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maximoff-pan · 3 years ago

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they’re not the only ones ii | benedict bridgerton

Summary: 4 times you and Benedict are confronted about your feelings for one another and the 1 time you confront each other

Pairing: benedict bridgerton x fem!reader

Word Count: 6.2k

Warning(s): another 4 + 1 scenario (I kind of wanted to keep it consistent to the first part), more pining, fluff, some angst, sheer stupidity…you know the rest

A/n: hi darlings! I was so floored by the love on the first part to this fic that I decided to write another! Thank you all for your kindness and I hope you enjoy! (I’m also totally open to writing a part 3 should anyone want it)…

read part one: here & read part three: here

(y/n)

“This will be you some day.” Daphne smirks, holding her son August who’s placed perfectly on her lap. She bounces her knee up and down gently, calming him. “Raising a Bridgerton baby.”

You let out a cough of surprise, eyes blinking rapidly. “What?”

“You heard me perfectly.” She hums in amusement. Daphne loves that she can have this effect on you.

Suddenly a spluttering mess, you fumble with your words, struggling to form a coherent sentence. Defeated, you sigh resting on, “excuse me?”

“Oh please,” she shrugs nonchalantly. “Don’t act like this won’t be you and Benedict in the near future, happily married, and raising a family together.” She adds.

“I—“ you begin, but you’re at a loss for words. As much as it pains you to think about something that will likely never happen, the thought of starting a family with Benedict makes you feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

Now, Daphne Bridgerton is far from stupid. Quite the opposite really. She knows what you and her second eldest brother share is not platonic. This is not how just friends behave. She’s heard each of you utter that phrase or something else along those lines so many times that she’s surely lost count, and yet, there’s something about hearing you say it this time, that feels oddly different.

“Daph. I promise.” You murmur quietly, trying desperately to convince her. “Benedict and I are simply friends, as we will always be.”

Her eyes narrow. Observing you keenly, she notices that even you don’t believe what you’re saying. You’re fiddling with your dress, gaze refusing to meet hers, your attention focused solely on baby Auggie, who in the midst of your conversation, had been placed on the floor, and is now sat happily playing with a stuffed toy.

Your behaviour is uncharacteristic. And that furthers her curiosity. Of all the times you’ve had this exact conversation with her, you’ve always been assertive, confidence and surety radiating from your tone. But this time, you sound unsure of yourself, and quiet, a little too quiet.

“You’re in love with him.” She smiles, beaming with pride.

“Daphne—“ you try to interrupt, but she waves you off with the flick of her hand.

“You’ve always been in love with him,” she’s pacing now, deep in thought. “Of course you have. But now,” she turns to you, her eyes burning into yours, “you know of it. You know that what you are feeling is love.”

You blink in surprise, eyes lowering bashfully. Had you really been that obvious?

“It is alright to admit it.” Her gaze softens on your nervous form. She never meant to make you feel uncomfortable. Daphne wants nothing more than to reassure you, to encourage you. “This is a good thing (Y/n).” She says. “A very good thing.”

Her voice carries with a poise of certainty to it, like she knows she could never be wrong about the outcome of your feelings. But, as your heart rate picks up and your stomach churns with nerves, you find it difficult to take solace in this conversation.

“If this is such a positive revelation,” your gaze meets hers, your posture tensing with the anxiety that comes with your words, “then why do I feel as if my world is crashing in upon me?”

She smiles at you in understanding. She had felt the same way with Simon. “Love,” she rests a hand on your arm gently, seating herself next to you, “is wonderful in that way.”

“How so?” You ask, pulling yourself to the edge of her sitting room couch in genuine curiosity.

“Well,” her lips shape upward adoringly, “it makes you feel happiness like you’ve never felt before,” she pauses thinking about her next words carefully, “but it is also equally terrifying. Because when it’s so new and you’re still so unsure about everything, that is when the fear of losing that love is the greatest. It is truly life changing.”

Her words resonate with you instantly, knowing exactly what she means. Loving Benedict, even if in secret and unrequited, has been the best thing you’ve ever done, the most wonderfully life altering thing you’ve experienced. It’s also been the scariest, and yet, you wouldn’t change it for anything.

A silence washes over you both, Daphne allowing you a moment to soak it all in. It can be overwhelming, as she’s well aware, and based on the look on your face, you’re more than lost in thought. Your eyebrows are creased, like you’re running over something in your mind, like you’re trying to say something, but you just can’t figure out how.

“I’m afraid.” You finally admit to her. “What if he doesn’t feel what I feel?”

Daphne coos at that, she’s determined to make you see. “Benedict loves you more than I ever thought a person capable of loving another. Of that I am certain.” She says it with so much wit and charm that you feel yourself start to believe her.

A flicker of hope is forming in your chest, a warmth that hugs you tightly, that makes you feel whole. Benedict loves me, you think. Could it really be true?

“I almost envy you really.” Daphne cuts in, tone teasing and playful.

Tilting your head in confusion, you ask, “Why?”

There’s an almost sorrowful look that crosses her face, never one of jealousy, but there’s something yearning in it that you can’t seem to place.

“I’ve met my fair share of couples, married or otherwise” she starts, “and not one of them looks at their spouse the way you and Benedict look at each other.” Her brows furrow, lips pursed in thought. “Not Anthony and Kate, not Colin and Penelope, not Simon and me. What you have, it’s different.”

Different, is the word that stands out to you. Your love for Benedict is special, as is his for you.

You only hope he returns your affections.

And as if she’s reading your mind, she sends you a comforting smile. “With every breath in my body and thought in my mind, (Y/n), I know that Benedict feels the same as you do.”

You chuckle slightly to yourself. Much like her brother, Daphne Bridgerton has always had a poetic way with words, one that has your heart beating and your thoughts swirling.

But it’s her next words that stick with you the most:

“Never doubt that.”

benedict

The afternoon sun beats down on Benedict’s skin, a sweat forming on his brow. He’s not sure if it’s the heat or his nerves that’s causing him to feel so distressed. Maybe it’s both, he thinks. He hadn’t wanted to visit Anthony today, nor any other day really. Ever since his wedding to Kate, his older brother has been insufferable with him, talking non-stop of marriage this, and marriage that. It’s been driving Benedict mad.

And if he’s being honest with himself, which he likes to think he usually is, it’s not the idea of marriage itself that puts him off. It’s the fact that the only person he wants to marry is his best friend, the woman who has been by his side since he was a mere child. You.

Anyone else could never compare. They could never make him happy. And that terrifies him.

“Brother,” Anthony tuts, breaking Benedict’s train of thought, “for someone so gifted, you really are terribly dim.”

His eyes find Benedict’s easily, a glint of apprehension resting within them. Benedict is nervous, blatantly so, and Anthony has never felt better for relishing in it. He’s going to have fun with this. Or so he thinks…

“Unfortunately,” the younger brother responds, fiddling with the glass in his hand, “I do not catch your meaning.”

“Ah,” Anthony jests, “but we both know that to be untrue. I can see it written all over your face, you’re more than aware. You know exactly of what we speak.”

Benedict doesn’t like where this conversation is headed. The direction alarms him, all while causing his heart to race and his palms to clam up.

You, he supposes. The viscount is trying to get him to admit his love for you. And the thing is, if Anthony had been straight with him, serious enough to ask him of his feelings as opposed to turning to teasing and belittling his intelligence, then maybe Benedict would find himself being much more receptive.

But as for right now, all he can find himself being, is annoyed. He’s had this conversation one too many times over the past couple of weeks to find it anything less than frustrating.

With an apparently loud huff, he chooses to no longer hide his frustration. “Then why did you entertain my pretense brother,” he shoots, “if you knew from the beginning what this is about?”

“Benedict,” Anthony’s voice lowers in an attempt to calm him. He may have gone too far, he realizes. Although in his defence, Anthony has never known his oldest brother to be quick to react to anything. He’s aways been the calmest of the bunch, a thinker, a problem resolver, never a fighter.

But, he supposes, he’s never challenged Benedict with anything where love has been involved. Love, as he’s personally experienced, heightens anyone’s emotions, especially when it is called into question.

So, they find themselves in this more than uncomfortable position, standing in Anthony’s garden, as Kate attends to some of their flowers, a mere few feet from the brewing conflict. Her ears perk at the sound of Benedict’s voice, low, eerily calm, and suddenly very controlled.

“Do not play games with me Anthony.” He warns. And for the first time in his life, Benedict is not willing to go away quietly. He does not want to play the peace maker.

This forces Anthony to be the one to back down, something he is certainly not used to. “I apologize.” He relents. “I am only worried for you.”

A scoff releases itself from his lips, ocean eyes meeting amber. “Don’t.” His tone is laced with venom. “I never asked for you to be.”

And this is where Anthony can stand back no longer, pride and protective nature outweighing anything else. He can’t let his brother wallow like this.

“Jesus Benedict,” Anthony’s brown orbs are lit with passion, “you’re so in love with her and yet so unwilling to let her know of it. Why?” He pleads.

The glass in his hand feels heavy, not wanting it to slip from his grasp, he sets it down. Benedict’s voice is quiet now, his shoulders slumping forward as his eyes focus on the ground at his feet. “Because she does not feel the same. And I cannot lose her.”

Twelve words. Those twelve words are enough to cause both Kate and Anthony’s hearts to twist. How can he possibly think this way? How can he not see just how in love with him you are?

“Benedict.” Kate’s voice is warm, much warmer than Anthony’s had been. She’s not teasing him, not toying with his emotions. She’s taking this seriously. “You cannot truly believe that.”

“I have no reason to believe otherwise.”

And while Kate’s heart clenches further at Benedict’s admission, Anthony’s does not. He feels irritated. “Then you are wrong, and a fool.” He spits. “I understand what you are going through Benedict, I do, and I know how difficult this seems.”

Benedict’s eyes shut, his lips pulling into a grimace. “No.” He seethes. “You cannot fathom how this feels.”

“Then tell us.” Kate urges, placing a warning hand on Anthony’s arm, daring him to say another word.

“When I’m around her, I cannot breathe,” he starts, his eyes darting between his brother and his sister in law in pain. “I cannot think, I cannot sleep, and I cannot eat. I am consumed with her, consumed by her.” His breath is shaky, his voice cracking. “Do you understand how terrifying that is?”

“I do not.” Kate shakes her head in sympathy. “Explain it to me.” She smiles softly.

Benedict nods, trying to contain his breathing. He’s overwhelmed, never having admitted this to anyone aloud before. He feels like he might collapse in on himself. But eventually, he finds his voice, allowing a deep breath to fill his lungs with air.

“For years I have pushed my feelings down, suppressed them until even I believed they did not exist. I told myself that our friendship would be enough to keep me happy.” He pauses, thinking for a moment. “As long as it made her happy. But it’s not.”

Beside Kate, Anthony blinks in surprise. Benedict had never been this open with him before. Maybe jesting his brother had been the wrong approach. He should have known that a sensitive soul like Benedict’s required a softer touch. But he had been so hellbent on convincing his brother to tell you of his feelings that he had forgotten that.

“How do you feel about her?” Kate poses, and it takes Benedict a moment, because it’s the first time anyone has actually asked him that question. Most of these conversations had resulted in someone telling him how he feels about you, or how you feel about him, never simply asking. It nearly stumps him.

“I’m in love with her.” He says. That much is obvious to everyone. “So much so that my heart burns,” he continues, voice breaking slightly. “And every time I think about telling her, my stomach twists, and I feel my chest tighten in panic. Because as much as I want her, as much as I love her, I cannot risk losing her.”

“You have every right to feel afraid Benedict.” Kate assures, understanding how overwhelming this must feel.

