#thank you so much for the ask AND the compliment! multiples are very welcome

[thebarefootking]

I know I just sent you an ask about despe/hiromu, but if you're still taking requests can I get your thoughts on douki too? I too adore this little gremlin man, and I adore the way you write about wrestling.

I have been beating my head against the wall for DAYS, trying to figure out how to answer this ask. I got so stressed out over my own inequality to the task that I had an unsatisfactory dream about meeting Douki (in full ring gear) on public transportation, where we had a painfully awkward and brief social encounter. None of this is your fault, nonny. I appreciate being made to think. Douki is just fucking confusing, I have lots of feelings about him, he's my Favorite of Favorites, and I genuinely just don't know what to write or where to start. I'm going to give it a solid try, though. Please forgive my tardiness, and enjoy these three songs that inevitably give me Douki feels.

----------------------------------- Sometimes in life, there is no sensible avenue to your destination. Sometimes, the most reasonable route between point A and point B is a freefall. Although I am no longer practicing, I spent my entire childhood and youth in an environment that prioritised, over and above everything else, religious faith and the mystical experience thereof. I am also in possession of a brain with both bipolar and adhd. These facts combine to form a person deeply prone to perceiving meaning, intention, and importance in places where others do not -- and, sometimes, to acting impulsively on these perceptions. Is it any surprise that such a person would find resonance in a character like Douki? Douki, who attests that everything has meaning? Douki, who responded to rejection by hauling ass to a different continent, with no prospects, no money, and no ability to speak the local language. Douki, who returned to Japan with the intention of kicking Jun Kasai's ass -- by showing up to a deathmatch entirely unarmed, even his teeth covered by his mask. Douki, with the anger of a martyr and the patience of a thief. Until suddenly... that's not quite right at all. Douki, whose greatest wrestling strength is -- not his unique and experimental moveset, not his stylised presentation, not even his commitment, but -- his absolute gameness. His readiness to, at the drop of a hat (even, I have my suspicions from watching him closely, when he is working injured -- though I wish he had both the ability and willingness to not fucking do that; this Moose's heart can't take that shit), to 'yes-and' the hell out of whatever he is given.

Oh? You beefed it on your finisher? You're gonna do something batshit off the top rope to distract everyone? Sure, I'll catch you with my smaller, wobbling, clearly injured body which is currently incapable of performing even my most familiar moves with any amount of grace. We'll make it look cool as hell! Nobody will even notice that you botched the most important move of the match -- and if they do, now they can't say a fucking word about it without sounding like an asshole. Oh? My old training buddy from Mexico just returned from his second major injury in three years? He needs to look badass to prove he's recovered and like his old self for now so that people question it less when he gradually changes his style to something that will keep him in the business longer? Bet. We know each other in the ring like butter knows toast. We can both bring it. ... 'Barricade'? What's that? And so on. Every damn time. If you give him something to work with, he will spin it into gold. This has the unfortunate downside of making his matches a little hit-or-miss; if his chemistry with his opponent or partner is bad or if they give him little to work with, he frequently fails to deliver -- creativity and impulsivity are traits of his, but pure initiative in the ring is something he seems to struggle with, at times (though I note he's getting better, and some of this deficit is apparent only, and due to questionable booking). (Jesus, that sentence got away from me.) Of course Douki appeals to me. He has an unassailable faith. Perhaps it's Minoru Suzuki's 'faith in the future' he once ascribed to the man who would become El Desperado -- perhaps something more enigmatic. I have a hard time sussing out exactly what is going on in Douki's head at any given moment, and he often does things that surprise me, in a way that someone like Despe usually does not. (Example: 07/01/2023 in CMLL when Douki let his teammate Zandokan Jr. shake him around by the skull, and his response appeared to be utter delight. What even was that? I think Zando's the best thing since sliced bread, and even I'd probably be pretty damn unsettled if he grabbed me from behind by the cranium and started shaking. And afaik, that was their first time working together. Fucking weird vibes that whole match.) (I need more of that shit, actually.) Douki's a hard read for me in general, so I'm not confident in my assessment, on this one. But it feels like he has faith in the process. Probably not in the future, maybe not in himself, and certainly not in the system. He has faith in the process of life, in the journey, in the getting-there. And that's why there's no one better at throwing himself into a freefall when necessary than Douki. He knows how to build his wings on the way down, and he's done it a thousand times before. (Tbh, I think Hiromu learned more than just the physics of the Douki Bomb from him. I think he might have gleaned enough of the philosophy to greatly ease his path.)

[harrysfolklore]

the carlos sainz roast

summary: it's carlos' 30th birthday and what a better way to celebrate it than roasting him. wc: 2.8k

folkie radio: happy birthday to the smooooth operatorrrrr. i hontesly LOVED this idea that randomly popped in my head and writing it was sooo much fun, i hope you like it !

MASTERLIST | MY PATREON

Carlos Sainz was turning 30. The big 30.

You wanted to do something special to celebrate it, something out of the ordinary that he would never forget. After spending multiple hours on the internet looking for ideas, a brilliant one came to your mind: A roast.

"So all of you will take turns roasting me? Like making jokes about me?" Carlos asked, looking at you from the couch as you pitched him your idea.

"Exactly, baby, It's going to be so much fun!"

The next few weeks flew by in a whirlwind of preparations. You sent out invitations, coordinated with the other drivers, and gathered embarrassing photos and funny stories about Carlos.

The night of the roast, you transformed your living room into a makeshift comedy club, complete with a small stage and a spotlight. Each driver that arrived at your house complimenting your effort.

As everyone settled into their seats, you stood up and tapped your glass with a spoon to get their attention.

"Welcome, everyone, to the Carlos Sainz Roast!" you announced, catching Carlos's eye and winking at him. "We're all here to celebrate the man, the myth, the legend... the one who always leaves the toothpaste open - Carlos Sainz Jr. on his 30th birthday. And what better way to show our love than by mercilessly making fun of him?"

Laughter rippled through your friends as Carlos playfully rolled his eyes, "Thank you, amor, that's very nice of you."

You playfully blew a kiss his way before speaking again, "Now, before we start, let's remember the rules: keep it funny, keep it respectful, and try to speak slowly so Max can understand." You shot a teasing glance at Verstappen, who grinned and shook his head.

"First up, we have Charles Leclerc, Carlos's teammate and the only person who can make Carlos look slow on a good day. Charles, the floor is yours!"

Charles stood up, straightening his jacket as he approached the makeshift stage. He cleared his throat dramatically, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

"Thank you for that introduction," Charles began, "You know, when I first heard Carlos was joining Ferrari, I was excited. Finally, someone to make me look good! But then I realized, with his luscious hair and chiseled jaw, he was going to steal all my sponsorship deals. So I had to step up my game."

The room erupted in laughter, Carlos included.

