent, Jeongguk laughs. "Hold my hand, B."

"Getting a little date-like, don't you think?" You say of the night, but Jeongguk just shrugs.

"So? We'll just call it practise."

"Mhhm," he nods, shaking his hand a little because you still haven't held it. He's impatient. It's only as you take his hand that he begins talking again. "You don't wanna go back into the dating world unprepared. What if Mr Mechanical Engineer tries to hold your hand without you being ready for it?" He squeezes your hand, leading you out the door. "Let's get you used to it."

The mention of Seojoon makes you feel guilty. About him? About Jeongguk? You're not sure. It's something you need to figure out. Something you need to figure out fast .

And yet as Jeongguk holds both yours and his shoes in one hand, your hand firmly secured in the other, you choose not to think about it.

Just think of the sand, and how it will be a bitch to get out of your tights. It's sort of like your glitter, in a way.

But just like Jeongguk wouldn't trade your glitter for anything, you wouldn't trade this moment for anything either.

Neither of you say much. Just listen to the waves rolling in. Listen to other people's conversations. Listen to the whir of the drones as they start up and get into position. The show begins. Won't last longer than ten minutes. The silence is comfortable.

He holds your hand, and you move them to your lap in a bid to keep them warm.

Jeongguk isn't really feeling the cold. His heart is simply burning too brightly.

"I'm really glad you're here," he says as the show draws to a close.

"Me too," you whisper back fondly. "It must be nice to be home."

"Well, you know they say," he muses. "Home is where the heart is, and all that."

Been at home for months, B.

You breathe through your nose, exhaling a sincere smile. Could say a million things. Could say nothing at all. Could ask what he means, but you're taking it at face value. Genuinely think he's just happy to be home.

"We should visit more often," you suggest.

"I'd like that," he nods as he squeezes your hand. "You wanna go explore the night markets?"

Grinning, you get to your feet immediately. "Thought you'd never ask."

Jeongguk leads the way. Shows you his old haunts. Gets you hotteok from his favourite stand down by the promenade. Shows you the arcade machine he once spunked away 50,000 won on and didn't even win a prize. Shows you the initials he and Jimin caved into a pavement curb fourteen years ago. Took them hours. Both got blisters. Worth it though. They're embedded in the city, forevermore.

He takes you down memory lane, and you find it's your favourite street to visit with Jeongguk. You love his history; learning what shaped him. Who shaped him. Where.

Not once does Jeongguk let go of your hand.

Not down the markets, not along the beach, not in the taxi home, even when he doses off for a moment, head resting on your shoulder.

Not once. Not until you're both home, and he's saying goodnight outside of his brother's bedroom door. He's still toying with your fingers. Isn't even gonna suggest the idea of doing things you know you shouldn't.

Doesn't wanna taint the night.

In the morning, he'll blame all of his bad decisions on the alcohol. Will say he was tipsy, even though you stopped drinking hours ago.

He hugs you goodnight. Lingers a little too long. Too close. Nudges his nose against yours. Brushes his thumb against your cheek.

"This..." he whispers. "This is what it should be like."

His jaw tenses. He holds himself back from pressing his lips against yours like he so desperately wants to. Knows he's already said too much. Pulls himself away from you, to press a kiss against your forehead.

His lip ring is so hard, and his lips so soft, that it makes you feel all sorts of fucked up.

The most fucked up thing of all?

How badly you want his lips on yours.

But then he fucking walks away .

Closes his door. Shuts you out.

The evening had been so simple. So straightforward. Casual. Nothing confusing in the slightest. You were happy. So was he.

And yet as you lie in bed, all that rattles around in your head for hours on end is the question: what the fuck is happening to us?

AO3 | MASTERLIST | MINORS DNI

[chaocorvus]

I.D. Digital Art Content Warning Body Horror/Gore: A monstrous looking John is holding up Arthur's bloodied and eyeless corpse. John has branchlike black/gold horns, multiple crying gold eyes and mouths all over his body set in grimaces of pain. His cloak is missing two out of four sleeves, two hands covered in blood while the other two are clutching his throat and over his mouth as he sobs. Arthur has piano wire tightly wound around his neck, missing fingers, open wounds on his arm and legs, and one of his intestines hanging from his abdomen. His legs are also burned. He is dripping blood onto the tendril closest to him. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ This is for chapter 19 of @shadowy-dumbo-octopus wonderful fic "Eyes Only For You" for the @malevolentbigbang ! Check out the other arts by the lovely beings @earlymorningfoxhunt, @michaelshelley36 and @pikachic! You won't be disappointed! :3 <3 This one was kind of more fun for me to draw honestly. Drawing monsters like this is more my style! This year is the first time I've drawn an actual full human person in uh... over a decade. I mostly draw non-humans or half humans. Also the first time trying hella gore! I tried at least, hope you enjoy it tho! (The design for John here is based off the sketches the lovely Posi sent me for a reference, hope I did him justice!!

[azukiel]

Nightfall Heir Chapter 2

🔞 MDNI 🔞 NSFW

Warnings (as a whole): Explicit sexual content, Graphic descriptions of violence, PTSD, Angst, Blood kink, Pregnancy and Childbirth

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11

⭐Here is the story on Archive of Our Own ⭐

🔥Comments and reblogs are much appreciated! 🔥

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Two years…

How had time flown so fast? The city, still in the process of rebuilding from the rubble it had been reduced to, presented a scene of bustling activity. Mariners and dock workers of the city had finally cleared the bay of the decaying remains of the Netherbrain, much to the disdain of the local ocean life. Local sorcerers, including yourself, and wizards under Gale’s guidance prevented the putrid stench from overwhelming the populace. For those two long years, you had all been so vigilant in bringing the city back to some form of its former glory. It was an arduous task, for sure, but gradually your lives were returning to an acceptable level of normal. 

Your cordial wizard companion Gale, now the patron of the Sorcerous Sundries, had a newfound air of confidence surrounding him since his release from Mystra. His demeanour at the store had transformed into a commanding presence as he worked with you to bridge the gap between sorcerers and wizards.

Shadowheart, or Jenevelle as you had all learnt was her true name, had taken on the role of a caretaker for her ailing parents. The weight of responsibility showed in the lines etched on her face, but there was also a sense of purpose and strength that radiated from her. Her once guarded nature had softened, replaced by a fierce protectiveness for her family and a deep gratitude for the companions who had helped rescue them from the clutches of the goddess and Justiciars she had abandoned.

Wyll had inherited the title of Grand Duke of the city from his father, which was much to be expected. His charismatic leadership had garnered the respect of the Council of Four, and together, they ruled over the metropolis with fairness and efficiency. The weight of his new role was often visible in his tired eyes, but there was also a sense of accomplishment and pride that shone through them.

Your boisterous friend Karlach, now coupled with the Tyfling blacksmith Dammon, had undergone a remarkable transformation as well. Not only could she now touch people without scorching them, Dammon, and the Grymforge dwarves in the city, had discovered a way to implant the heart of a Steel Watch within her. Their tinkering had not only saved her from the clutches of Avernus and imminent death, but had also granted her a new lease on life. Though Wyll did not particularly need one, Karlach also worked as his bodyguard when he was on official duties. In her own words, she had aspired to be useful and thus did not give Wyll a choice on the matter. Not that he minded. When she was not following Wyll around like his shadow, she was helping her new lover with collecting materials for the new metal works he was head of rebuilding - and relishing in her new freedom of touch. 

Lae’zel, still an outcast of her people, found solace in aiding Wyll with training the Flaming Fists. Her imposing presence and unwavering determination made her a formidable force within the barracks. Nobody disobeyed her orders. Ever. Though the scars of her past still lingered, there was a newfound purpose in her gaze, a determination to prove her worth and find her place in this new world you were all helping to build.

Your arch druid ‘teddy bear’ Halsin, had dedicated himself to restoring Baldur’s Gate’s nature, and was bringing back life to the city’s parks, reserves, and waterways. He did not much enjoy life in the city, as was to be expected, and so he frequently visited the Emerald Grove to regain his energies. 

Lastly, your beloved Astarion had been given the esteemed position of the city’s chief magistrate. Having recognised Asterion’s extensive knowledge and experience in matters of governance, Wyll had extended him the offer. With the lack of qualified candidates in the city, Wyll had pleaded with Astarion to accept the role. Astarion had begrudgingly done so, and now carried himself with an undeniable aura of authority within the hallowed halls of justice. He may have been two hundred year out of practice, but the role flooded back to him like the waters of a dam breaching. Despite putting in his best efforts, a weariness still lingered in his gaze, a silent testament to the sacrifices he had made for the greater good. However, amidst that weariness, a newfound glimmer of purpose shone through, intertwining with a sense of duty and hope that replaced his once self-centred nature. And, in those moments of fatigue, he reminded you that he would remain by your side, unwavering, through the trials that lay ahead.