But unlike her relationship with Anthony, and the fears she held towards their love, she knows that it’s different for Benedict. Because you and Benedict have been best friends for over two decades. There is much more for him to lose than was at risk for her and Anthony. Of that, she is well aware. Of that, she thinks Anthony forgets.

It explains his erratic behaviour perfectly, Benedict’s uncharacteristic anxiety overtaking his usually rational, care free, and calm demeanor.

“Thank you.” Benedict relaxes for what feels like the first time in a long time.

“There is no need for thanks,” Kate waves him off, her eyes searching his, “But I want you to know that you do not have to be afraid.”

And for whatever reason, Benedict feels himself calming at her words. He believes her. And as his gaze drifts towards Anthony, he takes in his appearance. Anthony’s lips are pulled into a thin line, and he looks like he’s trying, struggling to get something out. Nodding his head in encouragement, Benedict smiles. It’s okay, he tells his brother wordlessly, eyes communicating perfectly. I’m okay.

Allowing himself a chance to breathe, Anthony exhales, processing the words he’s about to say.

“Fear is a rational emotion to be experiencing.” He finally asserts. “But Kate is right.”

“As she always is.” Benedict chuckles jokingly, his mood lifting.

Anthony laughs at that, eyes crinkling at the sides. “You need not worry.” He assures. “(Y/n) loves you more than life itself.”

Benedict’s breath hitches, hopeful he asks, “You truly think so?”

The eldest Bridgerton grins, although never more serious in his life, he says, “I would never lie to you brother.” And Benedict knows that to be true. “Of that, I am certain.”

iii

(y/n)

A game of cards with the Bridgerton women as well as Lady Danbury and Miss Penelope Featherington of course, is always a worthwhile affair, albeit sometimes a tiring one. Especially when the conversation of the table comes to talk of marriage.

You, Eloise, and Penelope are the only unmarried women in the room, much to your dismay, turning the conversation towards the three of you. Leaving you even worse off, is the fact that the youngest Featherington’s affections are clearly known. She will marry Colin one day, which makes her certain match, less interesting to discuss.

And try as she may, Violet Bridgerton cannot for the life of her get Eloise to budge on the idea of marriage, allowing her to be narrowly in the clear of said conversation, despite some sparse comments being thrown her way every once in a while. (The former viscountess simply cannot help herself)…

Unfortunately, that leaves you, wide open for an incoming interrogation.

“So,” Lady Danbury grins holding her cards close to her chest, “Miss (L/n). How are you and Mr. Bridgerton faring? Is an engagement on the horizon?”

Whereas before your conversation with Daphne a few days ago you would have been flustered, this time you take it in stride. “I do not know Lady Danbury.” You smile politely. Two can play at this game. “Such things are out of my control.”

Across from you, Daphne beams with pride, pleased with your answer. But beside you, Eloise nearly chokes on her drink. Since when had you gained such confidence?

“So you have told him then?” Lady Danbury continues to pry. “Of your feelings for him.”

“No.” You keep your head high, placing a card down that inches you closer and closer to victory. “He is unaware.”

“For the moment.” Penelope quietly giggles to Eloise, and you almost miss it. But the comment makes you smile. If your feelings for Benedict are truly returned, then you suppose she is right.

The table goes around taking their turns in ease, Violet Bridgerton seeing this as an opportunity to observe you. Something is different, she thinks. On the outside, you seem more at peace. Maybe finally accepting your feelings as such has brought you some solace, but, she wonders, how are you feeling on the inside?

“Isn’t that right mama?”

“Pardon me.” Lady Bridgerton’s eyes snap up to meet Daphne’s. “I mustn’t have been paying attention. I apologize dearest.”

“Ah.” She nods. “I was simply complimenting (Y/n)’s skills when it comes to playing card games such as these. She’s a formidable opponent, wouldn’t you agree?”

Violet smiles warmly. “Yes. She most certainly is.”

Lady Danbury chuckles, taking her turn earnestly. She directs her attention to Lady Bridgerton. “That must be why your son is so entranced by her.” She hums. “One of the many reasons of course.”

Lady Danbury can see the end of this game in sight. There’s not much else that she hates more than losing, but if she must, she supposes the best outcome is to lose to you.

“That,” A wicked grin spreads on your face, lips pulling upward in victory as you place down the winning card. “You would have to ask the man himself.” You shoot a playful and challenging look in Lady Danbury’s direction, musing, “Though, I must say I should hope that besting you lot at a measly game of cards is not my most defining nor cherished character trait.”

Kate snorts at the exchange, amused by your sudden tenacity, garnering the attention of the other women at the table.

“Whatever is so funny?” Lady Danbury eyes Anthony’s wife.

Kate flashes her a toothy grin, comfortable joking around the older woman, after many months spent in her company. “It’s not often that you find yourself put in your place Lady Danbury.” The former Miss Sharma raises a brow in utter bemusement. “Not many have the courage to attempt it, let alone follow through with it.”

“I agree.” Lady Danbury hums. “Though I suppose this time, it was warranted. You are one most vexingly wonderful woman Miss (L/n).” She smiles at you, a respect flowing through her tone. “I can see very much so why Benedict Bridgerton is so besotted with you.”

“As do we all.” The women around the table muse in harmony. They are more than excited at the prospect of a relationship between you and Benedict, but none is happier than Violet. Her eyes meet yours, and she sends you the most motherly, gentle smile you think you’ve ever received. There’s something adoring it in, you recognize, beautifully sweet and nuanced. Violet Bridgerton knows you better than just about anyone, behind maybe only Benedict.

Sometimes you forget just how long you’ve known her. She’d practically raised you along with her eight other children, caring for you equally and affectionately. And as you sit here, eyes pouring into each other’s souls, soft smiles grow wide on your faces.

You don’t need her to voice it to know what she’s thinking. I love you, she mouths silently. You hope she can tell that you’re saying it back.

She does, she knows. You can see it in the way she’s smiling at you.

The gesture makes your heart sing in serenity. It makes you feel safe. Because if things with Benedict don’t work out the way you would like them to, the Bridgerton’s will always be your family. By marriage or otherwise.

benedict

The sound of laughter floats through the summer breeze at Bridgerton House, the young children’s giggles intertwining with your own. Keeping Gregory and Hyacinth entertained has always been a task and a half, but you make it look so easy, so effortless.

Sitting on one of the infamous garden swings, Benedict rocks himself back and forth slowly, taking in the image before him. He can’t seem to take his eyes off you.

“Wonderful, isn’t she brother?” Eloise’s deep rasp interjects. When he doesn’t answer, a love struck smile resting on his face, she continues, “You’re practically drooling.”

“I know.” He sighs dreamily. He almost can’t believe he’s allowing himself to act this way, so openly besotted, when you could easily turn around to see him staring. But Benedict can’t bring himself to care. After his conversation with Anthony, and after admitting everything aloud, he’s finding it harder and harder to hide how he feels. “I cannot help but watch her. I cannot help but hope that one day, that will be her and I, running around with our children.”

Eloise hums, reaching up to feel his forehead with the back of her hand. “Are you sure you’re alright brother?” She asks. “I’ve never seen you act such a way, let alone day dream about being a father and raising children.”

“I am in love El.” Benedict shrugs, saying it as if it’s the most simple thing in the world. “Besides,” his eyes flick over to you and his younger siblings, “this is hardly the first time I have thought about something like this.”

Eloise feels her lips pull into a soft smile, thinking back to your card game at Lady Danbury’s. It appears that you’re not the only one who has finally realized their feelings. Benedict is not only openly admitting it to her, as you did mere days ago, but he’s also not trying to disguise it.

“I like this side of you.” She comments.

Benedict chuckles. “As do I.” He says, grin lopsided. “I rather enjoy this feeling.”

“Falling in love?” She suggests.

“Falling in love with her.” He corrects. It wouldn’t feel right with anyone else.

“Mmm.” Eloise hums in contentment, a warm gentle breeze ruffling her chestnut locks. “You know she feels just the same as you do?”

Benedict’s eyes meet hers, blue catching blue. “As everyone keeps telling me.” He trails off sighing, “that doesn’t seem to make me any less afraid.”

“I suppose I understand.” Eloise nods sympathetically, gaze following the sound of your giggles. Her eyes rest on you. Selfishly, Eloise can’t wait for you and Benedict to be married and have children. She would never tell anyone this, but you two have always been her favourite people, never judging her character and never stopping her from becoming who she wants to be.

It’s on these very swings that she’s had so many midnight talks with the two of you, like therapy almost. Eloise can’t wait to have you as a sister, officially, she thinks. Because really, you’ve been her sister ever since she’s known you. And when you have children, she can spoil them rotten.

“You should tell her Benedict.” Her voice rumbles, yet there’s a fondness to it that he adores. Benedict sometimes forgets just how much Eloise loves you too. She only wants you to be happy. “(Y/n) will not turn you away. She is equally in love with you as you are with her. It’s annoying really.”

“I’m sure you’ve suffered greatly for it.” Benedict sends her a teasingly cheeky grin.

“Well, despite your sarcasm, I have.” Eloise fails to convince him. She even fails to convince herself. “I mean, you should have seen her at Lady Danbury’s ladies night. That was comical.” And before Eloise can continue to run her mouth further, she slaps her palm to her face, shutting herself up.

Benedict’s eyes narrow in curiosity, ears suddenly perked and ready to listen. “And what exactly happened at Lady Danbury’s?”

Eloise’s brows furrow in concentration. “No.” She mutters, determined to keep quiet. “I should never have said anything.”

“Eloise.” Benedict’s tone is taunting, melodic.

“No.” She refuses, very much struggling.

“You can tell me.” He urges.

“I cannot.”

“You can.”

“I mustn’t.” Her breath hitches.

Benedict warns, “Eloise.” He’s nearly pleading. “Tell me.”

And it’s the utter look of bewilderment in his eyes that gets her to break, spilling the events of that night. “The women were teasing her incessantly, about you.”

Benedict’s eyes turn towards you, taking you in. He’s not surprised to hear that. It’s been happening all your life, the subtle and not so subtle jibes. “Lady Danbury was the highest offender I presume?”

Eloise nods in response. “Most often when we tease her, she refutes it. But this time she didn’t.” Eloise is talking faster than she’s used to, excited to get everything out. “She simply sat there and admitted her feelings to all of us.” Her eyes search for her brother’s. “She practically told everyone but you.”

Flicking his gaze away from his sister, he relaxes at her words, shoulders no longer tensed and jaw no longer clenched. Benedict allows the warmth to spread throughout his body, his heart beating in happiness.

He has spent so much time refusing to believe what he’s heard, trying desperately not to acknowledge the gossip, that you love him too. He’s done everything, tried rationalizing every scenario to explain why you could never feel the same. And yet every piece of evidence he’s gathered, tells him that you do.

You love him. And he loves you.

Now all that’s left to do, is tell you…

+ i

(y/n) and benedict

Another night, another London society ball. It almost scares you how accustomed you’ve become to attending these functions, and yet, that doesn’t stop you from seeking refuge in Lady Danbury’s library. Hiding away has become your standard move for when you want to avoid the dance floor.

And maybe also when you want to avoid a certain Bridgerton…

It’s not that you don’t want to see Benedict, because you do, desperately. It’s just that, as the days pass, and your feelings for him continue to grow, you’re finding it harder and harder to pretend you’re not in love with him. And you think he’s starting to notice.

Ever since he’d come back from visiting with Anthony and Kate a couple of weeks ago, he’s been acting strange. You suppose you have been too, but it feels weird. There’s been a mutual share of awkwardness between you, and you don’t know how to shake it.