"But seriously," Charles continued, "working with Carlos has been an experience. He's like a Spanish version of Google Maps – always recalculating, never quite sure where he's going, but somehow ends up in the right place eventually. That's why I had no doubt in my mind he was going to find an amazing car to drive next season, my bet was on the Safety Car but he opted for an even slower car, a Williams!"

Everyone erupted in laugh again, making Carlos shake his head with his eyes closed, "That one was low, Leclerc."

Charles took a moment to catch his breath, then added with a grin, “And Carlos, now that you’re 30, you’re officially a veteran in the sport. But don’t worry, no matter how many years go by, you’ll always be the guy who can make a Ferrari look like it's in a constant state of panic. Cheers to you, mate!”

You grinned at Charles as he stepped down, patting Carlos on the shoulder. "Alright, that was pretty good, Charles," you said, "But let's see if Lando can top that. Norris, you're up!"

Lando bounded up to the makeshift stage, his trademark cheeky grin plastered across his face. He adjusted the microphone, clearing his throat dramatically.

"Well, well, well, if it isn't the birthday boy, Carlos 'Smooth Operator' Sainz," Lando began, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "You know, when I first met Carlos at McLaren, I thought, 'Wow, this guy's got it all – talent, looks, charm.' Then I realized it was just his hair products messing with my senses."

The crowd burst into laughter, Carlos included, you ran a hand through his famous locks and he gently grabbed it to place a kiss on your palm.

"If I'm being completely honest," Lando continued, "Carlos taught me so much during our time as teammates. Like how to perfectly time a dad joke in team radio, or how to look devastatingly handsome while finishing P7. Essential skills in F1, really."

The room erupted in laughter once again, with Carlos shaking his head in amused disbelief.

"Carlos, you're one of my best friends," Lando's tone softened slightly, "Even if you did spend most of our time together trying to teach me Spanish pickup lines that work about as well as Ferrari's strategy team."

"But I have a girlfriend and you don't, mate. Even with my bad pickup lines." Carlos jabbed, making you throw your head back in laughter.

As the laughter died down, Lando raised his glass. "To Carlos, the man who proves that you can be devastatingly handsome, irritatingly talented, and still somehow likeable. Happy 30th, mate. May your midlife crisis be as smooth as your overtakes."

Lando stepped down from the stage, approaching Carlos who stood up from his seat to give him a hug.

"Love you, mate," you could hear Carlos say, making you smile.

"Next up, we have Fernando Alonso, Carlos's longtime mentor and fellow Spaniard!" you announced, making everybody clap as Fernando took the stage.

"Ah, Carlos. I've known him since he was just a little karting prodigy. Back then, I thought, 'This kid's going places.' Now, 20 years later, I realize I was right – he's gone to every midfield team on the grid!"

The crowd roared with laughter as Fernando continued, "But seriously, I always thought Carlos had potential, and I was right, he's got the potential to be the second-best Sainz in Motorsports!"

Carlos playfully rolled his eyes, taking a sip from his drink.

"But let me tell you something, Carlos," Fernando's tone softened slightly, "You've made all of Spain proud. You've shown that with hard work, talent, and a famous last name, anything is possible in F1. Well, almost anything, winning a championship might still be a stretch!"

As the laughter died down, Fernando raised his glass. "To Carlos Sainz Jr., the man who proves that you can be a great driver, a fan favorite, and still be overshadowed by your dad at family dinners. Feliz cumpleaños, amigo!"

Fernando stepped down from the stage, approaching Carlos who stood up to give him a warm, laughing embrace. As they parted, you stood up to introduce the next roaster.

"Now, let's hear from someone who's known Carlos since their early days in Formula 1. Please welcome to the stage, the reigning world champion and certified cat lover, Max Verstappen!"

Max sauntered up to the stage, he adjusted the mic and grinned at Carlos.

"If it isn't the new old man of the grid," Max began, earning chuckles from the crowd. "You know, Carlos and I go way back to our Toro Rosso days. I remember when we first met, I thought, 'Wow, this guy's got great hair.' Then I realized that's all he's got!" everyone laughed once again, "Back at Toro Rosso, Carlos was always so dedicated. He'd spend hours studying my telemetry, trying to figure out how to be as fast as me. Spoiler alert: he's still trying!"

The crowd roared with laughter, Carlos included, as he playfully threw a napkin at Max.

"But in all seriousness, Carlos," Max continued with a grin, "you've always been one of the most hardworking and determined drivers on the grid. You never give up, no matter how many times you've been dropped by your teams mid season."

Carlos laughed, raising his glass to Max in a mock toast. "Thanks for the reminder, Max."

"Carlos, you're one of the best guys in the paddock. With your resting bitch face and all, you're always there with a helping hand. Even if your driving skills are debatable," he added with a wink. "Happy 30th, mate."

Max stepped down, and Carlos stood up to give him a hug, both of them laughing. You took the mic once more, "Thank you, Max, for that trip down memory lane. Now, let's welcome to the stage a man who's known for his infectious smile and his matchmaking skills. Please give it up for Daniel Ricciardo!"

Daniel bounded onto the stage with his characteristic enthusiasm, flashing his famous grin.

"G'day, everyone! Carlos, mate, happy birthday!" Daniel began, "You know, I've known Carlos for years, but my proudest achievement was introducing him to his lovely girlfriend, YN," you smiled at this, feeling Carlos squeeze your hand, "I thought to myself, 'This bloke needs someone who can put up with his golf obsession and his constant need for mirror checks.' And boy, did I deliver!"

The crowd erupted in laughter, with you and Carlos exchanging amused glances.

"I remember the day I introduced them," Daniel continued, "I told YN, 'Look, he's a great guy, but be prepared for endless conversations about tyre management and the perfect hair product.' Little did I know, she'd be nodding along enthusiastically!"

You playfully rolled your eyes as the audience chuckled.

"But seriously, folks," Daniel's tone softened slightly, "watching these two together is like watching a perfect pit stop - smooth, efficient, and occasionally involves someone getting sprayed with champagne."

Carlos pulled you closer, placing a kiss on your cheek as everyone 'aww'ed.

"Carlos, mate," Daniel concluded, raising his glass, "you've found yourself a keeper. Someone who can navigate your mood swings faster than you navigate Eau Rouge. YN, love, you've got yourself a man who's smoother than a freshly paved track... at least when he's not tripping over his own feet trying to impress you."

Daniel stepped down from the stage, approaching you and Carlos. You both stood up, enveloping him in a group hug, all three of you laughing and thanking him for his words.

"Alright, that was brilliant, Daniel. Now, let’s hear from let's hear from someone who's about to get very familiar with Carlos's driving quirks. Please welcome to the stage, Carlos's new future teammate, Alex Albon!"

Alex strode up to the stage with a playful grin, adjusting the microphone as he faced the audience.

"Well, well, well, if it isn't my new teammate, Carlos Sainz," Alex began, "You know, when I heard Carlos was joining Williams, I thought, 'Great, someone to help push the team forward!' Then I remembered his time at Ferrari and realized he's just as confused about strategy as the rest of us."

