#sighs and stares at sophie with disappointment

[tempesttz]

there is a little nuance to it i will say. after 18 years on whatever god most recently called upons not-so-green earth and however long it took me to develop the current opinions i have now i've realized that:

attempting to exclude individuals i have disagreements with from interacting with me pushes them further into their echo chamber, we are all creating our own little bubbles and many of them are based upon hating another group of people. that's Not Good. we should interact with people we disagree with

a lot of antis have no fucking clue what an endogenic system even is. i've had to explain "no, they're not pretending to have a disorder. they don't want your disorder. they just have people in their head" more than once now it's been great (it hasn't)

i wouldn't say anti endos are on the same levels as homophobes and definitely not the same as nazis. those people can and will legitimately harm or kill people in violent hatecrimes. antis are usually children who've been misinformed by a large group of people they trust in an internet microcommunity which is being fed into by this terrible awful ideology on the internet that as long as you have a justification for it you can be as awful as you want to people. this is an issue in every community

that being said, i will agree that

interacting with people who post violent hatred of pretty much any community is bad. it doesn't help anyone. (i'm not talking about schoolyard insults or calling them little shits or poo poo heads or the evil woke mind virus or saying you're gonna fling them full force into the abyss or something because at the end of the day that is an insult. statistically, most people will survive being insulted, and you can get insulted on the internet for anything. and silly little threats don't harm anyone either, as long as it is clear the intent is to be silly or nonserious with it. "i hope you trip down a flight of stairs" even really is fine because it's common and usually said hyperbolically. i'm talking about death threats, genuine hopes that harm come to people, paranoiabaiting, etc.)

i understand not wanting to interact with anyone who's anti endo who happens to be pro endo (or similar circumstances) out of personal comfort reasons, that's fine. their reputation stinks. they have a habit of being some of the most aggressive jerkasses on the internet while being literally objectively misinformed. i have had terrible experiences. i will forever support people's right to not talk to people with a reputation for being absolute awful individuals.

we should stand up for pro-endos and endogenic systems, absolutely. we need more defense of them, even if public opinion is getting definitely less hostile over time it still is very hostile.

i guess what i'm saying is i see the interactions as a step in the right direction honestly, as long as all parties are comfortable doing so. and no one's being violently hateful on main.

"im pro-endo but i dont mind anti-endos interacting" would you allow a homophobe to interact with you? a transphobe? a racist? an ableist? a nazi? why is it suddenly different and "not as bad" when the discrimination, harassment, and death threats dont affect you specifically? why is it suddenly a "nuanced situation" when you arent the victim? are you really "pro-endo" if you refuse to even do the bare minimum to stand up for them instead of being best friends with people who want them to not exist?

[muntitled]

𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐞 𝐇𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐫𝐲 𝐕𝐮𝐥𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐬 | 𝐋𝐮𝐤𝐚𝐬 𝐌𝐚𝐭𝐬𝐬𝐨𝐧

Lukas Matsson x Fem!Reader | Kendall Roy x Fem!reader

Summary: Kendall had always been a competent, steady boyfriend, but there is always, always room for improvement.

Warnings: Language, Politics, Business, Cheating, Mentions of murder, Smut (+18) Minors DNI, CNC, Rough Sex, choking, degradation, ownership kink, dom/sub dynamics. Roman as his own warning.

I am mentally unwell, and so is Matsson.

Due to your perilous schedule as a political and public figure, arguing with your lover had never really made it past scheduling in the smorgasbord of your career. Perhaps that is why Kendall decided to pick unnecessary fights in the middle of a Swedish trip. He felt, and rightfully so, infinitesimally insignificant when compared to the hellscape that is your established career in the American political sphere.

You can see it in the way his broad shoulders hunch slightly, the way his larger lower lip protrudes into a petulant pout.

You're appalled.

"Kendall, you can't be fucking serious," Your first night on Matsson's retreat was scheduled to be filled with myriad orgasms in myriad uncanny positions. You and Kendall should be christening this luxury suite, but, instead you find your voice has climbed to ungodly octaves to a point that you feared you may shatter the glass wall that displayed the quiet Norwegian woods.

You couldn't give even half a shit as to whether others housed in adjoining tree-house suites might hear your furious bickering.

"You're a fucking child," he says lowly, desperately trying to regain control over the situation but only fumbling it by the second, "Do you know that?"

"No!" You exclaim, "Iverson and Sophie are!" He turns his back to you. Your nails dig into the bedsheets, "Those are your actual children, yeah!? When was the last fucking time you called them!? You're too busy measuring your dick against the Swedes- you're too busy to give Rava a fucking call."

"I have met plenty of selfish sociopaths in my day, Kendall, but this is unfathomable." His shadow falls over you like a second cloud in the already darkened suite's interior.

"Did she put you up to this?" He asks in that manic state of his with his hand pointed outward in condemnation of his most recent enemy.

"Are you aware that you have children together? You will know her for the rest of your life, are you aware of that?"

Kendall is quick to deflect, "Fuck! I can't catch a fucking break. Of course you run to my ex and- and- what? You fucking-meet up at Tasha's. Fucking talking about Kendall's cock-rings over your croissants."

You withhold the urge to laugh by letting a wave of fury wash over you anew. "You didn't even tell them their grandfather died before you dragged us out to fucking Norway, Kendall! That's unhinged! You're unhinged!"

"I'm perfectly hinged!" He says, turning away from you, pyjama pants billowing as he grabs his keys and a pack of cigarettes, "I'm like the doors on fucking Downing street, motherfucker," He speaks lowly. Voice simmering. "I'm fucking hinged."

The door slams with finality, leaving you clinging to your robe in front of a backdrop full of trees.

There's a deeply sated sigh that leaves your throat as you haul yourself over the Egyptian linen sheets. Fighting with Kendall had always been an impossible feat- something akin to yelling obscenities at a brick wall smeared with cocaine, but it always left you marginally satisfied after. A part of you felt like you might be saving him.

There is a frown, slight and not at all visible in the low evening light, drifting across your face as you stare down at yourself with disappointment and a hint of disapproval. Kendall was supposed to rip this robe right off you the second you got out of the shower. But, instead, you find yourself turning on your side, staring at the pines beyond the glass.

The sound of the door clicking open, ruins the serenity that had begun to settle.

"I for sure thought you'd gone and blown your head off for real this time, Ken." You mumble monotonously while staring ahead at the glass.

"While all these hungry vultures at my retreat does make me lean into the sound of suicide, I quite enjoy living."

You're quick to pull your unravelled rope across your frame as you sit up against the oak headboard.

"Not Kendall." He says.

Matsson towers enough to hunch slightly and disrupt the flow of the sleek, vertical finishes.

"Why are you here?"

"Well it is my retreat."

He smiles. Or at least you believe that he believes he is smiling. Sharks can't smile, you don't think.

"My house."

Lukas shoves his hands in pockets as he continues to stare at you. His disciplined eyes never stray or drift across your exposed legs, they never gloss over your deadly grip on the tightened robe digging into the plushness across your middle.

He's staring at you. Eyes boring into eyes.

"I've come to deliver a noise complaint."

"Consider it delivered."

He does not leave. Instead, he delves deeper into your space, the space shared with your boyfriend. You watch carefully as Matsson plants himself on the edge of the bed. There is an air of nervousness that bristles throughout the Norwegian woods as he brings one leg up to cross the other. You watch, entranced by how the soft Tom Ford sweatpants crease slightly under his fluid movements. His beige Balenciaga shirt sits comfortably and it elicits a sense of control as he makes himself comfortable in front of you.

The one thing you could never allow yourself to be was intimidated, and intimidation is all you heard from the mouths that affirmed this man. However, the subtle yet suffocating label whoring, the designer sandals…

He was just another man, suffocated by the weight of his own money. He had everything to prove. That gave you control.

"I didn't know when Kendall brought me on this trip that I was to be subjected to an invasion of privacy,"

"I heard you the first time," He says, chuckling in complete condescension, "I am aware you're here with Kendall. You don't have to bring him up the whole fucking time."

"Are you here under work pretences then? I'm not involved in the hellscape that is ATN, nor the Nazi wonderland that is Waystar so I would make a lousy spy."

"I know who you are," his eyes dart away, giving you enough time to break slightly, take heavier breaths and compose yourself, "I've seen the work you are… attempting to accomplish in that flaccid dick of a country," His gaze is back on you, "And while I do applaud you, politics bores me. You're all fucked anyway, I just came here to enquire if you would like to have sex with me?"

The manner in which he says those words, so calmly and succinctly, has you praying for another moment of regeneration while he darts his eyes away.

"You mean the noise complaint was a fluke?"

"In addition to the noise complaint, I would like to sleep with you, yes."

You're practically suffocted with the over abundance of choice. Matsson would be a fun and interesting side project for you to sink your claws into and manipulate with the added advantage of sex.

But there is a darkness lurking behind this man's gaze that promises far too much risk with little to no reward.

"No, I think I'm good. Thanks for stopping by, Lukas. It was certainly not a pleasure talking to you-"

You speak calmly, shuffling off the bed so you can escort him to the door. "Please find yourself outside of my personal and habitual space kindly and quickly-" but the axis tilts, and he does a daring thing by encircling a strong grip on your forearm. You try to lurch your arm out of his iron grip but it's fucking sealed around you like a constricting python. The darkness seems so incredibly poignant. God, all this man holds is darkness.

"I did not ask for myself." He says with a hint of condescension, "I asked for you." Matsson has you locked between his spindly legs while your robe billows open. Your face warms as you feel coolness settle against your exposed stomach but Lukas' eyes never leave your own.

From this angle, there is no chance to look away. Everything is maximised, from the wrinkles running like river channels underneath his bright blue eyes to the slight overbite in his teeth, perhaps his only external flaw.

What a dangerous individual.

"They're Roys." Lukas says, "He's a Roy," You suddenly feel juvenile and bashful, as you take the scolding, "You should know better,"

You're only vaguely aware that the distance between you two has been lessening because the air feels warmer. His breath is mixing with yours and his hand is doing a funny little dance along your forearm. "You should know better," He says.

And perhaps you should have closed the distance, perhaps you should have chased him away. You certainly should not have waited for a pair of irregular footsteps approaching to finally push the lumbering man away from you. Thankfully, he kindly obliged although Matsson's hand stalled, still rubbing against your elbow when Kendall stumbles in.

"Uh, what the fuck are you doing here? What the fuck is he doing here?" Kendall's eyes are tired and bloodshot and you step away from Lukas' gravitational pull as you curl into Kendall's side. Kendall's suede Versace jacket is cool but his skin is warm as you burrow into the side of his neck. Your guilt worsens as you feel Kendall's arm curl around your waist.

You speak into Kendall's ear, loud enough for Lukas to hear, "Matsson is still trying to rape your company, I'm afraid. " You say with a lazy smile.

"Already raped," Says Lukas, shuffling passed the two of you, "Logan was the decision maker, remember?"

Before the man finds himself over the threshold, Kendall speaks up.

"Hey, no more private visits, yeah? Not cool."

You watch with bated breath as Matsson only cracks a toothy lopsided grin before tapping the wood of the doorframe and disappearing.

That evening had ended, like most of the evenings to come, with angry, jealousy-fueled sex. There had always been a distinct animosity between Kendall and Matsson but whatever had been in the air seemed to triple. Kendall kept you close during the entire experience. He kept you under Kremlin-level surveillance but he couldn't be with you all the time. In the moments you found yourself without Kendall, Matsson would appear from out of the shadows like a demon, slinking behind you with a hand ghosting your hip. He watched you from above the rim of whiskey-filled tumblers and even asked for your input whenever conversation within the group got a little political. One such conversation had the unfortunate interjection of one Roman Roy, who saw you as another toy in his toy box.

"What do you need two assistants for anyway?" The grinding of your teeth come to a deafening halt as you turn your head to face the youngest Roy. The smile on your face is amicable, some might even call it polite, but it is a well enough facade veneering the tempest brewing beneath.

"What- does Jess hold your balls while you tell knock-off Maya Angelou here" He points to you, "-to bend her head and suck?"

There were a number of things you simply allowed when it came to your courtship with Kendall Roy. You would even shame yourself into admitting that you might have found Kendall's overall emotional incompetence and dysfunctional family quite endearing in the beginning. But, like every magnificent, spine curling orgasm, the magic ebbed away quickly and soon, you were left with nothing but the wetness of his cum, cooling between your thighs.

That is what Kendall and his siblings were like most times.

Cooling, diabolical cum.

"Rome, come on." And therein lay Kendall's consistent, valeant response, of which he chose to defend you.

Rome. Come on.

Simply hearing those words leave his brother's mouth with even the faintest hint of disapproval sent Roman into a frenzy (you could see his pupils dilating and his cock hardening from your spot on a couch adjacent to Roman and Shiv). Matsson's entire foyer was set alight with amicable, drunken murmurs, of which Greg's nervous whimpers were occasionally heard peppered in.

Tom had retired to bed, (whether that would be in the same suite as Shiv, would be a satisfactory cup of tea you would divulge with your girlfriends later.) Matsson and his followers sat in their own private harem in a corner beside you.

"What?" Roman cries, slamming back a handful of ground nuts (an admittedly clever substitute for Swedish alcohol) "I was just asking a question. I know your people like to claim reparations for a lot of shit these days but I'm sure enquiring about the girl my big brother's fucking doesn't equate to slavery."

Although you hated the little demon with every bright blue blood cell running through your arteries, you did admire the sure-fire way he would spit his hateful vitriol.

"I appreciate the faux-concern, Roman." You keep it curt, cute and even forgiving, hoping he might take the win and leave you to down the last of your Hennessey in peace.

"That's your cue," Kendall announces, "Drop it."

"Look at how wet she's getting from my rich white brother finally using his voice to defend her for once." The conversation between the Swedes had long since ceased and your throat clogs as the music tins through hidden speakers. "Kenny so clearly has a type," Says Roman, now facing his brother with his elbows steepled on his knee. "I bet you couldn't wait to dive into that plethora of liberal pussy, could you, big brother?"

Your patience had long since snapped and your words are flying before you could stop them, "Considering you couldn't even get pussy without catching a rape charge or an incredibly disappointed prostitute, I'll assume this pseudo-incest interest you have in Kendall's sex life is normal,"

Roman only laughs, "No amount of sick burns is going to release you from the fact that your fucking a crackhead. Maybe it's the money," he taps the bottom of chin in a flamboyant display of consideration, "Although if it's raping our company that's your main goal, the Swedes might have you beat." Matsson straightens in your periphery, not by a lot but by enough to have a stoney smile cracking across your face.

"ATN is not my vice. Racist Propaganda doesn't get me as wet as it gets you, Roman."

"How convenient. I thought all Leftys held special orgys dedicated to besmirching racist propoganda."

Your response was already loaded in the back of your throat, aimed and ready to fire at Roman with reckless abandon. If it weren't for Lukas' interjection, you would have hoped to leave the little man bleeding all over Matsson's marble floors.

"You let him talk to your woman like that?" The rest of the party had left this specific ring of people behind, but that seemed okay. Everyone within the circle, the important people, were silent as Matsson turned his attention to a floundering Kendall.

"Maybe worry about your situation over there and I'll worry about mine."

"I'm not worried." Says Lukas, with a fierce stoicism that was so unique to him. Your heart rate speeds up ever so slightly as the couch groans while Lukas begins to rise. His friends each hold knowing smiles. Hungry smiles.

"Would you like to know why I'm not worried?" Asks Lukas, advancing with a slow gait. You turn your head just in time to watch Kendall's Adam's apple against his throat. He was speechless as per usual when the discussion didn't involve drugs or stock prices.

"Ask." Says Lukas as he advances. "Ask me why I'm not worried."

Upon you first meeting, you had found Lukas' height to be quite rude and unbecoming. You expected him to duck down, almost out of courtesy for the rest of the world laying low underneath him. As his shadow falls over you and Kendall, you find yourself grateful for this giant man making your boyfriend feel small for once- almost as small as you were made to feel around the Roys.

"Why aren't you worried?" Kendall's voice is still masked with confidence as he peers up at Matsson.

Matsson, who's teeth glint in the low evening light, like a hungry shark. He bends down low. You move slightly out of the way as he whispers into Kendall's ear.

"Because I'm gonna fuck her, okay?"

Absolute silence grows pregnant between the two and you're left to do nothing but watch as the exchange unfolds and Kendall's perceived control over everything and everyone unravels. His mouth opens and closes slightly while Matsson watches with a sadistic sort of pleasure in his eye…

"What the fuck did you just say to me?"

"Nothing," Says Lukas, having returned to his full height. "I didn't say anything. I just asked your-" His blue eyes darts to you and back, "-friend, if she'd like to see my bookshelf in the living room. I saw her reading Bronte earlier," Matsson shrugs, "Thought I might extend the invitation."

Lukas is not one to wait for confirmation, nor is he a man that waits for validation. He shuffles out his foyer, quite comfortably leaving present company behind with his hands stuffed in his pockets. No rebuttal from Kendall needed.

"Where the hell do you think you're going? What are you doing?" You lift yourself from the couch, ironing out the invisible creases on your plaid Chanel skirt as your eyes dart to Roman, now in idle conversation with Siobhan.

"They're just books, Kendall." You sigh softly. "You can't honestly believe I'd be any safer here." You deliver one final gaze at his lesser appealing siblings before following Matsson out of the foyer. The amount of people congesting the dark corridors lessen as you venture further into Matsson's abode. The walls are built with a dark, heavily sanded stone. Something casting a very ominous, yet unmistakably earthy glow throughout the corridor as the mouth spills into a large and defining living room. The colours are dark. The coal walls are all encompassing and Matsson stands beside a low leather couch, waiting rather awkwardly for your arrival.

"There is no library or bookshelf." He says with his hands still stuffed in the pockets of his sweats.

"I figured. You strike me as someone that would keep all their books stored on some gadget."

"Technology and leisure are the two civilizers of man," He says, watching you with bated breath as you slink around his living room, eyeing but never once prodding his things.

"Don't misquote Disraeli, it's not very attractive."

Matsson seems to relax at that, opting to take a step closer to you as he speaks, "I'll misquote Disraeli as much as I want. The 'increased means and increased leisure' part seems a little far-fetched." Your heart begins to hammer in your chance at the advancing man and you turn, whether out of cowardice or bashfulness, choosing rather to examine the sculpture along his mantle.

Your back begins to straightens as warmth radiates from him. He does not move but he cages you in. You would not be able to leave his sphere even if you wanted to.

"We don't have to fuck, obviously. It just didn't seem safe for you to stay in that situation."

You turn slowly and you find yourself slightly jarred by Matsson's proximity. His turtleneck hugs a string and definite build and the hunger in his eyes melts all inhibitions.

"I don't need saving."

"I'm talking about the little angry man." He says, referring to Roman. "I've seen your debates. It's the little nugget of American politics I find myself quite entertained by and I have no desire to wipe a Roy's blood off my floors this evening."

His words end up snapping any and all inhibition as you're throwing yourself quite mercilessly at him. The kiss is silent but so inexplicably charged allowing you to bump into various pieces of furniture in the process of pushing you up against the nearest stone wall. A wall that is cold to the touch, eliciting a surprised gasp which fuels Lukas all the more. He displays wet slobbering kisses down the nape of your neck as he murmurs drunkenly in your ear.

"I like seeing you like this. I like seeing you among my things." The conviction present in his gravelly vibrato has a pool of wetness gathering in between your legs. Your arm circles around his broad back until your pulling, rather roughly at the blonde hair curling at the nape of neck. This had consequently been a morbid mistake because his grip travels to your throat lightning fast, compressing a dangerous weight on your oesophagus as he rips his lips away from your throat.

"You don't get to do that," he says far too casually. "You don't get to assume control when you are here in my house with my things."

Matsson keeps his eye trained on you but your focus in compounded, solely, on his wandering hand tracing the hem of your skirt. "Hey, hey, hey." As you strive to keep watch of his wandering hand, Matsson moves his head into your line of vision.

"My things. Yeah? You're apart of that now."

As his hand inches underneath your skirt you're suddenly flooded with a wave of unfamiliar emotions - fear being the most poignant and defining one.

"I don't want to do this anymore-" You're not sure whether you mean it or not but you're quite certain that Matsson doesn't care. You're suddenly truly aware that you had released something you don't really know how to control.

"Bullshit, you don't want to do this anymore." You finally feel his hand sliding into your panties and your legs wavers underneath you, "Your words say stupid shit," Sings Lukas as his fingers ghost over your swollen clothes, "But your cunt just can't seem to lie." His grip on your throat tightens before relaxing as he brings your head up to his lips. "You're fucking soaked."

"I'll fucking sue you," Although you're unable to assume a single confident tone as his fingers begin to play with your cunt, "I'll fucking take you to court for fucking assault, motherfucker."

"You wanna call Kendall for assistance?" He asks, slyly pushing his middle finger deep inside you with no regard for your strangled gasp. "Here, let's call him together. Say 'Kendall!'"

The only thing able to leave your mouth is a straggled moan as Matsson keeps you pinned to the wall by the throat. The sound of your voice - so incoherent and helpless has him evading any sliver of decency he might have had. "Fuck, you're so perfect." He places a chaste kiss on your cheek before spinning you around until he is sandwiched between your body and the wall. "I have to fuck you."

"Watch the door for me," he says, pulling your hips right up against the bulge in his pants. "Watch just in case Kendall, shows up. Right, sweet girl?"

You're nodding dumbly as Lukas hunches his tall frame while grinding his bulge into your backside. He has your skirt lifted, and his shadow casted over you as he murmurs diabolical things into your ear.

"God, you're a fucking slut, you're such a fucking slut." He keeps a grip on your throat while the unoccupied hand reaches around to lift your shirt haphazardly, "No amount of smart ass comments will ever hide the fact that you're just another whore." The casual air with which he degrades has you simultaneously humping the air while you push back against his bulge. It is in that moment when he finally decides to release his aching cock from his sweatpants dotted with precum.

"Jesus Christ, feel how hard you made me. Feel how fucking turned on I am just because you decided to be a stupid slut." You can feel the head of his cock pressing into you until you're unable to hold in the desperation.

"Jesus- Lukas!"

"What? You want me to fuck you? I think you want me to fuck you but I'm not sure." You're unsure of what he's asking, too blinded by the possibility of a carefully curated orgasm.

"Go on." He says, "Ask me to fuck you. Ask me to fuck your pussy while your boyfriend waits just downstairs."

There are tears pooling in your eyes at the sheer lewdness and the unapologetic quality of this betrayal, but your mouth opens and soon, you're shakily crying out. "Please just fuck me, Lukas."