Sighing, you turn the page of your book, having reread the same lines over and over for the last number of minutes. You’d lost count how many times you had to go back, too lost in your thoughts to truly focus on the novel in your hands.

You’re ready to give up, huff in defeat and make your way back to the ballroom, until:

“Pride and Prejudice?” Benedict muses, his voice startling you. He’s leaning his body on the wooden door frame casually, blue eyes drifting. “Again?” He asks, not needing your confirmation to know he’s right.

Your gaze runs down his form in awe, his face lit beautifully by the glow of the fireplace. He looks ethereal, angelic, you think.

“You know me too well.”

Benedict smiles, cheeks illuminated in wonderment. There’s a teasing hint to his tone. “I should hope so,” he says, “after so many years.”

You chuckle. It’s crazy to think about how long you’ve known him, how long he’s been the most important person in your life. Because if you’re being honest, you genuinely cannot remember a time when that was not the truth. You don’t know what you’d do if you ever lost him.

Benedict coughs lightly, taking one step closer to you. “You are a hard woman to find.”

“Purposefully.” You tell him. “I have never been an adequate dancer.” There’s a twinkle in your eye that he cannot shake, it’s effervescent. “But surely you did not come here to discuss my lack of skills regarding the finer arts.”

“No.” He agrees with a laugh. “Although I think you to be perfection in any form, dancing or otherwise.”

Your breath hitches at his words, heart beginning to race. This feels like something. You’re toeing the line now, dangerously so. “You mustn’t flatter me Ben, my ego is rather well fed as it is.”

He likes this, whatever it is. Even as you’re both inching closer to blurring your friendship, getting closer to never being able to go back, you’re still joking with him, calling him Ben. You’re the only person he allows to do so.

“Something is troubling you.” Your voice cuts through his thoughts.

“No.” He ignores your concern, blinking away the fear. He swallows a lump in his throat, suddenly the room feels very hot. He pulls at the collar of his suit anxiously.

“Benedict.” You plead, your hand reaching up to touch his arm in reassurance. If anyone were to walk in right now, it would surely result in scandal. The two of you are alone and unchaparoned, touching, but however gently, it could ruin you. “You can tell me.”

He continues to ignore your soft pleas, breathing rushed, coming in short and quick bursts. Is this what a panic attack feels like? He doesn’t know. He’s never felt anything like this before. All he can register is your touch, your hands running down his body, your breathing working to calm him down.

“Breathe Benedict.” You coo softly. “It’s okay. You’re okay.”

He does as you say, relaxing immensely at your guidance, until his breathing is even. In and out, he hears you say. In and out.

A brief chuckle breaks its way from his throat. He almost wants to laugh at how pathetic he feels. But all he can think about, is you. If he had trouble believing you loved him before, he doesn’t now. He can feel it radiating from your body. He’s never felt more loved by anyone before.

With his voice cracking at the worst of times, he finds himself finally able to say, “you really are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen.”

And he wants to kick himself for it, because of course that would throw you off guard.

Your eyes widen in shock, hand dropping suddenly from his arm. That was not what you were expecting him to say. And judging by the look on his face, he’s just as surprised.

But when he notices the doubt that crosses your features, he abdandons his embarrassment. “You do not believe me.” He states in realization. “You do not think yourself to be beautiful.” It breaks his heart to see the recognition flash in your eyes. How could you possibly think that way?

With a shaky breath, all you can think to do is say his name. “Benedict.” It’s the only thing on your mind. Benedict, Benedict, Benedict.

“But you are.” He mutters in disbelief. “I have never met someone so frustratingly breathtaking.”

Your heart lurches. This is getting too close for comfort. “You should not say things like that.” Your voice is quiet now, your posture caving in like you’re trying to shrink yourself. Like you don’t want him to see you.

“And why not?” It’s his turn to touch you, his palm reaching up to cup your cheek. “I love you.”

“And I you.” You breathe, but Benedict deflates internally at your words, you still don’t believe him. You think he’s doing this as your friend.

“Not like that.” He grimaces, eyes pouring deeply into yours. “Not like—” He pauses, taking your hand and placing it on his chest. “Can you feel that?” He asks, voice low. He’s almost whispering.

Your reply is silent, nodding, you don’t trust yourself to speak.

“My heart,” Benedict’s chest rises and falls steadily, “it beats for you. Only for you. Because I am in love with you (Y/n), so deeply and so wholly, that I cannot breathe without you. When I am not with you, my soul aches.”

Euphoria, that is the best way you can think to describe it. This must be what Daphne had been talking about, the relief flooding your body as Benedict’s words ring through your mind. You’re not sure you have any words that can match up to his. He’d always been the poet after all, the starved artist.

So you don’t. You don’t say anything. You simply smile a coy smile, reaching your hands up to pull Benedict down by the neck of his suit. He’d rendered you speechless, so, you may as well return the favour.

And it feels like perfection, your first kiss. It’s far from Benedict’s first, but it’s already his favourite. His stomach churns in the most wonderful way, his left hand still resting on your cheek. He brings his other hand up, fully cupping your face now, and deepens the kiss. Your lips move against his in harmony, a light groan falling from them as he backs you up against the bookshelf.

“Benedict.” You murmur. His name has never sounded so wonderful to him before. But he knows you cannot keep going on like this, as much as he wants to.

Bringing himself back to reality, he pulls back from you gently, releasing your face from his grip. You eye him curiously, but you understand him fairly quickly. You can’t do this here, not now. You both know that. Benedict wants things with you to be done right.

“Marry me?” He breathes, blue eyes searching yours for any sign of regret. He knows it may seem sudden, but he’s waited what feels like a lifetime to be with you. He doesn’t want to wait any longer.

You grin, slightly dazed. “Eager Mr. Bridgerton?”

“Absolutely.” Is his quick reply. “I wish to make you my wife, Mrs. Bridgerton.”

You hum in delight. “Your wife. I quite like the sound of that.” There’s a slight pause before you speak again, brow raising ever so curiously. “Whatever will your family think of our engagement? As far as everyone is aware, we were not even courting the time they saw us last.”

Benedict knows that you’re joking. You’re merely teasing him, having a little fun, and he decides to play along. “I am sure Mama will faint from the shock.” His sarcastic tone has you giggling. “But in all seriousness,” he says, “surely, they would have seen this coming. They have been pushing for this for months—“

You chuckle earnestly, interrupting, “Years, darling.” You smile. “I believe it’s been years.”

He sighs, agreeing happily, allowing a sweet silence to fall between you. If he really thinks about it, Benedict is sure he can find many occasions where his family had subtly, and not so subtly, tried to push the two of you together. It surprises him how dumb he had been, how blind he must have been not to see it.

Absentmindedly, you place your hand in his, a content smile resting upon your lips. You’re thinking much the same as he is, reminiscing over the many moments you must have missed. The years of mutual pining, too scared to say anything, afraid you might lose the one best friend you’ve ever had.

But what surprises you the most, is that you don’t regret any of those moments. You don’t regret the years you may have lost being married to Benedict, because let’s face it, if you had had the courage to say something years ago, you would have been married by now. But somehow, you prefer it this way. Your journey, your love story, is etched with history. And there’s truly nothing more you could want.

As you sit side by side, the glow of the fire illumating your bodies, your shadows brilliantly cast intertwined on the wall, you’re reminded of something Anthony had said.

Incognizance can happen to the best of us.

Funny, you ponder. While you hadn’t gleaned the meaning behind his words that day, you now know, how true they seem to be…

||||||||||||||||||||||

tags: @freyathehuntress @idli-dosa @maryswollstoncraftshelleys @theoraeken-lover @i-always-come-back-xoxo @lostinwonderland314 @lvsickhyuck @magical-spit @auroresce @mell-bell @kpopgirlbtssvt @sanovr @mayakblack @arkofblake @acupnoodle

#benedict bridgerton x y/n #benedict bridgerton x you #benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton imagine #benedict bridgerton #bridgerton x you #bridgerton imagines #bridgerton imagine #bridgerton x reader

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ablednt · 3 years ago

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im not disagreeing with ur gifted kid post, but the way some of ur stuff is phrased can come off in ways u might not have intended. boiling those sorts of unrealistic expectations of very young kids down to "being complimented too much" ignores that a lot of these kids were unfairly placed in these programs and forced to complete them regardless of how much they struggled with it (and that these kids were in prime environments for developing npd due to overinflated ego from a young age). many gifted kids were given extremely unreasonable expectations and only barely managed to meet them in order to avoid facing punishment for failing. im not saying there ARENT gifted kids who dont treat it like "oh i was so special and now im not boohoo :( i need special treatment for it" but i feel like theres some aspects thats have been unintentionally misunderstood (/nm /nonagg!!! ^^ just wanted to bring this up as more of a discussion than an argument, hope ive made sense!)

No I definitely agree but my point is that I've never seen a genuine discussion from these people about this and I'm sure they exist to some capacity but that's Very Clearly not what the community was formed around nor where the term originated. People don't complain that they had expectations on them they just make stupid tiktoks like "teachers seeing a neurodivergent person: omg you're so smart you're my favorite student!!!" and then act like that's 1. universal and not just for palatable NDs and 2. that being complimented by their teachers was the problem and not everything else

I think it's also important to note that the expectations really weren't worse for gifted kids, it's just that gifted kids got closer to reaching those expectations and felt they actually had a chance whereas everyone else was punished automatically for not coming close. The issue is not specific to any one class or type of class it's a widespread issue with academia as a whole.

I genuinely don't think that gifted kids had it any easier than anyone else but I don't think that they had it harder either. Recently someone while venting told me, "I think school is stealing my family from me" because of the extreme expectations put on them and they're definitely not in any kind of gifted kid program, it's literally just as bad and extreme for all of us.

Like and I really don't think it's a coincidence that the times that I've criticized gifted kids and the times that I've challenged academia is when I've gotten some of my most blatantly ableist asks telling me to "just get over [my disability] and read some fucking books" and grasping at whatever straws they can to make me look "unintelligent" (like yeah I totally don't have trauma with academia I'm just mad because [checks notes] I play undertale sometimes and it made me incapable of coherent thought I guess/s)

The community is inherently classist and ableist and whilst they definitely do have trauma from academia it is not any different than the rest of ours, them separating it as some different and unique trauma just because they did better than us so obviously we just Wouldn't Understand their Huge Brains is just so frustrating and gross and I just really wish people would realize that rather than using this as a crutch not to work on their internalized ableism like yeah take trauma processing at your own pace but that doesn't mean you get to make it everyone else's problem.

Also a lot of people are gonna hate this comparison but I frankly don't see a single difference in gifted kids making up terms to say that their experiences are somehow more severe or even all that different to ours cause they're just Built Different and empaths taking widespread issues that affect everyone and acting like they're just sensitive special little souls and we could never comprehend their pain when really it's the same shit like depression, anxiety, etc. that we all live with on a daily basis.

#I do agree with you though that there IS an actual issue #I know that a lot of gifted kids have trauma being treated like spoiled and bratty when they expressed genuine hurt #and I definitely don't share that sentiment it's just that they're going about everything in an incredibly ableist manner #it's in my mind absolutely comparable to the way that ppl who think narc abuse is real weaponize their trauma against ppl with npd #like rather than actually challenging academia in any meaningful way they just spend their time lashing out at disabled and undereducated #people the fact that they do have real problems to worth through doesn't excuse that yk?#not saying that you were trying to make an excuse though it's reasonable to interpret what I said the way that you did

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mlwritingprompts · 4 years ago

Text

Submitted Prompt: To Fix It, First You Must Take It Apart. (Sometimes, With A Hammer)

So! Let's have some fun everyone, shall we?