The room erupted in laughter, with Carlos good-naturedly shaking his head.

"But seriously, Carlos," Alex continued, "I'm excited to work with you. I mean, who wouldn't want a teammate who's been through more teams than I've had podiums? Toro Rosso, Renault, McLaren, Ferrari... Williams is just the latest stop on the Carlos Sainz World Tour, isn't it?"

Carlos raised his glass in mock salute, chuckling along with the audience.

"I have to say, though, I'm a bit worried," Alex said, feigning concern. "I've seen how competitive you are, Carlos. I just hope you remember that at Williams, we're usually racing against the clock, not other cars. But hey, at least you'll always beat the safety car... probably."

"You know, Carlos, I just realized we have something else in common besides our great hair and questionable career choices. We're both proud members of the 'No Appendix Club'!"

The room burst into laughter, with Carlos nodding in amused agreement.

"That's right, folks," Alex continued, "Carlos and I have both had our appendixes removed. I like to think it makes us more aerodynamic, but let's be honest, in Carlos's case, it's probably just made room for more hair product."

Carlos playfully patted his hair, eliciting more chuckles from the audience.

"But seriously," Alex said, "I suppose this means we're perfectly matched as teammates. We're both down an organ, so when Williams inevitably asks us to give 100%, we can honestly say we're already giving everything we've got - minus an appendix, of course! Happy birthday, teammate, here's to a season of driving a tractor, but at least we'll be together."

Alex stepped down from the stage and approached Carlos, who stood up to give him a hug patting his back.

"Now, let's welcome to the stage a man who needs no introduction, but I'll give him one anyway. Seven-time world champion and fashion icon, Lewis Hamilton!" you said and everyone clapped.

Lewis sauntered up to the stage with his characteristic cool demeanor. "Carlos, my man," he began, "I've got to hand it to you. You've had quite the career. Toro Rosso, Renault, McLaren, Ferrari, next year Williams, it's like you're collecting team merchandise,"Lewis grinned mischievously as he continued, "You know, Carlos, I've got to thank you. You've done such a great job warming up that Ferrari seat for me. It's like you were my personal seat heater all along!"

The crowd roared with laughter as Carlos playfully buried his face in his hands, and you rubbed his back comfortingly while chuckling.

"But seriously," Lewis continued with a grin, "You've made that Ferrari seat look good. I just hope I can live up to your legacy of looking devastatingly handsome while trying to figure out what on earth the pit wall is thinking."

Carlos laughed, shaking his head in mock despair. "Thanks, Lewis. I appreciate the… kind words."

"You know, Carlos, I've always admired your ability to stay positive," Lewis continued his roast, "No matter how many times you've been dropped from teams, you always manage to smile for the cameras. It's like you've mastered the art of looking happy while screaming internally. I'm taking notes mate!"

After a few more jabs Lewis concluded his roast, several other drivers took their turns at the mic, each adding their own flavor to the celebration. George joked about Carlos's infamous beach photos, Pierre told some stories about their Toro Rosso days and even Oscar joked about being surprised about being invited since him and Carlos always push each other off the track.

Finally, it was your turn. You stood up, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness as you approached the stage. Carlos looked at you with a huge smile.

"Well, well, well," you began, locking eyes with Carlos, "what can I say about Carlos Sainz that hasn't already been said? He's talented, he's handsome, and he's the only man I know who spends more time on his hair than I do."

The room filled with laughter as Carlos nodded in mock pride.

"But seriously, living with Carlos is an adventure," you continued, "He's always talking about smooth operations, but let me tell you, there's nothing smooth about the way he leaves his socks all over the house. It's like living in a minefield of sweaty foot prisons."

Carlos threw his head back in laughter along with the rest of the guests.

"And don't even get me started on his competitiveness. Everything's a race with this guy. Brushing teeth? Race. Getting dressed? Race. I'm surprised he hasn't tried to overtake me in bed yet!"

The room erupted in cheers and wolf whistles as Carlos turned a shade of red.

"But in all seriousness," your voice softened, "Carlos, you're the most incredible person I know. You're kind, passionate, and you never give up, whether it's on the track or trying to convince me that paella is a breakfast food."

You raised your glass, "To Carlos, the love of my life and the smoothest operator I know. Happy 30th birthday, mi amor. May your future be as bright as your smile and your pit stops be faster than your hair routine."

As you finished, Carlos stood up, his eyes shining with laughter and love. He pulled you into a tight embrace as the room filled with applause and cheers.

"I love you so much," he whispered into your ear, kissing your temple softly.

"Well, folks, I think we've successfully roasted Carlos to a crisp," you said with a grin. "But before we wrap up, I think it's only fair that the birthday boy gets a chance to respond. Carlos, amor, the floor is yours!"

"Wow," he began, his accent thicker than usual, "I'm not sure whether to feel honored or insulted. But I guess that's the point of a roast, right?" He paused as chuckles rippled through the room. "First off, I want to thank all of you for being here. It means a lot that you'd all take time out of your busy schedules to come and insult me."

Carlos thanked each of his friends with a blend of humor and sincerity, making everyone laugh. He playfully teased Charles about making him look good on track, jested with Lando about the success of his Spanish pickup lines with you, and expressed gratitude to Fernando for his mentorship while vowing to become the best Sainz in motorsports.

"And finally, to my beautiful girlfriend," Carlos's voice softened as he looked at you, "Thank you for organizing this amazing night, and for putting up with me every day. You're the real smooth operator here."

The room erupted in cheers and applause as Carlos stepped down from the stage. You met him halfway, wrapping your arms around him in a tight hug once again.

"Happy birthday, amor," you whispered in his ear, pulling away to kiss him softly.

[atskiruma]

his attempts at courting you

expl: he finds himself thinking about you more often, wanting to seek you out consistently, and giving you numerous gifts every day to see you smile

a/n: it has come to my attention that the last ff i wrote, (snow day) was not very well depicted for all readers to enjoy, i want to apologize for that and promise that i will get better at trying to make sure everyone is able to read it and enjoy it, my writings are targeted for all | unfortunately, i can not edit it right now seeing as there's a poll going on, but once that poll is finished i will change my wording in the ff

ask me anything masterlist

second person writing no pronouns used

Zhongli often felt himself thinking about you more often while he was working around the parlor. Even seeking out your name in conversations and listening more attentively when someone was speaking about you. It didn't confuse him though, he was aware of his interest in you.

You opened up the warmth in his heart and welcomed him kindly every time you two saw each other. It made him happy to see you happy, and this was evident when flowers were delivered directly to your door one sunny afternoon.

"These are for you," The mail lady said before turning around and walking away to do more deliveries. You didn't even get to ask who they were from before she was gone. Staring down at the bouquet of tiger lilies in front of you, you could only assume that the bright orange and black colors could depict a certain someone's hair color.

It was a nice piece on your kitchen counter and went well with the other decorations spiraling around your house. That was, until the next morning, you were greeted again with another gift. A bright orange vase to compliment the tiger lilies you received the other day. It was funny, why was he going out of his way to send you such nice gifts?