Smiling at this thought, you rested your palm on his chest. You watched it rise and fall with his every breath, yet lamented that you would never hear the beating of his heart. It was only when Astarion mumbled and shifted himself that you realised you had been weeping. Your tears had smeared across your cheek when he moved.

“D-darling,” he murmured, his voice heavy with sleep, yet tinged with concern. He roused himself from his slumber whilst the room remained shrouded in the soft, dim glow of the moon. He shifted his body, his movements languid, so that he could meet your tired gaze. But as his searching met your sullen face, you averted your eyes, the weight of your emotions weighing upon you. A single tear trickled down your cheek, glistening like a diamond in the pale moonlight that shone through your balcony window. Gently, he cupped your chin, his thumb grazing the delicate curve of your skin, coaxing your gaze back to his. With tender care, he wiped away your tears, his touch warm and comforting. It had been countless nights since the darkness of a past vision had plagued you, yet Astarion’s memory remained steadfast, recalling each instance he had provided solace during those trying times. 

“Another nightmare?”

You gave a timid shake of your head, your vulnerability exposed. “No, not exactly,” you responded, your words barely a whisper in the tranquillity of the room.

“Do you wish to talk about what troubles you, my sweet?” he offered softly, his voice carrying a gentle melody that soothed your troubled heart. His fingers caressed your cheek with such tenderness, a warmth spread through your skin, offering comfort in his touch. 

“No, I am alright. You needn’t worry about me, my love,” you reassured him, your voice offering a return of his love. 

A sigh escaped Astarion’s lips as he leaned back, his eyes studying your face with a mix of concern and affection. “Tavrin, sweetheart, you know dreadfully well that I always fret about you.” 

Unable to contain it, a soft chuckle escaped your lips. “I know,” you replied, your gaze meeting his deep red orbs, their intensity drawing you in. A smile, brimming with adoration, curved your lips. “But I am fine. I was just recalling all the trials and tribulations we have endured, and all the solace and tranquilities that have been entwined. Particularly us, where tranquillity is concerned.” 

“Is that so?” He asked after a moment, bringing you in by the waist to plant a feathery kiss upon your lips. “Did any particular memory take precedence?” His query, though one of interest, was rather provocative in nature. You could not help but blush at his silky tone. From the heat which flushed your cheeks, he knew your thoughts had delved into something wanton.  

You shivered as his delectable touch smoothed along your collarbone. 

“The graveyard,” you mumbled coyly, “when you had shown me your grave.” 

“Oh?” As his brows raised in genuine surprise, his eyes sparkled with curiosity. “And why, exactly, did you recall that?”

You raised your chin, refusing to allow his flirtations to get the better of you. “Because it is when you confessed your undying love for me,” you answered with a playful air of defiance.

Grinning, it was his cheeks that now tinged with a blush. “Well, I had meant everything I had said - and done - that night, darling.” 

You felt yourself tingle from his honest proclamation. 

“I’m sure you did.”

“Do you not believe me?” He made a flamboyant gesture of feigned hurt. 

“Of course I do,” you responded without hesitation, leaning forward to kiss the tip of his nose in an offer of reassurance. 

Letting out a soft scoff, Astarion lazily reclined against the plush maroon velvet goose-feather pillows positioned behind your heads. The rich fabric felt luxurious against his pale, bare skin. As he settled, he gently pulled you down with him, drawing you into another intimate embrace. Having fed from you before you had both turned in for the night, his body exuded a warmth which enveloped you, his touch sending a delectable tingle through the junction between your thighs.

In the hushed atmosphere, a moment of quiet pause hung in the air. Astarion broke the silence, his voice low and enticing. “Well,” he began, his tone laced with a hint of mischief, “I’m more than willing to prove it to you again if I must.” 

His uncanny hearing caught the soft, almost indistinguishable moan of arousal that escaped your mouth. A corner of his thin lips curved into a salacious grin then, as his crimson gaze locked onto you, intense and penetrating. He let out a low hum, his breath warm against your cheek, and lightly teased one of your now sensitive buds with the feather-light brush of his fingertips.

“Tell me what it is you wish for, my love, and I will make it so.” 

“Astarion…” a moan escaped your breathless lips. He did not need an answer. He could read your needs like an open book. Taking you by your forearms, he pulled you to be flush against his body, your back pressed against his chest. Nuzzling the side of your bared neck with his mouth, he discerns your jugular with the tips of his fangs, daring not to pierce your skin. His nimble fingers smooth over your dark skin, 

Your breath hitched as you felt his hand reach your sex. With a delicate touch, he caressed the inside of your thighs, his fingers teasing the soft and sensitive skin. Your core ached with desire, a yearning to be filled by him.

A low growl escaped his lips as he slipped his fingers between your folds. A delectable slick wetness enveloped them as he entered you, your walls clenching around him. With the skill and finesse of a practised lover, he teased you, eliciting a deep, drawn moan. Your hips rolled against his hand, desperate for friction, desperate to feel him.

You felt his tongue, smooth and velvety, graze along your shoulder, his kisses soft and gentle. 

Pleasure washed over you, coursing through every fibre of your being, mingling with the heat of lust and desire.

Astarion knew what he did to you, and he did not relent. His fingers slid in and out, his rhythmic motions a tantalising torment. He tortured your clit as well, and masterfully caressed the exact spot that caused you to squirm and moan.

Your heart raced as his mouth brushed against your neck, his lips hovering above your skin, teasing you. Your blood pulsated through your groin, and a fire burned like the pits of Avernus between your thighs.

Your breaths became shallow as the heat built up, your muscles clenching in anticipation. You wanted to feel him deep inside of you, riding you like a wild beast.

Just as you were about to beg, his fingers withdrew. You cried out with disappointment.

You turned to face him, a frown marring your features, a whine of protest upon your lips. Before you could utter a word, his lips were on yours, and his hands were exploring the rest of your delectable body.

You returned his kiss with fervour, your tongues intertwining. You tasted the faint traces of blood on his tongue, your blood, a remnant of his recent feed and it sent your senses wild.

“Astarion...” you whimpered.

His hands continued to roam, teasing your buds, kneading your flesh, and caressing your inner thighs.

“What is it, my darling?” He asked, his tone dripping with sensual amusement.

“Take me.”

You could see the fire ignite within his gaze. He did love to hear you beg.

“Are you certain, sweetheart?” He purred, his tone laden with temptation. “I’m not sure you can handle all of me again.”

He was teasing you; challenging you.

“Try me.”

With a low, husky groan, Astarion rolled you onto your back. With his knee, he spread your legs. You could see the raw lust within his gaze as his eyes travelled the length of your naked body. You knew that look well, and it excited every part of your being.

“Do not say I did not warn you, my love.” His voice was a deep purr. His words were a promise.

Taking his manhood, he teased the outside of your folds, coating it with your juices. A gasp escaped your lips. Your hands dug into the bedsheets, desperately seeking something to cling to.

In a swift motion, Astarion entered you. You arched your back and let out a loud, drawn-out moan. You wrapped your arms around him, pressing your fingers hard against the scars on his back. 

As he moved within you, your hips grinded with him. Your senses were heightened as his touch set your skin alight, and his rhythmic motions brought forth a deep, intense pleasure that threatened to consume you.

“Astarion.” You whimpered, pearls of sweat forming along your brow. As he thrust against you, he brought his hand to your face to caress your cheek ever so adoringly.

“My darling, you are so exquisite.”

A low, husky growl escaped his lips then and he picked up his pace. The sound of his groans of pleasure drove your senses insane. Your muscles began to tense, and your breaths became more shallow. The heat of his skin on yours was electrifying. 

As he felt you tighten around him, Astarion leaned in closer, his lips brushing against yours. You could feel the heat of his breath on your mouth. His tongue ran along the inside of your bottom lip.

“Do not fight it, darling.” He murmured, his voice thick and seductive.

You moaned in response, your nails digging harder into his skin. You felt a rush of pleasure wash over you, and suddenly, the world was a haze. Your entire body was on fire. Your breath came in short gasps as your walls clenched around him again. You could feel your own wetness on your inner thighs.

It was all too much, especially with the loud creaking of the bed.