Everything is going perfectly normal.

You are going about your day, minding your own business.

You hear a knock on your door and go to open it--

And suddenly wake up on a strange, unfamiliar floor, and everything is different.

You know, deep in your bones, with a deep, dreadful instinct that is impossible to describe, but you know it to be true.

You have just woken up in the Miraculous Ladybug universe.

"And You Are Here To Fix Everything." A voice intones next to year ear, making you jump.

You turn quickly, scooting along the floor as you struggle to make sense of what is happening. All you can think to reply is, "That sounds really ominous."

"That's because it is," Says the voice, and you realize you're speaking to a Kwami.

A kwami that looks like a... well, it looks like....

"There's no point in looking for my identity in this prompt," Says the mysterious and as-of-yet unknowable kwami, "I am unique to all those who respond, and I have no form until I am given one. I am every concept you can think of, I am every plant, or animal, or fungi, or alien organism you can think of. I am every mineral and rock and solution of chemicals you can imagine. I represent anything and everything you want me to be. I am unique to everyone who responds, and no two will be alike." The kwami says mysteriously.

You continue to stare at the impossible kwami.

They sigh in exasperation. "Just make an OC Kwami for yourself and boom, that's me." They finally say, dropping their dramatic tone of voice in favor of being more casual. "Just pick your favorite animal or plant or whatever and give me a cool power that will be useful for your adventure. Get creative with it!" They encourage.

You nod slowly. "Why... Why am I here?" You ask again, still very, very confused.

Your OC Kwami rolls their little eyes. "You're here to do a self-insert, time-travel(ish) fix-it fic. You've got all of your current knowledge from your world of the Miraculous Ladybug Universe, and you can decide what point in the MLU's "timeline" we start out in... if you can even claim that ML even has a coherent timeline to begin with, that is." Your OC scoffs, and you nod in automatic agreement. The so-called 'timeline' in Miraculous Ladybug is almost nonexistant.

"Okay," You agree, "It's not like I have anything better to do. Let's make this a quick silly drabble, or go as in-depth serious and detailed as I want! Let's go, Kwami!" You cry loudly--

Then you freeze as a confused shriek is heard from above, and there is a thump of someone falling to the floor after being startled. You don't know how you know these details, but you're just going to have to trust in the narrative style to guide you.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng has just been woken in the middle of the night by the sound of a stranger in her living room while her parents are away.

Staring at your OC Kwami, you start sweating bullets as you hear Marinette's nervous footsteps approaching, and distantly hear the soft, high-pitched hum of Tikki's voice as the Ladybug Kwami floats alongside her wielder to protect her.

You hope the narrative style will give you an easy way forward, but as the end of the prompt draws ever closer, you realize you're now on your own, you've now been set free, and there's no guide from here on out.

"What do I do!?" You plead with your Kwami, and they give you a silent, incredibly judgemental look.

"Oh yeah," You realize, and call out your custom activation phrase --

And spawn a hundred unique timelines where everything changes.

#Miraculous Ladybug #ML writing prompts #OC Prompt #original kwami #Marinette Dupain-Cheng #submission #Show!Miraculous #Show!Marinette #Show!Adrien

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kirksfattitties · 4 years ago

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hi! sorry for sending this on anon, but i wanted to put my two cents in re:spock&mixed race identity and i have a current aversion to linking this directly to my blog for personal reasons.

i am coming to this discussion from the perspective of a brown mizrahi+white ashkenazi jew who is primarily in contact with the mizrahi part, both literally in the sense of they're the family i talk to and more metaphorically in the sense that i live my life moreso as a brown person and am more in touch with mizrahi tradition etc.

this is probably going to get long for it is late at night and u have adhd, so i'm breaking this down into paragraphs for each question you asked that i have presumably relevant input on and trying to avoid walls of text.

the term half-human/half-vulcan

i don't think referring to spock as half-whatever amounts to blood quantum by itself and spock does in canon refer to himself as half-human several times in a way that doesn't bother me. HOWEVER, if you feel you are approaching that territory in some way, i would recommend trusting ypur gut and rephrasing (if you were oversensitive, no harm's been done, eh?). for spock specifically, he seems to mainly view himself as vulcan. i, similarly (?) view myself as brown - in my opinion, spock is most likely to either, if relevant, say immediately that he is vulcan+human (something along the lines of "i am part/half vulcan and part/half human"/"i had a vulcan father and a human mother" etc) or he will call himself vulcan THEN elaborate (a la "i am vulcan. my mother was human"/"i am vulcan and also human" etc). depending on the conversation, the fact he's both may not be relevant at all - it may be enough to say he's vulcan/human and leave it at that; for example, if you're discussing the way starfleet views alien-ness it's probably enough just to say he's vulcan, if you're talking about him doing a kiddush or something (struggling to come up with a differnet example rn, there are probably better ones) it's likely enough to just say he's human.

the term mixed

i don't think it's offensive to call spock mixed, but it does seem to me a little bit odd. might just be personal tendencies, just seems weird to call a white person mixed becuase the word "mixed" implies the "-race" part. in context it can work, out of context it feels awkward to me.

is spock coded as a poc

seems to me like a stretch. vulcan isn't a race, and (for the time being) spock is a white character and is treated as such. coding him as a person of colour would only work if he were actually one, no matter how much star trek loves using his story to talk about race. whiteness is only distanced from spock insofar as he is a jew (jew coded, whatever. he's undeniably jewish it doesn't matter) and that doesn't take away from his whiteness, only ensures a specific experience of it. (however this is not about black/brown spock my friend spock who lives in my head. he has rights he is loved he should be canonical. but [current] canon spock IS white and it doesn't really make sense to refer to him as poc coded or anything of the sort. a comparison may make my point more clear - worf is poc coded [specifically black coded], being an alien played by a black man written in a way which can in many ways be said to fit into some common black experiences and/or black character tropes [there are some cool essays on that you can look into if you want. worf my beloved]; spock isn't, he is a white character whose alien-ness is often used for race allegories.)

balancing humanity and vulcan-ness

a big part of spock's character arc is learning to accept himself whole. part of that has to an extent been admitting to himself he is also human and was raised by a human mother and currently lives in a majority human sphere. spock engaging in more human practices, letting go of some vulcan disciplines he doesn't want or coming to peace with himself are themes that i think fit his stories and that should be featured when talking about him. BUT, i think that's important, it seems to me more like growing up/accepting himself contradictions and all than like learning to Mix His Cultures. i don't think spock's problem is that he doesn't embrace human culture as his own, i think it's that he actively disapproves of parts of himself in the attempt to be the ur vulcan and takes it out as undervaluing humanity in general. basically my point here is that a lot of spock's journey is about accepting parts of himself that are seen as more human but make sure that when you phrase it it doesn't sound like what you're saying is that in order to be happy mixed people need to embrace Traits™ from all their races or whatever. spock's problem isn't that he doesn't act "human", he doesn't have to - it's that he represses the parts of himself he thinks don't fit his typecast essentially.

writing spock

i don't know how to solve the question of how to make sure you're not overstepping the line, but i would simply say proceed with caution. spock is both human and vulcan, it's a significant part of his character, you can write it, just don't set out to write a mixed story and/or if you see you are straying too far into a life you do not feel you know lay off it.

this is most everything i have to say. i hope it was coherent. i hope it was what you wanted. i hope it wasn't exhausting to read. i would like to conclude by saying @paramount cast a jew of colour to play spock it'll be so sexy and so much less white people in alien makeup are trying to talk about race also i think spock deserves it. it's what nimoy would've wanted he told me this in a dream.

(referencing the asks i made in this post)

thank you for taking the time to make such thorough answer! this really helps

#asks #long post #racism tw #(not really but it’s a discussion that talks about racism so i’m tagging it with this )#this is off topic but i didn’t know asks could be this long?????????? i appreciate it tho and hope nothing gets cut off #edit: afaik i don’t think anything got cut off so that’s good

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aestheticsfandomsandmore · 4 years ago

Text

In vino (beer) veritas

HE TIAN X MO GUAN SHAN FAN FIC.

Don't expect too much, really: I’m Italian, so I probably made a lot of mistakes (you can report them, I would be glad). There are few descriptions for the same reason and so this story could be a bit repetitive. There is not a proper ending. Maybe I’ll just leave it like this, maybe I’ll continue the fic some other day.

I posted it on AO3 if you want to read it there.

________________________________________

Mo Guan Shan hasn't heard from He Tian since the previous evening. Almost twenty hours have passed and he hasn't come to school. He's a bit worried, if he has to be honest with himself. The damn guy hasn't even texted to annoy him with random stuff, while he usually doesn't let him breath without interfering.

So Mo goes to his house. He's embarrassed, he's mad at himself for his dumb choice, he has no idea how to justify that choice to He Tian, especially when he's so damn sure the guy will give him a smirk and start assuming things, like that he cares about him. Whether it is true or not, Mo would always deny it until the end of times.

Still, the door of his loft is right there in front of him and he knocks, hoping for an answer so that he can stop worrying for that asshole.

However, the moment He Tian opens it, he only worries more and more.

The tall boy, always so handsome, with fucking perfect hair and fancy clothes, is now looking like he just jumped out of a hurricane: his shirt is wrinkled, the zip of his jeans is down (don't look, don't look, don't look), his dark hair are disheveled and his eyes are red and wide open.

“Ehy little Mo~ Wha-What ya doing here?” he asks him, so visibly confused that Mo wouldn't be surprised if he just fainted, right where he was.

“Stupid, what... what are you up to, what's goin' on?”

“Little Mo is worried about me?” even in that state he still manages to grin and to sound annoying.

“Move” Mo orders and the moment he gets in the loft he feels a bit shocked: a bunch of empty bottles of beer (at least five or six) are lying on the floor. He Tian is drunk. He turns back and looks at him. “Ohi, what is all of this about?”

He Tian closes the door and chaoticly walks toward the table before sitting on a chair. He laughs. “What do you mean?”

Is he fucking with me or what? Mo thinks, almost getting agry. “Why did you drink so much? Are you okay?”

“Suuure thing.”

Mo sighs. How much patience must he have with this guy?

“Okay. Let’s go to bed, shall we?” Mo Guan Shan reminds himself of how the doctors spoke to him when he happened to be in a hospital: like the things he was about to do were going to be a group thing or shit like that. He tries the same with He Tian, hoping it will work.

He Tian lets Mo putting his arm under his own armpit and then puts his around his neck, but it’s more like he’s grabbing it, like he’s trying to hold on to him.

“Okay, we’re moving.” Mo says and meanwhile counts more carefully the bottles of beer the idiot has drunk: eight. Eight fucking bottles. What the hell was wrong with him?

He carries He Tian to his bedroom and puts him under his sheets, but the right moment he tries to walk away the other boy clutches his wrists and pushes him to the bed as well.

“Ohi, the fuck-”

“Stay here for a while, c’mon~ You came all the way to my flat juuuust...” he seems to be struggling with making a coherent phrase. “... just to leave immediately?”

He can’t really say he is wrong, but he doesn’t want to stay either. “You’re wasted. I didn’t certainly come to babysit you.”

“You don’t have... to do... anything... just stay.”

He looks so weak and vulnerable, so different from his usual self.

He won’t remember anything anyway tomorrow, Mo thinks. “Whatever.”

He stays. He lays down on his right side and stares at He Tian. His eyes are closed but he is smiling. “Nice” he says, clearly happy he is going to stay.

“Why... why were you drinking so much?”

He Tian doesn’t answer. Mo almost thinks he fell asleep, but then he says: “I really want to kiss you.”