You finally managed to confront him when you saw Childe and Zhongli sitting together on the seats of an outside cafe. Walking over and waving to the both of them. They greeted you back, and small talk was given for only a couple minutes.

"I actually came over here to thank Zhongli," This caught his attention, and he turned to look up at you, "I really loved the flowers you sent and the vase goes really well with them too!" You said while smiling.

He nodded back at you, seemingly collecting himself extremely quickly at the fact you figured out so quick who it was. "I'm glad you liked them," He said.

"I came to give you this in return," You said," "I know it's probably not as extravagant as the ones you gave me, but I like it." Handing over the small gift box, he opened it and smiled softly at the item. It was a small keychain, nothing special, and it was decorated with a lovely orange seem.

That same keychain would be hung up right next to his bedframe, along with variant letters you sent him on the table accompanying it.

Diluc was someone who took courting another person seriously. He found it tradition since his father had spoken so much of it when Diluc was younger. He always wanted to treat the one he loved with respect and be as much of a gentleman as possible.

This was why you were taking a stroll with him through his grapevines on a sunny afternoon. He offered for you to come down to the Winery a couple days ago and you had just gotten around to accepting his offer. His hand rested on your back as he took you through multiple different paths and explained everything. As you strolled, he talked about things concerning the vine, his profits, the seasons they needed to be planted, etc.

You smiled at him, knowing it was something he took dear to his heart, and listened very attentively to what he was saying. In reality, Diluc was really hoping that all he was talking about didn't bore you in any way.

Then, the next couple of hours were spent sitting in his large dining room, eating food made by the cooks in his home. It was nice, and you were very happy that he wanted to spend this much time with you. Diluc even found himself watching you eat here and there, asking you if the food was good or if you needed anything else in the time being.

After everything was over, and the night sky shined over the two of you as you stood outside his doors, he leaned down and pressed a small kiss to your hand. Telling you how much of a pleasure it was to have you here, and how he wished you could stay longer.

Diluc even offered to walk you home, tediously not taking no for an answer, he reached down to take your hand and hold it the whole walk home.

Alhaitham was very closed off when he first met you, he was closed off with anyone in general. He found it strange that you always seemed to be there when he was thinking about you, and when his eyes would try and search a room in the akademiya for you.

He realized that something had to be done about this, so, he did what any other raging nerd would do, and researched about it.

You also found it odd when you'd see him looking at you from across the library, or holding the door open for you whenever you'd walking behind him. Alhaitham always seemed like the guy who only cared about his own, yet he was so evident in helping you out here and there.

Helping you when you'd be confused about a book, rewording your essays to make them better. Alhaitham seemed to want to assist you with almost everything. This was no different than today.

You found yourself back at the library looking down at a long-written parchment on the forest rangers' activities. Trying to figure out how you could make this work in the essay you were conducting on Sumeru's forest.

This was when you heard the chair scrap right next to you, and looked up from where you had originally been focused. Alhaitham took his seat next to you, slightly taking up more space than necessary with his manspreading.

"Do you need help with that? It looks like a longer report than usual for you."

"Longer than usual?" You shot back, "Are you saying that I'm not capable of reading this?" His eyes widened a bit and he instantly tried to retort his original statement. "No, no, I thought- Well- You know you usually read shorter reports in order to get more details. I didn't think you'd take something this large to account."

His confession made you smile, and you leaned in closer, "How'd you know how I like my reports?" At the response with your cheeky grin, a blush formed on his cheeks before he looked away.

"Scholars are supposed to be attentive, it's natural to know a few things you prefer in order to work best with you."

The response he sent back your way caused you to roll your eyes and turn back to what you were originally doing. "To answer your question, no, I do not need help, but thank you for offering."

That didn't seem to make him budge, because he kept sitting there watching you copy down and write words from the book.

"You misspelled climate."

The sound of a book colliding with his head echoed throughout the library.

Ayato enjoyed your company, a lot, so much that he seeks you out anytime he and his sister go down to festivals or strolls through the city. He always wanted to start up a conversation with you, and if anyone else walked by anytime he'd be down there, Ayato would be right next to you listening with a smile at whatever you said.

Ayaka loved you too and found it amusing that her brother was so interested in you. She often found herself trying to spark up conversations with you, asking if her older brother proposed yet in a joking manner.

You laughed it off, Ayato was nice but you were sure he had other rich and important people to concern his love life with. He was just a very nice man to talk with here and there, and you didn't seem to notice that you were one of the few he'd actually seek out.

That was, until, every time he saw you, he came with some form of jewelry or expensive item to give you. Asking you how your day was, what you were doing, and if you wanted to come to spend some time up at the estate with him.

"What about Ayaka?" You said with a tilt of your head in confusion. He smiled back and said, "I'm sure she'd rather stay down here and explore more of the shops.

Ayaka would have loved to come along, but before she could even turn around, the two of you were already heading back up to the estate.

He catered to you, made sure you were comfortable, and even asked if you'd like anything from his personal chefs. It was a bit much to handle, seeing as you weren't used to living so luxurious, but he was very nice about it all and understood.

The catering didn't stop after that day either, more and more people began to wonder why the Kamisato siblings were spending so much more time outside their palace. Ayaka once mentioned that you loved a certain color, and the next day Ayato was handing you a box with that color, and a necklace with the pearl containing that color too.

He even found himself marching over to you when he saw someone speaking to you in a more flirtatious matter. Moving next to you and asking if everything was alright while his hand wrapped around your own.

[myfairstarlight]

The Innocent Game of Flirting

AO3 Link.

Rated: T

Length: 10.8k

Pairing: Colin Bridgerton x Penelope Featherington

Canon Divergence

Based on the replies on my jealous Colin post here.

Summary:

It is the 1812 season. Penelope Featherington, out in society a year too early and watching the love of her life court her cousin, refuses to wallow in self-pity. Determined to escape her family home, she resolves to secure a proposal. Following a piece of advice from Daphne, Penelope successfully attracts the interest of a suitor in Lord Remington. However, her little scheme brings about unexpected consequences. Or: A season 1 AU where a determined Penelope uses her friendship with Colin to practice her flirting skills, leading to a very confused and flustered Colin, who soon forgets which Featherington lady he is meant to be courting.

*additional notes on ao3

꧁༺࿅ིཽ• –– •❈• –– •࿅ིཽ༻꧂

Penelope grins as she unveils her new dresses, devoid of that horrid yellow she was forced to adorn in her first few social events. Instead, an array of light pink, green and blue now adorn her wardrobe and she could not be more pleased.

“Thank you Papa!” she exclaims, hugging him despite his stiff demeanour.

“I will never hear the end of it with your mother,” her Papa sighs, even as he hugs her back with one arm then pats her head. “But you’re welcome, darling.”