You let out a loud, primal cry, and felt a sudden wave of ecstasy drown you. But Astarion wasn’t finished with you yet. His thrusts were still relentless, and his kisses were passionate and demanding.

“Do you have any idea how much I adore you, my love?” He growled. “Every inch of you, every sound that escapes your delicious lips. Gods, you’re divine.”

You couldn’t find the words to respond. Your mind was a blur of euphoria, and you could barely form a coherent thought. You were completely intoxicated by the scent of him, the taste of him, and the feel of him. 

Raising himself from your body, he brought your knees up with his arms and pressed them to your chest. He would put you in many more positions before he was finished with you.

Astarion continued to drive himself deep. His pace quickened, and the intensity of his thrust increased tenfold. He let out a deep, guttural growl.

You could tell he was close.

“Come for me, my star,” you breathed. 

With a final thrust, he buried himself deeply within, and a wave of ecstasy flooded over you both.

Your muscles contracted around him, milking him of his seed, and you both collapsed, panting, in a hot, sticky mess.

After a long pause to catch your senses, Astarion moved down to the junction between your thighs. He was still not done. Astarion would make you feel such pleasures that your mind would elect to forget all that had been troubling you. He didn’t care for his own seed that was dripping from your core. He wanted to taste you. All of you.

With a slow, deliberate motion, he lowered his mouth, and his tongue darted out to catch your collective juices.

You arched back your neck as you felt his tongue swirling around the folds of your labia, tasting every bit of his essence that mingled with yours.

“Astarion.” You whimpered, and the sensation sent waves of pleasure throughout your body.

He took his time, savouring the sweet, salty taste, and his tongue darted in and out, bringing you close to the edge again.

“Astarion,” you breathed. “You are too much.”

You felt him smirk against your skin.

“But I’m not nearly done with you, my darling.”

And with that, he plunged his tongue deep inside of you, and began to swirl and lick, causing you to arch back your neck again, and your fingers to dig into the sheets once more.

As your orgasm approached, he continued his expert ministrations, and your body shuddered.

When he had decided he had tasted all he desired, Astarion withdrew, and kissed his way up to your navel.

“Gods,” you breathed, “you truly are insatiable.”

“Only for you, my love,” he grinned mischievously through his kisses.

“Astarion,” you pleaded, your voice hoarse from the exertion. “I fear if you continue, I shall die from exhaustion.”

“Nonsense,” he scoffed. “You have an entire night ahead of you, and I intend to enjoy every moment.”

He was teasing you, and you knew it. But, truth be told, you did not have the energy to object.

Yet he knew not to push your boundaries, and he moved to settle down beside you, gently petting your navel as he did.

“Now rest, my darling. We can continue this in the morning.”

You did not argue. Despite how exhausted you now were, you felt eager at the anticipation. 

Alas, your eyelids grew heavy as sleep overtook you, and soon you drifted off, nestled in the comfort of your lover’s arms.

[11queensupreme11]

QUEEN ITS LIKE 2AM HERE, AND I CANT SLEEP CUZ YOUR NEWEST CHAPTER IS STRESSING ME TF OUT STOPP 😭

When i read the TWs, my eyes literally bulged out hahwhwjwk

As a hard core posy fan, i was fed the finest of feasts this chapter <3 lol i already know pillow-humper, skin-licker, daughter-lover, vouyerism-fetishizing, daddyseidon is a bit freaky but aint no way his first major fatherly disciplinary action is TO SPANK HER, and mf was smirking too 😭

this is even more wild to think abt considering that blud has never had a child to discipline before, so im pretty sure this scenario was floating in his crusty ass mind for a while and now hes finally had the chance to act on it

Another thing, i thought the whole ichor tasting scene was the cause for the cannabilism TW and i was like oh ok 🙂 and then my jaw dropped 😭😭 BEELIE 😭😭

I was a beelcy stan from the very beginning. Still am. But his recent actions — him just not saying that he fcked up and shouldnt have made that deal w loki, his newfound jealousy and rage against anthonious (leave him alone, he sounded hella cute in that pov and in his other interactions w our loser stop😔), and lastly WHAT HE DID TO MIMIR theres no going back 😭 i feel like all the love ur giving to beel this act 1 is like our hook but then youre gonna make him such an unhinged and even hateable yan (tbh u've been hinting at that a loooong time ago but my delulu ahh kept coping, correct me if im wrong, yes im still coping). Like i have this feeling that by the end, beels gonna be one of the people percy would start to hate a lot, maybe even the most cuz, while i havent read or watched pjo, i know that his character has a lot to do w loyalty as a trait. This then gives way for other yans to swoop in and get close to her, i see you author 😡.

Sooner or later, all of beels advantages will be stripped away from him: (1) him not being related since now theres anubis and loki, (2) his knowledge of her identity/being someone she can talk to without having to be careful with her words, since loki already knows and eventually everyone else will know, (3) her friendship w him/the trust that he'll have her back because my god he keeps fucking up and all his problems will blow up sooner or later cuz he keeps bottling it up, (4) the possibility of maybe having a normal relationship w her since mimir squashed that down. There could be more but im too braindead to think rn

You're honor, i cant defend him no more 😭

As a beelcy fan, im rolling on the floor, puking tears. But as someone who has been craving apollo and hades, and is currently warming up to loki, im so 💙💙💙

Im supposed to be asleep so i can continue drawing later, but then you dropped this nuke on me and i dont know what to do w my thoughts 😞

"pillow-humper, skin-licker, daughter-lover, vouyerism-fetishizing, daddyseidon is a bit freaky but aint no way his first major fatherly disciplinary action is TO SPANK HER, and mf was smirking too 😭"

pls i'm crying at the names 😭😭 poseidon's no longer the god of the seas or god of gods, he's just.... pillow-humer, skin-licker, daughter-lover, and vouyerism-fetishizer LMAO I CONSIDER THAT AS AN UPGRADE 😂😂😂😂😂

and yes daddyseidon has been WAITING for the moment to finally 'discipline' her 💀💀 he just didn't think she'd try to risk her life for it, but whelp, she's okay now so he can spank her for it later 😂😂😂

and as for beelie.... 😔

oh beelzebub, whatever are we gonna do with you 🥲

for your sake, everyone should keep their expectations for beelzebub low. i mean technically, you should do that for all the yans, but beelzebub ESPECIALLY 😂😂

[holybatgirlz]

going to the chapel | chapter 3

read here on ao3 (first chapter)(previous chapter)

Summary:

“Three days?” she yelped. “I thought you said next week.” “Three days is next week.” Sophie frowned. “Oh. You’re right. Monday, then?” (An Offer from a Gentleman by Julia Quinn, Chapter 23) What happened in the days leading up to Benedict and Sophie’s wedding.

Word Count: 5.6k

“She’s gone! She’s gone!”

Violet glanced up from the latest Whistledown pamphlet reading to see her youngest daughter race into the dining room. Her dark chocolate curls, only half pinned up, flew wildly behind her as she ran excitedly around the room.

The Bridgerton matriarch frowned. “Hyacinth, you know better than to run inside this home,” she chided sternly as her daughter rounded the table, racing to her side. “Now what is the matter? Who is it? Who’s gone?”

“Countess Cruel and her wicked daughter,” Hyacinth replied giddily, bouncing up and down in her excitement. “I saw it. Her and Rosamund were packing one of the carriages this morning. Footman John went over after they left and asked what had happened and the footman said she was departing for the estate in the countryside. For the rest of the year.”

“Good riddance,” Eloise remarked into her tea. 

“It seems she must have chosen the dowager residence now that the new earl does not wish to share his properties,” Francesca said.

Violet glanced towards Posy, sitting silently on her left, and saw the poor girl was staring down at her breakfast with a shocked and sullen look. Her mouth twisted into a tight pout. She looked hurt but also conflicted, and why wouldn’t she. Her mother and sister had left without even leaving her a note, without even a goodbye, abandoning her as if she was an old suitcase left on the side of the road. And while Posy had chosen to leave her mother, to no longer live under her thumb, it didn’t still sting by it. 

Violet reached over and patted her hand, giving her a supportive smile. The younger Reiling returned it with a small but sad one of her own.

“I have to tell Sophie!” Hyacinth squealed. “Is she up yet?”

“Oh no, you don’t. You let that girl sleep,” Violet ordered harshly, pointing a finger at her. “Heaven knows this is the first morning since she arrived that she slept past sunrise. I will not have you disturbing that.” 