Mo winces. “What the bloody hell-”

“I won’t kiss you. Don’t you worry.” He Tian promises, his eyes still closed.

“Of course you won’t you chicken-”

“I don’t want you to cry again.”

Mo baffles. His heart starts ricing faster and faster. “What...?”

He Tian opens his eyes and looks at him with no smile of any sort. “You freaked out last time I kissed you.”

Mo blushes and gets furious. “Yeah - and whose fault is that?”

“Mine.” He Tian answers immediately. “I know it’s mine. I- I know.”

“Good.” Guan Shan says, but he’s actually pretty surprised He Tian admitted it so easily. He expected him to mock him and start making jokes about how he reacted back then.

They stay silent for a while. Then He Tian asks: “Am I... still... disgusting to you?” His voice is so low and depressed Mo could almost burst into tears.

“I-” he swallows, super nervous. That was uncertain territory for him. Such honesty from He Tian demanded just as much from him as well. “No. You are not.”

He Tian looks relieved. “Really?”

“Yeah. Actually... you never were.”

Now he looks shocked. “You didn’t mean it?”

“I meant it when I said it” Mo replies. “I was fucking infuriated, He Tian.” Now he’s getting angry again, just by the thought of that moment. He felt so ashamed he just wanted to disappear from the face of the Earth. “But... I never really thought you were a disgusting person, I just thought you did a disgusting thing.”

“I get that” He Tian says. “I shouldn’t have done it. I shouldn’t have forced you. Sorry.”

An apology, Mo thinks. He Tian apologised before, but always with a smart smirk on his face or his hands on Mo’s body - never sounded very convincing. Now he is talking from the bottom of his heart and Mo believes him. “Okay. Apologies accepted.”

He Tian smiles.

Mo smiles as well. He won’t remember any of this. He caresses his cheek with his thumb and He Tian shudders, almost as he punched him in the face. He stops immediatly, realizing what he was doing. “Okay. Now get some sleep, idiot.”

“Will you wait for me to fall asleep?”

He sounds like a kid. He was never good with kids. Way easier to go along with their insanity rather than question it. “Whatever. Now sleep.”

The morning after, the hangover is right there waiting for him to wake up in the most embarrassing way possible. His knees are pushing against his arms, his toes are crisscrossed, he smells like shit and he probably looks even worst. But none of this matters the moment he understands Mo is sleeping right next to him.

His first thought is that he’s still dreaming. It has to be a dream. Mo never stayed over the night and even if he managed to make him do that Mo would have never slept in his bed. Too risky.

But it takes him just a few moments to realize he’s not dreaming at all. He gets up, way too quickly - his head hurts. “Shit”. He goes to the bathroom and takes a cold shower. He wears something clean and takes his time to get back in the bedroom, scared that he just imagined things and he won’t find Mo in his sheets just where he left him. But he does. He’s still there.

He Tian smiles and takes a moment to appreciate that scenario, wishing it would happen again and again, every morning, preferably after a night of rough sex and sweet cuddles. Or just sex. Or just cuddles. Anything, literally anything to have Little Mo in his bed as often as possible.

“Ehy, Sleeping Beauty, rise and shine~” he pats his head and ruffles his hair, foreshadowing a bad reaction coming from the boy.

It comes. Guan Shan slaps his hand and gets up, a bit uncomfortable, and then rubs his eyes, still sleepy. “’Morning dick head.”

He Tian grins. “Is there an actual explanation for which you slept in my bed? Not that I’m complaining.”

“I see you went back to yourself” Mo replies, annoyed.

He Tian doesn’t say anything. Went back to himself? What did that mean? “Uhm... what?” he asks, trying to sound entertained.

“You don’t remember, do you?”

Okay, now he’s feeling a bit scared. What did he do? What did he say? “What should I remember? Did we have fun last night?”

“If you find funny getting wasted and unable to walk on your own towards your fucking bedroom, then yes, it was massive fun.”

He Tian laughs. He expected way worst. “Okay, so you took care of me, Little Mo~?”

He draws closer to him, but Mo stops his approach by grabbing his wrists and says: “I didn’t plan to stay the night, but since I did... I guess we should talk.”

Talk? Like, a proper chat? Offered by Mo? Was the world about to end? “Uhm, okay? What do you want to talk about? Our future together?”

“Can you be serious for one fucking second?”

He Tian blinks. What the fuck happened last night? “Sure.”

He lays down on the bed waiting for Mo Guan Shan to do the same. He stares at him and then sits. “I- I have some questions for you. And then, if you have any questions... for me... I’ll answer. I mean, I’ll try, at least.”

He is palpably nervous and the way he’s speaking is a total surprise: things like that never happen between the two of them; it’s always He Tian the one who brings up more weighty topics for them to discuss. “Okay. Go ahead.”

“Last night you told me...” Mo lowers his head, “that you’d like to kiss me.” He blushes.

He Tian is not surprised at all. “Well, is that a brand new information for you?”

“Cut the sarcastic crap out, thanks.”

“I’m not being sarcastic! I mean it: was it honestly shocking for you?”

Mo still doesn’t look at him in the eye, but he shakes his head.

“So what’s the question?”

“I was going to ask you if that were true, since you were drank, but apparently it was.”

“Yeah. What else?”

“You also told me that you won’t kiss me, even if you want to, because you’re... basically scared of my reaction. Is this true?”

Okay, he didn’t see this coming. “I-” he needs to think before answering. “I... kinda.”

“Kinda?”

“It’s just- I want to be sure you want that too.” He really means that. He never said that aloud. He never admitted that truth to himself. Heʼs waiting for someone’s permission to do what he wants. It is a weird and new concept for him. He knows that, being a kiss something that involves two people, it should just be normal to ask before doing anything. But he isn’t used to, anyway.

“You never seemed particularly interested in what I wanted.”

Now, that sentence gets him mad. “Look at me.” he orders.

Mo does that and he looks more confident than ever. He’s almost proud to see him like that.

“What’s the point of this?”

“Wait. I have another question.”

He Tian rolls his eyes. “Fine.”

“You apologised. For what you did. And... you asked me if I still thought you were disgusting.”

He Tian would blush if he wasn’t the way he is. “And what did you answer?”

“I- Wait, did you mean it?”

“Uhm?”

“Do you actually feel sorry for what you did?”

“I apologised to you when I was sober as well, did you forget?”

“You never apologised for something specific.”

He Tian is getting impatient, but he still says: “I’m not sorry to have kissed you, I’m sorry I made you cry.”

That answer makes Mo mad - well, of course it does. “I cried because you kissed me. Because you’re a piece of shit.”

“Call me what you want” he is getting heated as well, “but you didn’t cry because I kissed you: you cried because I didn’t ask you and you were surprised and you didn’t want to accept that you liked me. You still don’t, by the way.”

Mo tries to punch him but He Tian’s faster and blocks him right away, switching positions and standing onto him on the bed.

“You have no idea what’s going on inside my head! You shit head, you have no right to tell me why I was crying!”

Mo screams, trying to free himself, but He Tian is holding his wrists with his hand and impeding his movements with his legs.

“Okay, hey, chill, calm down, please.”

It takes a while for Mo to actually stop moving. He grumbles and bites his lips. He Tian lets go of his right wrist to make him stop, touching his mouth very gently. “Don’t ruin it” he whispers.

Mo blushes and turns his head.

“I shouldn’t have kissed you like that - I’m sorry.”

Mo blinks and looks at him doubtful and hesitant.

“But now let me ask you a question.”

“Shoot it.”

“Why are you doing this? You could have just made up an excuse for staying here the night, as always, relying on the fact that I forgot everything. Why didn’t you?”

Mo observed him for a while and then said: “I- I wanted to know the truth.”

“The truth?“

“Yeah.”

“Little Mo, you asked him if I wanted to kiss you, which you already know I do, you asked me if I was sorry, which I had already said I am, and you wanted me to confirm a sentence which I pronounced when I was drunk - and so, completely honest.”

Mo looks pissed. “Listen, it wasn’t all this clear to me when I decided to talk to you, okay? You don’t have to play Mister I know-it-all, you’re already annoying enough.”

He Tian laughs. “Whatever.” He lets go of the other wrist and moves his legs away, still remaining on top of him. “You haven’t answered my question yet.”

Mo seems confused. “Which one?”

“Am I still disgusting to you?” he asks this with a tiny grin, but he’s actually desperate for an honest answer. He knows Mo doesn’t find him disgusting, but to hear him saying it is a totally different story.

Guan Shan snorts. “No, you are not. Happy now?”

He Tian smiles. “Very.”

“Asshole.”

They stay like this for some time. He Tian is almost leaning towards his lips, when Mo interrupts the silence. “Oh, right! Why the fuck did you drink eight bottles of beer?”

#19 days #fan fiction #19 days fic #19 days fan fiction #he tian x mo guanshan #he tian x mo guan shan #mo guan shan #he tian #tianshan #tianshan fanfic #old xian #my fic #i'm italian so please forgive me #i know this probably sucks

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queerprayers · 4 years ago

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I have had a text all thought out to ask but I forgot about it before I gotten around to ask, so im sorry if this isn't coherent. Mostly I just want to ask about (queer) Christianity and your connection to it and faith? I dont really know how to phrase it so its not a really broad question because thats probably really hard to answer? This is kinda a mess, im sorry. I've just been thinking about faith a lot? Not necessarily faith in a Christian God or even any god? I dont know? Its fine if you dont know what to say and you dont have to answer this because its a mess.

I hope you have a nice day!

Sorry it took me a little bit to get this-- it’s not at all because of your wording. I think I get what you’re trying to say don’t worry! If I don't mention something you wanted me to, just let me know!

So I grew up Lutheran Christian, going to church every single week, having daily prayers, the whole thing. My parents are both musicians and participated a lot in local worship events. I was baptized as an infant and had a confirmation ceremony when I was 12. Like most people who grew up religious, it was just obvious/given that I participated. I didn't exactly have a choice.

I started questioning my sexuality/realizing I was "different" when I was 13. I was beginning to struggle with mental illness as well, and those things combined sent me into a really dark place. (I won't go into details, because I don't think it'd be helpful and I don't want to trigger people.)

Like most people, I assumed I had to choose between my sexuality and my faith. At age 14-15 I started accepting that I couldn't change my sexuality, and I started growing apart from my faith. I never doubted that God existed, but I doubted that They loved me. And so I didn't grow distant from God because I didn't think there was one, but because I didn't see a point in trying to grow close to someone who didn't care about me.

I only really discovered that gay Christians even existed when I was 16, and it completely changed my life. I discovered the blog Queer Theology, and I finally felt like there was a place for me.

I'm 19 now, and every day I'm grateful that I've found a way to exist as both queer and a Christian. In the past few years I've read so many books and followed so many people online and worked on carving out a place for myself. And in the past year, as I've been thinking about my gender more, and improving in emotional health, I've grown so close to my faith. I see myself in the Bible more than ever, and I see myself in the "secular world" more than ever.

Queerness and Christianity are so connected for me? The contradictions, the standing up for the oppressed and ourselves, the living and loving and believing in ourselves and each other? I personally can't talk about one without talking about the other. Especially as I've been questioning my gender, I'm realizing that without my faith, I wouldn't be able to do this as freely and comfortably as I am. I know I'm made in God's image, and that my gender is an expression of that, and as I'm realizing I like they/she pronouns, I'm so thankful that God is supporting me in that and that I'm following in the footsteps of countless female saints who also were more connected to God than their womanhood, or who are only women through God.