She hums, bouncing on her feet as she releases him. She can now prepare for the ball tonight with a sound mind. The plan worked much more efficiently than she expected, as her Papa managed to resell the old yellow gowns, giving her some extra pin money, and she had Eloise to thank for such a success.

“Your Papa has a soft spot for you, does he not?” her best friend had said, the night after Penelope’s first ball, wherein she spent the whole night sticking to walls. “And you have two older sisters, as well as an older cousin out in society with multiple suitors already, surely your Mama will focus on them first. If you stubbornly refuse to attend events, she will leave you be but your Papa might notice! He’ll ask what’s wrong and voilà, you get better gowns than those ill-fitting yellow atrocities.”

“And even if he does not notice, frankly, you will not miss much at these balls,” Daphne had sighed. “Outside of my brother being insufferable.”

Her wardrobe is now sorted out, but there is still the issue of… well, her personality. For that, Daphne is the one who gives her a piece of advice when they find each other at the Vauxhall Ball.

“Your personality is dazzling as it is,” the other debutante chides. “You simply need to be comfortable, and courtship is meant to do just that— allow you to get to know someone so you may feel comfortable enough to speak your mind.”

“But for that, I would need to not chase them away with my awkward ways in the first place.”

“Well, some gentlemen like that. My brothers never seem to mind!”

“Your brothers have known me for years, it is hardly a good argument.”

“But you never tried flirting with them! It can be good practice, without the pressure of securing a proposal at the end.”

Penelope hums at that. Daphne is right, it could be good practice. Although she hardly sees herself trying to flirt with Anthony, she knows Benedict would humour her and so would Colin.

And if it could allow her to let her feelings about the latter out without any consequence…

“So… how does one flirt?”

“Men are rather simple creatures, my brothers are no different, though they pretend otherwise. Feed their ego, compliment them, but do not appear too eager.”

“Uh…”

“Oh! Anthony is heading this way, I must go,” Daphne says suddenly, promptly untangling their arms and fleeing towards the garden.

“Wait Da— Oh well.” Penelope pouts, watching her go, and then raises an eyebrow when she catches the Duke of Hastings also disappearing in the same direction after avoiding Lady Danbury.

Penelope is about to follow suit, curiosity guiding her thoughts, when she hears a familiar voice call her name.

“Pen!”

She startles, promptly twirling around to see Colin approaching.

“Colin!” She curtsies. “I did not know you would be here!” she says, trying to contain her excitement but failing miserably at it.

“Sorry to disappoint,” Colin jests. “Have you seen Miss Thompson?” he asks next as he looks around.

The smile drops from Penelope’s lips, which she promptly hides behind her hand as she pretends to be thinking. She knew Colin to be deeply infatuated with her cousin, but she expected at least some remark from her friend about her absence in previous social events, instead of asking about Marina’s whereabouts. No such luck, she supposes. 

Daphne’s words echo into her mind again, and resolve settles in her heart.

“She is ill,” she responds, watching the disappointment fall on Colin’s face, “my mama had to stay home with her, my papa had to chaperone tonight.” She points towards her father who’s already downing his third drink of the night, if she has counted correctly.

“It is quite a shame,” she continues, “you look dashing tonight.”

“I—” Colin stammers, clearly taken aback. Penelope tilts her head, does he not think her honest in her compliment?

“I am being earnest!” she insists. “Of course, you always do. This outdoor ball just brings out quite a whimsical atmosphere, do you not think?”

Colin seems to finally find his composure as he smiles fondly. “I agree, it is a breath of fresh air compared to the usually stuffy ballrooms.”

“Exactly!” she chuckles, fiddling with her dance card. She recalls Daphne doing the same to incite gentlemen to sign it, without outright asking for it. The movement draws their eyes to it, and a gentleman never denies a lady a dance, even if the request is unspoken.

“And— you look whimsical as well, Pen,” Colin compliments, making her flush, “that charming green dress suits you finely, one could mistake you for a mystical wood fairy.”

“Colin, you flatter me!”

“I am being earnest,” he repeats her words with a bright smile of his own.

Penelope chuckles — she was right, Colin would humour her without a second thought.

“Mr Bridgerton,” a grating voice interrupts their conversation and Penelope barely holds herself back from rolling her eyes as Cressida Cowper suddenly appears, not so subtly pushing her aside.

“I believe you owe me a dance this evening, and I have only one space left remaining on my card at present,” the blonde debutante coyly says, dangling said card in front of Colin’s eyes.

“How convenient,” Penelope slips out.

Cressida promptly spills her drink on her, and Penelope gasps, jumping back at the sudden coldness hitting her skin. Fortunately, the forest green of her dress hides the stain that the lemonade would have left but Penelope can hear the women accompanying Cressida already giggling and whispering between themselves. She turns around, willing her tears not to fall, but refusing to let Cressida see how affected she is by her action.

“I’m afraid I cannot offer you that dance, Miss Cowper,” Colin says, disdain barely hidden in his innocent tone.

A gentleman never denies a lady a dance.

“I am to escort Miss Featherington to the dance floor.”

Huh? Penelope turns around, blinking away her tears while Colin simply offers his hand, blatantly ignoring the gawking debutantes and a scowling Cressida witnessing the whole scene. When Penelope fails to move, too stunned, Colin gets closer and simply takes her hand and leads her away.

Penelope follows along numbly.

“Colin, you did not have to do that,” she whispers as they take their place on the dance floor. A quadrille.

“I needed a reason to not dance with her, frankly,” he says. “And I wanted to dance with you, too.”

The dance begins before she can think of an answer.

Well, he is just humouring her again now. They used to practise dancing together, before either of them was out in society, in the safety of the Bridgerton drawing room, yet he never expressed a desire to dance with her ever since. At her first ball, she had hoped — foolishly perhaps — that Colin would ask for her first-ever dance, if not as a suitor, at least as a friend, but his eyes quickly settled on Marina and the rest of the room had faded. And now, this instance does not stem from Colin’s desire for her company, but rather his desire to escape Cressida’s vicious claw, is it not?

Even so, Penelope smiles. This remains her first dance as a debutante, and although she wishes to move on, she can at least cherish the fact that this first is with Colin.

“Well, you are my favourite dance partner, after all,” Penelope says suddenly, during a short pause in the frantic steps of the dance. “Did you know?”

“Mm?”

Their hands join as they spin together, never breaking eye contact.

“Your eyes shine the brightest when you are kind. I think I can easily get lost in them.”

Colin’s step suddenly falters, and Penelope almost steps on his feet. Colin promptly winds an arm around her waist so she does not trip. She squeaks, she hopes discreetly, at the way her friend effortlessly lifts her up and then resumes the dance like nothing was amiss.

As the dance ends and they bow to each other, Colin clears his throat.

“Thank you.” His voice cracks. “You’re—” He never finishes his sentence. Penelope almost feels bad at his flustered state.

Daphne was right, flattering men is easy. Penelope grins, emboldened by this successful attempt. She turns around and catches the eye of a gentleman, alone by the refreshment table, with two glasses of lemonade in his hands and a bored pout on his lips. Lord Remington, if she recalls correctly. He raises an eyebrow, maintaining eye contact and Penelope makes her decision right then. She will enjoy her night!