Violet then pointed at the empty chair next to Eloise, making it clear she expected her youngest daughter to sit down and eat her breakfast instead of allowing the young girl to race upstairs and wake Sophie. And while it wasn’t what she wanted to do, with Hyacinth letting out an annoyed sigh as she slumped into her chair, acquiescing to her mother’s orders (but she was not happy about it!).  

Seeing her daughter’s disappointment, Violet sighed and made a compromise of her own.

“You can tell her when she comes downstairs.” 

—

Sophie was surprised when she heard the news her stepmother had left London. Her soon-to-be-in-laws (mainly Hyacinth) were more than welcome to tell her all about it when she arrived in the dining room that morning for breakfast. Informing her that they had departed for the countryside while she’d still been asleep upstairs in her bed. 

And while Sophie had certainly felt some semblance of relief at the knowledge she would no longer have to worry about crossing Araminta on the sidewalk before her wedding day, she wasn’t given much time to process it before she was swept into a carriage and taken to Madame Delacroix’s modiste shop her final dress fitting. The moment she finished with her breakfast she found herself sitting in a carriage on route across town, wondering how well the fitting would go given it would be the one and only one. There wasn’t much time left now to finish the adjustments. It would have to be perfect. 

Which didn’t do much to relieve Sophie’s stress, but she was using it as an opportunity to distract herself. Trying to focus on the future as she stood on a small, circular fitting platform Madame Delacroix had in the back of her shop, her arms outstretched as the modiste checked the stitching around her chest and arms. 

Given the modiste’s shop was much smaller than the parlor at Number 5, it was decided only Francesca and Violet would come with, so that Francesca could get measured for her own wedding gown. She was currently milling about the front of the store, scanning the fabrics, lace, and ribbons while Violet stayed in the back with Sophie. A second pair of eyes to scan the dress for any obvious imperfections. 

“You look lovely, Sophie,” Violet told her, smiling fondly as she scanned the gown. 

“She is the picture of virtue, non ?” Madame Delacroix remarked cheerfully as she moved the skirts of her gown around. Her remark unknowingly made Sophie’s cheeks burn.  

But she had to admit, Madame Delacroix had exceeded her expectations. In only two days, the modiste had sown together a bridal gown that Sophie felt would put the royal family to shame. It was neither gaudy nor plain, extravagant nor cheap. Her gown was a perfect mix, elegant while also subtle, not over the top. The white silk looked to reflect silver in the light while still retaining a creamy white color, which was exemplified by the embroidered pattern fabric used for the bodice. And the gown was smooth to the touch and incredibly comfortable over Sophie’s stay. 

“It’s wonderful, Madame Delacroix. You’ve truly outdone yourself with this one,” Violet said, hands clasped together. 

“Yes, it’s beautiful. Thank you,” Sophie added. 

“You may thank me by telling me the look on Monsieur Bridgerton’s face when he sees it,” Madame Delacroix teased, making Sophie’s cheeks burn hotter. 

“Oh, I’m certain Benedict will love it,” Violet commented.

Sophie smiled softly back as she gave herself another look in the mirror before her as she ran her hands over the soft fabric. The bell over the front door rang in the next room. 

“Ah, Miss Bridgerton,” a female voice cheerfully greeted. “What a surprise.”

“Lady Haddington,” Francesca returned with equal, polite cheer. “How are you?”

“I’m well, thank you. Here to pick up a few gowns for my daughters. They’ll be debuting next season so my husband and I have decided to have them attend the final summer ball with us,” Lady Haddington explained. 

“How wonderful,” Francesca commented sweetly. “They must be excited.”

“Yes they are, and especially after hearing of your match to Lord Stirling,” Lady Haddington said with a laugh. “My congratulations on your upcoming nuptials.”

“Thank you.”

Geneive continued with her final adjustments to the dress, moving around Sophie as they listened to the conversation Francesca was having on the other side of the curtain.  

“And how are you doing? Dealing with all this?” Lady Haddington then asked, sounding sympathetic. 

“Well there are still a few more weeks since the banns are still being read, but John and I are quite happy with a small–” Francesca started.

“I meant about your brother. Marrying that little upstarter must have thrown quite a shadow over your impending nuptials,” Lady Haddington clarified.

It went silent inside the modiste shop. 

Sophie felt her stomach drop, felt her heart slowly sink with it, until it was resting on the ground between her feet. Next to her toes. 

Of course this would happen. Why should she be surprised? 

“What a wicked thing to do. No doubt she must be the center of attention I assume,” Lady Haddington continued, almost gleefully in her judgment, as if unaware Sophie was standing only a few feet away behind a curtain.

Madame Delacroix and Violet had also frozen in place. Violet’s head whipped towards the curtain, a furious expression crossing her face, one that Sophie could not see from where she stood though, while the modiste gave Sophie a supportive smile and rubbed her arm comfortingly. It didn’t stop the water that began building in Sophie’s eyes, water she tried blinking away. 

Violet took a step away from them, heading towards the front of the shop, most likely to confront the woman, but Francesca’s voice stopped her in her tracks.

“You assume incorrectly, Lady Haddington,” she said, an edge leaking into her tone. “My brother and Sophie are quite happy. As I am for them. Sophie is a welcomed addition to our family.” 

“Oh!” Lady Haddington sounded surprised. “Miss Bridgerton, I meant no–”

“Oh, I think you and I both know what you meant. And I can assure you, my sister is not some little upstarter,” Francesca said, the sneer she had to be giving Lady Haddington obvious in her tone (and very unlike her). 

“Well,” Lady Haddington cleared her throat after a moment. “I suppose I will have to re-evaluate who I interact with if that’s the case. To allow such a woman to marry into our soc–” 

“I certainly have no interest in interacting with those who look down their noses at those over something as simple as their class, so I suppose you have done me a favor,” Francesca stated before the other woman had a chance to continue. “And I have no doubt that John will agree with me.” 

The lack of response from Lady Haddington was a sign she’d been reduced to silence. Francesca’s words were a clear threat, and while Sophie had not heard of Lady Haddington before, she suspected the woman did not have as high of a title as Francesca was soon to have. And a cut direct from an earl would do no favors for Lady Haddington’s soon-to-be debutante daughters.

“I believe it will be best for me to return later to pick up my daughters’ gowns,” Lady Haddington then said. 

“I believe it would,” Francesca returned, tightly. 

The bell ringing signaled Lady Haddington’s quick departure from the store, and was also when the curtain ripped away as Francesca stormed into the small changing area. A furious crease between her brows. 

“That infernal woman,” she hissed, looking over her shoulder. “How dare she.”

“You handled yourself wonderfully,” Violet assured, gently resting her hands on Francesca’s shoulders, rubbing her thumbs supportively over the sleeves of her daughter’s gown. 

“You certainly put her in her place,” the modiste added. 

“Sophie, I’m sorry. I’m so so sorry you had to listen to that,” Francesca told her. 

Sophie shook her head. “I’m alright.” 

“Pay no mind to what Lady Haddington said,” Violet said to her next. “Some women truly do not know how to behave in polite society.”

“I really am fine,” she assured them, still blinking away the tears. 

She was given three sympathetic looks in return, which did nothing for the building anxiety she felt in her stomach. And standing on the podium wasn’t helping. All this sudden attention made her want to flee out the back door of the shop, which was the last thing she needed to be doing right now. Especially in her wedding dress. 

“Maybe we should give Miss Beckett a moment to see the dress on her own?” Madame Delacroix suggested politely. 

Francesca nodded quickly back to her, picking up on what the modiste truly meant, as she turned to her mother.

“Mother, why don’t we go pick up the shoes for tomorrow, while Madame Delacroix finishes with the gown?” she suggested. "It should only take us a few minutes."

But Violet did not seem to want to, maternal instinct having taken over, and she hesitated. But a small look from her daughter and she eventually relented with a small sigh, telling Sophie they’d return momentarily. 

Madame Delacroix waited until they had departed before handing her a silver handkerchief and asking. “Are you alright, Miss Beckett?”

Sophie nodded as she gently dabbed her eyes with the small piece of soft silk. “Of course.”

“I can promise you, madam, Lady Haddington is in no position to remark on your marriage, let alone judge it,”  Madame Delacroix told her. “From what I heard, her marriage to her husband only occurred because they were caught together unchaperoned. And her daughters are incredibly ill-mannered. She is no doubt jealous that there will be one less available Bridgerton for her daughters to try and marry. Not that I believe they would ever be successful.”  

“Thank you,” Sophie said politely. She knew the modiste was only trying to help her feel better. 

“They do not matter,”  Madame Delacroix added and Sophie nodded. 

“I know,” she replied, softly, trying to convince herself. 