It's lovely that you're thinking about faith-- take as much time as you need. Faith is messy and confusing and emotional and that's because it's human! Take time to explore, read, write, listen to people's experiences, maybe realize that there's so much queerness is God's existence and love. And if you find your way to somewhere else besides Christianity, or to no religion at all, that's okay too! I don't begrudge anyone their own exploration and existence. Curiosity and incoherent exploration are holy.

Whatever it means to you, I am praying for you and wishing you comfort and grace as you think about stuff like this! You're welcome to ask anything you're wondering about to me-- I think I could talk forever? I just have so much to say about stuff!

Much love, Johanna

#asks #my posts #okay to rb

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untamed-era · 4 years ago

Text

Come Out and Level Up, Part 2

(part 1) (EDIT: link now leads to both halves of part 1) (EDIT 2: AO3 Link)

Wei Ying does not look pleased with the situation. This is unexpected. Lan Wangji remembers finding proper labels as a deep relief, a sense that other people matched his experience. Wei Ying, on the other hand, comes and sits down, staring at his phone again, looking dejected.

Lan Wangji waits.

“I’m. I guess it’s good I know this, right? Let me make better choices, going forward. It’s good to. It’s good to understand, why I never particularly wanted to date anyone that asked me out. That’s good.”

He is trying to talk himself into the idea. Lan Wangji continues waiting.

“I just —“ He looks up, suddenly, meeting Lan Wangji’s eyes. “Lan Zhan, I really did want to get married.” He sounds forlorn, lost. “I mean. You remember, I talked about inviting you to a farm, someday? And like.” He shifts, uncomfortably, curling his arms around himself. Lan Wangji wants to hug him, comfort him. He does not know how. “I never pictured a wife, but I don’t… I don’t want to be alone.”

Lan Wangji remembers the fantasy Wei Ying had described. It had been so casually referenced, the idea of a little farm and lots of children running around and food cooking inside. It’s featured heavily in his own fantasies, since, when he allows himself to forget that he was invited only as an interloper.

“Action does not equal attraction,” he tells Wei Ying, quietly. “You may yet find a… wife. If you want. If they are happy with the arrangement.”

“Maybe. But like, how do you know when you’ve found someone you’d be willing to spend your life with, if you don’t have the whole true love thing to work with? I mean, you were the only specific person I ever put anywhere near that whole dream. I can’t think of anyone I know who’d be… who’d fit…” He trails off, thinking.

Lan Wangji looks away, breathing through the emotional turmoil of that. He knows Wei Ying doesn’t mean it like Lan Wangji wishes he did. He’s as good as saying he can’t picture Lan Wangji there all the time, can’t see him as a true life partner of any sort. Lan Wangji will respect that. Of course he will. None of this is about him.

“How did you even figure all this out?” Wei Ying asks, suddenly, and Lan Wangji flinches. Wei Ying plows ahead without noticing. “I mean, there’s so many terms here, and I don’t know — maybe I’m just overthinking everything! I like thinking about sex, I like the idea of kissing! But apparently not like everyone else does? How did you ever sort all this out?”

It was the best words for how I felt about you, Lan Wangji thinks but does not say. It was the only way to make sense of the intensity and specificity of his feelings. How can he help, when Wei Ying’s problem is not knowing, instead of knowing too much?

“I mean,” Wei Ying continues, not waiting for any sort of response, “I mean, like, sure I’ve contemplated kissing people in the past. Specific people, even! I mean, I’ve thought about kissing you, who hasn’t, obviously, that’s just… That’s just part of friendship, isn’t it?”

Lan Wangji stares. All of his deep, meditative thoughts are crumpling around him. He cannot feel any part of his body. He cannot interpret any of this. If he tries, he may actually explode.

“Oooookay you’re looking at me weirdly,” Wei Ying says from very far away and also about two feet from Lan Wangji’s face. It should be farther. It should be much less. How can he cope with any of this. “So what you’re saying is that imagining kissing isn’t a normal part of any close friendship.”

How is Lan Wangji supposed to answer that? It’s certainly a normal part of his closest friendships. Friendship. Singular.

Wei Ying laughs, high and strained. “I don’t suppose we can just forget about what I just said, move back to. Uh. Some other topic? Um.”

Lan Wangji physically cannot. He thinks his entire brain has rewired itself to play “I’ve thought about kissing you” on repeat. He cannot think of anything else well enough to respond. He cannot muster the strength to echo it.

“Maybe I should just. Just go? Sorry, I know I made things weird, I wouldn’t blame—“

“Don’t,” Lan Wangji says. It’s spoken from his instincts, the ones that never want Wei Ying to leave, the ones that he overrules when he has any brainpower left over for them.

“Uh. Okay, Lan Zhan.” He looks nervous, Lan Wangji notes. He should say something to reassure Wei Ying. That sounds good.

“You’ve thought about kissing me,” he says instead. Hmm.

Wei Ying avoids his eyes, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah? I… I didn’t think that was a big deal but. I’m also kind of thinking of… a lot of other. Things. I’ve thought about and. Oh, I don’t know. They’re my problem, I guess. I already made things weird enough.”

“What things,” he says.

Wei Ying looks at him, eyes wide.

Lan Wangji struggles to gather his words. “I want. To hear. Your thoughts.” His hands are curled into fists so tightly they hurt. “Always,” he adds.

“Lan Zhan, no, I’ve already made you uncomfortable enough, I wouldn’t want to —“

“I am not uncomfortable.” He hesitates, and self-evaluates. “Or. That is not my primary emotion.”

“Confused you, then.”

And he can’t quite dispute that one. He is confused. He is dumbfounded, and… It takes a long moment to sort through everything else and identify the most prominent emotion.

“Yes,” he says, finally. “But I am also hopeful.”

That finally leaves Wei Ying speechless. It is nice to turn the tables again. He waits, in silence.

“What the fuck, Lan Zhan,” he finally says, weakly. “What the fuck do you have to be hopeful about.”

“You asked about how I figured my identity out.” Lan Wangji says. He can see the shape of the conversation again, he thinks. He does not know the end, but he is hopeful.

“We’re well past that!” Wei Ying says. “That was before I — before — Before —“

“I found the terms,” Lan Wangji says, ploughing ahead heedlessly, “because they best described how much I wanted to kiss you, Wei Ying.”

He has flabbergasted Wei Ying again. He savors it, watching Wei Ying blink and gape and wave one hand wildly. Finally, Wei Ying opens his mouth, and quietly says “Wanted? Past tense?”

“Want,” he admits. It comes easily, in spite of everything. Years of hidden pining, all leading to this one needle-point admission.

Wei Ying stares at him. It’s easy to meet his eyes.

He’s scared, of course he’s scared. He’s on tenterhooks, waiting for the response. But he has had no hope, no reason to say anything, sometimes not even a chance — and now he has them all.

“What the fuck,” Wei Ying finally says, “is this conversation.”

Lan Wangji inclines his head in agreement.

“I mean seriously, what the fuck. I mean this started with me mentioning a gay person at work and now you’re… we’re…. I’m….” He shies away from saying what, exactly, any of these pronouns are doing, which Lan Wangji thinks is deeply unfortunate. He, himself, has been uncomfortably vulnerable multiple times and Wei Ying has mostly just floundered at him. In fairness, he himself had a complicated process of coming to terms with his sexuality and would not have been balanced or coherent about it in the first ten minutes of questioning. He can and will be patient with this. In the part of him that does not care about fairness it rankles, that he spent the last ten years slowly making peace with his identity and here Wei Ying is with the exact same internalized heteronormativity that characterized middle school.

“So, but. You want to kiss me, though.”

Lan Wangji had been very clear on that, he thought. “Mn.”

“Why, though. I mean just… Why?”

Lan Wangji stares at Wei Ying, the love of his life, his best friend, the smartest person he knows, for a good long minute. “Because I am attracted to you. Romantically and sexually.”

They stare at each other for another long moment, Wei Ying’s mouth hanging open. “What the fuck, Lan Zhan,” he says, finally, weakly.

If he were someone else, he could, perhaps, rhapsodize about Wei Ying’s sterling qualities, the foundation of his attraction. He certainly has the material, but lacks the skill to shape it into something convincing. “I do not wish to make you uncomfortable,” he says.

“Uncomfortable? Uncomfortable? I’m not uncomfortable, Lan Zhan, I’m just baffled. I mean, you’re you! Who wouldn’t want to hear this stuff from you! How am I supposed to deal with this! How am I supposed to figure out — wait hang on I’m calling Jiang Cheng.”

Lan Wangji blinks. He did not anticipate Wei Ying’s irritating brother being part of any of these confessions. To borrow a phrase from Wei Ying, what the fuck is this conversation.

“Jiang Cheng? Hi, Jiang Cheng, hey, quick question: how much do you think about kissing your male friends.”

The faint but irate voice of Jiang Cheng says “What the fuck, Wei Ying.”

“No, this is important. Do you think about kissing your friends? How often are you hanging out with like, other men, and just start thinking about kissing them. Like just occasionally, or.”

“Never! I never think about that! Why would I?”

“So like. If one of them — let’s say Lan Zhan — offered to kiss you. Would you want to?”

A silence. “Why the fuck would I want to kiss Lan Wangji,” Jiang Cheng says. Lan Wangji thinks maybe he should be offended, except that it is an exact mirror of his feelings toward Jiang Cheng. Besides, Wei Ying is making a very endearing offended face on his behalf.

“Why wouldn’t you want to kiss Lan Zhan — wait I just realized I could be doing that instead of arguing with you so I guess live on in your delusion.”

“What the fuck, Wei Ying! Don’t you dare go harassing —“

The line cuts off before Jiang Cheng can finish his threat. Fortunately, Lan Wangji cannot find it in himself to give one singular fuck about his opinion right now. He stares at Wei Ying, who looks, suddenly, nervous. He licks his lips, and Lan Wangji stares more. “Uh,” he says, finally. “I still don’t. Exactly. Know where I stand on most of this? Like I’m pretty sure I want to, uh, experiment with, with everything, ‘cause suddenly I have a ton of questions, but mostly I think it’s frankly very rude that you aren’t already kissing me, what’s up with that, Lan Zhan —“

Lan Wangji’s tattered patience abruptly snaps, and he is pulling Wei Ying’s face to his before the other can finish talking. After all, he was not raised to be rude.

#lan wangji #wei wuxian #ace headcanons #wangxian #mdzs fic #this took much longer than i expected #but here it is

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hongism · 3 years ago

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I think that you are a genuinely intelligent person. The way you phrase your sentences, basic or not, you always make it seem as if you’ve put hours of thought and care into it.

When i see the way you write, I immediately think, “Yeah, that’s def an educated person.”

Ofc i don’t know you personally, but i felt if i had told you my darkest secret, you wouldn’t tell anyone and you would take that secret to your grave.

You’re just a very safe person for a lot of us to talk to, and for me, i could almost say you’re like a big sister, except without the sister part because big sisters are mean. Anyways, you seem like a very caring person, and i don’t want to compare negatively with anyone else, but usually when i send asks to other creators, i expect a short or vague response, and i didn’t rlly have a problem with that. But you actually talk to us, and it doesn’t feel like we’re talking to a celebrity who is so far out of touch with us.

Even though you have a lot on your plate with school and writing, you manage to show us your strong side, even if it may be hard. That’s what i envy about you. But if you do ever feel it, you can show us that you’re struggling, and the reason you can do that is bcs you’ve created a close bond with us. Even with the people who don’t send asks, they probably feel care for you like the ones who send asks do.

This may just be me, but I really like to make sure that people feel important and feel their impact on other people. I want you to know that every morning when i wake up and go through tumblr, I always get excited for your posts and i like looking through all of them, especially your daily hongjoong posts.