His cock rams into you with a surety that leaves you winded. He seems as if his patience had been waning as well, what with the haggard sigh that leaves his throat and the numerous disquiet groans that float in the air. Despite yourself, you do keep a half-lidded gaze on the entrance, not put off, but rather spurred on with the possibility of your boyfriend finding you being railed by his latest rival. The thought alone has you clenching around Lukas' cock with your orgasm cresting.

"Whatever you're thinking about, I'm going to need you to think about it again- you're so fucking tight."

There's an animalistic quality to the sex- being bent over for him while he rests against a wall, a firm grip on your throats and your tits as he rams himself into you again and again.

It's far too much.

You wouldn't think there was something so ruthless hiding underneath such a calm veneer but that's all it is. All it always had been. A veneer.

"You're not with him anymore, do you hear me?"

"Fuck- Lukas I'm gonna cum soon," his grip on your throat tightens until it vacuums out any and all air. Your hand encircles his wrist, begging for release but to no avail.

"Tell me," he says as he continues to fuck mercilessly into you, "Tell me you don't belong to him." He finally gives you lee-way to talk and you're gasping out your response, "I don't. I don't belong to him," he nods slightly, brows firing as he bites into your shoulders.

"Fuck- I didn't plan to cum inside you-"

"I don't fucking care- I'm really close." Lukas nods quickly before releasing your neck to drag your cheek until your faces are pressed together in a smouldering kiss. "Fuck I'm gonna cum inside you-"

His words already have you diving headfirst into a groundbreaking orgasm. You're crying out helplessly, until Matsson has enough sense to cover your mouth with one large hand. He fucks you through it, filling you with cum as he groans just as loudly as you had been.

"Fuck," he chuckles quietly, "Kendall is not going to like that."

"Kendall," You breath heavily, safely contained in Lukas' comforting grip, "Is not my Keeper."

Lukas delivers a chaste kiss on your cheek, his stubble grazing against the side of your face.

"I plan on killing them anyway." He says, simultaneously unaware and aware that he's drifting into pillowtalk.

"Every last one of them."

[agustdiv1ne]

ok so I got an idea - idol! yeonjun x idol! reader? like they meet at an award show and he's just totally entranced by the reader and then they start hanging out

bye this is cute :') ty nonnie! (i definitely got carried away bc i'm a jjun simp sorry in advance)

yeonjun tends to get tunnel vision when he's preparing to get on stage; the mama awards are no different. sharp and focused, he runs through the choreography for the dance break again and again, as if rewinding and replaying the same role of film over and over again. it's hard to distract him with anything else when he's like this.

a backstage crewmember calls his name, letting him know that he needs to be in position soon. five minutes. he has five minutes. he can do this.

he spends these five minutes taking deep breaths, adjusting the details of his outfit, double-checking that his mic box is in place, and...watching you?

truly, he doesn't mean to. he's just trying to keep the inevitable nerves from taking root in his chest, just keeping himself occupied, observing how you lead your fellow members from the dressing room, gathering them in a circle in a giving them a pep talk. it's admirable, really, how easily you're able to guide your group, how they seem to hang on to your every word. there's a burning passion backdropping your pupils all the while. a mix of determination, conviction, hunger. and fuck, he doesn't even know you, nor your name, but there's just something about you that draws him in, and there's this aura about you that screams self-assurance and maturity....

shit, he thinks. get it together.

"one minute," he hears through his in-ear, and he scrambles to his position, finding the mark on that platform that will rise up to the main stage. he sneaks one last glance at you. he finds you staring back, and right before the platform beings to rise, you send him an encouraging grin, you mouthing 'fighting!' accompanied with a small fist pump. your members watch on at the exchange.

he nearly forgets his own damn lyrics.

when txt's performance is over (as successful and jaw-dropping as ever), he's corralled back into their dressing room. sadly, there's no sight of you backstage anymore. disappointment buds in his chest, and soobin and beomgyu poke fun at his crestfallen expression, before soobin, ever observant of the events that unfolded earlier, tells him your name, how you're also the leader of your group, and that you're close friends with him.

thus, yeonjun begs, nearly grovels, for soobin to introduce him to you. begrudgingly, soobin lets him join a little hangout where he knows you'll be there. you and him hit it off really well! though he's so nervous that his hands shake, he's able to keep the conversation flowing, and he learns that on top of being the leader, you're also the oldest. it's something to bond over, and you find yourself giggling at his terrible jokes and overall goofy demeanor as the night rolls on. numbers are exchanged, as well as pleasantries about having a good time. both of you return to your respective dorms with giddy looks and butterflies in your stomachs.

you, much to his surprise, are the first to ask him to hang out one-on-one. slowly, he learns your little quirks as friends first, keeping his lovesick thoughts about you to himself (and sometimes shares with his members if they promise not to make fun of him; they do anyway).

he's sneaking into your dorm every now and then, as do you with his dorm, greeting and high-fiving soobin when he's there. he learns you're competitive (outrageously so), that you love ramen as much as he does, that you love studio ghibli and that you have a crush on howl pendragon. he grins at that.

"i wish i could be sophie," you sigh one late night on txt's dorm's couch, leaning your head against his chest as howl's moving castle flits across the tv.

"i could be your howl," he states without thinking, eyes still glued to the screen. and suddenly he's panicking, eyes moving down to your smug smirk. yeonjun looks away, but you refuse to let his gaze wander, head following so that you maintain eye contact.

"do you like me, choi yeonjun?" you question, eyebrow raised. he's rendered a stuttering, blushing mess and he's quick to deny it. absolutely not, no, we're just friends! or so he claims. you cackle, and his face twists in pure confusion, asking what exactly is so funny.

"you don't have to lie, jjunnie. soobin told me all about your little crush on me," you say as if you're talking about today's weather, too casual and too flippant and soobin told you what?

you're really laughing now, and yeonjun starts to wish that the floor would just swallow him whole. he tries to get up — he really wants to hide in his room forever now (and kill soobin later), but you grab his hand before he can flee, pulling him back down onto the couch so that he's facing you. gone is the shit-eating grin, your face now teeming with sincerity.

"i like you too, you dummy," you confess. his eyes open impossibly wide, and you bite your lip to suppress a grin. "thought i made it obvious when i asked you to hang out with me."

"oh my god," he groans, head falling onto your shoulder. "i'm so oblivious."

"a little," you agree, earning you a whiny "hey!" you continue. "you said it first!"

"my girlfriend should be nice to me, not act like them," he complains with a pout, nodding at the closed doors of the other members' rooms.

"oh, so i'm your girlfriend now?"

"yes, my extremely loveable, beautiful girlfriend. and i'm your extremely loveable, handsome boyfriend," he declares.

"i like the sound of that," you say, beaming, before you plant a chaste kiss on the tip of his nose.

the nearest door swings open to reveal a very drowsy taehyun, kai peeking over his shoulder from further inside the room. he takes one look at your legs strewn over yeonjun's lap, rolls his eyes, and says, "congrats on finally getting together, lovebirds, but could you please shut up?"

[i-think-i-did-it-again]

Fuck buddies XII

Author's note: final chapter! I hope you enjoy and thank you for reading and supporting my work ����

Warnings: smut, swearing

As people begin to leave and the house grows quieter and quieter, the butterflies in your stomach begin to take over. Your face is not hurting as badly anymore, just a dull ache and you can finally take a complete breath again without a stabbing pain in your side. You want Colson to take you upstairs but you don’t know how to say it without all of your friends catching on to what you’re doing. Rook, Slim and Baze decide to head back to Rook’s house to crash and he calls his date from the other night to come over. Ashleigh and Sophie have already left for the night which just leaves you and Colson.

You glance at him from the corner of your eye and his head is laid on the back of the couch, his eyes closed. You can’t help the disappointment that seeps in as you realise the chance for your first real night with Colson is gone. You sigh deeply to yourself and begin picking at your cuticles with annoyance.

“Why the long face?” Colson whispers, sitting himself up to look at you.

“Oh- I thought you were asleep,” you stutter out and he grins at you knowingly. He reaches his hand out and pushes a stray strand of hair away from your face.

“I made a promise that I definitely plan on keeping,” he smirks at you and your stomach drops.

He stands and takes your hand, leading you upstairs to his bedroom. He drags you into his room and kicks the door closed behind him. He stops for a moment to stare at you and you recognise a war waging behind his eyes as he looks at you. You start to feel self-conscious of his stare and you bite your bottom lip.

“Please don’t do that,” Colson begs you and you stand to attention, fiddling with your t-shirt awkwardly.

“Do what?” you ask, confused by his dark tone.

“Bite your lip,” he presses his body to yours and you gasp at the feeling of his touch. “That’s my job.”

Colson envelops your lips with his own and his tongue is in your mouth, hot and heavy. You moan into the kiss, locking your fingers in his hair and tugging gently. He growls at you and pushes you onto the bed, pinning you to the mattress. He leans away to pull his t-shirt off and you run your hands over his bare chest as he connects his lips with yours again. You scrap your nails down his back and he moans.

“Fuck,” he breathes against your lips as you wrap your legs around his waist and grind.

You can’t help but notice that he’s not taking charge like he usually would. It’s not rough and to the point. He’s taking his time, slowly seducing you with his lips and gentle touches, creating a growing fire in the pit of your belly. You push him back and sit up so you can take your t-shirt and bra off. His eyes trail over your bare chest, drinking in your breasts and hardening nipples. He licks the pad of his thumb and runs it lightly over your nipple. You moan and raise your body over the bed in pleasure. Colson leans down and encases your nipple in his mouth, sucking hard.

“Fuck Kells,” you cry out as your panties pool with liquid. You’re practically panting and he hasn’t even taken your pants off yet.

“Say my name baby,” he whispers into your ear and your skin erupts into goosebumps.

“Colson,” you purr seductively and he groans against your neck.

He peppers your skin with sloppy kisses, down your stomach, dipping his tongue briefly into your navel, down to the waistline of your jeans. He tears open your jeans, ripping the fabric down your legs. He licks the waistband of your panties, biting your hip bones. You’re whining and thrashing around on the bed, trying to get him to put his lips where you so desperately need them.

“Getting a bit impatient, hm?” he grins at you from between your legs. “Maybe I should go slower?” he crawls back up your body and heat overpowers your self control.

You wrap your legs around his waist and flip him so you’re now straddling him. He laughs, that real Colson laugh you love so much, and your cheeks heat with embarrassment. You lean down as if you’re going to kiss him but you pull back at the last second, lightly feathering your lips over the corner of his mouth, his jawline, down his neck. You pull back to study his skin. You trace the tattoos that litter his chest, arms and hard stomach. He watches you from beneath his long lashes, moaning every time your fingertips lightly mark out a tattoo. You kiss your favourites, something you’ve never been able to do before.

You’d thought after all this time, everything that the two of you have done together, that you’d know every tattoo, every scar, every freckle but as you explore his skin, you begin to notice things you’ve never seen before. You see his ink in a whole new way, you get to feel the surprising softness of his skin, you can feel the hair that trails down his arms, his almost invisible snail trail. You never realised before but you somehow confused sex with intimacy. This whole time you’d decided in your mind that Colson knew you better than anyone because you hooked up with him a couple of times a week but the understanding hits you that it’s not like that at all.

“Ok, maybe I was wrong. Slower is not better,” he whines as he leans up on his elbows to look at you.

“Sorry, I got distracted by your tattoos,” you smile at him sweetly and he shakes his head while trying to fight a grin.

“If I’d known that getting them would delay sex, I would seriously have reconsidered the whole idea!” you laugh at his ridiculousness and gently kiss his stomach.

You unbutton his jeans and pull them off, throwing them on the ground with your own. You gulp as you see Colson’s dick straining to be released from his briefs. No matter how many times you’ve seen it, his size will always shock you. You slip your fingers into the waistband of his briefs and pull them down. His dick springs out of its confine and your mouth begins to salivate. 

You lean down and gently kiss the tip. Colson inhales sharply through gritted teeth and a sudden confidence overtakes you so you do it again. He begins to pant as you repeat the action a few more times before suddenly engulfing his large cock in your mouth and sucking hard. The top half of his body jolts upright and he groans as your mouth begins to work up and down his shaft. He laces his fingers in your hair and guides you up and down. Quickening your pace, Colson begins to groan and raise his hips to meet your mouth with every bob of your head.

“Fuck baby, yeah just like that. Suck daddy just like that.”

You can feel him twitching in your mouth and you pull away from his dick to grin at him. He crashes his lips to yours and your tongues entangle with each other. His fingers find your nipples and he pinches and tweaks them between his thumb and forefinger. You gasp as he repeats the motion over and over again. 

He leads you to lie back on the bed and trails kisses down your body again. Once he’s back between your legs, he wastes no time in removing your panties and devouring your pussy. You pull at his hair and grind your pussy against his tongue. He hums against your lips and the sensation sends a shiver up your spine. The feeling of him between your legs after his teasing is so delicious that it doesn’t take long for your orgasm to build.

“Fuck Colson, I’m gonna- fuuuuuck!” you can’t even get the words out before you’re cumming on his tongue, writhing and moaning on the bed.

Colson doesn’t give you much time to recover before he’s lining his cock with your entrance and slamming inside of you, filling you to the brim. He kisses you, the taste of you still on his lips. His movements are slow at first, taking his time to pull out of you almost completely before slamming back in again. By the third time you’re cumming on his dick, pleasure is exploding inside of you so intensely.

“I promised I’d take my time with you,” he says against your neck, a strain in his tone.

He wasn’t kidding about his promise. He continues to move in and out of you slowly, kissing your neck, sucking your nipples. You cum twice more on his dick as he rubs your clit with his thumb, before he finally begins to quicken his pace. He flips you onto your stomach, wedging a pillow beneath your hips to prop you up. He wraps your hair around his hand and pulls you backwards so your chest is off the bed completely. With his other hand he grabs your breast and squeezes it hard. He pounds in and out of you over and over so exquisitely that you’re in complete ecstasy.

“Say my name,” he smacks your ass cheek and you cry out with a mix of pleasure and pain.

“Colson,” you moan as he spanks you again.

“Tell me how much you love my cock in your tight little pussy,” he begs between gritted teeth.

“I love your big hard cock inside my tight pussy. All I want is your dick to pound me until I’m sore.” 

Colson growls and it’s borderline animalistic as he continues to fuck you roughly. You’re not sure what’s taken over him but you’re loving every goddamn second of it. You’re not sure how much longer you can take. As his strokes begin to grow sloppy and his hips stutter against your ass cheeks, you know he’s close. You begin to moan a little bit louder, grinding up against him harder.

“Fuck baby, uh fuck. I’m gonna cum, uhhhhh,” he pulls out of you and releases his hot spunk all over your ass cheek before collapsing on top of you.

He pants against your back for a few moments, coming down from his high. You feel the sweat dripping off his skin onto yours and you lie there, letting him catch his breath in peace. After a few minutes he pulls away from you, kissing your shoulder blade and heads to the bathroom. He returns with a damp washcloth and cleans your back where his sweat landed before cleaning his cum off your butt. Once you’re clean he spanks your cheek lightly and you chuckle. Colson takes you into the bathroom with him and turns on the shower, stepping into it before guiding you in after. 

You stand under the water together, Colson’s arms wrapped around you and you both just stand there in the comfortable silence. Before the water can turn cold, he uses another washcloth to clean your skin with soap, abandoning the washcloth so he can massage your neck and shoulders with his large hands. You return the favour and you both rinse off and step out. He wraps a towel around his waist and grabs a fresh one for you from the cupboard beside the shower. You still haven’t said much to each other except thank yous and you’re welcomes. The silence isn’t uncomfortable but it’s like you’re both waiting for the other to break it.

You head back into Colson’s bedroom and you stand beside his bed awkwardly while he turns the light off. He pulls the sheets back and slips into them, pulling you with him. You lay your head on his chest, the sound of his breathing soothing you. He plays with your damp hair as you both lie there in the darkness.

“Thank you,” he murmurs into the abyss and for a second you think you heard him wrong but he continues. “I know that I did all of this in a fucked up way and you would’ve had every right to walk away and tell me to piss off but you didn’t and I…well just, thank you.”

Your heart swells at his vulnerability and his honesty with you. If you were a normal, well adjusted person, you probably would’ve walked away but your feelings for Colson were so strong that you just couldn’t bring yourself to do it. Now, you’re glad you didn’t. You lean up and kiss Colson’s cheek and you feel his lips pull into a grin.

“I…” you hesitate, debating whether you should say what you’ve been desperate to say all night. You take a deep breath and push all your fears down. “I love you, Colson.”

“I fucking love you,” he breathes out softly.

Colson puts his hand on your cheek to pull your lips to his. You kiss, deeply and passionately before settling back against his chest. He strokes the skin of your back, lulling you into sleepiness. You feel the buzz in the room as you realise that this is the first time you will ever spend the night with Colson in the same bed and you’re trying your best to fight your heavy eyes so you can relish every second of it. Your tired body wins out but as you slip into unconsciousness, Colson’s voice fills your ears one last time.

“You and me forever baby.”

[holybatgirlz]

going to the chapel | chapter 3

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

Summary:

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

Word Count: 5.6k

“She’s gone! She’s gone!”

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

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

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

“Good riddance,” Eloise remarked into her tea. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You can tell her when she comes downstairs.” 

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thank you.”

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

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

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

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

It went silent inside the modiste shop. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Pardon?”

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

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

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

“What gave it away?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Gen’s smile widened. “Of course.”

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

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

“Is that how you met Benedict?” 

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

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

“Of course.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“A whore?” Sophie suggested plainly.  

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Benedict rolled his eyes, trying to ignore his brother. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And Benedict could only chuckle. Served her right. 

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

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

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

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

“Besides wasting good bourbon,” Colin commented.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Benedict frowned. “What happened at the modiste?”

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

“Eloise,” he said warningly. 

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

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

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

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

“Like what?” Benedict grounded out.

“Benedict–” Eloise started.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Lady Haddington,” Eloise told him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

“Good night, Sophie.”

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

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

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

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

Withholding sex will always help you win an argument.

No matter what you are always right. Not Benedict. 

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

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

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

Almost. 

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

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

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

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

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

It was Benedict. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

But Benedict wasn’t having it. 

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

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

“Better?” Benedict asked with a knowing smile.

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

The crooked smile of his widened further. 

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

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

“What is it?” she asked. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Benedict smiled. “I love you too.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[tilly-tilly-2827]

Fallin’ 

“I keep on fallin’ in and out “

Or the modern AU of Sophie Beckett spirling down the whirlpool of her past relationships, Richard Gunningworth, Phillip Cavender, and the person she would never want to admit, but Benedict Bridgerton.

Or the prequel to Light Switch that no one wanted, but the little drabble I can’t get out of my mind, inspired by the song ‘Fallin’ by Alicia Keys.

Read Light Switch from here!

And introducing a sequel written by the talented @hopepaigeturner ‘The Alchemy’ (Read from here!)

A03 post from here,

⚠️ SMUT. NSFW.

Trigger Warning: mentions of sexual harassment/assault/ Domestic Violence/

“Sophie,”

“Yes?” Sophie looked up from her worn-out sneakers, but she still couldn’t help herself from fidgeting her hands. 

“All this, Sophie…” Mandy said with a small sigh, but it wasn’t stained with disappointment or frustration; Mandy’s glasses were placed on the coffee table very gently, very softly, with genuine care. And her eyes were kind and soft, 

“Sophie, this is,” Mandy paused. “Sophie, first, I want to say that I am so grateful you came here today. From your stepsister’s recommendation, you told me. But It must have taken so much courage to come here and share this story with me. And I am so proud that you are here right now, safe and sound.”

“...Thank you.” Sophie stared down at Mandy’s Crocs, a yellow smiley face trinket just on her toe.

“None of it is your fault.”

“None of it is my fault.”

Sophie closed her eyes and repeated her words.

“None of it is my fault.”

“Can I ask you one last question? If it is okay with you?”

“Of course.”

“Why,” Mandy paused, yet again. “Why do you think it took time for you to come to therapy? Has anyone suggested you before? Perhaps during your childhood or at school? During your hospitalization? The court hearings? Or after the restraining order?”

Sophie nervously placed her hand on her throat, making her nails bite into the back of her neck. 

A sharp, trickling pain, but Sophie reminded herself that she was allowed to breathe. Breathe. 

“It didn’t seem important.” She said quietly. “It never seemed important.”

-----------------------------------------------

The first day of the summer holidays was the only day in a year her father would take her out. It was mostly the same restaurant; Poppie’s Fish and Chips, the one on Hanbury Street, a noisy cramped place where Sophie could hardly hear her father’s voice. They would always line up in the long queues, and her father, who had been a man of very few words, never told her the reason why he took her there. 

When she had first come back from boarding school, Sophie had excitedly rambled on about her new friends and teachers; the exciting classes, and the school library she had always enjoyed. But it was only when she looked up from her cartmel toffee pudding she noticed that her father seemed to be focused on draining the Ale in front of him, rather than her whole speech about Cinderella being the best Disney Princess.

“Um, sir?”

Playing with the topping almonds, Sophie asked hesitantly, peering into her father’s deep forest eyes,

“Yes?”

“What’s your favorite Disney movie?”

“I’ve never seen any of them.”

“Really? Oh, you have to watch every one of them. They are kind of like musicals!” Sophie’s cheeks rosied, excited to introduce her to her favorite movies, “Nana used to sing me the songs at bedtime,”

“Yes, that is all very good, Sophia.”

“And Mama left me a copy of her book,”

“Sophia.”

“Maybe Sleeping Beauty, everyone likes that so maybe,”

“I don’t want them, Sophia.”

“But,”

 Before she could continue, she stopped herself, seeing the man in front of her tapping his fingers impatiently on the table. Exhaustion.Weary. His forehead buried into his right hand. His eyebrows would be knitted, and over the years, Sophie would understand that it was stitched with the words of regrets and utter disappointment,

Sophie clenched her fists on her lap, feeling the hot tears rise to her eyes. Although she had enjoyed the peaceful life in the countryside, she deeply missed her grandmother, her Nana, who had passed away just a year ago; her warm smiles and hugs, and her delicious Breton stew.

Although she was still quite terrified of the man who whisked her away from Norfolk and dropped her at the all-girls dormitory; she had thought; perhaps he would be excited to see her.

He was her father, after all.

Even if she was never allowed to call him that.

But as tears kept dropping on her melted vanilla ice cream, a hand placed on her head, a hesitant touch on her honey-colored curls, the wild ringlets that she didn’t quite know what to do without her Nana, 

“Just like your mother,”

Sophie tried to look up, but his hands were more firm in the place, forcing her to keep her eyes on her lap. His fingers tugged her curls, just a little,

“Your mother had the same curls.”