One more day and she had a lifetime with Benedict to worry about. She didn’t need to be worrying about what others in society thought of her marriage. What mattered to her was Benedict. 

“Besides, you will be a most incroyable bride,” Madame Delacroix commented. 

And once again, Sophie was reminded of the matter of Madame Delacroix's out of place French accent. The more she thought about it, the more she’d begun to believe the modiste had never left the country, let alone the city. 

“You can drop the accent,” she told her gently.

“Pardon?”

“You’re French accent,” Sophie said, giving her a sheepish smile. “I know you are not French.” 

“I assure madam I-” Madame Delacroix quickly started.

Sophie gave her a look and the modiste stopped mid sentence, before she let out a deep sigh. 

“What gave it away?”

The French was gone. Her actual accent was a typical London accent, not country or northern. One which Sophie commonly heard amongst those of the lower classes. 

“Well, my father spent a lot of money making sure I was fluent, enough that I was teaching Hyacinth French,” Sophie told her, before quickly adding. “But your pronunciation is far better than hers.” 

The modiste shrugged. “Years of repeating the same words many times.” 

“I won’t tell anyone,” Sophie assured her.

Madame Delacroix gave her a small, kind smile. “Thank you. And since you now know something only my closest friends know, I think it only fair that you call me Gen as they do.”

“Oh, well then you must call me Sophie,” she quickly replied. 

Gen’s smile widened. “Of course.”

“Might I ask, why the act?” Sophie asked, curious. 

“Well, firstly, I can charge more by claiming to be french trained,” Gen replied simply. “And it helps with keeping my work and private life separate.”

“Is that how you met Benedict?” 

A mischievous smile tugged at Gen’s lips. “We met at a party. Long ago. Anything else you would like to know?”

“I did have one question I wanted to ask you.”

“Of course.”

Sophie hesitated momentarily, taking a moment to think of how she should phrase her question. “Did you know my fiance…personally?” she soon asked, delicately. “I couldn’t help but notice that you speak of him the way an old friend would.” 

The modiste was both silent and surprised by her sudden question. It was apparent she did not wish to answer that question. But Sophie wanted to know. 

“I am aware of my soon-to-be husband’s former habits,” she added. “And I do not mind. It’s evident to me it was long before he and I met.” 

Gen still hesitated for a moment, looking unsure about how she should answer Sophie’s question. If she should even answer it. 

“We were involved once. Briefly,” she finally admitted. “But it was very short. Our time together. I assure you.”

“I do not mind,” Sophie replied quickly. “And I do not judge you for it either. I swear.” 

Gen gave her a small smile. “Sophie, I do not think you the type to.” 

“I know Benedict…got around before I met him,” Sophie told her with an awkward laugh. “And I have heard the rumors surrounding him. I have seen how women in the ton look at him.”

“Well, he may have been very…outgoing, when I first met him. And he’s built himself quite a reputation since then. He was, how do they say…?” Gen suddenly struggled to find the words. 

“A whore?” Sophie suggested plainly.  

The modiste’s dark brows shot up in surprise, eyes widening at Sophie's sudden remark, before the surprise turned into a smile and she laughed. 

“I suppose he was,” she replied with a sly smile. One which Sophie returned with one of her own. “But I’m certain he is a changed man now that he’s met you.”

“I suppose he is, yes, but he is still…well…” Sophie laughed, suddenly feeling a little awkward. Her cheeks began to burn. “It has been helpful since he is…so experienced.” 

Gen let out a laugh as she quickly put two and two together, realizing Sophie had already had some experience with her fiancé. “Miss Beckett, I do believe you and I will get along quite splendidly.”

“I cannot help but agree,” Sophie said sweetly, and the bell over the front door rang again. Signaling Francesca and Violet’s return.

—

Benedict had never thought he’d hate having a stag party.

As much as he enjoyed his brothers’ company, and the good bourbon that came with it, he was in a fool mood to begin with. And his brothers were not helping. 

He’d spent the entire day unable to see Sophie, and today was the last day before they got married. 

She’d been gone from the home by the time he arrived that morning, off to the modiste for the final fitting, and while he’d tried to stick around, waiting for her to return, his darling little sister Hyacinth would not let him. 

Damn Hyacinth and her blackmailing. She’d even gotten all the servants to aid her in barring him from the home. The footman had blocked his path every time, refusing to budge, and even Mrs. Wilson had refused to step aside, letting the cook threaten Benedict with bodily harm if he dared set foot in the kitchen. 

So, while he sulked in one of the leather arm chairs, his brothers were enjoying their bourbon and game of pool. Mocking him relentlessly as they did.

“It certainly will be a change now that you are married,” Anthony said as he walked around the table. “We’ll finally be free of your sulking and drama.” 

Benedict rolled his eyes, trying to ignore his brother. 

“Still, we best prepare. There may be another tiny little Benedict running around soon,” Colin mockingly said to Anthony. “We’ll have even more melodrama to deal with then.” 

“God help us,” his brother returned with a sly smile and Benedict watched the two descend into a fit of laughter. 

Clenching his jaw, Benedict accepted that, no matter how annoyed he was, he probably deserved this. So, he bit his tongue (hard) and downed his glass of bourbon. He wondered how Sophie was doing right now. Was she having a good time with Daphne and Kate? The two had told him they planned to celebrate with her at Number 5 while he drank with his brothers. 

“Are you alright, brother?” Colin said, chuckling. “You have a very melancholic air about you tonight.”

“No doubt grieving his last day as a bachelor,” Anthony commented.

“I am not,” Benedict quickly retorted, almost sounding like a child. And the pout he gave certainly didn’t help his case against it.

But his brothers only laughed ( at him !) again. 

“He has not been allowed to see his sweet Sophie,” Colin said to Anthony. “He’s been in a foul mood ever since.”

“How do you know about that?” Benedict asked, annoyed. 

“That the servants have all banded together against you on Hyacinth’s behest? Who doesn’t,” Colin answered.

Benedict only huffed a reply, slumping further down in his chair as his brothers returned to their relentless mocking. He took another sip of his bourbon, swirling the amber liquid around the glass in an effort to pass the time.

He just wanted to be done here, so that he could return to his lodgings and go to bed. Sleep the time away. It was the only solution he had to his conundrum, besides sneaking into Number 5 through a window so he could see Sophie. Maybe he could throw a few stones at the window where Sophie was sleeping, get her to unlock it for him. 

As he mulled over his options, the door clicked open and in slipped Eloise. 

“Eloise?” Anthony asked, surprised to see her. “What on earth are you doing here?”

“I’m here to celebrate,” she replied sharply, as she beelined for the tumbler of bourbon on the table next to Benedict.” 

“Eloise, do not–” Anthony started to warn, watching as she poured herself a rather large glass of bourbon. 

But Eloise only ignored him, and Benedict certainly wasn’t going to stop her. He was content with watching her fill the glass far higher than necessary, knowing exactly what the outcome of this was going to be.

“Cheers,” Eloise said, looking down at Benedict as she spoke, lifting the glass high up before downing it in one go.  

Anthony only sighed in disappointment. “Eloise,” he remarked, exasperated. 

But her decision to act as though she was as grown as they were had apparently backfired. They watched as Eloise’s face twisted up in disgust before she let out a choking cough, the liquor burning her throat as it went down.

And Benedict could only chuckle. Served her right. 

“Christ, how do you all drink this so easily?” she asked them. 

“Years of experience,” Colin replied, smiling smugly at her. 

“I hate you all,” Eloise said back, still coughing, as she placed the tumbler back down on the table.  

“Why exactly are you here?” Anthony asked her. 

“Besides wasting good bourbon,” Colin commented.

His comment only got him a mocking look from Eloise, her lips pulling up into a sneer as she glared at him, before she moved towards the open chair and dropped into it, practically sinking into it as slouched down. Her hands rested on the arms of the chair. Utterly unladylike, as was the norm for her. 

“Am I not allowed to celebrate my brother’s engagement?” she asked.

“You understand what a stag party is, don’t you?” Colin said back, but Eloise only rolled her eyes. “Men only.”

“How’s Sophie?” Benedict asked, knowing Eloise would at least be honest with him.

“She’s fine. She was in the parlor celebrating when I snuck out,” Eloise answered simply.

“Good,” he said, nodding along. Kate and Daphne would certainly make sure she had a good time. “That’s good.” 

Somehow he thought repeating that to himself would help calm his nerves. It didn't, but Benedict still repeated them a few more times.

“They were plying her with wine when I left, after what happened at the modiste, she no doubt needed it,” Eloise explained dismissively as she dropped down into the available chair next to his. 