You are genuinely so talented and I could probably write a whole essay as to why i think your talented. I could analyze your stories and still not really get to the nitty gritty because it would take time to actually try and see what exactly goes on in your mind and your characters minds when i read, and that’s, like, the best thing ever. Like, there wasn’t a lot of authors where i could read their stories and try to analyze their characters, or when i do so, it’s so quick and easy. I hope you get what i mean, because i’m honestly not good at explaining things because my mind is going a mile a second and once a thought it there then it just leaves immediately lmao.

But to finish this off, i will say it simply 😤 You are an amazing writer and your writing and persona has a positive impact on not only me but all of us. I love you ❤️

- 🗡

NAUR FOR REAL I WASN'T EXPECTING THIS KIND OF LOVE FROM ANYONE HELP?!?! cried the first time i saw this in my emails and cried again reading it just now okay yes AAAAA i feel like any response i try to come up with is gonna be an absolute mess and im gonna be a mess and this is just overall a mess BUT!!!! let me just pretend im put together enough to respond coherently :')

do forgive me if this isn't as detailed or coherent as usual im genuinely a bit !!! speechless because of how kind and beautiful and touching this whole ask is? in all my time on tumblr i don't think i've ever received something like this or something that really shook me the way this ask does and it's such a high honor and a true blessing for me <3

i think for me the thing that is most important in interacting with others around me is that sense of safety. as much as i want to feel safe here on this blog, i want and feel a burning need for others to also feel safe. i want people to know they are loved and cherished here no matter what, and in my time as an anon on various writing blogs, the thing that always bothered me was when people would respond to a detailed ask with 1-2 sentences that never felt genuine. i strive to maintain a certain level of respect for any ask i receive, no matter who is behind it, and i want to give my all in responding to those asks because i know what it feels like to give a lot and receive little in return. beyond that i just adore getting to talk with people, and in real life, talking to people is incredibly difficult and stressful for me. being able to talk so much and so freely here on this blog is such a rewarding experience for me as a person beyond just being a writer and a content creator.

but also im someone who doesn't like showing when things are difficult. i only really admit that it's hard and hurts when it's been bottled up for a while, but these days im trying my best to learn to be more forgiving with myself, and truly it's because of the love and affection and support that you all show me that i feel comfortable enough and safe enough to open myself to you guys.

as someone who also loves making sure people feel important and needed and special, it means so much to me that you find such value in my blog because it's such a special and precious place to me as well

and to hear those compliments about my writing is reall y really something i will cherish forever, i have a place where i keep screenshots and messages that mean a lot to me and i can assure you that this one is going there in an instant. to think that before coming to tumblr, i was so insecure about my writing that i couldn't bear to look at it or share it with even my closest friends and family, and now here i am blessed and lucky enough to share my works with thousands of people is truly one of the greatest blessings i've ever been given. it might seem odd or foolish to some people, but to have this blog and this community and this family of people is so incredibly special to me and has helped me grow as a person in ways i didn't think possible. i adore that i have each and every single one of you because i know i would have left forever ago if not for the community i have been able to build up over the years and it's still as special to me now as it was when i received my first followers.

this is sappy enough and emo enough but thank you from the bottom of my heart thank you and i love you sosoososos much 😭💞💗

send me a LONG (or short) anonymous message saying what you think of me

#🗡 anon

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my-soul-sings · 4 years ago

Text

This Is Everything I Never Wanted: Chapter 2

Fandom: Wannabe Challenge Characters: Everyone! Mainly Taehee VS. Yooha (but not TaeheexYooha)

Summary: An alternative account of events in which Taehee was the one who summoned Yooha from the scroll instead of MC.

Read on AO3!

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

***

As expected, the rest were shocked to wake up to seeing a strange man in the living room. Yooha didn’t seem too bothered; in fact, he appeared to enjoy the attention and seeing them all get flustered.

The explanation that Taehee offered (because he doubted the scroll-man possessed enough tact to phrase things properly) was of course, difficult for them to swallow.

Hansol’s outbursts were the loudest, although he seemed to accept the story quite easily. There really wasn’t any other way to make sense of things.

Biho kept quiet, as usual, only raising the occasional question here and there. Yooha answered him smoothly enough, so his furrowed brow indicated that his worries weren’t entirely assuaged.

MC was the most perplexed out of the three. Understandable, considering she was the only human here. Even the three goblins had a hard time digesting this much information all at once, let alone MC. But Taehee couldn’t help the rather inappropriate thought that crept into his mind as he watched her frown, struggling to form a coherent response to all this:

She’s beautiful.

“So let me get this straight,” she started, her voice hushing everyone else in the room. “You came out of that painting because Taehee accidentally summoned you by calling your name, which is Yooha. And... you’re a seonho... which means what, exactly?”

"Special beings who are born with an ability to use magic. We’re different from ordinary foxes,” the silver-haired man replied breezily with a proud smile. “Bet you haven’t met one before, little lady.”

“The name’s MC,” she shot back, clearly not appreciating the nickname. Taehee couldn’t help but smirk at her response, feeling an odd sense of victory. “Wait. Did you just say you’re a... fox?”

“A fox who can speak and look like a human after 500 years of training,” Taehee added, although it didn’t seem to alleviate her confusion.

“Is that so surprising?” Yooha remarked, before pursing his lips in thought. "Should I show you?”

“Show me what?” MC asked, just as a soft white glow began to engulf the man. Taehee braced himself, taking MC’s wrist and pulling her behind him. He couldn’t use his magic against this guy, try as he might, but he would use the damn toilet brush to protect MC if he had to.

As it turned out however, there was no need. When the white light vanished, eight white tails had appeared from behind him. The pure white, almost glossy sheen to his fur was undoubtedly beautiful. They even seemed to be glowing.

“Well?” Yooha asked, eyebrow raised and the corner of his lips quirked up into an arrogant smirk. “Now do you believe me?”

“I’m dreaming, right?” MC murmured, though her eyes were fixed on those tails, entranced by their lithe form as they danced in the air. Like big bushy white snakes, Taehee thought to himself.

“Why don’t you touch them for yourself and see if they’re real?” Yooha asked. Taehee didn’t think much of the gesture, until he looked at MC and found her wearing an uncharacteristically dazed expression with a loose smile playing on her lips. Her cheeks were starting to flush a light pink, as if she was tipsy.

Biho and Hansol seemed to notice this too, although they didn’t seem to know how to respond, since all she was doing was stepping forward with her arm outstretched to pet Yooha’s tails.

It didn’t seem dangerous enough to cut in.

And yet, he did.

Taehee placed a hand on MC’s wrist, momentarily snapping her attention to him. It was quick to fade, however, because her attention quickly returned to the wagging tails and the scheming fox in front of her. Yooha hardly seemed fazed by Taehee’s interruption, and that only made him angrier.

“What do you think you’re doing to her? Stop that,” he demanded, gently pulling MC into his arms to keep her from getting closer to that man.

“Nothing, I’m just offering to let her touch my tails,” Yooha replied innocently, but Taehee knew better than to trust that cunning smile of his. His fingers itched to hurl a couple of balls of goblin fire at those tails and watch them burn up in smoke, but he knew better than to start a fight here. A seonho like him, especially one with eight tails, was far stronger than a goblin.

Just as he thought, this fox couldn’t be trusted.

In the end, Cleaning Day had to be adjourned for another day, seeing as there was a more pressing issue to consider. Namely, what to do with the seon-ho. Taehee just wished he would go away already, but the fox seemed intent on staying here with them.

“I can stay with you guys, right?” he had asked Taehee with the biggest, most hopeful smile yet, his tails wagging behind him.

“No,” was Taehee’s immediate response. If they ever became housemates, this house would become a living hell. The past hour was already more than he could bear for a lifetime.

“But—” his tails drooped, and his smile faltered, “you have to take responsibility.”

“What?” Taehee couldn’t believe this guy’s nerve.

“You summoned me out here. Of course you’re responsible for me now.”

“And you’re welcome for that. You were trapped in there, and I released you. I owe you nothing.”

“Is he usually this cruel?” Yooha asked, directing the question to MC.

“Well, I’ve never seen him this annoyed before,” she commented, at the same time that Taehee replied, “I’m not being cruel. Besides, I’m not the one to ask; MC’s the one who owns the house.”

“Oh.” A devilish smirk lit up Yooha’s features.

Taehee immediately regretted revealing that tidbit of information.

“So, MC, right?” Yooha strutted over to the girl, his tails wagging a little more excitedly now. “What do you say, can I stay here?” he asked in a sweet, charming voice that was obviously fake. “Please?”

Taehee expected to hear an immediate ‘no’. After all, this was a complete stranger they knew nothing about, and to top it off, he was dangerous. The three goblins couldn’t use their powers against him, a higher being. If things ever got out of hand, none of them would be able to stop him. MC was the one most vulnerable here. The answer that she should give was obvious.

“...Sure.”

Taehee had to do a double-take. His head jerked towards her, only to find that her eyes looked slightly glazed over, just like before. She looked almost tipsy, except that had happened in the span of a few seconds, without any alcohol.

Which meant the culprit was...

Taehee’s glare turned on the cunning fox who was grinning at MC’s response. The answer that he had made her utter by using his magic. Some kind of hypnosis, perhaps. And it probably had something to do with those tails of his that he was offering to let her touch again.

That dirty fox!

Taehee immediately grabbed MC by the wrist and teleported them into her room, all the while holding her tightly to his chest. She snapped to her senses soon enough, but it didn’t stop anger from boiling in his blood at the thought of what that sly fox had just done to MC, of all people.

“Are you okay?” he asked, to which she nodded.

“Yeah, I am.” She looked a little confused, like she didn’t what Yooha had just tried to do to her.

“You’re not going to let him stay here, right?” Taehee asked with a worried frown. She couldn’t possibly be entertaining the thought of letting that man stay together with them.

To his dismay, she hesitated in giving her answer. Instead, she began to look a little perplexed, and he could see that she was thinking hard about this.

What possible reason could she have to even think about saying ‘yes’?

“He... doesn’t have anywhere to go, does he?”

Taehee shook his head. It was unlikely, considering he had been trapped in the scroll for about two hundred years now, if what Yooha said was true.

“I think... I’m going to let him stay,” she said slowly. MC put up a hand, silencing his immediate protests. “It’s just... you guys didn’t have a place to stay either. He reminds me of the three of you.” As if embarrassed, she averted his surprised eyes, and his shoulders slumped with resignation.

How could he argue against that?

“I’m just worried that he’ll hurt you,” Taehee sighed, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. She raised her head and locked eyes with his. “He’s a seonho, more powerful than the three of us. If anything happens...”

“You’re his master right? He’ll have to listen to you,” MC pointed out. “He looks mischievous but I don’t think he’s a liar. He’ll probably listen to whatever you say.”

That... was true. As much as it pained Taehee to think about, that fox was now bound to him... as a servant. There was no escaping that fact.

Why, why did he let Biho take that stupid scroll home in the first place? He just knew there was something off about it from the very beginning. He should have done something about it then, even if it meant making Biho sad for a few days.

"So it’s settled,” MC declared, snapping him out of his thoughts. “He’ll stay here with us.” After making sure he didn’t have any remaining objections to add, she left the room to break the news to Yooha.

Those very words sealed his fate, and it marked the beginning of all of Taehee’s anguish.

***

A/N: Next up: Taehee experiences the six stages of grief as he learns to manage his new roommate.

#wannabe challenge #wannabe challenge fanfiction #wannabe challenge fanfic #kim taehee #yooha #my writing #im getting too obsessed with this series #nothing can stop me now!!

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immortalcoelacanth · 4 years ago

Text

HLVRAI Oneshot: “Good”

I crave more wholesome interactions with Joshua...