“Well! Thank you for this dance Colin,” she says, “I am quite parched now.”

That seems to startle Colin into reality. “Oh, I can fetch you—”

“No, it is alright, I shall take this as an opportunity to scour for suitors, should I not? Have a good evening, Colin!”

She cannot quite help the way she bounces on her feet, perhaps a bit too eager, as she makes her way to Lord Remington. Fortunately enough, the gentleman only chuckles, as he offers her the extra glass.

For the rest of the evening, she shares two more dances with Colin, who seems rather reluctant to dance with anyone else since Marina is absent, but she spends the rest of her time discussing with Lord Remington at that same refreshment table. When she comes home, she hugs her father once more for the evening — he only half-heartedly returns it as always before disappearing into his study — and collapses on her bed with a relieved sigh.

She still had no name on her card, as Colin monopolised her night otherwise — though she did take it as an opportunity to practise putting her heart out in the open — but it is a start.

꧁༺࿅ིཽ• –– •❈• –– •࿅ིཽ༻꧂

A week or so passes like any other, surprisingly enough without any nagging from Penelope’s mother about her new wardrobe — in fact, her dear mother seems quite distressed about something else, refusing to give more details regarding Marina’s condition and forbidding all her daughters from seeing their poor cousin. 

Penelope does not see Colin nor Lord Remington at the next events in that period either. She knows Lord Remington had business to attend to outside of London, as for Colin, she simply assumes that with Marina indisposed, he is not bothering to entertain other interested debutantes.

(Though, now that she thinks about it, she has not seen any of the Bridgertons at social events at all, not even Daphne or Anthony.) 

On her part, she has tried to speak to suitors again, and she managed short conversations with Lord Debling and a certain Lord Basilio the night before, but she did not feel the same easiness with them as she did with Colin or Lord Remington. And she still has no name on her dance card.

With her mother refusing any visitors for the duration of Marina’s mysterious illness, Penelope could not exactly secure a caller either. It simply feels like a waste of time.

However, that morning, her father abruptly declared that they would be accepting visitors, forcing Marina out of the prison that her room had begun to become.

Therefore, due to Marina’s absence from past social events, her long line of suitors are quite eager to see her again, so it is no surprise that as soon as calling hours fall upon their day, a few gentlemen are already announced. Penelope swiftly finds her place by the windowsill to read, expecting a lively afternoon for her cousin, but a rather boring one for herself, that is, until their footman Briarly announces:

“A visitor for Miss Penelope.”

Her sisters and mother exclaim in surprise, meanwhile, Penelope manages to maintain her composure, somehow. She jumps to her feet when Lord Remington is escorted in.

“Miss Penelope!” he greets with a boyish smile that has Penelope giggling. “For you, dear lady.”

Flowers! Ironically enough, yellow ones, but she is much too elated to care about such triviality. Penelope grabs the bouquet carefully, a wide smile stretching her lips.

“Thank you, Lord Remington,” she says. “I did not expect your visit…” she admits sheepishly.

“That was rather rude of me to not tell you I was back in London indeed, but I wished to surprise you. Your father owed me a favour as well.” Oh, that explains why her father insisted they open their house to society once more, although when she looks at her father, he guiltily looks away. “And I was much eager to continue our last conversation.”

Penelope playfully gasps. “My, have you heard more about Lord Fife’s failed attempts at charming maids?”

Lord Remington chortles. “Perhaps so! Although, I was also hoping to learn more about you, Miss Penelope.” At that, he offers his hand and Penelope gently reaches for it with her free hand. Swiftly, he deposits a kiss on the back of her glove and she turns bright red.

She can hear her mother gasping, a mix of surprise and delight. She refuses to look in her sisters’ direction, however.

“You two might feel a bit crowded in this corner,” Portia chimes in then. “Prudence, stand up and go sit with Philippa instead, let your sister and her suitor be there.”

Prudence glares but eventually listens and stands from the armchair near the fireplace. Penelope has to bite her lips not to grin in triumph.

Therefore, she sits down on the armchair, setting the flowers on the small table near it, while Lord Remington angles his wheelchair so they can comfortably speak to each other. Penelope rests the book she had been reading on the arm between them as they engage in conversation.

Penelope loses track of time afterwards. Her discussion with Lord Remington feels easy, and natural, though she fails to find it anything other than friendly as her heart has not fluttered once outside of that kiss on her hand. She also cannot find it in herself to place any flirty comments to perhaps stir the conversation into more courting material, but she is quite enjoying his childhood tales and hearing all the gossip he seems to have amassed within his family. Perhaps she does need more practice after all… she cannot remain a friend in the eyes of another gentleman she is trying to pursue after all! She refuses to be stuck in that situation a second time!

“Pen,” a familiar voice calls her suddenly and she startles. Lord Remington, on his part, only tilts his head with a raised eyebrow at the intrusion.

Or at the awful familiarity with which this other gentleman has just addressed a lady.

“Oh, Colin, good d—” She is interrupted by Colin suddenly shoving a bouquet of lilies and lavender in front of her. “Thank you…?”

Colin beams, eyes shining akin to a puppy getting praise.

It takes her a few seconds to realise Colin is also kneeling in front of her.

“Uh. I thought Mr Bridgerton was announced for Miss Thompson,” Philippa comments. She probably meant to whisper it, however, the middle Featherington girl has never been good at keeping her voice down.

A heavy silence ensues. Penelope catches Marina’s narrowed eyes, and she is not quite sure if she is supposed to say something — she is just as lost by Colin’s behaviour, and she hopes her confusion translates into her gaze.

“Well, I realised I never gifted Pen anything before despite our years of acquaintances and my many visits here, that makes me an awful friend, does it not?” Colin says eventually.

Friend. Right. Penelope smiles, trying to ignore that familiar feeling of disappointment tugging at her heart.

“Thank you, Colin,” she whispers, as chatter fills the room again. “Have you met Lord Remington?” she asks, not recalling if the two ever exchanged even pleasantries at the Vauxhall Ball.

“We’re familiar,” the latter says. “Though we have not spoken since Eton, have we, Bridgerton?”

“Indeed, Remington.”

Lord Remington narrows his eyes. “So, how are you?”

“Fine.”

What a stilted conversation.

Penelope bites her lip, eyes going from one gentleman to the other and coming to an uncomfortable realisation — they look alike, do they not? Brunettes with deep blue eyes, along with a boyish and charming smile. Oh dear, did she unconsciously seek someone similar to Colin, at least in appearance?

“Will you be staying on the floor, Mr Bridgerton?” Portia asks, confusion apparent in her voice. “We can get you a cushion, at the very least. Although I believe there is still a seat near Miss Thompson available.”

Penelope sees Marina not so subtly shoving a suitor away, forcing the poor gentleman to stand up.