There was an unfamiliar color in his usual drawing voice; a tint of softness, a drop of melancholy.

“What was she like?”

Sophie asked softly, only knowing her mother through Nana's oddly ambiguous stories and photo albums. 

He touched his fingers to her chin and tipped her face up to the light. 

“You have the same eyes.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“What was she like?”

She asked again. 

“An intelligent woman.”

“How so?”

But her innocent inquiry had crossed the line. His forest green eyes would harden into pitch darkness, the detached cold gaze that clutched her throat, preventing her from saying another word, 

“How so?”

And even after 20 years, Sophie continued to make the same mistakes. Asking when she isn’t supposed to ask,

“Baby, because that dress is just asking for trouble,” 

He roughly tugged the short hems of the silver dress: the one she had fallen in love with when she saw it shining and shimmering under the city lights. She normally thrifted her clothes, but the dress; she had to wear for herself,

“Go and change, babes.”

“But, Phillip,”

“Baby, baby, baby.” His hands would roam against her waist, his eyes would darken, “You really don’t see how other men look at you, do you?”

“Phillip, I didn’t mean to,”

“So naive,”

“But,”

“Be a good girl for me and change the dress, will you?”

And in one swift motion, he would zip down the dress, the glittering silver sliding down from her shoulders.

“So beautiful,”

He murmured against her neck, a small moan escaping from her lips with his every breath, every touch. 

Only a few hours had passed since the nameless man led her to the dance floor, but it was almost as if he knew everything about her, every stroke of his hands, his tongue, his lips, it was just sweetness rising to the air, making her fall apart in his arms.

A tiny bit of sanity left inside her was thinking, perhaps Phillip was right when he said the dress was asking for trouble. Because this man was truly trouble indeed, god, she didn’t even know his name, and between the darkness and the blinding lights, she couldn’t even see the color of his eyes.

But it wasn’t the cold eyes that pushed her miles away,

And it wasn’t the dark eyes that left her trembling, 

For Sophie, that was all enough.

“So, so, beautiful,”

His soft, deep voice, which Sophie couldn’t help but adore, whispering into her ear, 

“Just let it go,”

“No more questions about your mother.”

Her father’s tone was always flat and monotonous.

“But,”

“Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

And the two continued to eat in silence. Her father on his ale, Sophie on her caramel toffee pudding. But Sophie could hardly enjoy the melted vanilla ice cream, it was just too sticky, too salty, mixed with the taste of her tears and her runny nose. The taste of her own fluid was making her feel sick. Her father didn’t even take out his handkerchief. 

“Sophia.”

On the way to his London flat, her father finally broke the silence.

“I…” He paused. He sighed again, tapping his fingers on the car wheel. “Your teachers told me that you excel in your studies,”

Sophie finally felt like she was permitted to look up from her black shoes. 

“I’m expecting a lot from you, Sophia.”

“Yes, sir.”

But did her father actually expect something from her?

No matter how many times she reached the top of her class, how many prizes she got from her literary essays, her father never said anything to her, report cards she found disregarded in the bin at his home study, unopened, ignored, 

“I’m so proud of you,”

Sophie felt overwhelming pride and joy as Phillip shot her one of his dashing smiles from the table, pouring wine into her glass. It was a lovely Italian restaurant he had taken her to celebrate her promotion; the kind of place that had dimmed lights and romantic candles, petite roses placed in the middle of their table. 

“The effort you put into each writing is truly extraordinary. A lady of most exceeding talents,” Sophie blushed as Phillip raised his glass for a small toast, a teasing smile on his lips, “Matching to your equally beautiful looks,”

A light tug in her throat, but she decided to let it go. After all, Phillip Cavender, one of the senior editors, had been so caring and helpful to her from the first day of her internship; always making time to chat with her, leaving coffee and little sweets when he passed by her desk.

“It’s all thanks to you, Phillip” Sophie said shyly, “I wouldn’t have gotten the promotion if it weren’t for your assistance, and your recommendation to Danbury.”

“Anything for my little intern.”

Sophie’s heart leaped as Phillip gently took her hand, his thumb gently drawing small circles against her skin. And she noticed that she couldn’t quite draw her hand back,

“I, I really don’t know how to thank you,”

She stared down at her feet, trying to ignore her beating heart. 

“Well, I could think of some ways,”

Under the table, Sophie felt Phillip’s shoes trailing up to her ankles, and his other hand was reaching for her thighs,

Sophie froze in her seat.

“I’m not really…”

“Come on, Beckett, I’m just messing with you!” He laughed wholeheartedly, his hands returning to the table, “It’s only a joke, Beckett. Loosen up a little! Do I look like a guy who would let a woman sleep one’s way up?”

“No, of course not.” Sophie tried to smile back, fondling with the hems of the tablecloth. “You wouldn’t never do that,”

“But,”

“But?”

“I was wondering if we could make this a date?”

“A date?”

“I said I’ll take you out to celebrate,” Phillip continued, his warm hands placed on hers again, “But I really want this to be our first date. I really like you, ”

“Oh.”

“Come on Beckett,” He grinned teasingly, “You’ve got to give me some credit for giving you this promotion.”

After that, Phillip had walked her home to her flat, and Sophie couldn’t quite believe that Phillip Cavender actually liked her, or how Phillip intertwined his fingers between his, or how his hands slipped to her waist, tugging her close to his arms as they walked down the London streets. Phillip Cavender! Always the first to crack a joke in the room, the dashing smile and his wide circle of acquaintances, always in the center of heated debate,

And he was walking her home. For her.

“So, here we are.”

“Who knew Ms. Beckett lived above some fine little China?”

“….It’s a Vietnamese restaurant.”

“It’s all Asian.” Phillip shrugged. “Basically the same.”

“Every culture’s different.” Sophie shook her head with a weak smile, “The Banh mi is absolutely gorgeous here, you should try it sometime,”

“Can I kiss you?”

“What?”

“Come on, Beckett. you wouldn’t have missed that,”

She was surprised to find his soft brown eyes quite close to her. Philip took a step closer, and her back hit the lamppost, feeling the coolness of the metal pole against her coat. But his warm hands cupped her cheeks, and Sophie noticed that she couldn’t quite move. Or even utter a word.

“I like you, Sophie.”

Right. 

“And I would like to kiss you.”

Right, of course, right. Right. Right. It was a date, after all.

“Can I kiss you?”

She nodded.

And there was a kiss. 

Wet?

“I’ve always wanted to do this since I first met you in Danbury’s office,”

“Really?”

“Mmm,”

His beard scratching her skin, 

“I always wanted you so much,”

“Um,”

“Mm?”

“Would you like to come up to my room?”

“Oh, hell yes.”

When Sophie admitted hastily about her lack of experience in that area, Phillip had broken out in a satisfying smile, grinning from ear to ear. He began to stretch out his fingers as if he were warming up for another round of volleyball.

“So,” Phillip slowly undid the buttons of her lace blouse, his hands gently tracing her soft curves, “Does it mean I’m your first?”

“Um, kind of?” 

Sophie smiled weakly as Phillip unhooked off her bra with composed expertise. Sophie’s breath hitched as he began to nuzzle her neck, his beard tickling her skin, 

“A pretty girl like you?”

“I just,” Sophie gasped as his hands cupped her breasts. “...Didn’t have much time for relationships.”

“Bet you were waiting for me,”

“Sometimes you are far too overconfident,” Sophie giggled but her light tease was taken over a muffled yelp as he pinched her nipples.  

“Shhhhh.” Phillip would whisper to her, “Hey, just leave it all to me. Just relax and listen to your body. It's going to be alright,”

But it was never all right. Just a lot of twisting and grasping, a lot of panting. But it was insanely addictive. The moans and gasps of satisfaction against her shoulder, endearments rasped into her ear as he thrust in faster and faster. The hot striking pain lost in the flood of sweet words, 

Is it supposed to be like this?

She didn’t question the fact that her father never came to school on visiting days, spending the lonesome hours alone in the library, listening to the homely domestic chatter from the window. She didn’t question the reason why she was locked up in the upstairs closet; not knowing how many hours had passed by. Huddled, shivering in the corner with her head on her knees. And her father never questioned the swelling of her cheeks or the burnt marks on her ankles. While Araminta screamed at her from the table, her father never stopped his hands on the knives and the fork. 

“Worthless git,” Araminta’s voice was still engraved in her head, 

Is it supposed to be like this?

The thrusting inside her gradually ceased, and the heavy weight of Phillip over her body suddenly pulled her back to her tiny studio apartment, Sophie trying to keep her focus on the little mold in the ceiling..

Mucky. Sticky . Sweaty Hot. Heavy. Wet.

“I think you’re amazing,” Phillip whispered to her breathlessly as he rolled onto the side, propping himself up on one elbow. “You’re just so perfect,” 

As Phillip wrapped her around his arms and gently cuddled her against her back, Sophie finally felt the tingling warmth inside her belly, just like the warm little tingle she felt on Christmas mornings. All alone in the dormitory, she would pop peppermint candy in her mouth, the one her father sent in his Christmas packages.  

It is supposed to be like this, 

First few months were the definition of bliss. Flowers every morning, little banters on the morning subway, stolen kisses on the elevator. Always the smartest, the funniest, leaving her in giggles as they spent the weekends in bed. He wanted to know everything about her, from her past (which she hardly told the truth) to her hopes and dreams, and ambitions for the future (which she always told the truth). Living in the countryside, owning a little bookstore in a small town, (So modest, he would laugh at her.) And he had believed in her, trusted her as an editor, as a person, in a way no one else had ever had. 

And he was the first person who told her that he loved her. 

Love. Love. Love. 

Like sweet chocolates. Bubbling lemon drops. Shimmering glass crystals.

Always scribbled hastily on a scrap of crumpled paper; 

To Sophia. From Richard. With love, never written. 

Delicate music boxes. Intricate picture books. 

Fairytales and dolls. 

Necklaces and trinkets. 

Ribbons. 

Love.

Love.

Love.

“I love you.”

“I love you.”

“I love you.” 

“Love your chicken soup,”

“I love you.”

“Just turn off the phone and focus on me, babes.”

“I love you.”

“Relax, I’m good at pulling out.”

“I love you.”

“I thought you were going to spend the weekends with me?”

“I love you.”

“So, you’re just going to leave me here while you get yourself drunk with your colleagues?”

“I love you,”

“All you need to do is take these pills,”

“I’m just saying because I love you.”

Love.Love. Love. 

The neverending debt, 

Love.

Love.

Love.

Isn’t it supposed to be like this? 

“Do you even understand what love is, babes?” Phillip muttered irritatingly, tapping his fingers on the silver fridge. “It means having my back at all times. Supporting me. Unconditionally. Never heard of the word ‘unconditional love’? Or do you even love me?” 

“Of course, I love you,” Sophie said quickly, her hands still working on the dishes, cleaning the leftover ravioli Phillip always craved on Saturday evenings. “But this is another matter, Phillip. I just wanted to say that some expressions in your article might provoke discomfort,”

“So are you calling me stupid?”

“I never said that, Phillip.”

“But you did,” He quietly placed the wine glass on the kitchen table. Sophie froze in her place, noticing the shift in the air. 

“How could you ever think you could question my judgment?”

“Phillip, I didn’t.”

“When did I say you could stop washing the dishes?”

“I thought I should listen to you,”

“You can’t do anything right, can you?” Phillip sneered at her, a light jab on her ribs. “You would still have been the fucking intern if it weren’t for me.”

“You can’t do anything right.”

“Sophia, why is it that you always seem to be causing trouble?”

But Rosamund punched me first, Sophie wanted to scream back at him, but seeing the chilling glare in her father’s eyes, she knew it was better to seal her lips shut. Despite the ice pack the school nurse had given to her, there was still a burning pain in her swollen cheeks, still tasting the metallic taste of blood in her mouth.

“It’s the third time this semester, Sophia.” He added coolly from the metal stool that was placed next to the bed. “I told you to deal better with Rosamund,”

“I tried,”

“Did you go?”

“I did my best,”

“And, it’s not ENOUGH!”

Sophie froze on the infirmary bed. Unlike Araminta or Rosamund, her father rarely raised his voice. While Sophie sometimes managed to bite back at Rosamund or flee from Araminta’s screeches, her father’s voice always left her petrified. But Sophie also knew that his eyes would go to her ringlet curls, all reminders of a woman who only remained in photo albums, the curls that he always played with as she bit into those fish and chips when she was much younger, 

“Fucking hell.” He cursed under his breath, “I can’t deal with this anymore.”  

Sophie stared down at her shoes, clenching to the hems of her skirts. 

No, Rosumund was not going to make her cry again, 

“Did you know I had to drive four hours to come here?”

“I’m sorry,”

“And I’m missing four meetings, Sophia. Do you understand that?”

“I’m sorry.”

“Apologize to Rosamund,”

“But,”

“I don’t want to hear any more from you.”

With an exasperated sigh, her father turned his heels from her, his fingers twitching for a cigarette; but Sophie foolishly grabbed the end of his jacket, stopping him dead on the tracks.

“Don’t go.”

“Sophia”

“Please,”

“Sophia,” Her father flickered his fingers impatiently, but he didn’t have the nerve to smack off her hand, “What did I just say,”

“Won’t you let me change schools?” She hated how weak and desperate her voice sounded, “Araminta doesn’t like me here studying here with Posy and Rosamund. Can’t you send me to another school in London where I can go from your flat? Just please, please. Please. Don’t leave me here,” 

But her father stepped away from her clutch, a click of his tongue was enough to tell her that he wasn’t going to stay. 

“This is for your own good, Sophia.”

His leather shoes were still trimmed with dirt; Sophie would shine them every day when he took her to his flat on holidays, just to see a small smile on his face when he left her alone for work, but miles and miles away from London, she didn’t have the chance to wake up early in the morning to grab a cloth and a leather cleaner, and she rather missed the smell of the white leather cream as she sat on the floor,

“Just do better, Sophia.”

And he left, 

All alone in the room, Sophie broke out in a sob, but she heard her father say in just barely above a whisper,

“I’m doing this all for you,”

“Baby, baby, baby.” After a violent slap, Phillip would always hold her tight in his arms, softly placing an ice pack over her swollen cheeks and gently placing a kiss on her forehead. “I forgive you, Babes. Besides, it’s not your fault that you can’t do anything right. Hey, hey, it’s all right, Baby. I’m always, always here for you,”

Despite the soothing tone, Sophie was beginning to feel dizzy, very, very sick in the stomach. Dashing to the washroom, Sophie vomited everything that was inside her, including the sticky white fluid that went down her throat a few minutes earlier. But a gentle hand kept rubbing her back, soothing her from the nausea. Wiping bits of vomit and cum with a handkerchief. 

“You’re so lucky to have me, aren’t you?” Phillip cooed, wiping off the painful tears that kept running down her cheeks, “I’ve given you so much, haven’t I?”

“So, so, much.”

“So you wouldn’t say no, would you?”

His fingers moved to her neck.

“Because it’s not enough,”

As Phillip sent her a small wink from his desk. Sophie smiled sweetly back at him, softly playing with the rose petals. A little note was placed between the lush blossoms; 

To my sweet dumplings,

“Gross.” Eloise gagged in her tea as she read the note over her shoulder. “Why does Cavender call you that?”

“It’s supposed to be a joke,” Sophie said, quickly hiding the note in her desk drawer. “Sorry about the flowers, I know I’m invading your space.”

“More like Cavender’s invading my space,” Eloise scoffed. “Can’t you tell him to just fuck it off with the goddam flowers every day?”

“I could never tell him that,”

“Never?” Eloise raised her eyebrows, and Sophie felt a slight sense of panic.

“I’ll tell him, El.”

“So you say,” Eloise snared sarcastically. As Eloise returned to her laptop, Sophie couldn’t help noticing that her fingers tapping the keyboards were a little louder than usual. Sophie nervously put away the roses in her paper bag, away from Eloise’s sight, 

“El, I’m sorry,”

“What are you even sorry for?” Eloise muttered.

“For not backing you up,”

Yesterday’s editor meeting was chaotic. Although Danbury had agreed on Eloise having the Sunday feature, Phillip had suddenly insisted on taking it down, saying that her coverage was too dark for the Sunday cover. 

“TOO DARK?”

“Yes, Bridgerton. You do understand that our target audience is,”

“THEN JUST THROW AWAY ALL ARTICLES!”

As Eloise and Cavender broke out in a thunderous fight in the conference room, Phillip suddenly turned his attention to Sophie, who had been trying her best to stay invisible. 

“Babes, you understand what I mean, right?”

“Beckett, if you had the fucking decency, you would agree with me.”

Of course, Eloise, Sophie opened her mouth to say those words, but Phillip raised his eyebrows, tapping his forefinger on the table. 

Tapping. Tapping. Tapping. 

Sophie was suddenly entrapped by the sound of the noise, those fingers that wrapped around her throat just the other night. Clenching them so hard that it left marks on her neck, and even though he was a foot away, Sophie noticed that she couldn’t quite breathe again, 

“I thought I gave you ‘The big break’”

“Do you want this job or not?”

“Don’t you ever think about questioning me ever again,”

“I thought you supported my article.”

“I did, Eloise. But Phillip did have a point,”

With a large bang, Eloise snapped her laptop shut.  

“Do you not know that two women are being murdered each week by their partners? 242 domestic abuse-related deaths were recorded last year. 242, Beckett. And it’s my job to bring awareness to the public. I SPENT BLOODY SIX MONTHS ON THIS ARTICLE DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW I POURED MY HEART AND SOUL INTO THIS?”

“Eloise.”

“You know what I respected about you, Beckett?”

“Eloise,”

“Your goddam integrity, I respected you because you had some fucking integrity,” Eloise pointed her finger angrily, “And you still call yourself a journalist?”

“Eloise, I’m sorry,”

Eloise stormed out of the office, a packet of cigarettes in her hands. The office was oddly silent. 

“Serves her right,” She heard someone mutter and murmur of agreement around them. 

In the corner of her eye, she saw Philip laughing hysterically with the other senior editors; Heasley and Fletcher. Joking something about hormones, periods, and female rage. 

“Bridgerton does have a point,” Theo said quietly from the other side of the desk. “I think you should talk to her.”

Sophie found Eloise on her usual rooftop, puffing away her Benson and Hedges. Although Eloise ignored her as Sophie sat next to her on the bench, she was the first one to break the silence. 

“I’m sorry I yelled at you.” 

“You have all the right to yell at me,” Sophie said weakly. “It’s all my fault.”

“Oh, stop it with your self-loathing and self-deprecation. I hate all that crap.” Eloise muttered between huffs, “You just can’t stand up for yourself, can you?”

“Eloise,”

“Why are you letting Cavender take over you?”

“I’m.”

“You never come to drink these days, saying that it’s a date night. Even if you did come, you are constantly on the phone, You’re always backing his pitches in meetings, and you even laugh at his jokes. His sexist jokes, Beckett. You’re unbelievable.”

Eloise dropped the cigarette in the ashtray, 

“I know I shouldn’t tell you this,” Eloise said quietly. “Do you know why no one speaks to you anymore other than me or Sharp, or the Toxic Lord Squad? Because everyone thinks you are sucking his dick to get your article on the table,”

Am I? 

“And you know I hate gossip, Beckett.” Eloise continued,  “But from where I see it, it isn’t far from the truth.” 

“Just break up with him.”

I can’t.

“And just go back to your normal self.”

I can’t.

“Araminta, I can’t pay all this money.”

I can’t. I can’t. I can’t.

“I can’t, Phillip.”

“Go on, Sophie.”

“But,”

“But you can,”

He would zip down his trousers, softly caressing her curls, 

“Don’t I deserve this for buying dinner?”

I can’t.

I can’t.

I can’t.

I can’t.

I can’t.

The perfect daughter.

The perfect sister.

The perfect student. 

The perfect colleague. 

The perfect girlfriend. 

The checkboxes she just couldn’t fill. 

The debts she couldn’t repay.

No matter how hard she strived. 

All the things that she just couldn’t do. 

The list of requirements.

Drowning her. 

And she couldn’t breathe. 

She was almost drowning in her own bathtub as Phillip mounted over her, his leather shoes drilling in her bare skin, and the clear bubbles were becoming cloudy, mixed with mud and dirt,

“No, Phillip, please,” 

Between gasps, she managed to croak out, but the grip on her neck only became tighter.

“You think that you could break up with me?”

“No, Phillip,” The flood of water and bubbles entered her mouth, and she could only cough, gasping for air. “I wasn't, I just maybe, break, a while, ”

“How could you do this to me?”

But in the next moment, she only saw a clenched fist coming up to her eyes,

And she only saw darkness.

So Sophie ran. Through the great hall, through the blooming gardens, through the dark forest, Sophie kept running, running, running until she noticed that she didn’t quite know where she was going. But she had to escape from Araminta, her shilling screams and the broken plates, no, she couldn’t bear them anymore, 

So Sophie ran. Through the streetlamps, through the chaotic carnivals of cars, through the flashing lights, Sophie kept running, running, running. And twenty years later, she still didn’t know where she was going. But she had to escape from Phillip, his banging fists, and the broken plates, no, no, no…This shouldn’t be happening. 

Over and over again. WHY? WHY? WHY?  

“You can’t do anything right.”

“You can’t do anything right.”

“You can’t do anything right,”

Sophie found herself laughing. Laughing hysterically. Alone in the streets of London. One hand leaning on the lamppost, one hand on her stomach. Sophie wheezed and giggled, the absolute irony and the absurdity of the situation was leaving her in stitches. Pure comedy. So, so, hilarious. She couldn’t remember the last time she laughed so bluntly. Fits of laughter.

Until she was crying again on the pavement.

Alone again. 

But Peculiar looks she was getting from the other pedestrians slowly pulled her back into her senses. She suddenly felt her cheeks turning red; afterall, she was barefoot and only wearing her bathrobe, her hair drenched to the skin. God, she must look like a bloody pervert. Taking a deep breath, Sophie tried to list out the places she could go, perhaps for a decent set of clothes and a place to stay for the night. 

Eloise? No, Eloise stopped talking to her after the article incident. Posy? No, Sophie had cut off all her contact with her family when she left home. Araminta? No, after saving every penny to escape from her, she wasn’t going to go back to that hell ever again. 

But then, she noticed that She didn’t even have her phone or even her wallet.

“You can’t do anything right.”

All she could do was go back to her apartment. 

Perhaps Phillip would forgive her if she apologized. 

Apologize. 

But for what exactly? 