Benedict frowned. “What happened at the modiste?”

Eloise froze. Her dark brows popped up, her eyes widening as she realized she said something she probably shouldn’t have. Colin and Anthony also frowned with concern, waiting for an explanation their sister seemed to suddenly be struggling to give. 

“Eloise,” he said warningly. 

“It was nothing. Mother and Francesca handled it. Far better then I would have,” Eloise told him assuringly, still not meeting his eye. 

“What. Happened?” Benedict repeated, tensely, before she could continue.  

Eloise opened her mouth to reply, before stopping, thinking over what she was going to say before finally letting out a sigh.

“Sophie may or may not have been called a few choice words by some other patrons,” she admitted.

“Like what?” Benedict grounded out.

“Benedict–” Eloise started.

“What did they call her?” Benedict returned flatly. In no mood to argue. 

Eloise took a moment. “I think…I think Francesca said she was called a…an upstarter,” she admitted finally and Benedict shot to his feet. “But Francesca already put them into their place and–Benedict! Benedict, stop ! You don’t–” 

“I’m going over there,” he told them all, practically slamming his glass down on the table next to him.

“Brother, you need to stop and think,” Anthony told him, stepping around the pool table to come and block his path. 

How dare they? How dare anyone in this city speak of his fiancee, his Sophie, in such a way. Benedict’s hands clenched into tight fists at his sides as he felt the anger building within him. This bloody ton and their bloody expectations and assumptions. He expected talk, he expected insults, but he hadn’t thought any of them cruel enough to say their foul thoughts directly to Sophie. 

He had to see her. Make sure she was alright. Tell her that none of them mattered before she was scared off for good. 

“Benedict, wait!” Eloise cried out. “She’s fine.”

“I need to go check on her,” Benedict retorted, snappishly, but as he turned to leave he found Colin had already jumped up to block him, beating Anthony to it. When he tried to step aside, Colin only followed, stepping in his way once more and preventing him from leaving. His brother even gave him a look to let him know he’d continue at it if needed.

“Benedict,” Colin said gently. “Just take a second to breathe. Alright?”

“I know you're worried about Sophie, but storming over to Number 5 won’t do her any favors,” Anthony informed him calmly. “It will most likely cause her further stress.”

He was right. As much as he hated it, his brother’s words still cut through the rage building within him, reminding him that Sophie would no doubt be more upset about him being upset then what had been said.

“Who called her an upstarter?” he demanded from his sister.

“Lady Haddington,” Eloise told him.

Anthony scoffed. “Of course it was one of the Haddingtons.”

“Mother’s already planning to give them the cut direct the next time she sees them. So will Daphne,” Eloise added, as if that would be enough to placate Benedict’s anger. 

While he knew his sister snubbing Lady Haddington and her daughters would be enough to put them in their place, Benedict's body was still vibrating with anger. He ran a hand over his face, taking a deep breath in an attempt to calm himself down.

“Here,” Colin handed him his still full glass of bourbon. “Sit down and take a moment.”

He allowed himself to be gently pushed down by his younger brother, so he was once more sitting on the amber colored, leather chair, drink in hand. The other one gripped the arm of the chair tightly.

“Kate and Daphne are keeping her company. Distracting her,” Eloise repeated. “And when I saw her she was happy and celebrating. No doubt focusing on tomorrow's events.” 

Benedict took a sip of the alcoholic liquid, focusing on the burning sensation it left as it went down his throat. A familiar feeling. He let it distract him, tried to distract him, as he focused on his siblings' assurances. They did what he no doubt knew Daphne and Kate were doing with Sophie; celebrating, distracting, keeping company. 

Still, he’d give it another hour. Then he’d go to Number 5.

—

“Good night, Sophie.”

“Good night,” Sophie called back as she dragged herself up the stairs. 

“We’ll see you in the morning,” Kate cheerfully called up, her voice slurring somewhat from the wine. “Sleep tight.”

Sophie gave a small wave over her shoulder as she made it to the top of the stairs, slowly heading down the hallway to her room. Her movements were slow as she was somewhat buzzed at the moment. Her body felt lighter, weightless. Her limbs loose, her muscles relaxed, from all the wine Daphne and Kate had made her drink. They'd kept handing her glass after glass, and it had been rather difficult for Sophie to refuse.

But she’d still had a nice time with Daphne and Kate. Her future sister-in-laws had been more than welcome to prepare her for a married life, letting her know all their tips and tricks for keeping their own husbands in line, all while celebrating her impending marriage. Making sure she enjoyed her last day as an unmarried woman. 

Withholding sex will always help you win an argument.

No matter what you are always right. Not Benedict. 

Oh! If you want to have kids, make sure you're on your back with a pillow under your hips. That’s how I was able to convince Belinda and Caroline so quickly.

Oh, Benedict’s right, it is completely normal to take a six month honeymoon. Don’t worry. 

It had helped, her soon to be in-laws had worked hard to make sure she was calm and ready for her wedding day. And after an evening of chatting and laughing, one where Daphne had been more than welcomed to inform her of all the embarrassing and mortifying things Benedict had done when he was younger (some of which she’d found quite humorous), Sophie had almost forgotten about Lady Haddington’s remarks at the modiste. 

Almost. 

But they’d at least tired her out. No doubt she would sleep soundly tonight. 

As she closed the door to her room, the room Violet had put her in now that she no longer slept in the servants quarters, she got to work undoing the laces of her gown, quickly slipping out of it and the additional skirts, her stay, before throwing on her nightgown. 

All she wanted to do was to collapse onto her bed and fall into a blissful sleep. The quicker she did the closer she was to marrying Benedict, which the mere thought sent a wave of butterflies through her. 

Right as she finished preparing for bed, there was a knock at the door. 

Sophie assumed it was Kate or Daphne, with one last piece of advice, but when she opened it to check she found someone else on the other side. Someone who was not supposed to be in the house because it was ‘unlucky to see the bride before the wedding’ even though Sophie was pretty sure that meant the day of the wedding, not the day before. 

It was Benedict. 

“What are you doing here?” she hissed quietly, opening the door wider. Firstly, so that he could come in unnoticed (and quickly!) and secondly, so Sophie could then stick her head out and give a quick scan of the hallway, making sure no one was around. 

“Eloise told me what happened at the modiste, she kept Hyacinth busy while I came up through the servant’s stairs,” Benedict explained as he slipped into the room, the door clicking shut behind him.

Sophie sighed. “I’m fine, Benedict, I don’t–”

She was cut off by him cupping her face in his hands and suddenly pressing his lips desperately against hers. The feel of him against her melting away her anxious thoughts and frazzled nerves seconds. And Sophie’s body responded instantly, sagging against him as the tension bleed out of her, her hands snatched at the lapels of his jacket so she could keep herself upright since her legs had suddenly turned to jelly.

“Lady Haddington has always been a foul woman and her opinions are not worthy of your attention. She is not worthy of your time,” he told her once he’d pulled back, his hands still cupping her cheeks. 

She sighed, breathless. “I know I just–”

But Benedict wasn’t having it. 

“She is not,” he started as he kissed her cheek. “Worth.” He then kissed her other cheek. “Your.” Then her forehead. “Time.” 

And he finished his sentence by kissing her once again fervently on the lips, before letting his hands drop to his sides as he stepped away from her. By this point, Sophie’s body was buzzing. She felt lighter. Her whole body was suddenly warm as she clung to him. And it felt like a flock of birds were caged inside her chest, flying around her heart in an attempt to escape. 

“Better?” Benedict asked with a knowing smile.

She nodded, feeling her cheeks burning hotly. “Yes.”

The crooked smile of his widened further. 

“I have something for you,” he told her, reaching into his pocket and pulling something out. 

It was a small box. Tiny. Benedict held it between his thumb and index finger as he held it out towards her. 

“What is it?” she asked. 

“Just something I thought you should have before tomorrow,” he said. 

He then opened the box, revealing a small, emerald ring nestled between champagne colored silk inside Even in candlelight, the green gem glittered, the soft orange light reflecting off the sharp angles.

“Oh!” Sophie stared down at the ring in awe. “Oh, Benedict. It’s beautiful.”

“I wanted to give it to you earlier. Had this whole plan where I would propose to you. I even had a whole speech prepared,” he told her with a nervous laugh, gently pulling the ring from the box. “I felt I owed you an actual proposal since I never really asked if you wanted this.”

“Benedict, of course I want this,” Sophie assured him, chuckling. “You don’t need to ask me.” 