Word count: 2352

Summary: Benrey was not human, he was not an alien, he was just… something else. Something dangerous, something destructive, something that had nearly killed Gordon over and over again. He was… bad.

Right?

“I’ve gotta take care of some business, but I should be back in a couple hours.” Gordon quickly explained as he pulled on his jacket, smacking his arm off the wall in the process.

Benrey watched, confused as to what the rush was and uncertain as to what Gordon meant. He was coming back at some point so things would be chill until then-

“Make sure Joshua doesn’t break anything.” Gordon quickly added, not noticing how the smile on Benrey’s face dropped and the slate grey orbs that floated out of his mouth. “There’s food in the fridge-shit, can you even use a microwave?!”

“i make my gamer fuel in there.” Benrey shrugged, trying to look casual and composed. “like eggs-”

“You what-NO! YOU DO NOT PUT EGGS-oh my god.” Gordon groaned, pressing his head into his hands for a moment to wallow in the sheer mental agony of trying to process such a horrible cooking choice before scrambling to get ready once more. “No eggs. No microwave.”

“no me gusta?”

“You’re like an old internet meme.”

An Uno card was chucked at Gordon’s face, which was quickly dodged. He glared at Benrey, ignoring the faint laughter coming from the other man, and pulled his keys out of his pocket.

It was at this moment that Benrey began internally panicking. He could handle being on his own, but having to watch after a kid-

“Text me if anything happens or if you need help!” Gordon called out as he made his way out the door and locked it behind him.

He did not see how Benrey stretched an arm out after him, face panicked and worried as he tried to beg the other man to stay because oh shit oh shit I don’t know what to do-

It had been about three hours since Gordon had left on whatever business he needed to complete. Fortunately, Joshua had been rather chill about the entire situation, happy to be able to play games with Benrey and just relax.

Of course, the kid had only had a melted cheese sandwich for dinner since Benrey had no clue what to really make for him, but Joshua had not complained. For a while the mock guardian had waited to see if the kid would be poisoned by the makeshift meal, but all seemed to be fine.

Benrey did not get… food, or at least the type of food that Gordon typically made. He was all for fast and easy to prepare, and only somewhat edible. Cereal, frozen meals, stale candy, that was the good shit.

Not good for a growing child according to Gordon.

He sighed and dragged a hand down his face as he watched Joshua flop over the sofa and watch tv. His legs were up in the air and his head was hanging off the sofa, he was basically upside down. A humorous sight, something that helped to alleviate the worry in Benrey.

He was so stupidly worried.

A part of him wondered why Gordon had left Joshua in his care, even if there had been some sort of an emergency he needed to take care of. Tommy made a much better babysitter! Coomer did too!

Literally anyone was better than him! He was…

Dangerous.

Benrey knew he was the furthest thing from safe due to both his nature and lack of knowledge in practically everything. He had no experience in dealing with any of this simple human stuff, had no clue what was potentially dangerous and was just…

A hazard.

It was something he had come to terms with some time ago, recalling all the things he had done back in Black Mesa and how easily it had happened. How easily he had killed innocent people, not that he felt guilty for ending those lives, but it was something he was aware of.

Aware of how potentially dangerous he could be. Aware of how many times he had hurt Gordon and nearly killed him without meaning to-

He did not dislike himself because of this, per say. There were times where he looked back on certain actions with distaste, all of them involving hurting Gordon in some way, and continuously reminded himself that he needed to do better, be better.

It was exhausting, and now he had a kid to look after for who knows how long-

“Benrey?”

Ah shit. Speak of the devil and he shall appear.

“yooooo, what’s up little joshie?” Benrey casually waved at the kid who was now standing in front of him, having abandoned both the sofa and television. “josh dude, bro josh- brosh.”

The last nickname got a laugh out of Joshua, though the laughter quickly faded out and was replaced by a silence mixed with the muted noises of the television. Not wanting to have to deal with any awkward silences, especially when he was in a bit of a mood already, he asked another question.

“you-you bored of the tv or somethin’? wanna play some games and chill?”

Joshua quickly shook his head. He actually seemed… nervous, which was weird since he was relaxed earlier. Did something happen? Did Gordon text him something? Had something bad happened to Gordon?

“Benrey… d-do you like me?”

Well that was a loaded question.

The ex-security guard let out a nervous laugh. “wh-what do… do you mean by that, little joshie bro?”

“You kinda act like some of the kids at school who don’t like me.” The explanation was rushed, nothing more than a sharp exhale. “You talk to me and play games with me and stuff but you always look… uncomfortable.”

Shit, shit, shit-

“And…” Oh god, was the kid starting to cry now?! Water could be seen building up in Joshua’s eyes, and he sniffled. “I-If you’re only doing it cause you wanna make dad happy, that’s okay. Dad should be happy since he’s stressed a lot-”

“no, no, no!” Benrey quickly interrupted while waving his arms, hoping to stop the young boy’s spiral into sorrow. “it’s not you-i’m just… just-”

Words, why were words such a struggle?! In his stressed state, he placed his hands on his helmet and groaned, grey bubbles floating out of his mouth.

Grey means that he’s not okay. Not that Joshua knew this, of course. All the kid knew was that Benrey was having some sort of a reaction to his words, and that it did not seem to be a good one. He anxiously fiddled with his hands as he watched the ex-security guard. It looked as though he was contemplating leave, probably planning on going to his room and wallowing in his sorrowful emotions, and this was when Benrey decided to speak up.

“bbbbbbbbb, joshie-you… you’re a good kiddo. cool pro gamer.” He somewhat rambled, as close to rambling as he could get at the moment. “you don’t-you’re not… th-those kids are wrong a-and you need to eat your veggies-”

Oh this was a disaster.

Partially giving up, Benrey groaned and walked over to the sofa. He plopped down and buried his head in his hands. What should he do, what should he do-

Joshua, seeing the obvious strife that the ex-security guard was going through at the moment, walked over to the sofa and sat down beside him. Despite thinking that Benrey did not like him, the last thing the young boy wanted was a bad relationship with the strange man.

Partly due to the fact that Joshua did enjoy his presence, and his dad clearly cared about the man to some extent. It was just that sometimes he could see Benrey cringe before talking to him, the hesitation during some of their interactions and…

It hurt, plain and simple.

Benrey cringed as he felt the cushion dip as Joshua joined him, and he hesitantly lifted his head up to look at the kid. He took in the worried expression on his face, as well as the lingering anxiety and tears that were present.

“it’s me.” He blurted out, not knowing how else to phrase it. Upon seeing Joshua’s confused expression, he kept speaking. “kids, i dunno… kids are tough little dude, but they’re also fragile and i... don’t wanna h-hurt you on accident cause you’re cool and feetman’s special kiddo-”

He was not going to mention the time he had jokingly insulted Joshua’s appearance. He was not the best at navigating conversations, but even he knew that would be a stupid move.

“and i’m… me.” He gestured to himself, pointing out some of the key features that made him look so different from your typically human. The glowing eyes, the sharp teeth, the talons that would appear and disappear.

“i’m-i’m not safe. i... hurt your dad and-and a bunch of other people and you’re so... soft’n squishy cause you’re a kid and i don’t wanna hurt you too.”

“Would you accidentally hurt me?” Joshua’s question was simple, and so was the answer that Benrey had for it.

“course not, you’re my little gamer bro.” He immediately replied, momentarily surprised at how coherent his words were. “we’re... we’re buddies’n stuff, right? i wouldn’t let that happen if-if i could stop it, y’know?”

“We’re buddies? Really?” The shine of tears in Joshua’s eyes seemed to be replaced by the glow of excitement and joy.

Oh god, he was getting the warm fuzzies-

“yeah we’re like-like two peas in a pod.”

To celebrate the wholesome conclusion that had been reached, the pair decided to engage in some friendly competition by playing some video games. Of course, Benrey did hold back a bit so he did not totally crush Joshua during their various bouts of fighting and racing.

The kid totally did not kick his butt, not in the slightest.

As what tends to happen with kids around his age, Joshua slowly began to grow more and more tired as time passed, although he did not want to go to his room to sleep.

He was still a bit worried about his dad, after all.

So, he ended up having the brilliant idea of asking Benrey if he could watch him play some video games. Fortunately for the young boy, the ex-security guard was quick to agree with his idea. This allowed Joshua to stay by his side and relax.

At some point he did end up passing out, not that Benrey noticed for two reasons. The first being his hyper focus that was directed towards the game he was playing, and the second being that he was also getting pretty tired.

Which was quite unusual since Benrey was a night owl, but he assumed it had something to do with the emotionally draining conversation from earlier.

Slowly, his eyes began to shut and the controller started to slip from his grip. By the time it hit the ground, he was fast asleep.

Hours later, Benrey was roused out of his nap as he felt a warm hand resting on his shoulder, gently shaking him. A voice whispered his name over and over. It was familiar.

Gordon…?

Bleary eyes cracked open, Benrey groaning faintly in annoyance as he waited for his vision to clear, only seeing the blurry outline of some figure. Plus there was that weird weight on his side. Felt kinda nice, even if he didn’t know what it was.

After rubbing his eyes and getting the grit out of them, he found himself staring up into Gordon’s face, and was greeted by the surprisingly warm smile on it. He could feel his cheeks flush as his heart pumped faster in his chest.

Gordon looked so cute in the dim lighting provided by the tv, highlighting his cheekbones and the scruffy beard. His eyes seemed to shimmer and glow, and every bit of his messy hair reflected the light-

“Thanks for taking care of Joshie.” Gordon suddenly said, snapping Benrey out of his thoughts. The ex-security guard continued stare at him as he continued speaking. “It looks like you two have a fun time.”

… wha?

His confusion must have been obvious as the other man was quick to gesture towards whatever the weight on his side was, and a quick glance had Benrey inhaling sharply.

At some point during the night, Joshua had fallen asleep against him. The young boy was curled up on his side, arms and knees tucked close to his chest and he practically snuggled up to Benrey. He was still sound asleep, somehow.

A miracle based on how loud Benrey’s heart was beating. Surely the kid could hear it too.

He must have fallen asleep at some point, but it was surprising that he had not moved or gone to his room to sleep in his bed.

Benrey hesitantly lifted a hand up before gently placing it on Joshua’s back. The kid mumbled something in his sleep and stirred, not waking up. Gordon’s smile grew at the sight and he fully stood up. For a moment, Benrey assumed he was going to pick the kid up and take him to his bed, but this assumption was proven wrong when Gordon started quietly cleaning up the living room.

“psssst, feetman? gaydon? wh-when are you gonna move josh dude?”

Gordon turned around, the smug smirk on his face letting him know that he was about to face his demise. “Move him? But he looks so comfortable.”

“feetman don’t do this to me-”

“C’mon, Benrey, do you really wanna make Joshua sad? Just look at how happy he is.”

Benrey blinked at his words and, with a bit of prompting, looked down at Joshua once more. After a bit of focusing, he was still kind of tired, his eyes landed on the kid’s face.

He was still smiling . Still happy at the outcome of the conversation that had taken place hours earlier.

Gordon chuckled as Benrey sat there, in shock and awed at the revelation. He… he had made someone happy. Cheered them up when they were down. With the realization that he had managed to actually help someone, never mind that someone being a kid who was almost as important to him as Gordon, Benrey came to another conclusion.

Maybe he wasn't so bad after all.

#my story #fanfiction #hlvrai #hlvrai benrey #hlvrai joshua #hlvrai gordon #fluff #bit of angst #bit of self loathing and regret #benrey and joshua have a conversation #introspective and self identity are gained

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