“No, no, no, she just fell down the stairs,” Outside the white curtain, Sophie heard Phillip's usual gallant tone, explaining that he was the chief editor of Whistledown and how he knew a surgeon in the hospital who happened to be his long time friend from college. “She’s really clumsy, you know. Always knocking over things,”

“You’ve explained that to me multiple times, Mr. Cavender,” A voice said rather cooly, “I have to ask you to step away, I’ll be taking her pulse, and the doctor would want to check if she needs an MRI,”

Sophie’s fingers were shaking yet again as a figure entered her compartmentalization; but it wasn’t the booming body looming over her, but a petite, bubbly nurse with a friendly smile, 

“Posy?”

“Sophie, oh, Sophie, Sophie,”

Posy hugged with all her might, and although Sophie still felt a sharp pain in her ribs, she noticed that she didn’t mind the pain at all, 

“Are you all right, Sophie? Oh, Sophie, Sophie, Sophie. Oh my god, it’s been ages since I last saw you. Why didn’t you even leave your phone number? I’ll be the last person on earth to snitch on Mum. And Richard misses you. I think. I don’t know. I don’t talk to him as well. But I missed you so much! You know Sophie, I also left home! Oh, and I’m married!! To Hugh! Oh, I’d love for you to meet him, Sophie. I wanted to invite you to the wedding so I tried to search you up on the Internet, but you’re not on anything! Oh, Sophie, it’s so nice to see you again. I saw your name on the board and I just had to drop by, and Sophie these bruises on your neck,”

“I thought you were taking her pulse.” 

As Philip popped his head from the curtains, Sophie’s mind suddenly started spiraling. She was still halfway through her research, but She didn’t have dinner ready at the table, and she knew she left the laundry halfway. On Monday she had to pick up his shirts, and she might have forgotten to brush out the bookshelves, and the pitch meeting on Thursday, she would have to watch Phillip as he tapped his fingers, 

But Phillip gently sat beside her and cupped his hands to her cheeks. 

“Baby, why didn’t you tell me you woke up?”

“I’m sorry, Phillip, I just.”

“Shhhh,” With a soft smile Phillip held out his hand in a stop. “It’s all right, baby. I was just so worried about you.”

Phillip placed a small peck on her cheeks, 

“Aren’t you going to introduce me to your friend?”

Posy and Phillip hastily exchanged greetings, but as soon as he realized Posy wasn’t the one specifically in charge of Sophie, Phillip shooed Posy from her bed, rambling on that his girlfriend needed the doctor and not the nurse. But Sophie noticed that Posy had scribbled a tiny note in her hand, her phone number and her address. 

Call me, she wrote, Please, 

But the intimidating banging never stopped. Whether it was early in the morning, or so deep in the night, Phillip would always bang on her door, and Sophie had no other choice but to open up; after all, she didn’t want to be kicked out of her apartment for bothering the neighbors; the only place she had been finally able to afford for herself, away from Araminta. Even when she knew that Phillip was under a strict restraining order, Sophie would flinch as the door banging started again, just when the clock struck midnight. Sophie knew it would be the same all over again, the same bouquet of lilies, the endless begging, the endless pleas followed with another swing of his fist,

“Hi,”

“Hi,”

But this night, it was the sweet kiss of Benedict Bridgerton that welcomed her, the soft scent of Sandalwood and Soap. And cigarettes. And weed. She quickly pulled away, breaking off from his passionate kisses with a tug on his shoulders. Benedict pouted his mouth with puppy pleading eyes and held her waist to follow her lips. Sophie quickly covered his mouth, stopping him from chasing any further.

“But, your girlfriend, isn’t she,”

“Gen?”

His voice was muffled, and Sophie quickly removed her hand,

“Her name is Gen?”

Benedict gave her one of his lopsided smirks, loosening his tie with his right hand, “She’s not my girlfriend.”

Another kiss was pressed on her lips, his tongue slipping from the corner of her mouth, melting her,distracting her from every thought; every emotion, the every confusion that battered her when she heard the London cockney accent on the other side of his phone that morning, 

“Then who is she?”

“Do you need to know?”

With a raise of an eyebrow, Benedict asked her, a slight tilt of a head. But his jacket was again discarded on the floor, his fingers were slowly working on his shirt, revealing an inch of his skin every minute,

“No,”

Because he had a sweet, melodic rhythm, 

and she would hold on tight. 

Leaving her breathless and a little desperate, 

Always wanting a little bit more,

a little bit more of him. 

Hips rocking.

Chasing him.

Is it supposed to be like this?

“I don’t do relationships.”

“Oh,”

Sophie didn’t quite know how to respond to his not-so-guilty confession. After all, Phillip had been all out about her being his girlfriend, and Benedict had been her first casual fling. The checkboxes of “girlfriend” she had tried her best to perfect, but no strings attached? Sophie didn't exactly have the playbook for ‘Casual Relationships’. 

“Seriousness is not really what I want,” He sipped from her mug, the Earl Grey she passed to him minutes ago, “Rather Live my life as a free spirit?” He fluttered his hands jokingly, like a little bird. 

It is supposed to be like this, 

“I understand,” She said, a small smile on her lips “I’ve seen too many broken relationships as well,”

Benedict gently placed the mug on her kitchen table, his fingers weren’t tapping on the fridge, but it softly brushed a strand of hair from her face. 

“I’ll leave if you want, I really don’t mind if you don’t want any of this,”

When his hands softly caressed her cheeks, she noticed it wasn’t the hesitant touch of her father or the violent grip of Phillip, it was the touch that she had never felt, and in three seconds, his fingers left her skin, his feet stepping away to the door, 

Leaving her all alone again,

Sophie had grasped him by the collar, slightly tiptoeing to reach the corner of his mouth.

“Stay,” she murmured against his lips, “Don’t go,”

Sophie felt Benedict's lips twist into a wicked grin, 

“Then make me want to stay, Sophie.”

Sophie felt shivers down her spine as he rasped in her ears, his voice now hoarse and deep, rumbling from the deep part of his lungs.

Unconsciously, Sophie found herself dropping down on her knees, softly fondling with the smooth material of his St.Lauren suit. Sophie heard Benedict’s breath hitch slightly as she traced his manhood with her palm, softly, gently as Phillip had first taught her.

Benedict softly played with her curls as she worked her way through his belt and the silver zipper, and she was actually quite pleased when she noticed that he was already quite hard under his boxers.

“Baby Yoda?”

“You wouldn’t leak that to GQ, would you?”

“Oh, I wouldn’t dare,”

Benedict groaned as Sophie pressed the heat of his erection against her eyelids. She softly placed her hands on his penis, gently stroking them upwards and downward.

��Upcoming fame Benedict Bridgerton,” She rasped against his hardness, placing a soft kiss on top of his shaft. She tasted him, salty in her mouth, and she felt his body harden, 

“No, Sophie, don’t talk right there,”

“Revealed to be a Lucasist,”

“You’re not going to call me a nerd?”

“I pay my fair respects to George Lucas as well,”

With a toss of her head, Sophie flipped her curls back and eased her lips up and down, a little twirl of her tongue. Licking up his length, Sophie smiled softly, his eyes were closed tightly as if he were relishing into depth of delight, His eyebrows were knitted not in disappointment or embarrassment but sweet relief and pleasure, the deep satisfaction bubbling up to her stomach as she watched his expression change every second. It was quite fascinating, THE Benedict Bridgerton flushed, withering and gasping with just a flick of her tongue, the snap of her wrists, a touch of her fingers, and somehow it was all so thrilling, 

and she slipped her hand between her legs, 

And Sophie continued, 

Because she had a sweet melodic rhythm. 

and he would hold on tight.

Leaving him breathless and a little desperate. 

Always wanting a little bit more, 

a little bit more of her. 

Hips rocking.

Chasing her.

“Christ,”

A desperate, breathless moan escaped from his lips as she took him further deeper, 

“How the fuck are you so good?” Benedict muttered, tilting his head back to savor the gentle pleasure Sophie was giving him,

“So, so, good.”

The grip on her curls would gradually tighten.

“Be a good girl for me.”

“Such a good girl,”

It would always begin with a suggestion,

 slowly changing into demands.

In just the briefest of seconds,

In one touch of the hand,

 everything would slip away from her fingers. 

Again. Again. Again.

Over and over. 

“Be a good girl for me, Sophia.”

His hands firm in place. So she can’t look up. So she can’t even see. 

“Baby, Baby, Baby,”

Crammed deep down her throat, hot tears running down her cheeks.

“Sophie.”

Her sweet tempo lost in his thrusts. 

And Sophie couldn’t breathe again, 

“Such a good girl,”

A hesitant hand stroked her curls as Sophie continued sobbing.

A tall broad man with slicked-back hair was standing next to her before the cathedral, the man who had taken her from sweet Suzie, her grandmother’s nurse from the hospital. The cold detached voice told her that he would be addressed as ‘Richard’. But Sophie had never seen or heard of the man’s name. 

“I was…” Between tears and sobs, Sophie saw his black shoes drizzled with specs of mud, “A friend. Of your mother’s.” 

He went down on his knees, trying to peer into her eyes as she hid behind the stone pillars.

“And I promised her that you will be taken care of.”

“I promise I’ll take good care of you, Sophia.”

“I promise.”

And Sophie had taken his hand. 

“Such a good girl,”

--------------------------------------

“Sophie?”

“Yes?” Sophie looked up from her worn-out sneakers, but she still fidgeted her hands. Thanks to the sleeping pills, Sophie’s sleeping habits had definitely improved, and the quiet, slow life at Wiltshire had given her time to loosen up a bit. To look back and reflect. However, the crisp country air and the lovely armchair she sat in weren’t quite enough to forget everything she had kept in the shadows all her life. 

“Sophie, did you hear my question?”

“Yes.” Sophie nodded, “Sorry, I was just. Thinking.”

“There’s no need to apologize, Sophie.” Mandy smiled sweetly from her clipboard. “Take all the time you need.” 

“It’s just.”

“Everything gets fuzzy sometimes.”

“Like,”

“I get lost.”

“And everything keeps overlapping.”

“You know.”

“A lot of voices”

“Hands.”

“Fingers.”

“And I can’t.”

“Breathe.”

“And I keep drowning.”

“And keeps spiraling.”

“Repeating the same mistakes over and over and over again,”

“Sophie, I can assure you that coming here was not a mistake.”

“Oh.”

“Let’s start from the very beginning shall we?”

“The very beginning?”

“Yes.”

Sophie took a deep breath. 

“Um. Richard. Richard. My father.”

“But he wasn’t Papa, or Dad, or anything.”

“He, he would only ever take me out on the first day of summer holidays…” 

#Writer’s Notes

Again, Shoutout to @hopepaigeturner!!

Thank you so much for saving the Light Switch Benophies,

[asukamood]

First date (b-day special)

***

Happy birthday to my pookie!!

This year I have come bearing sweet Hue moment as a gift, I hope you enjoy!

***

Warnings: Implied eating disorder (anorexia), suggestive content (no smut or lime happening don’t worry but this is Blue and Hacker so really it’s to be expected), very brief mention of a psych ward and toxic relationships.

Synopsis: Hacker then glanced at the computer screen in front of him. “That would be $20.76, would you like to play by card or cash?”

“Cash.” Blue handed him $30 before leaning in and planting a small kiss on Hacker’s cheek. “You can keep the money.” He winked, already walking away.

***

This whole thing started off in such a stupid way.

It was a rainy Tuesday afternoon and quite a lonely one inside of the local 7/11.

A man in his early 20s stood behind the counter covered by the staff uniform, phone in hand and scrolling. He pushed his blond hair out of his eyes with his hand and took the opportunity to check if someone had entered the store yet.

Once again, he was disappointed by how empty the store was, his only company being his phone and the light drumming of the rain against the window.

He sighed, glaring at the battery icon in the right-hand corner of the screen that informed him of his phone’s low battery. His phone was about to turn off, leaving him all alone and bored once again.

He tucked his phone in his pocket while cursing out his coworker Sophie. He liked her but God was it annoying when she skipped her shift because of the weather. If they were together, at least he would have had someone to talk to.

He leaned on the counter and looked at the ceiling.

He was so bored.

To the point where he felt like actually doing some work and seeing if all the spare items were stocked properly. The mental image frightened him so much that chills ran down his spine.

He did not want to become a model employee yet.

Just as he was about to fall for the impulse urges to be productive, the bell signaling the entrance of a new customer rang, barely noticeable due to the heavy rain all over the windows.

He straightened up, looking to the exit just in time to see a brown-haired man around his age walking in, closing his umbrella in the entrance. Said customer looked back to him once he noticed Hacker staring and the latter’s jaw almost dropped to the floor.

He had never seen such a pretty blue in someone’s eyes, it looked as clear as the ocean’s surface, bright and wrinkling in the sunlight which was a nice contrast to the current weather.

The pretty stranger's eyes contracted at the edges as his lips twitched upward in a smile before finally closing as he waved in Hacker’s direction as a hello. Hacker waved back mechanically, still wondering if he was hallucinating an attractive guy walking in because of the boredom.

Not to mention that the weather was absolutely terrible, who would ever want to go buy some groceries at this time?

He followed him with his eyes, seeing him pick up myriad items off the shelves and occasionally putting them back up with a grimace when faced with the price tag. He did not look like he was short on money but then again, even some the richest of men must raise an eyebrow when a product’s price is way higher than it used to be.

Eventually, the customer appeared right in front of him, invading his vision. Hacker almost yelped but managed to hold himself back, stretching his lips in a smile instead.

He hoped that he did not look stupid.

It would be a real shame to appear so unappealing in front of the prettiest person he has ever seen, not counting himself of course.

“Hello!” He welcomed him warmly, the other reciprocating the gesture. “Would that be all?” he gestured toward the items he just put down.

The other nodded. As he scanned everything, Hacker was trying to think about how he should approach this. He had never flirted with a customer before, but he was bored enough to at the moment and the fact that man was quite attractive was not quite helping.

Thankfully, it seemed like the other was as eager to talk as he was since he was the first one to try and strike up a conversation.

“I saw you staring at me while I was running my errands.” He started, making Hacker sweat drop, oops, he has been found. “May I ask why?”

He did not look too weirded out yet, Hacker might as well try. “Can you blame me? It is not every day that you get to meet such beauty.” The cashier was expecting the other to turn away, weirded out but instead, his smile only widened.

“You’re not too bad yourself, what’s your name?” This must be the luckiest day of Hacker’s life. He tried not to let his excitement show as he responded.

“I’m Hacker, and who might you be?”

“You can call me Blue.” He leaned onto the counter, his chin resting on top of his hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Hacker.”

“Oh please, the pleasure is mine.” He was internally freaking out, WHAT THE HELL WAS GOING ON?! “I have the tendency to take my friends out for dinner to get to know them better, I hope it doesn’t bother you if I were to continue that tradition with you?”

“Not at all.” As if he was aware of Hacker’s inner turmoil, the slightest glint of amusement shone in his eyes.

Now that he had a view up close, Hacker realized that he had been wrong to assume that his eyes were as clear as the ocean’s surface. It would be more accurate to describe them as the unexplored depths of the sea, dark and mysterious but so fascinating.

All his secrets were nicely concealed within those blue barriers, no one having yet to explore all the treasures that were hidden below the surface.

He would never be too arrogant as to claim he would be the first one to open the first chest but nevertheless, that sea was one beautiful sight he could not wait to see up close.

“I would love to know all the details about our meeting, you wouldn’t mind if I were to ask for your number, would you?”

“Not at all!” Then they exchanged their phones, the two of them saving their numbers in the other’s phone. Once they were done, all articles Blue had brought were scanned.

They gave each other their phones back. Hacker then glanced at the computer screen in front of him. “That would be $20.76, would you like to play by card or cash?”

“Cash.” Blue handed him $30 before leaning in and planting a small kiss on Hacker’s cheek. “You can keep the money.” He winked, already walking away.

The other brought his hand where Blue kissed him, his face flushing a bright red.

It had stopped raining, the sun shining on the Earth wrapped in a rainbow scarf.

Needless to say, Hacker screamed his lungs out in his pillow that day when he came back home.

***

As calm and collected as Blue looked when he agreed to go out with that cute cashier, no part of that façade showed his real emotions. He had done his research on the guy once he was back home, and so far, nothing has backed up any hint of him being aggressive.

Even if his records in a psych ward was something he was going to have to investigate later.

From all the evidence he had collected so far, it seems like hanging out with him for a while was of no danger to him.

Which pleased him more than he had expected it to.

He did pique his interest, but he did not think he would be so eager to spend some time with him.

Perhaps he would not be so lonely if he managed to befriend him.

Before he could spiral down into some unpleasant thoughts, his phone’s screen lit up, ringing to signal that someone was calling him. As usual, he jumped onto the device.

He could not help but hope that whoever it was, they would be willing to talk to him, even if it were just a few minutes. He was so lonely bored.

… He also hoped that it was not another scammer trying to sell him shady services.

As funny as it was to mess with them, it was different from talking to a friend.

He wondered how Error was doing now.

He looked down at the device and his eyes widened as he read “Hacker” on the screen. A pleasant surprise for once, he hoped it would continue down that path.

He picked up the phone.

“Hello?” The other one tentatively greeted him. “Can you hear me?”

“I can, yes.” He hoped he did not sound too eager to continue the call. “Do you need anything?”

“Oh, thank goodness!” Hacker laughed and Blue suddenly noticed that he had not heard another person sound so happy in his presence, albeit they were in a call, in a long time. “I almost thought that you gave me a fake number there, I would have felt so betrayed.”

Blue shook his head in amusement. “Is this really the type of person you think I am? I am quite hurt by that assumption.”

“Sorry sorry, it’s just that you never know what people could be plotting.” That sounds like a problem that I do not have, was what Blue wanted to say. He refrained though.

“I get it. You did not answer my question though, do you need anything?” A sound that Blue interpreted as Hacker facepalming at the other end of the line.

“Goodness me, I almost forgot why I called you in the first place. Yeah, are you free this Saturday? I’ve heard a new restaurant opened near my place; do you want to check it out with me?” Blue hummed to make it seem like he was not dying to say yes immediately.

As far as his knowledge went, he had no plan for that day.

“Yes, I’m free.”

“Perfect!” The other sounded pleased, the briefest silence overtaking the call as he got on the move. “Do you want me to come pick you up?”

Blue tapped his chin in thought before answering. “Sure, I’ll see you there at the plaza then?” An affirmative noise came from the other side.

“Sounds good to me! Before we go, do you follow a special diet like being vegetarian or so?” Blue’s eyes narrowed before he shook his head, his usual face fading back in.

“No, I’m fine with anything.”

“Oh good, I don’t want to offend but I’ve personally never understood people being picky with food. If it is edible, I would devour it without much thought.” Blue chuckled, he had found quite the glutton has he not?

***

Saturday, 6 P.M.

‘Hey!

I’m on the road now, are you still up for our date?

Last chance to withdraw!!!!”

Blue smiled at his phone, replacing a rebellious strand of hair that got out of control because of a certain wind current. It was not particularly cold today nor was it hot, just the perfect temperature Blue liked to walk around in. He vaguely wondered if Hacker would be willing to take a stroll with him once they were done.

Well, he always had the possibility to force him to if it came to it.

Though, it would be much more enjoyable for both of them if the other was willing to do it.

It was already nighttime by now and the sky was cleared of bothersome clouds, letting the soft light of the moon rain down the entire place.

A beautiful evening, to make it simple.

‘It is not every day you get the chance to go out with such a cutie, in what world would I withdraw? I will keep waiting for you 😉'

‘Aww 😍

I will be with you in a minute then!’

‘Looking forward to seeing your handsome face again😘’

Now that he was not answering anymore, Blue decided to kill the time by looking at his surroundings.

Some carved pumpkins had been placed here and there in some areas, usually accompanied by some bat stickers stuck to the walls behind them. Lights to Halloween’s colors have been hung between the buildings, switching colors every few seconds.

The famous spooky day was soon to begin. The thought put a small smile on his face as every Halloween the kids of the neighborhood would come out of their houses disguised as various monsters, holding adorable little pumpkin bags.

They often knock on his door to ask for sweets and it made for quite the cute sight to see them looking so excited by being given sweets.

A little girl disguised as a princess once asked him if he were the Prince Charming she had been looking for, it must have been his best Halloween yet.

“Uh, excuse me?” A voice suddenly snapped him out of his trance as he looked to the side, noticing a woman with flushed cheeks standing a few inches away from him. Oh no.

“Yes? Is there something that you need?”

God, please do not make that woman flirt with me I am begging--

“I’m sorry, it’s just that I saw you just standing there and uh...” She chuckled nervously and Blue was wondering just how long it would take for Hacker to arrive. “Can I... have your number?”

Hopeful eyes. Ouch.

Blue opened his mouth to respond, but before he could get a single sound out, he felt a hand wrap itself around his wrist as he was yanked back. “Sorry girl!” Hacker’s familiar voice echoed behind him as he was suddenly spun around. “I called dibs first!”

A blink and Hacker was suddenly dragging him away by the wrist under the woman’s shocked gaze. That was one way to get rid of the problem.

A few seconds later, Blue found himself sitting in Hacker’s car, his security belt already sticking him in place. “Well, hello there.”

“General Kenobi.” Blue blinked awkwardly.

“I beg your pardon?” It was Hacker’s turn to be confused.

“What? Wait, that was not a reference to Star Wars?” Blue hesitantly shook his head and he could swear that the way Hacker’s face dropped was so prominent it could be audible.

“Oh.” To avoid saying too much, he turned on the engine, the car starting to let out muffled noises that vaguely resembled laughter. “Let’s pretend that this never happened.”

Blue laughed. “Sounds good, thank you for rescuing me from that awkward position.”

“Don’t mention it, I couldn’t possibly let a random person steal my dear date, right?” He put emphasis on the word dear, making an exaggerated face of hopelessness. That brought a few snickers out of Blue, who wondered when the last time someone made him laugh was.

“Though, I can’t really blame that girl.” He looked Blue up and down, a smirk twitching on his lips. “You make it hard for people not to want to take you on a date.”

“Oh, you little flirt.” Blue leaned back on his seat and looked at Hacker too. “But I can’t say that the way you’re dressed isn’t making me feel some kind of thing.”

A pointed look from the other and they both started laughing again.

Blue missed having someone to talk to.

***

“Hmm...” Hacker hummed as he tapped his chin in thought, the menu kept open in front of him thanks to the support of his hand. “It’s been ages since I’ve last been to a restaurant, I forgot how many dishes there could be.”

“I can say the same.” Blue frowned as he looked at the menu, he could not see the list of ingredients and most importantly the calories anywhere, and just getting a salad might seem disrespectful. “What are you going to order?”

Hacker shrugged. “Most likely the same thing as you, or I could just wing it.”