“But I do,” he told her and Sophie caught the seriousness in his eyes. “Sophie, I owe you so much.” 

Something swelled within her, her body suddenly warm (and not from the wine this time). It felt like the night she first met him, that buzzing sensation that washed over her when she’d first entered the room had returned. Filling her with joy and a sensation similar to content. 

“I love you,” she blurted out, unable to stop herself. 

Benedict smiled. “I love you too.”

Sophie caught her lower lip between her teeth, feeling nervous suddenly, even as her body sang from joy. Her heart beating rapidly against her sternum. She was certain she’d never felt as happy as she did at that moment.

And the nasty voice in her head, the one that constantly told her she didn’t deserve any of this, had been silenced with the drop of a guillotine’s blade. The love Benedict felt for her, and what she felt for him, was too much for it to manage.

This is what she wanted. And she deserved it too.

A quiet life with Benedict was all she wanted, and all she would ever want. 

So she watched, fondly, as Benedict gently took her left hand in his and slid the ring down her ring finger till it sat snuggly at the bottom, fitting perfectly on her finger. Almost a sign it was meant to be. He took a moment to study it, before looking back up at her. 

“Right, now where was I?” he said, smiling proudly down at her. “Ah, yes. Sophia Maria Beckett. Will you do me the honor of being my wife?”

Sophie couldn’t help but she laughed, smiling brightly back at him. Reaching out with one hand, she cupped his cheek and leaned forward to kiss him.

“Yes, Benedict. Yes, I will marry you.”

She could feel Benedict’s smile against her lips as he kissed her once more. 

[benophieslove]

how to lose a guy in 10 days — chapter 3

“What are you planning to do with those tickets?” 

“I was going to ask you the same question. After all, they belong to you.”  

“I’d appreciate it if you returned them to me.” 

“Do you have someone in mind to go with?”  

Posy let out a squeal, but Kate quickly covered her mouth, while Sophie tried to suppress her laughter. “That depends.” 

“On what?”  

“On whether you want to come with me or not,” she said quickly, watching her friends’ reactions. They were glued next to each other, completely focused on her phone, which was resting on the coffee table. They were eagerly awaiting his answer. 

“Are you asking me out, Sophie Baek?” Benedict asked teasingly.

“It would be mean to just take the tickets back without inviting you to join me. I’m not that cruel.” 

“Thank you for considering me. I would be a fool to say no to an offer like this,” he replied. “What time shall we meet and where?”  

“At six, outside the bar where we met last night,” she said instantly. “Don’t be late.” 

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he admitted.

Read the rest of the chapter here

Or read from the very beginning

[ellecdc]

Random question!

So I totally binge read all of CBBH and I have a random question. How many kids did each couple have? I saw many new names in the last chapter so I was just curious. What are the birth order of Siri’s kids and James kids?

💕💕💕

haha thanks for asking! There's definitely a boatload of kids over there so I understand the curiosity lol

So Draco & Harry are roughly the same age (less than 2 months between them) so by the end of the war in CBBH they were approximately 1.5 years old.

When the boys were 4.5 (approx 3 years after the war), James & Lily had Jasmine Potter, and 1 year later Sirius & Vix had Aurora Black (Draco & Harry = 5.5 ish)

When the boys were around 9 years old (Jasmine was ~5 and Aurora ~4) both Lily & Vix ended up pregnant at the same time and Remus joked they would finally have 'twins' in the family and they had Posie Potter and Lyra Black.

The babies of the bunch are Sirius & Vix's twins Leo & Stella. I think when I wrote the final scene in CBBH (when Aurora was heading to her first year at Hogwarts), the twins were three, which would have made Jasmine ~12 and the boys ~16 but I honestly don't know that I kept the age gaps straight when I wrote some of the one shots tbh.

Basically, the birth order stayed the important part: Draco, Harry, Jasmine, Aurora, Posie/Lyra, Leo & Stella.

Then, in the Christmas special - they took in Theo who was in the same year as the Golden Trio

Hope this helps 🫶

[arand0mdutchgirl]

Text post part 15 to promote my new ao3 posts. i posted not 1, not 2 but 3 new oneshots today (i'm insane i know😂).

Cute one shots on ao3 today i posyed ch 4/5/6

This is a summary:

Want more of the dooley-Davenport siblings? Read ch 2 (Chase and adam playing video games and Kaz making them coffee and all 3 joke around), Ch 3: the Davenport-dooley siblings hanging out, Adam and Leo playing video games and Adam and Bree being chaotic and there are flashbacks to their childhood in the lab. Ch 4 Kaz tells Adam about dandelion wishes while the elite force hangs out with Adam and leo. Ch 5: Bree tells the elite force about Adam; Bree and Chase's first time seeing stairs when they got out of the basement and how Leo made a fun game out of it for them and how it ended in Chase almost getting decaputated. While Chase and Kaz yell at eachother for being too reckless aith their lives. Ch 6 is chaz fluff: Chase feeling insecure about havinga rash and Kaz taking care of him. Ch 1 is Kaz coming out to Skylar and telling her to stop flirting with Chase. i hope ypu like them!

Here's the link:

[oldworldwidgets]

hi! i'm aud!

[my icon is by @unethical-science <3]

im a 24 yr old writer and video game enjoyer :] i love being insane about haunted fictional men online

@oldworldreblogs is my sideblog for not-fallout rbs @spctr is my suits sideblog

BUT this here is my main/fallout blog! heres some fallout stuff!

wonderful you came by: my deacon/sole survivor longfic. chapter posts are tagged #oldworld.fic and other fic discussion is tagged #wycb

atom bomb baby: my chronological deacon playlist <3

my beloved characters:

delilah - fo4, tagged #oc: delilah teddy dawson - fnv, tagged #oc: teddy virginia may adler - fo76, tagged #oc: ginny may mariposa - fo76, tagged #oc: posie

other tags i use to sort my posts -

#oldworld.txt ; #oldworld.posting ; #oldworld.asks

my blogs run 95% on queue (and its like a cavern in there) so i apologize in advance if i freshly rb a post you've already forgotten about :P see ya around! <3

last updated 08.12.24

[electric-hydrangea]

Arlecchino's Past & Her Being the Grim Reaper

Spoilers/leaks for 4.6 ahead

Made by Rosie Posie and Daniel :3

reposted from my twitter, leak-censored version on the genshin lore subreddit

The Fall of the Faded Castle

The Fall of the Faded Castle is where Arlecchino’s lore can be found. “The Mask of the Red Death” by Poe is the inspiration for this book. I’d recommend reading it, it’s very similar!

It’s referenced in Arlecchino’s kit (her infused normal attack), its name being “Mask of the Red Death”

The book has numerous references to the blood moon and debts owed, something also found in Arlecchino’s kit, as well as the use of the word “baleful”. 

In her Character Introduction, she hallucinates her past in a way very similar to TFotFC. The lines are meant to parallel each other; the scene being the same but the setting is now different.

The final paragraph of her Character Introduction references the ending of TFotFC, and the moonlight that flows into the hearth through the window symbolizes her past. 

TFotFC mentions the clock striking midnight and the castle master becoming panicked for the reaper that would come to collect his blood debt, and then Arlecchino’s introduction mentions her taking control over the room when the clock chimes. 

Remuria

To move onto Arlecchino’s connections with Remuria, it requires extra context about Remus, the leader of Remuria.

Remus had his own sin, different from Egeria, where he altered life by dissolving his people into Golems. He meant for them to live for eternity, but the souls instead shattered.

While Egeria was punished by Celestia, Remus was punished by Arlecchino. The Fall of The Fated Castle is about Arlecchino punishing Remus. She’s responsible for Remuria falling. I know there are some really passionate Remuria fans, I hope I am not massacring the story haha. I’m more into the Ordo #sandronenation

Edit: it’s been brought to my attention that the guy in the story probably isn’t Remus, and I’m also on board with that. The guy who the Grim Reaper is hunting isn’t entirely relevant, but I suggest instead: Boethius

Unsorted Chapter

She’s still dead though; she’s glitching. She’s otherworldly. TFotFC describes the Grim Reaper as having two cold eyes that can pierce your soul with a glance. It questions if they are a lord returning from an ancient world, or the nightmare itself. 

In the origins of her name, Arlecchino, in commedia del’arte, it’s said to trace back to Dante’s Inferno; a devil going by the name Alichino. Her character type is the “devil” stock character, but that character can also be molded into whatever, like being a lighthearted prankster.