“Oh!” Colin blinks, looking rather lost himself, and he nearly loses his balance, if not for Lord Remington grabbing his arm before he could fall. “Uh, thanks.”

“No worries,” the other gentleman smiles. “Your lady awaits you I believe.”

Penelope gives a bemused smile when Colin looks at her as if asking for guidance. Eventually, although reluctantly, it seems, Colin stands up and takes the seat next to Marina.

“The room is getting rather crowded,” Penelope says, as many others of Marina’s suitors have arrived in the meantime. “Shall we go to the garden, my lord?”

“Please!” the gentleman agrees, letting out a low chuckle. “Some fresh air would be wonderful.”

Penelope quite agrees.

꧁༺࿅ིཽ• –– •❈• –– •࿅ིཽ༻꧂

Unfortunately, at the next ball, Lord Remington is not present; he did inform her it would be unlikely for him to attend events where dancing is at the centre, which unfortunately tends to be most of them. The Vauxhall ball just happened to intrigue him with the promise of the light show.

Truth be told, it is a bit frustrating — her father has told her that though Lord Remington specifically asked to call on her, the gentleman has not requested permission to start a proper courtship with her. She wonders if, once again, she found herself a friend, rather than a suitor.

She is not sure where she has failed, once isolated in the garden of her childhood home, she had complimented him the way she had with Colin, and Lord Remington seemed rather unaffected compared to the way Colin had reacted, instead of stumbling with his words and turning a subtle shade of red, Lord Remington had simply smiled and thanked her, giving her compliments of his own.

Her heart also did not flutter at his words, but that was to be expected. Although determined to marry, she knows a love match is not a possibility, for her heart is too stubborn to let go of the man she was born for, but who was born for another.

Even so, she supposes she must entertain other options than Lord Remington, as kind and funny he is, lest she still spends most of the season clinging to walls once more.

“Our host looks a bit fussy,” a familiar voice suddenly says behind her, startling her. “Do you think if he goes to bed we all have to leave?”

Penelope chuckles. “Colin!”

Colin grins cheekily. “It is lucky the lady produced an heir before the old earl croaked, no?”

“Lucky indeed,” she agrees, unconsciously leaning against Colin’s side. “But do you not think the boy bears a passing resemblance to Lady Trowbridge’s footman?”

“Penelope, what a barb!” Colin chuckles before he reaches for her card.

Instinctively, Penelope pulls it away before he can catch it. She regrets it immediately when Colin sends her the saddest look she has ever seen on a human being.

“What are you doing?” she asks.

“What are you doing?” Colin counters. “I simply wished to secure a dance with you.”

“... Why?”

“Do I need a reason?”

Yes! The desire to court me! She does not say that.

“Well, there is no notion of securing a spot on my card, as it has remained empty, and you know this. I hear Miss Thompson has yet to leave the dance floor, however.”

“I have already spoken with Miss Thompson, all her dances have been claimed indeed.”

Penelope is unsurprised, however she keeps her dance card close to her chest, even with Colin’s hand still hovering in front of her. Perhaps it is petty, but she already had her first dance as a debutante with Colin, and she wishes to have an actual suitor as the first name on her card.

Eventually, Colin seems to understand she will not relent, so he clears his throat. “So… you and Lord Remington?”

“What about him and I?”

“Are you considering him a proper prospect? He’s… young…”

Penelope blinks.

“Colin, he’s your age.”

Colin gapes as if he has forgotten this fact.

“... My point still stands, somewhat. He may not be as serious as you about courtship.”

“Colin, thank you for looking out for me, but you do not need to.”

“Pen that is not…” He pauses. “You love to dance.”

She narrows her eyes at the sudden statement. “Careful before you utter a rude remark.”

“What? Oh! No, I did not mean in regards to his… oh this came out wrong,” Colin stumbles on his words, cheeks turning red in shame. “Simply, you love to dance, and I know you and Lord Remington have… started… uh, a courtship.”

“Do not sound so pained and surprised,” she deadpans, not bothering to correct him anyway.

“But you do not need to deny dances for his sake,” Colin continues, ignoring her remark. “You are not a claimed woman. Should you not entertain other suitors?”

Well, do you see any lining up for my hand?! She almost petulantly answers. Instead, she takes a breath, turning her gaze to the dance floor, where she meets Marina’s eyes for a brief moment. She currently is dancing with an old earl, and looks rather displeased about it — is it cruel of Penelope to despise how ungrateful her cousin is with the natural attention she has brought to herself? Even so, she sends her a supportive smile and does not miss the way Marina’s eyes flit towards Colin for a second.

“Are you volunteering to start my empty list?” Penelope mutters, more of a derisive question than a true request. Before she can find out if he heard her, however, she tugs at his sleeve. “Would you do me a favour?”

“Mm? Of course.”

“Miss Thompson seems rather eager for a rescue.”

Marina’s name seems to startle Colin into reality. He straightens his back. “Oh! Indeed she does.”

Penelope’s heart flutters and breaks at the same time at the hopeful look now in Colin’s eyes. “You’re so cute,” she says  — because she has gotten used to being honest. “Now go.”

“Pen what did you just say—”

She nudges him onto the dance floor before he can finish his question. She then promptly blends into the crowd and leaves the ball early, feeling quite defeated and refusing to admit the fault may lie with her treacherous heart.

꧁༺࿅ིཽ• –– •❈• –– •࿅ིཽ༻꧂

That very night, Marina tells her, in an elated voice, that she has settled her attentions on Colin at last, praising his kindness, his humour, and, more importantly, his youth. Penelope only smiles and wishes her and Colin the best, in a voice she hopes is not half-hearted.

And yet, in the days that follow this declaration, in which Colin visits almost daily, Penelope senses a shift in Marina, she who once treated her gently the way her sisters never did, her cousin now is rather cold, looking at her with apprehension and resentment, though no cruel words leave her lips, at the very least. It makes Penelope itch — she thought she finally found a friend in this dreadful house but it seems she was being naive.

Perhaps it is fate being gentle on her, but just as Marina has decided to regard her as a hindrance, a certain Mr Finch starts to show interest in Philippa, prompting the latter to cling to Penelope as she asks her younger sister for advice — and to have an ear to gush to about the loveable cheese-enthusiast gentleman. As a result, Penelope spends many of her afternoons with her, Mr Finch and Lord Remington around a cup of tea.

(That is when Colin does not decide to make an appearance to steal some cookies from Penelope’s plate every time.)

And yet, as the days pass, no proposal seems to be on the horizon, for any of the ladies in the house. Penelope is not surprised for herself, Lord Remington has not shown any sign of seeking a wife this season despite his flirtatious ways, but Mr Finch seems so besotted with her sister that she is surprised they have not already eloped. As for Colin and Marina, she had been so sure that as soon as Marina started denying her other suitors, Colin would jump on the opportunity to secure his future with her, he who seemed so eager at the beginning of the season.