“If you go with the first one, I’m afraid we might be staying here longer than any of us planned.” Hacker understood.

“Got it, give me a minute.” He closed his eyes and lifted his finger, as if doing something important for the entire world, before putting it down on the menu. Blue simply watched him, silently praying it would not be anything too disastrous for his weight.

“I guess we are getting...” Hacker squinted at the menu.

“... whatever this is supposed to be, I don’t think it’s possible for any normal human to pronounce that name.” Blue did not even notice it being on the menu, but he supposed there was not much harm in trying new things.

“Sounds good to me.” Coincidentally, a waiter happened to pass near them and took their order on the whim.

However, the waiter’s departure suddenly brought a new kind of silence to befall their table. The awkward kind this time, as both realized that they had never actually been on a date and had no idea what subjects could be brought up or not.

Not to mention, any relationship they have entertained before was nothing short of destructive, so nothing to mimic.

Blue was looking away, fiddling with his fingers nervously on his lap while Hacker was tapping on the table’s napkin, frowning as he tried to come up with something to say.

At that moment, he wished that he could just go back to how he was ten seconds ago. He was so talkative and had so many things to say, where did that go??

Blue was not quite any better in that area. He did remember what he wanted to say and if not that, he had Hacker’s interests all figured out so it would not have been an arduous task to come up with something to say.

The problem was he did not know if he should say them.

He had prepared himself for any kind of reaction the other would have due to his words, but he was clearly not prepared for his own brain to betray him.

And the longer the silence was prolonged, the harder it was to think.

“... I wonder how many times I would prick my finger while trying to sew something.” Hacker muttered at one point, only realizing he had thought aloud when Blue’s attention shot back to him, his eyes wide.

He panicked. “Ah sorry, I was just--”

“You want to learn how to sew?” Hacker blinked in surprise, he sounded excited when he asked that question.

“You can say that.” He confirmed, nodding. “I’m often short on money but at the same time I want to wear nice clothes you know, what better solution than to knit your clothes yourself?”

Blue nodded enthusiastically. “I have enough to live comfortably but handmade clothes just feel better than the normal ones and I do relate to the money problems, living off a teacher’s job can be quite the tough nut to crack at times.”

Hacker’s eyes widened. “Wait, you’re a teacher?”

Blue laughed at his bewildered expression. “A yoga teacher to be precise, why do you look so surprised?”

“I thought you were like, a model or something. There’s no way no one tried to hire you as one, especially with that face.”

“You flatter me.” He brought his hands back on top of the table, far more at ease now that they were talking. “If I didn’t meet you at your job, I probably would have made the same assumption.”

Pink started to dust Hacker’s cheeks, beaming. “You’re too kind. I’m actually kind of curious now, would you mind it if I were to crash once in a while in your class?”

“Oh no, I would be far from complaining to have such an eye-candy in my class.” He winked. “No, because seriously, most of my students are tasteless Karens and it is a real torture to my poor vision.” He sighed dramatically, taking a sip from the cup of water the waiter left in their wake.

“And don’t even get me started on the pain it is to my ears.” He waved his hand in the air as if he were chasing unpleasant visions away from his sight. “Though, if you were to show up, I guarantee that things would get way more interesting. I am quite certain my eyesight increased by 0.5 point just by looking at your face.”

Hacker snorted, leaning back onto his chair. “I might check it out then, what is the price of your services though?”

“Well, I can give you a discount, you should consider yourself lucky, I only give those to pretty people. Or...” He leaned onto the table a little more, smirking. “You could pay me another way, if you get what I’m on about.”

Hacker raised an amused eyebrow. “Well, if you take that kind of payment, I would be more than happy to oblige.”

They both laughed, the waiter soon returned with their order.

As they started to dig in, Hacker decided that from this day on, spouting out random bullshit was a very valid, and arguably the best, flirting tactic there was.

Later that night, they were together.

(In the dating kind of way, I know what you are thinking.)

[yes-divine-ruler]

Boy Next Door

Part 6: Was That Okay?

pairing: alex (adult world) x fem!reader

Warnings: none

Words: 1718

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The loud, piercing ringing from a phone woke me up. I opened one eye, and then both and then turned to see what had me tied down to the couch in a tangled mess. Alex, not awoken from the phone, lay with his hair over his eyes, his mouth parted, soft breaths escaping his sweet lips. It took me a while to snap out of my gaze, but I quickly looked down at our bodies, suddenly terrified that we'd had sex last night, to see that we were both fully dressed.

I let out a sigh of relief before tugging his arm away from my waist and sitting up, reaching over to my phone and looking down at the lock screen. I had 3 missed calls from Sophie, and a few messages saying she was outside my apartment and if I didn't answer soon she'd call the police.

I got up suddenly, totally forgetting that we'd planned to hang out today, and thought for a moment about what I should do. Then I realised that it didn't matter what I did, and I walked towards Alex's front door and opened it, sticking my head out into the hallway.

Sophie was sitting with her back against my own front door, immersed in her phone until she noticed me and looked up. Her eyes went wide for a second, I guess registering the fact that I'd just came from within Alex's apartment and not my own. I knew how it looked, but Sophie knew me, and she knew I didn't just sleep with anyone.

"Oh hello there sleeping beauty," her lips curled in a devious smirk as she got up from the floor and padded over to Alex's apartment.

"Hey Soph, sorry I didn't get your calls," I replied sheepishly, as she stood in front of me, trying to peer into Alex's apartment from behind me.

"That's okay I see you were busy," she says, pushing passed me and entering Alex's grungy apartment.

"I-" I didn't know what to say to that, and instead decided to close the door behind me and follow her inside.

Alex moved on the couch, stretching his arms above his head, revealing his v line and a few inches of his lower stomach. Then his eyes opened, and he rubbed them with the backs of his hands before letting out a yawn. He sat up, his eyes narrowed at the two girls standing in front of him in his living room, observing him like a zoo animal.

"Good morning?" He said questioningly, "what time is it?"

"It's like 12," Sophie replied, picking up the bong from the table and eyeing it suspiciously. She then turned to me, and it clicked what had happened last night.

"Y/N… did you smoke pot?" She asked me, her tone laced with surprise and slight disappointment.

I nodded sheepishly, fiddling with the hem of my sweater as she put the bong back down on the table.

"Sick invite guys," she scoffed, finally sitting down next to Alex on the couch and crossing her legs.

"Uh-" Alex looked up at me, his eyebrows furrowed, probably wondering what the hell Sophie was doing in his apartment. It wasn't the sweet wake up I'm sure he was expecting.

"You guys are acting so weird, did you fuck too?" Sophie blurts out, my cheeks suddenly red with embarrassment from the vulgar question. Alex just looked at her dumbfounded, before shaking his head.

"If we did then I didn't know about it," he jokes, getting up from the couch next to her and rounding the living room to go to the kitchen. He filled his coffee pot and then switched it on to heat up.

"So what are we doing today then?" Sophie asks, staring back down at her phone and typing out a message as Alex and I looked at each other again. I was almost sad she was here, as mean as that sounded, because I had a lot to talk about with Alex.

"Dunno, I wanna shower and freshen up though," Alex says, scratching the back of his head. That must've been our cue to leave.

"Need help?" Sophie asks, turning to Alex who just laughed.

"Let's go Soph," I said, watching as she stands up and follows me to the front door.

"I'll knock on your door when I'm done?" Alex asks me, and I just nod my head.

We exit Alex's apartment, and I fumble for my keys in my pocket before finally pulling them out to unlock the door. Sophie retreats to my couch, sitting down and propping her feet up on the coffee table.

"Why is there shit everywhere? Did you guys like- have a date last night?" She asks, referring to the empty packets of crisps, the dishes in the sink and the food on the kitchen counter.

"Yeah- I mean no- we just hung out," I said simply, starting to wonder around the apartment and pick up any pieces of trash.

"if you just hung out why wasn't I invited? Do you like him or something?" Sophie sounded upset, like we were purposely excluding her, which I guess we were but last night was unintentional. How do I say I just wanted to hang out with Alex without you, is that such a big deal. without sounding like a horrible person?

"I dont know it just happened, it was late," I lied, pushing up the dishes off the dining table and popping them in the sink.

"I might shower too, is that alright?" I asked, trying to change the subject. She just nodded quietly, as I left her to shower.

The warm water of the shower relieved any tension and let me reflect on my thoughts and feelings. I don't think I can deny it any longer, I had an inevitable crush on Alex, and I hated to see Sophie try and wedge herself between us. Although now, I knew he didn't fancy her, but I didn't know whether he fancied me either, or if we were just friends. Either way, it would be hard for anything to happen, and I wasn't sure if I wanted anything to happen. The thought of a relationship shook me to my core.

Once I was dried, dressed and cleaned my teeth I was back out in the living room to see Alex sat next to Sophie on the couch.

"Y/N! Hey," Alex greeted me, sending me an adoring dimpled smile as I waved back at him. He seriously made my heart flutter.

"We were just talking about how high you got last night from one bowl," Alex snickers, and of course Sophie follows.

"Yeah yeah, can't blame me, it was my first time," I groan, sitting on the couch opposite the two of them.

"Today, we should.." Alex started, looking between Sophie and I for an answer.

"Have a party," Sophie said, making my eyes widen. Sophie was known for her crazy house parties, and I wasn't about to have one today in my apartment.

"Great idea," Alex agreed, looking over to me for my confirmation. I shook my head, "hold on, no one's having a party here, it's also a Monday, who would come to a party?" I tried to reason.

"She's got a point," Alex agrees, "normal people have work tomorrow."

"Come on guys don't be boring I'm literally planning it as we speak," Sophie says and my eyes go wide.

"Fine we'll have it at mine then," Sophie says, with a small groan.

I sigh in relief that she's taken the burden off me, but I'm still nervous at the fact that there's a party going to be held and I'm expected to attend. Sophie's other friends were all like she was, crazy.

"Okay I'm going home to get ready, I'm expecting you guys there at 7," Sophie stands from the couch, and goes over to the front door.

"Bye my loves," she says, waving at us both and leaving my apartment.

Alex and I just stare at each-other when the door closes, not a word escaping his mouth as he bites down on his bottom lip. I blush at his intense gaze, and he stands up off the couch to approach me. He sits next to me.

"So, um last night? Was that okay?" He asks, and I wasn't sure whether he meant the smoking pot part, the spiel on my life I gave him or waking up tangled with him on the couch.

"Yeah, it was, thank you," I said, and I meant it.

"I really enjoy spending time with you Y/N," he said bravely, sitting up from slouching against the back rest and shuffling towards me, so our knees were touching.

My breath hitched in my throat as I noticed how close he was.

"Me too Alex," I replied with a small gulp, feeling his warm minty breath fan my face as he got closer.

"Can I kiss you?" He asked, but it was barely audible, and I wasn't sure if he said it or I was imagining it.

I just stared at him as he leaned in closer, and then our lips touched, and I felt like my heart exploded. It had been a long time since I let someone kiss me, but Alex, oh my god, all I thought about was him kissing me.

His hand laid gently on my thigh as I tilted my head, deepening the kiss. His other hand cupped my cheek and then I pulled away.

"Oh shit," Alex said with a small laugh, I just averted eye contact by looking down at my hands.

"I'm- I think I, I have stuff to do today Alex," I don't know what was wrong with me, but I suddenly felt sick.

"Oh," he said, quickly getting up off the couch, "yeah of course um, I'll see you later though?" He asked hopefully.

"Yeah, I'll come by when I'm ready," I said, offering him a small smile.

"Okay, I'm- okay. Y/N, was that okay? Shit, I'm an idiot, okay- I'll see you later," before I could reply, Alex had sped walked to the door and closed it behind him.

I groaned, my lips still tingling from the remarkable kiss we shared, and how stupid I sounded messing it up.

[queen-ofsunflowers]

Queen of Fools - Chapter 1 Preview

A Moonless Night

Sophie was a young woman who, for the past three or so years, had been training in the magical arts under the guidance of (in her opinion) Vesuvia’s best magician and her closest friend, Asra Alnazar. They had known each other for as long as Sophie could remember, which, in truth, wasn’t fairly long at all. Sophie knew nothing of her past until three years ago, but that meant she knew nothing of Asra’s either.

As for the present, she and Asra were bustling around in the shop that they owned and operated together. It was late in the night, with a new moon hanging in the sky. According to Asra, it was the right time for a journey. The right time for him to go on a journey specifically. As usual, Sophie would be left behind to tend the shop. She shoved the last of Asra’s supplies into his bag, her back turned to him.

“...I’ll miss you,” said Asra, getting only a hum in reply from Sophie. It wasn’t that she was upset, she had grown used to this. If anything, she was only disappointed. A small whimper came from closer to the ground. The small, white dog that resided in the shop began biting at the hem of Asra’s colorful and sleeveless coat. She gave it a tug, as if attempting to convince him to stay. Asra only chuckled, picking her up and gently prying her off of him. “Yes, I’ll miss you too.”

The little dog, Vanny, barked before Sophie sighed and finally turned around to take her from Asra. She scratched the dog behind her ear to try and put her at ease. It didn’t work, with Vanny still sadly whimpering. It wasn’t hard for Sophie to figure out why. Vanny was trying to stop Asra from leaving because Sophie didn’t want him to leave. Not again. That was why she couldn’t make her mismatched gaze meet his violet one.

“Here… take this,” said Asra. Sophie glanced over at him as he stepped up to her side to withdraw something from his bag. She carefully set Vanny down. Asra held out something to her, cradled gently in his outstretched palm. It was his tarot deck — the one that he made himself. “For you to play around with while I’m gone.”

Sophie stared down at it, feeling a lump forming in her throat. “...do…” she tried to swallow the lump but failed. “Do you really think I’m ready?”

“You know that I can’t answer that for you.” Asra took Sophie’s hand into his own, placing the cards in her palm and gently clasping his hands around hers. Sophie bit down on her life. “You’ve made incredible progress. Let go of your doubt.”

Asra pulled away from her and took his bag from off the shop’s counter to continue packing it. Sophie stared down at the tarot deck in her hand. Even while simply holding them, she could feel the spark of magic from each one. Sophie let out a sigh.

“Why don’t you answer my questions?” Sophie asked absentmindedly. Asra never had, and at this point, Sophie was beginning to doubt that he ever would. Asra stopped, turning to her.

“I don’t?” he said, eyes wide. Sophie nodded, and Asra’s eyes fell to the ground as he avoided her gaze. Soft, white curls hid his eyes from view. “Well, I may not have all the answers you seek. But… the cards do. If you know how to use them.” Asra began to make his way into the backroom of the shop, looking over his shoulder at Sophie. “And you do know how to use them, whether you believe it or not.”  He pulled back the curtain that separated the backroom from the main shop, holding out his hand to her. “Let’s see how much you’ve learned.”

The full chapter will be up on Ao3 on May 13th!

[nortism]

Nor's Ultimate BBC Ghosts Fic Recommendations Part 2

It's finally time.

A Bit Of A Quarrel by Scriblit

Rating: M

Ships: The Captain/Robin, past Mary/Robin, past Julian/Robin, Kitty/Thomas

Summary:

"At the time, he would have claimed he never sensed the warning signs - the crackle in the air, the sudden shiver, the thin ice fronds on the floor. At the time, he would have insisted that Robin had started it anyway. This would also be a lie." Alison's 'last big ghostie's night in' before the baby's born descends into the worst fight the ghosts have ever had with one another, which lays secrets, crushes, grudges and jealousies bare. At the centre of it lie two problems. Robin is, possibly, too honest. And the Captain isn't being honest at all, not least with himself.

Notes: So so good!! The author has a great understanding of the flaws in each of the ghosts and how they could lead to a big explosive fight. They also did a good of exploring how different generations deal with queer identity through the characters of Robin, the Captain and Julian. I wasn't expecting to like the Robin/the Captain element but I think it was written well and realistically slow. Also the Kitty/ Thomas subplot was very cute as you'd expect.

More Than A Monster by Rose_of_Fire (@imdefyingmavity)

Rating: T

Ships: Robin & Everyone, Robin/Mary/Annie

Summary:

Robin has had many friends and families over the years. It's never easy when they leave and it's even harder to form new ones, especially when the newer people seem to be so afraid of him. It's not easy to be a man when all everyone sees is a beast. An exploration of Robin / "Rohr's" early years with Humphrey, Mary, Annie and Kitty.

Notes: This was the fic that made me realise I needed to make a part two. I love Robin centric fics and this one did not disappoint. The author understands Robin very well and how he interacts with the world and his fellow ghosts. This fic also has I think the best characterisation of Mary and Annie I've ever read and they managed to fit Robin into their dynamic smoothly but without taking away focus from the connection the girls have with each other. My favourite chapter is probably the one focused on Kitty (because we all know I adore her) and without giving too much away, it was devastating in the best way. The ending was also masterfully done and I enjoyed the dynamic between Alison and Robin. Also make sure you read the follow up fic that focuses on Kitty. It ties up some loose ends in this one in a very sweet and emotional way.

The Lady of Bone Hall by Rose_of_Fire (@imdefyingmavity)

Rating: G

Ships: Alison/Mike

Summary:

Alison and Mike go on a much-needed anniversary weekend to the coast, far away from Button House and the constant headache that is living with a bunch of crazy, dead people. Unfortunately for them, the cottage they've rented is occupied by the last ghost Alison ever expected to find.

Notes: This is canon to me!! The author does a great job exploring the relationship between Humphrey and Sophie and their take on Sophie and Robin was really interesting without giving too much away. Very bittersweet and beautiful.

there is a history in all men’s lives by Lacerta26

Rating: G

Ships: None

Summary:

Being a historian that can see ghosts is not always the advantage you might think; they always know more than you do, they are impossible to cite as sources and no one tells you at 18, when you’re picking your degree, that if you get hit by a car in your thirties you might wake up in hospital with history staring back at you. * Alistair Reid has been asked to help out with cataloguing the archive at Button House but there might be more to be found there than documents and manuscripts.

Notes: As someone who's really into history this fic is essentially the answer to what I'd do if I could see ghosts. Just really good.

let it linger by dayyydreaming

Rating: T

Ships: The Captain/Havers

Summary:

"Oh, you'll always be my Captain." Havers sighed, and then said simply, as if such an admission were casual: "Well, my name is Anthony. There, you have my name- remember me by it." "Anthony." The Captain replied vaguely, feeling very much like the floor had been pulled from under him. "James. That, ah, that is to say- my name is James." A missing scene between the office and the gate. Cufflinks and confessions ensue.

Notes: A sad little missing scene fic, the perfect post s5 angst.

So let thy mouth be heir by attend_the_tale

Rating: M

Ships: The Captain/Havers

Summary:

What if the Captain couldn't get to the veterans' event before it started? Contains spoilers for series 5, episode 5 of Ghosts.

Notes: Alternatively, here's a nice fix it fic for the Captain where he and Havers get to be together. The author really understood the Captain.

The Prince and Princess always kiss by someoneplsloverobbierotten (@caps-clever-girl)

Rating: G

Ships: Kitty/Thomas

Summary:

The room burst into cheers. Even Mike looked up, startled by the sound of his wife cheering and clapping so loudly. Thomas turned to Kitty, beaming, and opened his arms up wide. “My love!” He cried and waited for her to embrace him. Only… Kitty didn’t. At least, not the way he had expected. She did not wrap her arms about his waist and back, perhaps press her cheek to his. Instead, she stepped forward and pressed herself against him, rising on her tiptoes to settle her hands on his shoulders and lean in-

Notes: The Kitmas Bible. I love how this fic explored a more mature side of Kitty.

Nor's Ultimate BBC Ghosts Fic Recommendations

I decided to put my obsessive AO3 bookmarking to good use and recommend you all some of my favourite ghosts fics (not all, there will likely be a part two). I tried my best to include a variety of fics centring different characters and ships as well as lesser known fics. Please feel free to reblog this post and add your own recs (self promo very much allowed). I've tried to add tumblrs were applicable but if you wrote one of these fics or know who did, please let me know and I'll edit the post. Happy reading!

It by Scriblit

Rating: M

Ships: Mary/Robin, Julian/Robin

Summary:

You lose three mates, ten babies, both parents, all your siblings and then every friend for scores of millennia and still entertain the concept of being 'sweet' on a dead woman still consumed by her own pain. Doing It never had much meaning to Robin, even when he was alive. Now that he's dead, it's really just something to while away all the years. At some point, he's asked most of the ghosts if they want to do it. Some said no, some said yes. His only rule is, they have to genuinely want to do it, too. And, they mustn't be too sad. One of the ghosts was too sad, for so long, so he waited. And waited.

Notes: The first two chapters of this fic are an amusing exploration of caveman sex and the boredom that comes with eternal purgatory but the last chapter is where it gets really, really good. Genuinely one of the most poignant and devastating explorations of grief I've ever read, I cannot recommend it enough.

The Curse by Scriblit

Rating: T

Ships: Robin/OFC, Humphrey/Sophie

Summary:

Over the years, the centuries, the millennia, the residents of, and visitors to Button House and the land it's built on have experienced strange things, and heard strange tales. Multiple mysterious, macabre deaths. Unruly electrics. Blurry shapes in photos. St Elmo's Fire. Burning smells, a mysterious, singing voice in the cellar. Rumours of witchcraft, an ancient amulet and visions of Satan himself. Is the land truly cursed? Or is this just a place of 250,000 years worth of human sadness?

Notes: I only wanted to include one work from each author but I couldn't take this off my list. The only way I can describe this fic is clever. It's one of those things you just have to experience for yourself. Criminally underrated. Just read all of Scriblit's work, I'm their biggest fan.

Family, Family, Family by MadameReveuse

Rating: T

Ships: Primarily gen with side Julian/Robin

Summary:

Green Party Fundraiser Time! Rachel Fawcett comes to Button House, despite struggling with her feelings regarding a certain extremely unfortunate death there. Ghosts and the living alike are thrown into turmoil, especially when it begins to look like someone at the event may be attempting to harm the up-and-coming young politician. Can Julian stand idly by? Well, he's a ghost, so yeah, he has to.

Notes: This fic has it all; father/daughter bonding, a murder mystery and plenty of tory bashing. My entire perception of who Rachel Fawcett is comes from this fic, I was almost glad we never met her in canon as the author does such a fantastic job characterising her.

Ten friends total by notupforpolo (@notupforpolo)

Rating: G

Ships: Mary/Annie

Summary:

After the initial shock of dying wore off, Kitty was so excited to have Mary and Annie as friends. Kitty would notice how they spoke and gossiped just like Eleanor and her friends would do. They were potential friends until they just became friends. Then, when Annie was sucked off, Kitty was there to comfort Mary. Until Mary followed.