She also has a scythe.. Grim Reaper much? She also marks enemies with her blood debt, something in her kit. The scythe effect that the polearm has is one that only Arlecchino can use. Her whole kit uses wording that can be attributed to TFotFC and the hearth. 

The boss Arlecchino can be found at a grave. The writing says “Crucabena”, who is also “Ceridwen”. Crucabena is the Gallic equivalent. Ceridwen is the Welsh goddess of rebirth, which is a part of Arlecchino’s whole thing. Her grave’s subtitle could be referencing how the hearth is of two worlds.

Arlecchino’s constellation “Ignis Purgatorius” is based off of the poem “Purgatorius Ignis” by Christopher Okemwa. I don’t really know what’s going on in this poem, but I’d be more than happy to hear what others think.

Perinheri

Her character introduction shows us that she is in control of the hearth (in the Orphanage), and Perinheri shows more of her themes in the hearth; this could symbolize her being reborn as Arlecchino from being the Grim Reaper.

In book “Perinheri”, Perinheri is locked in a hearth and has to crawl through it. Then, he is asked if he has seen “it” yet, and if he is dead. When he turned around, he saw the Crimson Moon and a titanic horrified eye. After Perinheri was released from the hearth, he was told that he traversed through the fire of two worlds within the hearth and he is now reborn.

The Crimson Moon is Arlecchino, and the eyeball Perinheri saw is on her head in her boss fight. 

TLDR

TLDR Arlecchino was the Grim Reaper and punished Remus for his crimes and then was reborn as Arlecchino but something is still wrong with her because she’s glitching. It could be because she’s caught between the two worlds within the hearth. 

We also don’t have voice lines, character stories, or artifact lore leaks though so a lot of information is probably missing.

There are more connections to be made with Arlecchino, Caterpillar, the grave, Perinheri, and the experiments done on Caterpillar, but I don’t think I have enough to try and cover that.

[cosmok13]

“What is it?” Angus asked, wondering what the results would be from the tests. 

“Well, where do I even begin? First of all, there is the issue with Angus’s soul. As he mentioned before, he used Anti’s soul in order to keep his soul stable, when he was being forgotten by the community. In order to make sure his soul wouldn’t break, he used something else to keep it stabilized. But now… it appears that the Anti souls have been jostled loose…” 

Angus gasped as he heard that, now that he thought about it, his connection with Posi and Nega felt a bit… off. But he had so many other things to do that he didn’t notice it until now. “That… might have been me.” Anti admitted. Everyone turned to him for more answers. “When Angus found me in that dream state and freed me, I could sense my souls in him. So I tried to get them back from him and… in the end I didn’t.”

“That would explain why I look like my former self now.” Angus noted. 

“It’s much worse than that. Without taking on the appearance of the Souls true form, you are also no longer protected.” Henrik added.

“Okay… but, what about Anti?” Angus asked, looking over at the Glitch. 

“Well… that is a different story. But… let me explain!” Henrik went over to a large white board, placing a picture of a white orb surrounded by light blue. “Here, this is an example of what a soul usually looks like. Inside the very center, the white spot is called the core. It more or less makes up the very foundation of who you are. Traits, personality, memories, all that stuff. The aura that surrounds the core is what we call the essence, which helps to protect your core. It also is where all the magic you have comes from. Souls also tend to be color coated, usually to represent what the person is like. My soul is a light shade of blue, typically associated with wisdom, but the light shade shows the caring personality I have. And it goes well with the blue scrubs I tend to wear, showing my status as a doctor.” He slowly removed his own soul and replaced it with another image. “This… is Anti’s soul at the moment.” Everyone looked to see a black hole that was surrounded by a white aura, with the hole having glitched spots.

Anti’s face paled as he saw that image of his soul, shuddering. 

Even Angus was fearful. “Ohhh god…”

“T-That’s Anti’s soul?” Chase asked.

Henrik looked somber. “I’m afraid so, well what is left of it. Despite your core being gone, you have managed to retain yourself, but clearly having your soul taken has affected you physically. It appears that the essence around your soul is what is currently holding your form together.” As Henrik explained, Anti held himself as he shook. Angus noticed this, seeing how scared he was getting.

“That’s good though, right? It means that Anti is still alive with it!” Chase pointed out.

“Sure, for now at least. But essence comes from the very core of the soul, which creates the magic itself. Hence why Angus’s soul, despite it being broken, is still together because the magic from the Anti souls are keeping it from falling apart.” As Henrik explained, he then showed Angus’s soul next to Anti’s, which was an orb that had multiple cracks surrounded by a green aura. “This is Angus’s soul currently, and as you can see, it is very fractured and fragile. Especially with the Anti souls loose, he is left unprotected. 

“Hhhhhhhh….” Angus shook as he listened to his dad. 

“So… what does this mean, Hen?” Chase asked, worried about the end result. 

“For Angus, because he is no longer protected, if he gets badly injured… no, not just that. If we do not do something soon, his soul will fall apart on its own. As for Anti… while the essence is keeping him alive for now, without a core it will eventually run dry and if that happens… his body will not be able to keep itself together. The two of them… will die.”

I am back again with doing more screenshots for my fanfictions. Again, sorry it took so long. But, I managed to get one done, finally! This imagine if from Chapter 3 of Soulscape revise, which you can check out here: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13872298/1/Soulscape-CosmoK13-edition Also, the quality is different if you were wondering. That's because I used procreate on my IPad instead of FireAlpaca on my computer. I'm trying to use Procreate as there are more options and easier to use. Let me know if you like this quality better or not, I would appreciate the feedback.

[shiroxix]

handing you olruggio on a plate for the ask meme. also if you want, pick any peregrinari player character to do this with, your choice.

Olruggio! :3 I love that funky lil mans so much. He's legit my favorite. I need to read the newest chapter. I know it's got some Stuff For Him in it, according to the WHA crowd.

And for a Penguins guy... I shall roll for it. (This is just the Penguins/Cycle Three PCs, Madinaas/Cycle Two PCs you can also request this huehue)

Just kidding, I didn't roll. I asked Jay to name a Penguins character and she said Posy so: @ohmygourd7

I adore this girl, I want to explode her in the microwave.

[imaginespazzi]

weekly check-in!

Hi nivi honeyy, i missed you i won’t lie! I LOVED LOVED LOVED CHAPTER 10 but it kind of made me sad at the same time 😞

how was your day and how are you overall babe?

i took this puppy to the vet because she looked sick so she got a checkup! i hope she’s okay, they’re updating me tomorrow! okay goodnight nivi sleep tight 💌

HI ROSIE POSIE <3

Aww my love, I missed you too and thank you so much, I'm glad you liked it but I'm sorry it made you sad.

My day's been up and down but okay all over and I'm doing good! How have you been lovely?

Awww you're such a sweetheart. I hope she's okay too and let me know what they say!

Good night lovie <3

[ao3feed-kathony]

Season 4 Episode 6: Wallflowers

read it on AO3 at https://archiveofourown.org/works/57716782 by Rachel_writes_plays A chance meeting with those from Sophie's past puts her new life working for the Bridgertons at risk. A chance encounter with Benedict saves her, but could lead to an even more perilous position. Stuck between heart and head, Sophie is left spinning. Eloise and Lord Sandhill meet at a bookshop for a delightful conversation, and Eloise makes a decision about their courtship. Penelope continues to meet with Posy about her (lack of) luck in the marriage mart, to the dismay of Araminta. Words: 2038, Chapters: 3/19, Language: English Series: Part 6 of Season 4: Benedict Fandoms: Bridgerton (TV) Rating: Mature Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Categories: F/M Characters: Anthony Bridgerton, Benedict Bridgerton, Colin Bridgerton, Eloise Bridgerton, Francesca Bridgerton, Hyacinth Bridgerton, Sophie Beckett, Kate Sheffield | Kate Sharma, Penelope Featherington, Violet Bridgerton, Marcus Anderson (Bridgerton), Agatha Danbury, Charlotte zu Mecklenburg-Strelitz | Charlotte Queen of the United Kingdom, Alice Mondrich, Will Mondrich Relationships: Anthony Bridgerton/Kate Sheffield | Kate Sharma, Sophie Beckett/Benedict Bridgerton, Colin Bridgerton/Penelope Featherington, Francesca Bridgerton/John Stirling I Additional Tags: Screenplay/Script Format read it on AO3 at https://archiveofourown.org/works/57716782

[11queensupreme11]

ok but when is posy tho i miss their moments 😭😭😭😭😭

next chapter 😈

posy shippers.... brace yourself for the next two chapters (and no i wont tell you if something good or bad happens, just BRACE YOURSELVES) >:3