Notes: There is a severe lack of both Kitty-centric and Mary/Annie fic in this fandom and this fic covers both bases. Just a really excellent Kitty character study and a great exploration of grief

House Share by Sheepyblue (@ginevralinton)

Rating: G

Ships: Alison/Mike

Summary:

In which Mike makes a New Year's Resolution, with varying degrees of success (Or, a story of Mike spending time with the ghosts)

Notes: I've read a few variants of Mike spending time with the ghosts but I really like this one. My favourite chapter was definitely the Humphrey one, I won't spoil it but it's very funny. This author has far too many Ghosts fics for me to include in this post so I'd recommend you look through their other works

...And A Rainbow! by Spineless_Lobster (@spineless-lobster )

Rating: G

Ships: None

Summary:

Alison buys the Captain some pride merchandise, Kitty gets very excited that an entire room in the house is covered in rainbows. The two ghosts decide to have a sleepover to celebrate the (gay) occasion.

Notes: For all my Cap & Kitty lovers, this is pure fluff. Made me giggle.

Nothing Like a Round on 'The Krypton Factor' by neverfaraway

Rating: T

Ships: The Captain/Pat

Summary:

Wedding season approaches at Button House and, for once, everything is going off without a hitch. Of course, there’s the slight issue of Pat’s recent epiphany about his sexuality, Kitty’s determination to get her hands on as much badly-written erotica as possible, and the peasants becoming decidedly revolting. Still, if only the ghosts can refrain from murdering any of the builders, Alison is fairly sure they can pull this off. Or, Pat and the Captain negotiate coming out, even if it's only to each other.

Notes: Even if you, like myself, aren't a Patcap shipper, this fic is worth the read solely for the the subplot about the Plague Ghosts staging a leftist uprising. The perfect blend of comedy and heartfelt moments, this fic feels like it could have been an actual episode of Ghosts.

Don't Let The Good Life Pass You By by Impossibly_Izzy (@impossiblyizzy)

Rating: M

Ships: The Captain/Pat, Alison/Mike, minor Robin/Julian

Summary:

When the ghosts are mysteriously resurrected, life at Button House only gets more chaotic. Asking, how do you live in a world that wasn't built for you? How do you find meaning in a cold uncaring universe? And what does the Captain eat for breakfast?

Notes: Crack treated seriously is one of my fav AO3 genres and this fic is the cream of the crop. Despite being a Patcap fic, all the characters reactions to living in the modern world were explored in a detailed and hysterical way. I think about the scene where the whole gang goes to the pub constantly.

Queer Eye (The Captain Edition) by swimmingfox

Rating: Not Rated but I'd give it T

Ships: Past The Captain/Havers

Summary:

In a miraculous world where they have the ability to see ghosts, the Fab 5 descend upon Button House to transform the Captain (and, well, everyone).

Notes: Exactly what it says on the tin. Just pure hijinks, I can't fault it. Don't let the script format put you off, the author has done an excellent job of characterising everyone's voice

Fabrications by SwaggerStick

Rating: T

Ships: The Captain/Julian

Summary:

"It's true," said Julian. "You lot couldn't lie to save your lives." The Captain took personal offence at that statement. So, apparently, did Pat. "Oh give over," he said. "Like you can do better." ---------- The ghosts decide to figure out which one of them is the best liar. Competitively.

Notes: Another fic that really feels like it could be an actual episode. Very funny and also provides an explanation to the ghosts' pee turning to dust thing that has been bothering me since last Christmas so honestly you should just read it for that. Ship content is minor if Julicap isn't your thing (it's not really mine either)

Good Boy by Ailendolin (@ailendolin)

Rating: T

Ships: Mike/Alison

Summary:

"I’ve been thinking – Robin saved my life, didn’t he? Last week when I was out in the storm.” “Because of the stupid bear,” Alison couldn’t help but remind him. “Yeah, whatever,” Mike said with a roll of his eyes. “So when he redirected the lightning I saw him for a brief moment and I haven’t been able to stop thinking about that.” Alison felt her eyes soften. “Oh Mike, why didn’t you say anything?” “No, it’s not like that,” Mike waved her worry away. “I know we’ve thanked him for what he did but with the gatehouse burning down and the whole insurance mess it feels like we haven’t really appreciated it enough, you know?” Mike and Alison plan a surprise for Robin.

Notes: Very sweet addition to the season 4 finale. Would have loved to see something like this in season 5 but this is almost as good.

fieri sentio et excrucior by oui_oui_mon_ami (@sunshine-soprano)

Rating: T

Ships: The Captain/OMC

Summary:

It all begins when the Captain meets the Roman centurion ghost next door.

Notes: An absolute fandom classic, I couldn't not include it. Not normally a huge fan of ocs but this one is vey well done. You can tell the author is very passionate about Latin and roman history which I always enjoy seeing (the passion not necessarily roman history).

The Moneypot by someplsloverobbierotten (@caps-clever-girl)

Rating: T

Ships: Julian/Robin

Summary:

Julian bet Robin a tenner over Heather getting sucked off. He of course tries squirrel his way out, but Robin’s not letting him off that easily. OR: Robin and Julian like their bets, but what's a ghost to spend imaginary money on?

Notes: Another fic that is basically canon to me. The author absolutely nailed Julian's voice. Overall just a fun read with some genuinely sweet moments.

Thanks, Skipper by NaughtyBees

Rating: G

Ships: None

Summary: Button House gets a visitor, someone specifically looking for Pat.

Notes: No 1 trans ally Pat Butcher, what more could you ask for? The definition of short and sweet

smoke gets in your eyes by sidelined

Rating: T

Ships: Alison/Mike, The Captain/Havers, minor Julian/Robin

Summary:

Alison and Mike move into Button House and, completely unintentionally, teach the ghosts valuable lessons about love. (In which Alison worries about a first date, Robin and Julian discuss marriage, Thomas accidentally humbles himself, Kitty discovers that romance can live everywhere, and the Captain ponders his loneliness

Notes: A really sweet set of vignettes about the ghosts and love. The Mike and Alison first date scene is canon to me, the author nailed Mike.

[frostironfudge]

Silhouettes In the Spotlight - Bucky Barnes - Six

Summary: Bucky Barnes has worked immensely hard to have a filmography expanding across genres and garnering accolades from critics, peers and fans. Y/N Y/L/N, with her debut novel (fan-fiction turned New York Times Bestseller) has two other best sellers under her belt. Next is her highly anticipated fourth book lined up for release. SHEILD Productions has acquired the film rights to her debut novel and they want Bucky Barnes to play the lead (aka himself) by any means necessary. This story is about angst, lust, heartbreak, and love. After all fairytales only exist in books and movies right?

Warnings: angst, fluff, swearing, bucky has body dysmorphia it is discussed in this chapter, bucky has an anxiety attack, hollywood drama, reader's mother is ill (her illness is not mentioned just that she is on bedrest and requires physiotherapy)

Pairing: Actor!Bucky Barnes x Plus Size!Fem!Reader

Word Count: 5k || Dividers: @firefly-graphics

Main Masterlist || Fic Masterlist || AO3

HEADLINES:

Steve Rogers Speaks Out About Supporting Friends Without Hoping For Anything In Return. Is This In Retaliation To Bucky Barnes?

Bucky Barnes Says He’s Moved On From The Subject And Steve Rogers Should Too.

Yelena Belova Catching Up With Director Sister Natasha Romanoff, We’re Still Guessing If She Is Directing ITIMYIMDO.

Bucky Barnes Shares Music Recommendations With Fans.

Bucky Barnes New Catalogue! Check Out That Body!

Y/N Y/L/N’s Father Speaks Out To Media To Stop Encroaching Their Home. Says He Is Disappointed His Daughter Is Trolling Around With Hollywood.

You’re writing the dreaded chapter ten, it needs to be full of angst but the emotion just doesn’t come through the muddled mush your heart has become in the past five days. It’s half the book now, the turning point, where you decide if the main characters get their second chance at love or not.

Unfortunately for you, you stare at the damn article again, the one with Steve outside your door, uninvited smiling as though he’s the best well-wisher you know. 

You shut the tab angrily then slam the screen shut. 

“Don’t take it out on the poor laptop.” You mother chastises. 

“You’re awake?” You wonder, setting the device down. Then you pat the laptop apologising internally cause you love it to bits.

“Well your angry grumbling woke me up. Still have the blue eyed boy on your mind?” She gives you a knowing grin. 

“Mum.” You groan, covering your face. 

“The blonde is easy on the eyes.” She praises Steve, who was ever charming when he stepped inside despite you turning him away. However, one little look from his manager sitting in the car and a prompt text from SHEILD you reluctantly let him inside.

“We don’t like him.” You make an annoyed face. 

“You do tend to prefer brunettes.” She teases, then coughs. 

You’re out of your chair and giving her glass of water. 

“How is he?” She wants to know after clearing her throat. 

“He’s okay, we’ve been texting randomly, mostly talking about books… he first read Sophie Kinsella when his high school Secret Santa gave it to him.” You chuckle, she smiles. 

“How is writing coming along?” She presses her palm to your cheek, then runs it over your head. You lean forward, resting your head on your hands as she continues her movement reminiscent of childhood. 

“I’m stuck on a chapter, just can’t get the emotion right.” You sigh, she tuts. 

“Music?” She offers. 

“Can't find the right song.” You complain, sitting up. 

“Why don’t you ask your readers for help?” I’m sure their suggestions would help.” She offers and you smile, taking out your phone to put up a story for Instagram where they can send in their answers. 

“What time is physical therapy?” She enquires, shifting on the bed slightly. 

“In an hour, why don’t you nap?” You suggest, she nods a smile on her face as she closes her eyes. 

You discard the opened wrappers and empty medicine boxes quietly, placing the bell near her hand. 

Checking the time, cleaning has taken thirty minutes, you sigh pulling out your phone and checking the recommendations none of the songs are compelling you to write. You sigh. Maybe a day’s break should be the cure for the block. 

Exiting the responses page you spot Bucky’s familiar profile picture with a story lined up. Its the Chandler Bing Meme, holding up a record which is Red (Taylor’s Version). In the background treacherous by Taylor Swift plays. In his next story its the same meme but with Rumour Has It By Adele. 

You don’t know if songs are something he recommends or posts about but both the songs have good bones of angst. 

You pause, going to the music app and playing the song beyond the fifteen seconds. You grin reaching for your laptop. The words forming in your mind to be jotted down.

Bucky smiles at the messages you two have exchanged, after the initial text asking him if he got home safely the sporadic texts had begun again. This time however, conversation flowed more naturally. He’s impressed at the way you’ve maintained the books that have gotten you into writing while being almost ten years old. Your aversion to dog tagging the pages is something he’s glad about, you do envy his little reading nook.

He envies your ability to build worlds for him. Well, not him exclusively but yeah him included in the collective readers of your books. 

Bucky laughs at the message you’ve sent complaining how you can never find those aesthetic sticky tabs he uses because they are always sold out. Bucky doesn’t tell you but he already made a small envelope with his favourite ones for you. 

It had been four days, since the night in the car. Somehow his mind always brought the moment before his eyes shut and the second they opened to the new day. 

“Hey Bucky, we’re ready for the shot.” The assistant knocks on his open door as he looks up tucking away his phone. 

“Be there in a second.” He offers a smile, giving himself a once over in the mirror, eyes straying to his midsection, thankfully this was a covered shoot. No shirtless-ness required. 

“Ready?” Sam questions entering sifting through his digital planner for Bucky. 

“Yep, let’s do this.” Bucky smiles and raises his fist, Sam grins at him completing the fist bump.

The flashes don’t bother Bucky like before he goes through the poses, grins at random points and makes jokes with the interns and photographer so they have a variety of shots. Sam works at the side planning out appointments and scheduling the coming month. Even shooting a few bts bits to share to Bucky’s social media. 

He checks in with Bucky from time to time as the shoot progresses, at the end of the fifth outfit, the creative director seems displeased.

“We were thinking the next outfit be an unbuttoned layered look.” The creative director says, Bucky freezes.

“I made it clear we aren’t doing shirtless aspects.” Sam bites the inside of his cheek,

“I know what you said but we need the shot. You’ve signed a contract. It is not shirtless, it is shirt open.” The creative director reminds the two.

Bucky takes deep breaths, the constant weight loss and gain between roles had taken a toll on him, eating had just begun to feel enjoyable and not a chore. He couldn’t stare at his body for longer than a few moments in his own mirror. His personal trainer being a long time friend shifted his workouts into a mirror-less studio space. Though for form he did keep a covered mirror in the studio.

“Buck.” Sam pulls him out of the spiral.

“They’ll cancel if I don’t agree?” He concludes, sighing. Sam solemnly nods.

Bucky squeezes his eyes shut, “I’ll change into the outfit.” There isn’t any use arguing these people have the stupid contracts and shitty policies. 

One out-of-line self preserving comment and gone are sister company contracts too. The door slams and Bucky slides down the door for a moment of peace. He tries to keep his breathing even, Sam gazes at him worried. Sitting down next to his best friend. 

“You can say no, we can postpone.” Sam assures him. 

“No, no I’ll I, I can power through just, just please give me my phone?” Bucky’s voice teeters on breaking, Sam scrambles to retrieve the device from his bag. He had this one little snippet saved from a fan from three letter years ago.

Bucky lifts his gaze around the room, “Chair, vanity light, couch, take out bag, shoe.”

Sam hands him the phone; Bucky’s metal arm grabs Sam’s hand. He stays still. 

“Sam’s hand, my phone, the door, the floor.” Bucky lists, he needed to ground himself.

“Three now.” Sam guides, “You’re doing good.” 

Bucky nods, the anxiety getting under control. 

“Your voice, the camera shutters, footsteps.” Bucky answers, Sam smiles.

“Good, going good buddy, two for smell.” He urges. 

Bucky takes a deep inhale, “The mustard sauce? B-bagels?” 

“There were bagels at the Food Table.” Sam’s chest begins to feel lighter as Bucky is almost close, the actor’s breathing evening out. 

Bucky’s phone glows, your contact name displayed. 

Sam looks back at Bucky, “One, Taste.” He requests. 

“Vanilla, Oreo? Cocoa?” Bucky offers the last one taking his mind back to the car your lips almost on his— Bucky’s thumb hovering over the message he taps it, the phone unlocks. 

Y/N: you colour code your tabs right? is it like emotion-wise or do you have your own interpretation? 

Y/N: hey, so i know its been a while since my last play on scrabble but mum’s got Physiotherapy going on they need me there so just be patient on the game? I’ll try to play my turn quickly, oh and wait you’re at a shoot, good luck for it! I hope thats the right term cause break a leg just is well…. I’m sure you’re going to do a great job. Also remember to take a step back and breathe incase you get overwhelmed.  

Bucky smiles, Sam can’t help but peek at the text. Oh he had to tell Loki scrabble was being played. He gets up changing into the outfit, his shoulder scars hide under the shirt, but his body stays seen. Bucky ends up buttoning up the shirt. 

When they come to the shoot area, the creative director tsks. 

“Shirt. Open.” He snaps his fingers. Assistants swarm forward to please the director. 

Bucky begins to undo the buttons on his own, a deep inhale and then exhale before each button.  

The director observes the outfit as he had wanted. Bucky wills himself not to break, not to let the micro actions of the director have his thoughts race. 

“Well what are we standing for? Get on with it.” The director snaps, the photographer guides Bucky to the mark, Sam takes a picture from the side for BTS clips, but actually it’s to commemorate Bucky not letting his thoughts spiral. 

When the shoot is done, Bucky tries to remember the compliments given on the shirt open segment. The evening becomes a blur as he feels the fatigue set in, Sam pats his back. 

“Two days off.” Sam announces, Bucky sighs with relief. 

The notification chimes of scrabble, he laughs at you spelling out ‘vodka’. 

Bucky goes to your text thread. 

Bucky: are you missing Yelena?

Y/N: just because I wrote vodka? Maybe yes. 

Bucky: You should reach out to her, Steve’s team is well for lack of a better word…

Y/N: Pathetic, vultures, preying on innocent people, are horrid, without moral, evil?

Bucky: Okay so a lack doesn’t exist per se. 

Y/N: nope, i even pulled out my thesaurus.

Bucky: 🤣🤣 

Y/N: < has sent a picture of her thesaurus>

Bucky: are you cheating at scrabble? that thesaurus is too quick to be taken a picture and sent. 

Y/N: so you’re telling me you came up with ‘psaltery’ without a scrabble cheat website. lies. lies. lies.

Bucky: i will not be answering that question. 

Y/N: you just did. 

Bucky: i’m an innocent, hold on Sam’s calling me, he’s with me why is he calling?

Bucky answers the call and then jumps slightly when Sam yells his hello from behind him. 

“Fucking hell.” Bucky presses a hand to his chest. 

“You’re the one lost.” Sam complains. 

“I wasn’t—,” He shuts up at the raised eyebrow. 

“Now as I was saying, two day break then next week we have the table read for the script of I Think I, Y/N will be there, the script might have some changes, she might be a little more reserved so don’t, you know…” Sam gestures to an explosion occurring. 

Bucky scoffs, “I—, I’m we both are doing better okay?” He defends.  

Y/N: Yelena has to do that for me too incase i get lost in my own head or forget she’s coming over and am too engrossed in writing. 

Bucky chuckles, Sam takes the phone away. 

“Hey!” He protests.

“You better behave.” Sam warns, “You might be my best friend but if you act out or are disrespectful, I will personally whoop your ass. And I will then allow Loki to rip you a new one, again.” 

“Yes, Sir.” Bucky salutes, reaching for his phone, Sam steps back. Bucky huffs. Alpine jumps on the countertop, Bucky coos at her, petting her as she struts along the counter. 

“Now, now, no cryptic posts or stories. You can host a Q&A or post your TBRs, we’re trying to keep your socials clean before the movie takes over. So interactive stuff only.” Sam explains and Bucky nods. 

“You keep watch on him Al.” Sam warns the feline, who looks at Bucky and slowly blinks both eyes. 

“I love you too.” Bucky responds, Alpine clambers onto his vibranium arm and sits on his shoulder. 

“Alpine one day you’re gonna side with me.” Sam shakes his head, handing the phone back. 

Alpine boops Bucky’s temple. 

--—--

The next day, Bucky is aimlessly watching stories of everyone he follows, your story comes on he sits up in thought, you’re asking for angsty song recommendations but he knows his message will be lost in a sea of replies. Plus he didn’t just want to text you.

FRIENDS was playing in the background, a show he could decompress with, knowing the familiar lines and plot soothed him. Bucky recalls the Chandler with headphones meme, he scrolls through a few of his recently heard songs and picks two he deems apt. 

The stories are up and he’s eager for you to see them. It is much later as he’s finishing up his protein bowl that your text pops up. 

Y/N: I don’t know why you uploaded those two songs but I finished chapter ten! Just wanted to say thank you! Literally no other songs worked. 

Bucky: uploaded them for you.

He backspaces the message. 

Bucky: well you did want recommendations and I thought the meme would cheer you up. Chandler is your fave right?

Y/N: yes, he is

Bucky smiles, looking up at Chandler on the screen speaking to Monica. When your next scrabble notification chimes, he grins wide ignoring Sam’s message about his stories.

You don’t understand how or when it happened. 

Bucky is laughing over the video-call as reads through the theories pouring in on twitter. It’s his day off before the next three days that are working and then the table read. In his amazing defence he was getting bored.

You want to roll your eyes but you can’t help but laugh either. 

@.luckybucky: what is happening to his account? He’s never been this active nor has he shared his music taste before?

@.buckybxrnes8: I think it’s a clue about his next project after itimyimdo, has to be.

@.buckymademelikebooks: my dudes have ya’ll seen Y/N’s insta page? Legit the same thing going on her stories?

@.rhysbassdoll: HOLY SHIT ARE THEY WORKING TOGETHER?????? on the next book maybe? Bucky always said he would explore writing?!

@.ithinkimetbucky: are they talking in secret languages? like you know the TS song she had it in the playlist of her last book. asssjfhjkdf they’d be such a cute ship. 

@.buckyslildoll: nah man has to be about his own thing, she’s done music recs before, i’m pretty sure he’s going to play a DJ in his next movie. 

@.buckymademelikebooks: @.ithinkimetbucky where can i sign up for the breakdown of their stories being interconnected? <inserted ‘i’ve connected the dots meme of shane madej and ryan bergara’>

“To be fair, I did take on a project with that profession.” Bucky grins at you, you giggle. 

“Are you even allowed to tell me this? But also side note the characters of my next book are making playlists for each other.” You admit. 

Bucky’s lips part his smile still evident, “Are you allowed to tell me that?” 

“I don’t know? Who will you tell?” You shrug, scrolling through the twitter feed. 

“You should have said spoiler alert.” Bucky grumbles. 

“As should you.” You tease, drawing laughter from him. 

Both of you were ignoring the shipping tweets, the almost kiss was locked and sealed away for good measure.

Bucky laughs as he reads another tweet to you. He did enjoy lurking on social media it gave him a sense of the unfiltered words of his fans and if they did enjoy his work. 

Today he woke up and chose chaos, uploading the Spotify page screenshot of the neighbourhood song that played in the car; to his Instagram stories. When you replied to him, he had the stellar idea of playing song association via stories. So for the past thirty five minutes both of you abandoned your respective work to one up the other. 

While provoking a meltdown on twitter for the people following him. There were also green-screen TikToks and Reels with the story uploads with the audio ‘What does it Mean, What does it mean?’

“Okay Mr. Barnes your turn.” You smugly grin at him waving your uploaded story to him. 

Bucky raises his phone, “I don’t think you can top my earlier choice but let us see how you counter Ms. Taylor Swift’s All Too Well Ten Minute Version.” He smirks while waiting for your story  to load. 

As he looks into his phone you cant help but smile, the conversation scarcely stopped over the past week. You were wondering if something would go wrong but nothing had, maybe you could let go of the fear.

“Oh, oh so you counter with Call Out My Name by the Weeknd?” He repeats your choice. 

“I like his music, kinda emotional, kinda steamy, a whole vibe. Also we can’t have a repeat of twenty minutes of continuous back and forth of Taylor Swift songs.” You raise a brow in question, “Not a fan of him?” 

“I am but his music is sort of…” His cheeks tinge pink. 

“James Barnes do you have him in your sexy times playlist?” You tease, he groans. 

“Don’t, Don’t call it sexy times.” Bucky covers his eyes with his hands. You only giggle in response. 

Bucky shakes his head typing away and picking a song and uploading it, he looks up at you waiting for your reaction. 

“Lets see what your sexy times—,” “Y/N.” He groans covering his face with his glove clad palm. 

“Oooh, Don’t Break My Heart by The Weeknd?” You ask then give him an impressive look. 

“Top that.” He challenges leaning back in his chair. 

“Oh I will top that and you.” You assure switching to Spotify. Bucky shifts slightly. 

“I raise you, Void By The Neighbourhood.” You inform, Bucky performs a quick lyric search. Nodding to approve. 

“Well you didn’t top me, but I think you’re fitting right under me.” His voice seems deeper, you meet his gaze. 

“The water's getting colder, let me in your ocean, swim, out in California, I'll be forward stroking, swim, So hard to ignore ya, 'specially when I'm smoking, swim, world is on my shoulders, keep your body open, swim,” He croons softly, you cross your legs under the desk. 

That song had inspired quiet a few steamy scenes in your writing. 

“This is also on my list.” Bucky smirks as you reach for your water bottle. 

“Uh huh,” You take a sip as you contemplate the next song in response to Swim By Chase Atlantic. 

“I think I have you beat.” Bucky leans back, intertwining his fingers behind his head, pretty smug. 

You purse your lips, then the song hits you, “I suppose yeah, but I believe I have you beat, James.” 

He narrows his eyes at you. 

“I just wanna look good for you, good for you, Let me show you how proud I am to be yours, leave this dress a mess on the floor,” Is all you hint his smug smirk drops and you grin elated. 

Bucky realises you both are going into uncharted waters. 

Head first. 

Why does it not scare him?

Its harmless flirting-ish, you think, after that night and the ‘almost event’, you decided to call it the almost kiss event. It was clear he wasn’t interested and to an extent you think maybe you just wanted some affection? Being touch starved was a horrible thing. Especially when one of your love languages is physical touch. 

Bucky’s mind flashes to the almost kiss. His left palm still remembers how it felt to grasp your cheek. Then his mind brings forth the conversation over Alexander. Bucky wanted to slap the man with a chair now he wanted to slap the man with the mahogany table in the office. 

He knows he shouldn’t get flirtatious or blur the lines that haven’t been forged between the two of you. He’s so wrapped up in your words and the worlds you took him through your writing. Simple yet vivid. 

“James?” Your voice breaks him out of his reverie. 

“Yeah?” He takes a steadying inhale. 

“Are you thinking about somebody being good for you?” You giggle as you tease him. 

“What no, I um, there isn’t anyone,” He scrambles over his words, “I was thinking of Earned It By The Weeknd.” He waits for your response. 

“Hmm,” you ponder tapping your chin when the call button rings. 

Bucky gives you an understanding smile, “Go on, give her my regards.” 

“Thank you, I will. I’ll speak to you later?” You stand grabbing the sanitiser bottle. 

“Yeah, I’ll be on text, have a zoom interview in two hours.” He sighs.

“Why the sigh?” You wonder. 

“Nothing just I hope there isn’t any drama you know…” He scratches the back of his neck.

“I anticipate it, hopefully I can keep my nerves at bay. They haven’t shown me the script yet so I’m really nervous about what they have changed.” You admit, swallowing the lump in your throat. 

“Also I’m worried about fighting with them. Or hating the script.” You continue.

“There are times where we can improvise and those remain, I’ll try my best to have it stay true to your book.” He promises.

“Bucky… you don’t have too… I just—,” You huff, heart twisting.

“Look, you can always be honest with me, I know I put on a front in public but what we speak and here? That is is me, even when I was rude and flawed. I still am. I’m me here and you can be you here.” He tries to quell your worry.

“We’re all flawed in some way, some more than others. Also, I was rude too.” You look away, his gaze softens. 

“So we know to take each other as we are.” Bucky shrugs, “Fine by me.”

“Me as well.” You smile at him finally allowing his words to sink in, “We’ll cuss them out if they ruin the script.” 

He laughs deeply, “I agree. Loki can teach us more words he knows six languages.” 

You smile.

“Hey, whatever it is, I’ll steal the limelight onto Rhys.” Bucky assures coaxing a laugh from you.

“Thank you.” 

“You don’t have to thank me.” He reminds, “Now go on, we’ll catch up on text.” 

You wave each other goodbye as the video-call disconnects.

Immediately Sam and Yelena begin calling the two of you, because they don’t need social media threads to know what the two of you are upto.

@.stuckyxbaby: @.winterfrost lol she hasn’t posted a story in response so its unrelated

@.winterfrost: @.studyxbaby you should go check the latest story out.

@.buckymademelikebooks: honestly i think the last week songs bucky put up were Y/N’s angst recommendations. 🕵️

         @.ithinkimetbucky: BUCKY AND Y/N’S POSSIBLE SONG GAME. A very important thread 🧵

Bucky - Softcore, The Neighbourhood

Y/N - Stargazing, The Neighbourhood

Bucky - Afterglow, Taylor Swift

Y/N - gold rush, Taylor Swift

Bucky - exile, Taylor Swift ft. Bon Iver

Y/N - right where you left me, Taylor Swift

Bucky - Getaway Car, Taylor Swift

Y/N - the lakes, Taylor Swift

Bucky - All Too Well (10 Minute Version) (Taylor’s Version), Taylor Swift

         @.ithinkimetbucky: we get it @.jbbofficial @.mywritingquill you both are swifties and here on they change it up it gets steamy @.buckymademelikebooks get on this ship with me.

Y/N - Call Out My Name - The Weeknd

Bucky - Don’t Break My Heart - The Weeknd

Y/N - Void, The Neighbourhood

Bucky - Swim, Chase Atlantic

Y/N - Good For You, Selena Gomez

Bucky - Earned It, The Weeknd

@.ithinkimetbucky: END OF THREAD

@.buckymademelikebooks: THIS IS ONE OF MY FAVE TWITTER THREADS.

Bucky’s on the zoom interview discussing Pam and Tommy when you message him on Instagram. He isn’t speaking so he takes a peek at the story you sent. When he pulls up the lyrics of the song he can’t contain his little smile.

“What has got Mr. Bucky Barnes smiling?” The interviewer suddenly questions and Bucky drops his phone, briefly his screen flashes as the phone falls. Shit. He has to tell Sam. 

“What? Oh um, got sent my schedule, I get to sleep in.” Bucky smoothens the wrinkle on his sleeve.

Everyone eyes him sceptically but the interview continues when his co-star diverts with a story of finding Bucky nodding off in the make up chair.

@.ithinkimetbucky: here is my updated entire thread of their uploaded songs, because Y/N had to upload a story five hours later in response. smh i still love my fave author.

Y/N - As You Are, The Weeknd

HEADLINES:

TWITTER SENT INTO MELTDOWN — Over Bucky Barnes and Y/N Y/L/N’s Speculated Interconnected Stories.

Bucky And Y/N Walking Into SHEILD Productions Sharing A Laugh.

Steve Rogers Shares Picture With Y/N On His Feed From Table Read. Are They Getting Cozy?

Loki Shares Story Of Lunch With Bucky, Sam, Y/N and Yelena Are They The New Squad Goals?

Dolores Spotted Getting Cozy AGAIN With Bucky Barnes At After Party, We Have Exclusive Pictures!

Steve Rogers Spotted Hugging Y/N, Is Someone Upset?

A.N.: if anyone wants to know the song i'm playing currently it's bejewelled by taylor swift, who else has been hearing midnights on repeat???? also next week's update is going to be fun

Taglist is Open comment or DM to be added!

Taglist: @stevesmewmew @elle14-blog1 @crazyunsexycool @sebsgirl71479 @pandaxnienke @slutforsexyseabass @eclecticpatrolroadlawyer @pandaxnienke @vampire7595

[lunarfleur]

Tell Them I Say Hello ~ Darrel Curtis.

Tagging: @collieflower215 @sophie-i-guess13 @juneberrie

CW:Angst, mention of death

Extra info: I got inspired to write for Darry while watching Dirty Dancing

This is x gender neutral reader!

“Y/N?”

They sat on the edge of the dock, bare feet dipping into the water. The sky was murky. The sun was hiding somewhere behind a featureless grey blanket of low clouds. It was another dreary day, with no sign of anything to break the monotony.

They look over to see Darry’s tall, firm build staring down at them. He licked his lips, blue-green eyes a melancholy painting.

“Thought I’d find you here,” he chuckled. Darry sat down next to them. Y/N was silent. They were hunched into themself.

“Are you still mad at me?” Darry asked. Y/N let out a huff, but it was not one of anger. They were disappointed, so it sounded.

“Darry,” they started, “you know I love you.”

“And I love you.” It was almost a reflex, how he said it. And he’d say it a million times, as long as they believed it.

“But..things aren’t the same.”

Darry’s face dropped at the tone of their voice. It made him tense up. He knew they were right.

“I-I’m still adjusting, baby. Give it some time and everything will be alright.”

Y/N sighed, turning to face him. They grabbed his hands, tracing the shape of his fingers with their thumbs.

“You’ve just been given responsibility to two teenage boys, Darry,” Y/N gulped. “You’re stressed out, trying to carry the weight of me and them. We can’t even look at each other without fighting.”

Y/N looked down the pair of hands, a sad sigh escaping their lips. Darry inhaled sharply. He shook his head, eyes squinting. He knew.

“This isn’t high school,” their voice dropped to a whisper. “We both deserve a good, healthy relationship.” Their breath hitched. “I just don’t think that’s us.”

Darry squeezed Y/N’s hands, head shaking.

“Please no,” he scoffed, “not you, too.”

Y/N let go of his hands, letting their fingers rake through his hair. Darry pressed his forehead against their’s, mumbling inaudible words under his breath.

“We aren’t the same people, not anymore.”

Darry nodded, clearing his throat. His words came out like a whimper.

“But you loved me?” His eyes were so desperate, pleading for only one answer.

“I still do,” Y/N nodded. Darry took a deep breath, a nod following.

“And if it all starts over again?”

“Then so will we.”

Darry’s eyes flickered to their lips. One final time he leaned in, kissing them softly. Except this time there were no spark, just a heavy weight being lifted.

They pulled away and Darry pressed a kiss to Y/N’s forehead before standing up. His eyebrows furrowed, face tense, but not angry. Never angry, not at them.

“I’ll see ya later,” he whispered. Darry was barely even sure they heard him. He only took two steps before they spoke again.

“Hey, Darry?” Darry sighed and turned around, throat closing up.

“Yeah?”

They looked at him, cheeks wet with ever falling tears. Their lips were pressed into a firm, hard line, wobbling slightly.

“About Soda and Pony…”

Y/N forced a smile.

“Tell them I say hello.”

[wormholxtreme]

Kaylee sighed. Sophie was like a dog with a bone sometimes. If Kay really stuck to her guns she could make Sophie relent, but the idea of shutting down her soulmate sent a pang in her heart. They had spent almost a year being separated. Zeke had convinced Kay that Sophie didn't need her, didn't want her, that she was too pushy and that one day she'd push Sophie right out the door forever. Anyone who knew the woman knew she was a flight risk. And Stane's words held a weight of truth. That's what made it so easy to believe in the first place. A part of her still believed it. That at any moment she'd say or do the wrong thing and Sophie would take off. Kay could live without some people, but not Sophie.

"Eros. Eros! Erooooos!!" Kay giggled shouting the God of love's name up to the sky waiting for him to strike a pose like a stripper right in front of them. When he didn't Kaylee looked back at Sophie with a mischievous grin. "He didn't come, how disappointing." Kay's grin dropped as she cocked her head to the side. Completely deadpanned. "Is it normal for him not to come I'm not sure how it works with Gods that were created." She waited a split second before touching her tongue to the roof of her mouth grinning at her terrible pun.

But Sophie's words caught her off guard. Kay's past relationships flashed before her eyes. Her brows furrowed as she took stock of Sophie's words. Kaylee never thought of herself as being hypersexual. But sure enough, each one of her relationships, she was the sexual aggressor. Not much saying for Stane. It was obvious now he didn't even want her to begin with. Her boyfriend freshman year in college didn't ever say no, but it didn't take much to get her pants off. And in high school her girlfriend often complained that all Kaylee used her for was sex. But that's because she was jealous of the relationship Kay had with Sophie and used any excuse to try and paint Kaylee as a bad girlfriend. Then again, there was a trend among these three previous relationships and Kaylee was the common denominator.

"Huh…" Kaylee hummed, her thoughts turning to Athan now. Why wasn't she trying to jump his bones? They spent time together. Athan often accompanied her to bed. They coparented Damien. And Kaylee would be lying if she said she didn't find him attractive. But the history between them was messy, complicated. They had been pushed together by the desires of someone else, not of their own volition. And Athan was trying to learn what it even meant to make a decision based on his own desires. Kaylee didn't want to pressure him either way. She didn't want to be pressured herself. It was terrifying to be open and vulnerable with someone, but it felt safe laying next to him. He was both. A villain and a protector. A force of destruction but remained a foundation for Kay to hold onto. He probably didn't even know how much he meant to her. She wouldn't dare tell him, even if she could put into words the way he made her feel. He'd probably bolt, or start a fight, or make her feel crazy, or- wait what was Sophie saying?

"Nooooo." Kay said snapping back to, eyes wide staring Sophie down. "Absolutely not. No love spell. Sophie Isabella Beck I mean it. You keep your love guru crap with your boyfriend."

Before Kay could really drive her point home that a love spell was a non-starter Sophie had her cracking up laughing. "I wouldn't want to buy one off of Ebay anyway! Ew gross!!"

"Of course," A short pause followed. "Sex is not a priority. It's supposed to be a pleasure and fun." Sophie pouted while simultaneously nibbling on her bottom lip. The urge to roll her eyes prevailed. "And again - Fuck Eros now. I swear if I am having to say it one more time, I am gonna summon him like a Bloody Mary. So please, don't make me. There's no place or time in this conversation for that fool right now."

Naturally, Sophie paid attention to all of Kaylee's reasoning. And they all were, to say the least, valid. But it was still somehow unbelievable that in over two years, nearly three now, there was no slightest attempt at the physical connection between Sophie's best friend and that dark emo tree who somehow happened to be also Sophie's brother. "I've been knowing you for a while and that hypersexuality hits hard when you are into the guy so… it just makes me wonder. That's all." She shrugged with a little bit bemused expression on her freckled face.

"Per usual, I've got a solution." Her hand reached for another drink and after a long sip and a grimace that followed after the alcohol hit her taste buds, Sophie continued. "Either you'll sit down, have an open and vulnerable conversation about your true feelings and emotions that will act as catalysis and change the route of your relationship for the better because that's what the adults do - they talk, or…" She leaned over for the drink again, nibbling on the straw. "Or… we are making love potions. One of these options is more fun than the other. But you decide, of course." A small shrug was given again. "I mean I could always buy you a new vibrator but not sure that they sell the one that overbeats these fucking Titans, on E-bay, so…"

[newtonsheffield]

Can we see the first time rockstar anthony woke up next to kate?? Assuming they were together…

Hmmm... just a little

Anthony was scared to open his eyes. He didn't mind admitting that after last time when he'd drifted to consciousness rolling towards where he was sure Kate would be, only to find the bed empty and his heart had slowly shredded itself as he'd started down at the note on the nightstand.

Thanks for last night. Excellent fuck as promised. x K

And here he was, the situation a little too familiar, the taste of Kate still on his tongue, and the smell of her on his bedsheets and his heart pounding in his chest. He reached out, his arm searching for her, and found... nothing.

Anthony let out a sigh, his chest aching as his eyes slowly opened. Something stung at his eyes as he looked around the room, no sign of Kate anywhere, disappointment welling in his chest.

It had been a possibility, he supposed, of course it had been. But he thought it had been different, this time, when he'd stood on that stage and begged her to love him. He'd thought it had been different when she'd wrapped her arms around him so tightly and her lips had crashed against his and there'd been tears shining in her eyes as she'd brushed his hair back from his eyes. And he'd thought it had been different when they'd tucked the tiny puppy into a blanket before they'd fumbled through the door of his bedroom and her hands had tugged at his shirt until in had ripped right down the middle and he'd laughed Ooo destroying your own handiwork hey stitches? And it had felt different as her hands had clung to him as they'd moved together and her forehead had been pressed against his. But it hadn't been. It hadn't been different at all. And now he didn't even have his tour to focus on.

"Time for a drink I think."

He stood from the bed, running his hands through his hair trying to ignore the churning in his stomach as he made his way through his house, numb to almost everything until-

"Oh my god!"

"Anthony!"

Anthony spun towards the voices with a startled shriek, his heart pounding in his chest as Sophie sighed.

"Anthony, how many times? I don't buy you pyjamas for my own amusement. Wear them!"

But Anthony wasn't paying attention to her, he was staring straight past Sophie perched at the breakfast bar. Kate was sitting at the kitchen table, her clothes from last night looking a little rumpled, her hair disheveled, the tiny corgi puppy on her lap his tail wagging as he caught sight of Anthony.

"Hey, what's wrong? Are you crying?"

His breath shuddered from his chest as he rushed forward, tugging Kate forward, crushing her against his chest, breathing her in deeply.

"I thought you left."

Kate let out a little sigh, nestling closer against his chest, her nose against his neck."No, you're stuck with me now."

"Good."

"I am gonna have to ask you to put those cute little tighty-whities on though. Your penis is resting on my hand."

"Of course, Yes. I love you."

[babygirlkiki1016]

Home Sweet Home

Masterlist

Y/n's Pov-

"You haven't been yourself lately." Marcel confronted, sitting on the black leather sofa, staring at me like I was acting this way with no purpose.

"Normally your all chatty and bubbly, now your..." He waved his hand, gesturing to my curled figure by the ledge of the balcony. I sat there leaning on the cold metal bars watching as people walked the streets looking for something to buy while touring the town. The star lights lit up the city, it was like magic, I would always look up at the sky and it was just...amazing. Like a huge artwork but always moving. It was the only sight worth seeing these days, and the only thing I looked forward to.

I looked over at him with a hateful look, which didn't make him happy.

"What do you expect me to do? After what you have decided Marcel, I can no longer feel joy towards you or in this place we call home." Segregating the witches, punishing them for their nature was unacceptable. It hurt my heart knowing I couldn't save them and wasn't as powerful as I used to be. I was always being watched, except at night, that is the only time I have privacy anymore.

"This again?" He sighed, leaning forward with a frown on his face. Jane-Anne was caught doing ma- "

"She's a witch Marcel!" I abruptly sped over, making him go silent as I stood in front of him with rage flowing through my body. "Witches do magic! She lost her daughter because of you, if you had let the ceremony continue, they would all be alive but now you have screwed us all! This is why vampires shouldn't meddle with witch business, you undead bastards understand nothing!" I turned away shaking my head, tears springing to my eyes, I couldn't save her...Marcel had the upper hand, after he stopped the harvest, he demanded all witches stop using their magic, and that included me considering I didn't agree with the new rule. He stole my grimoire, which is tethered to my magic and if he eradicates it, my magic and every descendant's charm of my tribe will be gone.

"Then tell me, what would have happened if the harvest continued?"

"I have told you! The girls would be sacrificed and brought back with more magic than they had before. Now Davina is stuck with all 4 elements, and the ancestors despise her for disobeying her coven. "

"I get it the end will come but you're not an ancestral witch, you don't know how to use their magic. So, until you can give me evidence instead of words that this will happen, the witches and you will still be under my command understand?" He walked over, getting a little too close for my liking, and whispered. "And the next time you yell at me, I will make sure to burn that book."

"I used to think of you as my son Marcellus, but you've turned into him. I am very disappointed in you, little warrior." He stopped for a second, upset that I felt this way, but continued to walk out without another word. He didn't care about me anymore, or he did but didn't want to seem weak in front of his men. Soon he was out of sight, and when I knew he couldn't hear me I jumped off the balcony, I needed to find Sophie, maybe she will know what her sister was up to with the new spell she decided to sacrifice herself for. Unfortunately, Jane was publicly executed earlier today, before I could ask her anything. Was she trying to find Davina and finish the ritual? It's the only thing that makes sense as to why she would use magic. I sped down multiple dark alleys towards the cemetery when I heard a whoosh behind me, probably one of Marcel's guards trying to follow me. I stopped and quickly slipped into the shadows above, watching as the vampire searched the area for me.

"Y/n!!" I gasped at the man, Klaus...No it couldn't be him, it's not him, he wouldn't come back after all this time. We never went to another place twice, unless...Mikael was dead. "Where are you..." He silently sobbed running up to the other balconies across from my position trying to get a better view of where I was, he could find me if he tried hard enough. That's how I knew, he would know that I was hiding in the shadows. I was a witch as well as a vampire and shifter, I was called a tribrid though I wasn't born under the moon like Klaus was. I could shift into any animal as I pleased, but with Davina having the ability to see who does magic my abilities are limited. However, my disappearing skills came in handy when I wished to hide.

"Niklaus," Elijah called, appearing from out of nowhere, with a sudden look of care as he saw his brother's state. "What is it?"

"I saw her brother; I saw her running down the alley." Klaus pointed to the road below, "She was right here...and then she was gone." He looked above, in all dark places that would be a perfect pocket to slip into, but he didn't find me.

"Who?" Elijah began to search the street with his eyes, looking for any signs or sounds but yet could find none.

"Y/n." When Elijah heard my name he sighed and placed his hand on Klaus's shoulder. He didn't believe his brother, mostly because they thought I was dead.

"She's been gone for 300 years; I believe this town is making you see things. We never truly got to say goodbye-" Klaus pulled away shaking his head, denying Elijah's statement.

"I saw her, it was her Elijah, she was running somewhere. She was wearing modern clothes, her hair still white but all her clothing black. She sensed me; she's hiding watching us this very second-" Elijah grabbed Klaus by his shoulders shaking him to get him to understand.

"Brother enough! Listen..." They both stopped, using their hearing they listened for my breathing or a heartbeat. Elijah was trying to prove I was no longer alive but his eyes widened as they heard it.  They looked in my direction but I moved as they zipped over to my original spot. Could it be them? There was only one way to find out if it was Klaus, the song we made together on our wedding day, an ancient song.

"I'll swim and sail on savage seas..." I sang, zipping to another area as both of their heads shot up looking at the place I had originally been. "...with never the fear of drowning..." I moved again, and yet they followed my voice once more.

"If you would marry me..." Klaus finished the tune that we had made, we wanted to create a song yet neither of us could write songs that well, he quickly turned to his brother. "Believe me now?" I smiled and whistled moving again, they looked to my original spot and realized I wanted them to follow me. Every so often I would let out a whistle as the brothers ran after me, trying to find my exact location but I wouldn't let them get me so easily. Soon we arrived at the cemetery, and I hid behind a tomb, watching them as they entered but Klaus stopped. Why was Elijah allowed to enter but Klaus was not?

"Come in," I said and disappeared before Klaus could catch me, he sighed tired of my little game of hide and seek.

"Why do you hide in the shadows?" He asked waiting for me to appear but I did not, I stayed in my exact spot. Watching, waiting to see what they would do next. I whistled again and followed the sound of Sophie's breathing; she was nearby probably putting her sister to rest. When I entered the tomb, I spotted Sophie pacing the room, she stopped when she saw me.

"You were never going to tell me, were you?" I asked as Klaus and Elijah slowly walked towards me. They saw my white hair and knew it was me instantly. "Your sister brought them back to town, why?"

"We needed help Kiley, with your grimoire stolen we had no choice. "

"Your grimoire was stolen? "Elijah questioned, both of them knew how important it was. "By who?" He growled. 

"Marcel," I whispered, turning to face them and for the first time, my eyes met his, my beloveds. He reached out for me, caressing my cheek lightly, then suddenly he pulled me closer. Taking in my scent he cried, he missed me so much just as I missed him. I let my guard down and wrapped my arms around him taking him in.

Elijah watched us in silence like his heart was broken; I held out my hand for him, he took it with a smile but he still looked upset.

"Good your both here, I need your help." Sophie cuts in trying to get our attention, hesitantly we both pulled away but he kept his arm tightly around me. He looked deep into my eyes, memorizing my face after all these years. I could tell he had so many questions about how I was still alive and where I have been.

"Y/n perhaps you should leave..." Elijah tugged on my arm but my focus went to the brunette woman who was brought in, she was born under the moon.

"Y/n come." I looked to Eli who was desperately trying to get me to leave but Klaus pushed him away.

"I just got her back and you're already trying to take her away?" Klaus snarled standing in front of me protectively.

"Niklaus, you will see her in a little while. What is going to be said next is a...sensitive topic."

"Hayley is pregnant with Klaus's child." Sophie blurted trying to get things moving, I looked to Hayley, so this was his new lover...And she is with child? Elijah sighed but kept his eyes on me, and I was angry beyond words. I looked to my supposed husband who loved me, who still cared for me and promised to never lay with another even if he lost me.

"So, after all these years of me begging and pleading to you for a child, you impregnate someone else...not only that you...slept with another?" I pulled away from him, and the look on his face broke me, he didn't seem to care, he just...he said nothing. "I knew it...you denied it so many times but I knew it! You despised me! That's why you didn't want a child!" I cried out, he tried to explain saying he knew nothing, and grabbed my arm but I swung my right arm. Punching him right in the jaw, his head went to the side. Elijah tried to calm me but I shrugged off his hand and walked out crying all the way home.

~~~

"Im sorry this happened." Elijah appeared, looking at my small sniffling self on the balcony. "He didn't do it on purpose, nor does he despise you. As the witches explained it, his wolf side is still human, and Hayley being a wolf-"

"I know how it works," I whispered, sighing he sat down next to me, thinking of what to say.

"I know you're beyond angry, after so many years of wanting one and he refused...he still doesn't want one. And I know you'll hate me for this, but I need you to convince him to help. He will help you, but he wants the baby dead and Hayley he won't save them from the witches."

"She is not my problem Elijah, convince him yourself."

"He won't listen to me; he believes that if the baby dies you will forgive him for betraying you...If you do this for me, I will convince him to give you a child of your own-"

"Enough about it! He will never say yes! He will say no and I will never have the children I want that belongs to me. Instead, I'll be the stepmother to a child I despise..." I cried, he pulled me into his chest, rubbing my shoulder to make me feel better. He knew I was right, Klaus never wanted children, a sign of weakness he told me, a waste of time.

"Then I will give you a child of your own..." He replied, but once he realized what he said he desperately tried to change the topic. "You don't have to be a stepmother, no one asked you to take up that responsibility. All I ask is that you save this girl and her child, the witches will kill her if Klaus does not agree." I wanted to refuse, I wanted to say no and let the bitch die but it's not her fault that this happened. She probably didn't even know about me and the history I have with the original hybrid.

"I will talk to him, but after I save her and get my grimoire back...I am heading home." His eyes teared up, he knew what that meant, that I would never be coming back. I had frozen my world and left them all behind to marry a man I loved. Though I should have never turned my back on my tribe, nor should I have stolen their power. I was tired of this family, always being the one left behind, the number one plan. I was just a pawn to them, especially to Klaus.

"Of course, just don't tell Niklaus. He will be devastated and may go back on his word."

"...I promise." Hesitantly after the little chat with Elijah, I headed to the witches' quarter to find Klaus sitting on a bench leaned forward with his hands tangled together. His nose was bloody, I guess I had hit him harder than I thought. "Klaus." He shot up and walked towards me hoping that I came back to cave in like I normally did but I backed away this time.

"I didn't mean for this to happen..." He sniffled while stopping in his tracks, "I swear it, I didn't mean to get her pregnant! "

"Well, you did..." He looked down ashamed of what he had done. "And now you have to keep it, you have a responsibility."

"...You want me to keep it?" He wasn't surprised by my request; I've always wanted a small child of our own though he always denied me it. A weakness to the family with a thousand enemies, he was right of course but everyone was a weakness, a baby made no difference. "It'll be a liability to this family; would this child guarantee me power?  Can it protect our family?"

"Family is power, haven't you learned that already? After a thousand years of us constantly saving our family, we have always won. Everyone is a weakness in the family; a baby may be more fragile but there is not much difference. You are the original hybrid; we are the original family! We have all the power in the world, you have no excuse to not take this baby."

"People will come for us-" I sighed and with a fit of rage I slapped him across the face, making him go silent. He slowly looked back at me, surprised I had struck him again.

"No! They'll come for you! It's always been about you! Your always so worried about what will happen to you! So shut up get your head out of your ass and go protect the child that you made during your affair!" He was not happy, finally, I had the strength to stand up to him, I wasn't so innocent anymore. Ever since my grimoire had been stolen, I realized I had to become stronger and take a stand instead of being silent like I used to.

"Stop hitting me-"

"What? You'll shove me in a box? Put me away like the rest of your siblings, I'd like to see you try." I turned away, I was going to let him stand there and think about what I said but he grabbed my arm pulling me into his embrace.

"I would never hurt you...ever." I accepted it, and to be honest I didn't want to let go.

"I understand you're angry and feel betrayed, but as do I. How do I think I felt when I learned you were still alive- "

"And? That was one heartbreak, I've dealt with a thousand by you." He took a step back and shook his head. "I had to run for a thousand years because you begged me to marry you, I left my family behind for one I barely knew! I became this monster because of your mother! And then I asked for a child, a sign of weakness for the thousand enemies we have well who's fault is that Klaus!" Tears slipped down my skin, and never have I ever seen him so broken, so...speechless. "I didn't ask for this, I married you, but I didn't sign up for this nightmare of a life. Neither did that child, but I hope you give it a better life than I did, and maybe you'll keep your promise this time."

[idkthisisjustforfanfic]

A STUDY IN YOU, chapter ten

Everyone showed up at work that following Monday morning in a great mood. The request for a full season sprinkled excitement over the conference room, but you liked to think that the way Jason’s weekend started had something to do with the smile on his face.

Back to normal for a few days: internship, classes, offering emotional support to Max when he had another crisis related to his impending 30th birthday and, as he put it, the fact that dating apps were fruitless. 

But on Halloween you found yourself at O’Hallorans in a purple velour tracksuit, a thick headband pulled your hair back and over your shoulders when Sophie (in her matching pink tracksuit) showed up with another round. 

It was only 9pm--the night was young but you were already tipsy, thanks in part to Max’s credit card and the fact that your text to Jason had gone unanswered for almost two hours. 

You clicked your phone shut and slipped it into your pocket, took a dejected sip when Naomi eyed you. 

“You seem less energetic than usual,” she noted.

“I’m fine,” you sighed, a smile to let them know that while you might be lying, you’d certainly survive.

“Sudeikis drama?” Sophie pouted theatrically. 

People were packed near by the bar like sardines, plenty of students and locals in costume, the music was already too loud. 

You rolled your eyes but didn’t respond, they laughed and Max nudged you when he said: “Spill it--stop trying to be all coy about this.”

“He’s right,” Sophie nodded. “Half the fun of fucking your professor is gossiping about it.”

You fought a giggle at that--she wasn’t completely wrong. 

“It’s nothing--I texted him and he didn’t reply and I don’t know. Sometimes he’s hard to read.”

“What do you mean hard to read?” Max asked.

“Well--I don’t know. Sometimes he seems super into it but then he pulls back.”

“Well, he’s got to be nervous,” Naomi shrugged. “I know gossiping is fun, but--there’s still a lot at stake.”

Right. The voice of reason. 

“Oh come on, don’t ruin it for her and get in her head,” Sophie made a face at Naomi.

“She’s right,” you shook your head. “I’m just a student--just the intern,” you rolled your eyes at Jennie’s words. 

“Fuck that,” Sophie said quickly, reaching for your phone. “What’d you say to him?”

She opened your text, a quick smirk at the fact that there was even a thread in the first place. She read your unanswered message out loud. 

Any Halloween plans?

“Okay--well, he obviously didn’t reply because there’s nothing sexy about this,” Max looked up at you, disappointed in your flirting skills.

An unimpressed stare at your friend: “I’m a human, not just a vagina.”

“But that’s what he likes best about you,” Max teased, a laugh from all of them when you took your phone back from Sophie. 

“It just feels like it’s always a tug of war or something--like we’re always fighting for the upper hand.”

“Well who has it now?” Naomi asked. 

“I don’t know,” you shrugged. “Nothing’s happened in a while.”

“How long is a while?” Max pressed, his eyes narrowed when he sipped from his drink.

“Like, a week and a half ago or something,” you said with a flutter of your eyelashes. While you definitely kept them updated and in the loop, you certainly weren’t reading them diary entries or spilling every detail. “We got drinks with the other writers and then he walked me back to my place.”

“Oh my god,” Sophie lifted a shoulder in excitement. “Did he spend the night?”

“What?” You asked, shocked she thought things had progressed that far. “No! No--he walked me home and there was some action, but--no sex and he left pretty quickly.”

“Wait--” Naomi was more interested than you’d seen her previously. Maybe it was the dirty shirley in her cup. “Have you had sex again since that first time?”

“No,” you shook your head before admitting: “other stuff, but no--just that once.”

“Oh my god,” Max shook his head. “You need to sleep with him again.”

“Well--yeah, I mean--I wouldn’t hate that but I don’t want to be clingy or weird or--”

“Don’t overthink it,” Sophie groaned. “Just like Max needs to not overthink the fact that he kind of looks like Martha Stewart in jail instead of a Cheetah Girl.”

You all laughed at that, left O’Halloran’s by 10 to head to another bar where some of Naomi’s friends were already hanging out. You walked with them through campus, turned left outside the Student Center before your eyes trailed up and noticed a light on in a familiar window. 

“Uh--you guys can keep walking,” you said suddenly, eyes darting up to Sophie’s when you smirked. “I’m gonna go see if he’s actually up there.”

They laughed and cheered and yelled obnoxious things when you climbed the steps to the building, swiped inside and laughed to yourself when you climbed the stairs. Was this crazy? Yeah. 

The third floor was quiet like always, the light at the end of the hall and the sound of typing on a keyboard made your heartbeat pick up with each step.

He didn’t notice until the door latched behind you, he glanced up from his computer and the confusion in his eyes quickly faded to intrigue.

“Hi,” you said quietly, a smile when he stood.

“Hi,” he rounded the corner of his desk, you were already a few steps into the room. “How are you?”

“I’m good,” you purred, pushing up against him quickly. The alcohol you’d already consumed gave the confidence boost you needed. You pressed a kiss to his mouth as you tugged him down. “I texted you.”

“You did?” He smiled, looking over to his phone on the far side of his desk--face down. “Sorry--I’ve been working.”

“I can see that,” you smirked up at him. He looked down at you, took in the sight when his eyes traveled down your body and then back up. You reached forward to trace his outline over the fabric of his khakis. 

“I’ve been drinking,” you confessed, a flutter of your eyelashes to let him know that while it was true, you weren’t wasted.

“I can tell,” he laughed. “And while I’m sure I would love whatever you look like you want to do to me—” he laughed, “I can’t.”

“You can’t?” You pouted up at him a little. 

He sighed a little at that, like the sound of your voice had him rethinking it. “I would love to fuck you right now,” he nodded, about to say more when you cut him off.

“Good, then this will be quick,” your hand swooped down to graze over him. 

“I don’t think you should do that,” he tried again, a coy smile when he shook his head, pushed your hands away from his belt buckle. The look in his eyes told you he dared you to do it.

“Why?” You turned over your shoulder and glanced at the door. “That locks, right?”

“I appreciate the offer, really, I do—”

He tried to stop you, gave in a little when your hand reached inside and wrapped around him.

“Oh, Jesus, Y/N,” he laughed, looked up nervously at the door you’d shut on your way in when you slunk down to your knees.

“The sooner you go along with it the sooner it’ll be over,” you looked up at him from your spot on the floor, licked your tongue right up his length when he swallowed down the desire.

“I’m not—yeah—I can go along with it.”

You pumped with your hand, took him into your mouth and smiled. But he didn’t last long like that, pulled you up and let his hands roam over your skin when he pressed a kiss to your jaw. 

“I want more than your mouth,” he confessed. “And I don’t have long but I like the way you look when you’re trying not to scream.”

You knew what he was doing, knew from the look in his eyes that he was trying to take back the upper hand. You smiled up at him, turned him around and pushed him into the chair that sat opposite his desk. The one where you’d sat so many times, the one where his advisors sat as they hand-picked classes for each semester.

You unzipped the jacket you wore, revealed a matching purple tank top and then slid your pants down. His eyes drank you in--all the way down to the matching purple thong--before you straddled him and smirked down. 

His voice was deep and throaty. “Are you gonna let me fuck you now?”

You nodded, smirked a little when he shifted beneath you, slid the fabric of your panties aside as he guided himself in. You settled on top of him, breath catching in your throat at how good he felt. He found the rhythm and thrusted in and out, catching your lips with his when his hands reached around to cup your ass. 

You pulled your tank top off eventually, loved the way he seemed desperate to unhook your bra. His eyes watched you when his fingers trailed up to thumb against your nipple, your back arched involuntarily and you let out a moan that made him laugh. 

“Yeah, baby,” he growled in your ear, “let me feel that pussy cum.”

And you did, you buried your head in his shoulder when he went faster and quicker, pleasantly surprised when he moaned your name into your ear only a few seconds after. You laughed and climbed off when you were finished, reached for a tissue to clean up before finding your clothes around the room.

He looked you up and down when he put his belt back on, trying to make sense of the purple velvet tracksuit. “And you’re supposed to be—”

“One quarter of the Cheetah Girls,” you said confidently, fixed your headband and straightened out the zipper on your jacket. “Sorry—would a school girl have been more your taste?”

He let his brows arch at your sass, walked over and sat at his desk now, hands behind his head when he smirked up at you.

“No,” he shrugged. “Cheetah Girls is good, you still look,” he nodded. “Good.”

You ignored the compliment. “You know who the Cheetah Girls are?”

“I mean I can’t say I’ve seen the movies,” he admitted, head tilted to the side. “But I don’t live under a rock.”

“It was Max’s idea,” you shot him a glance. “It was either this or the four seasons.”

“The band, or the…” he motioned out the window, “earth seasons?”

“The earth seasons,” you clarified with a laugh.

“Well, if monochrome tracksuits ever come back in style, good to know you can rock it.”

“Oh they will,” you said confidently. “Just give it a few years.”

There was a knock on the door then. Jennie smiled and held up a bag of take out food through the window. Your eyes went wide when you took a quick step over to open it. 

“Sorry that was locked--old doors and old building,” Jason lied.

“No worries--hey Y/N,” she smiled, “are you joining?”

“No,” you said quickly, eyes darting over to Jason. He said he didn’t have much time but you didn’t know it was because of her. “I was just leaving.”

“You can stay if you want,” Jason said quickly. “Jennie just got dinner--we hadn’t eaten.”

“Oh no,” you shook your head. “That’s okay--I’ve got somewhere to be. Just wanted to give you that assignment,” you tried to cover your tracks.

Jennie came and sat in the chair you’d just had sex in, her eyebrows furrowed with confusion when she took a plastic container out of the bag.

“Thanks, yeah,” Jason nodded. “I’ll uh--grade it ASAP.”

“Sounds good.” 

An awkward pause, Jennnie smiled up at you like she could sense something in the room but didn’t know what. You headed for the door and down the hallway, unsure how something could turn from good to bad so quickly. 

November 14th, 2018

The first few weeks of November were a blur. Brainstorms and rushing to get ahead on the script left you unable to even think about Jason and the sex in his office on Halloween and how Jennie of all people showed up. 

You were annoyed. As petty or as immature as it was, you spent a good two weeks brewing and working yourself up over the thought of the two of them alone together in his office. 

Was he sleeping with her, too?

“No fucking way,” Max had his hand around your phone when you showed them a picture one night in Sophie’s living room. “He’s not having sex with her.”

“What makes you so sure?” Naomi forked a bite of noodles into her mouth. 

“She’s cute but,” Max shrugged. “She’s not a 27-year-old with a tight ass.”

“Ew,” you made a face at him.

“Why don’t you just ask him if he’s fucking her?” Sophie shrugged, her eyes innocent when she took a hit from the joint Max had brought. “You’re allowed to know if someone you’re sleeping with is sleeping with anyone else.”

“That would be so awkward,” you groaned. “And it might make me seem territorial, which I’m not.”

Max gave a knowing look. “Says the girl who’s literally mad about him hanging out with a coworker.”

“I just think it’s weird that he didn’t tell me she was getting them food--I wouldn’t have had sex with him right then if I knew that!”

“He wanted you so badly he just couldn’t say no,” Sophie said this wistfully, a giggle when she handed the joint to Naomi. 

“Maybe,” you sighed, “but I don’t know—having sex with him is one thing, a love triangle is a whole other level of insane.”

“You’re not insane,” Max reassured. “You’re lustful and swept away in the romance,” he wrapped his arms around himself and wiggled excitedly.

“And I don’t want to bite off more than I can chew,” you reminded them all. 

“You can handle him, are you kidding me?” Sophie got fired up at this, her forehead wrinkled when she leaned forward to give you a shove. “You’re young and hot and he's trying to not get fired for fucking his intern! You have the power!”

You looked at her, nodded slowly when it sunk in. 

“He needs you more than you need him,” she smiled.

You weren’t sure if you bought it, though Sophie spent plenty of time that evening trying to convince you. On Wednesday you decided to just act normal, you scribbled over the script in a red pen and wondered what made him walk in almost twenty minutes late. 

You grabbed lunch with Javier and stayed until 7pm, excited to finish a pivotal scene for the main character. 

You now had a full map of the rest of the season: post-it notes stuck up around the room with the details and plot points in Jason’s handwriting. 

You eyed him quietly when he tugged his jacket on.

“Long day,” you commented, a few steps into the hallway when he was right behind you. You read a text from Naomi about upcoming plans when he laughed a little.

“Yeah, welcome to the stressful part.”

“Why is this the stressful part?”

He followed you to the elevator, put his hands in his pockets when the doors split apart. “Now we’ve got to deliver a whole season and put our money where our mouths are.”

He glanced over to you quickly, almost like he, too, thought about how his mouth felt when he trailed down your jaw. 

You nodded, offered a smile when Dan slipped into the elevator just before the doors closed. A few laughs on the way down to the ground floor, Dan split off when you and Jason turned left towards the subway. 

You looked up at him quickly, a tugging in your chest when you cleared your throat.

“Would you—uh—wanna get dinner, or something?”

Not a date. You weren’t trying to do anything. It just felt human. 

“Oh,” he looked over his shoulder, a restaurant nearby that you knew he liked. “Uh—I actually have to get home, uh—just, yeah, maybe another night.”

You nodded, swallowed down the sharp edges of rejection. “Yeah—sure.”

It stung, even though you wished it didn’t. You faked a phone call and let him catch the train without you, too wounded to sit beside him and count the stops until your walk home.

November 22nd, 2018

“Y/N--can you talk for a second before you go?”

Those words would typically raise your pulse. But now, when Jason glanced in your direction as the rest of your classmates packed up, your stomach flipped and your heartbeat climbed. 

Your contact with him had declined after Halloween, a result of your own pettiness and immaturity paired with an increase in work stress.

But that wasn’t all. Your anxiety had upped the ante, now sprinkled thoughts like who else is he hooking up with into your morning coffee. 

You nodded when you met his eyes, took your time making an edit on the script when he shut his laptop. The last few students trickled out of the room. Once you were alone he cleared his throat.

“Hey.”

“Hi,” you looked up at him, your best attempt at a calm demeanor. 

“How are you?”

“Good,” you laughed a little. It’s not like you didn’t see him almost 5 days a week. It’s not like he didn’t know what you’d been up to. 

“Yeah?” He nodded, a hesitant smile when you put your computer to sleep and stood. “Doesn’t seem like it.”

“Why’s that?” You asked, eyebrows dipping when he shrugged.

An air of confidence when he let out a deep breath. “Feels like things have been kind of weird since Halloween.”

“Halloween,” you nodded, acting aloof as you tugged your bag over your shoulder. “Hmm.”

He laughed quietly, kept his eyes on yours when he spoke: “I’m sorry if Jennie showing up like—weirded you out.”

You shook your head quickly, tried to play it off. “Oh, no—it’s whatever, it’s not a big deal.”

His eyebrows raised in slight surprise, he waited a beat but gave you a knowing look.

“We were just working on the script and,” he shrugged, “I obviously have a hard time saying no to you.”

You licked your lips and nodded, unsure what to say. If you admitted it bothered you it would tip him off, let him know that you thought about what he did on the weekends and wondered what type of cereal he ate. 

He’d know you were jealous or petty and he’d know that in the deepest darkest depths of your brain a part of you whispered: what if I’m actually into him?

“I’ve just never had to interact socially with someone so quickly after an orgasm,” you said honestly, a smirk at your upcoming word choice. “Aside from the person I’m fucking.”

You watched him swallow, nod slowly when he smirked. “Right.”

“But we’re good,” you nodded quickly.

“Okay,” he nodded, but his eyebrows dipped like he didn’t really believe you. 

“Okay,” you smiled a little and turned to leave, made sure to let your hips sway a little extra when you walked right out of the classroom.

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AN: ten whole chapters of a professor jason fic i am laughing very hard. SO GLAD you guys like this story, and I can't wait for it to get a little more juicy now that things are actually steamy between Jason and MC!