Penelope has heard the servants talk, however. She knows of her father’s gambling addiction and the very possibility that her and her sisters’ dowries may have gone into one of his dangerous and reckless games. Marina’s dowry, separated from their fortune, should still be intact, however.

She suspects the lack of proposal and this rumour may not be unrelated.

When they get an invitation from the Bridgertons for Daphne and the Duke of Hastings’ engagement party, Penelope cannot help the sense of foreboding taking over her heart as she catches her mother and Marina sharing a conspiratorial look. Even so, she turns to Philippa instead who excitedly intertwines their arms, insisting that they must invite their suitors as well. Penelope agrees wholeheartedly.

Only to learn they cannot.

“It will only be a small gathering, the Duke insisted, and we forgot to put the details in the invitation,” Colin explains later that day when he visits. “You are old friends of the family, so Daphne insisted you must come.” Penelope has to stop herself from laughing. She knows he does not mean the rest of her family. “Oh, and this is for you, Pen.”

He hands Penelope a copy of Sense and Sensibility. She gasps, successfully distracted.

“I heard the wedding is only a week from now, that is rather quick, was your sister not just being courted by the prince?” Lord Remington, who also happened to be calling on Penelope at the moment, inquires.

“The Duke has simply come to his senses and secured my sister’s hand before anyone else could,” Colin responds, and Penelope swears his eyes fall briefly on her. “I do apologise that you cannot be of attendance, my friend.”

“I will pretend that your words are sincere.” The other gentleman chuckles. “Well, if you are to monopolise Miss Penelope’s time tomorrow, my lady, shall we leave for a promenade this afternoon? The weather has not been quite this nice in a while, after all.”

“Oh! Mr Finch should arrive any moment, shall we all go together?” Philippa chimes in, jumping from her seat to wrap her arms around Penelope from behind.

Lord Remington smiles politely, though it is obvious he expected a private outing. “Uh, of course.”

“Splendid! Oh, we should have a picnic as well! Varley, could you have the cook prepare something?”

“I have not even answered yet…” Penelope mutters, meeting Lord Remington's amused eyes. The man has also grown used to her sister's air-headed and excitable ways.

“Shall we join as well, Mr Bridgerton? Some fresh air may be quite pleasing,” Marina says.

Colin seems taken by surprise. “Ah, I'm afraid I cannot, I must help with some preparations.”

“But you said it would be an intimate gathering,” the other gentleman points out.

“Pen, I expect a full commentary of the book tomorrow, yes?” Colin asks, thoroughly ignoring the pointed remark and Marina’s narrowing eyes.

“You… read it?” 

“Of course! You know how Eloise is not so fond of these books, and I need someone to talk about them with. So. Promise?”

Penelope chuckles. “Very well, I promise.”

Colin beams before swiftly taking his leave without meeting anyone’s eyes.

Penelope is not quite sure why, upon the door closing behind him, the rest of the room sends her an incredulous look.

“What? Colin and I are friends, this is not the first time he’s come simply to give me something.” Last time, the flowers were a surprise, but a book is not necessarily a courting gift. This is just Colin being thoughtful — Penelope recalls lamenting being unable to find this book at the beginning of the season although she only shared this information with Eloise.

“Ah! That is true,” Philippa concedes, prompting Marina to relax on the couch. 

Lord Remington looks at the book thoughtfully, and at the way Penelope cradles it ever so gently to her chest. He remains silent, however.

꧁༺࿅ིཽ• –– •❈• –– •࿅ིཽ༻꧂

They find a quaint little spot below a willow tree where they decide to settle for the picnic. Philippa sets the food and baskets with Mrs Varley's help, while Penelope helps Lord Remington out of his wheelchair.

“I can usually manage on my own,” he shares, leaning ever so slightly against her as they sit, “but this is good practice, is it not?”

Penelope’s heart skips a beat. “Do you mean—” 

“Well, perhaps I am getting ahead of myself.” He pauses, looking at Mr Finch for a moment. The other man seems entranced by a piece of cheese Phillippa is presenting him. “Miss Penelope, you must know that your father has advised me and Mr Finch from proposing.” Penelope only sighs. “You do not seem surprised.”

“I have had my suspicions, especially considering our quickly shortening staff. And the fact I have had to wear some gowns twice, to my mother’s dismay”

“A lady such as you should not have to worry about such things.”

“Why should I not if my father’s careless games define my future, my lord?” Penelope says. “On your part, you do not seem angered.”

Lord Remington gives a sheepish smile. “It is true my concern lies more with Mr Finch. To be honest, my lady, I had no intention of finding a wife this season.”

“I gathered.”

“Observant as ever, my lady.”

Penelope chuckles. Her heart feels lighter than she expected to — in fact, it is a bit of a relief to have the confirmation, rather than constantly overthink where she may have failed in her plan to entice a gentleman.

“But I do like you, Penelope.” She startles a little at the sudden familiarity in the lord’s voice. Her breath hitches as Lord Remington reaches for her hand, gently bringing it to his chest. “However, and I apologise for how vain this will sound, but I cannot allow myself to marry if the lady has no dowry. My parents can be… insufferable, in those matters, and I would rather not put you in this situation, especially given how costly my treatments can be. This chair and its maintenance, for one.”

Penelope smiles, fingers curling around his palm and squeezing once. “I understand. And your parents only worry about your well-being as well, I am sure.” Her lack of dowry is a reality she now needs to face. Her prospects have significantly lowered once more, with this factor that is outside of her hands, though, really, it is so late in the season now, she wonders if she simply has to accept that she must wait another year — that is if she is lucky enough to get a second season.

“You give them too much grace,” Lord Remington laughs. “I believe I can settle this matter with time, and as I have mentioned, your father owes me as well. Next season, perhaps, I can proudly present my ring to you, if you are willing to wait for me.”

Penelope does not answer for a while, although that is a dilemma she has just pondered in her head. Her eyes observe the man before her, a perfect suitor by all means. Kind, humorous, young, devoted… Well, does that not sound quite familiar? She looks at her sister and Mr Finch afterwards, noting the lovesick looks and Philippa’s wide smile. It frustrates her, that after all, she still wishes for such a carefree and loving romance. She knows Lord Remington has chosen his words carefully. He likes her. And perhaps it is unfair of her to expect any man to still wish for her hand without a hefty price behind it. Her pragmatic side knows it is not a possibility — Mr Finch is as smitten as they come and yet has not fought her father for Philippa’s hand.

And then, there is the poor romantic soul in her. Perhaps her mother is right, she reads too much, after all.

“It is not a matter of willingness, but rather one of ability, is it not?” she answers eventually.

“You evade my question.”

“Observant as ever, my lord.” She looks at their joined hands. “I cannot honestly promise I will wait,” she admits.

Understanding, rather than disappointment, shapes the curve of Lord Remington’s smile.

“Although, frankly, if I can be in Mayfair again for next season, you would not have much competition anyhow, even without me promising,” she jests.

“You underestimate yourself, Penelope,” the gentleman is quick to refute. “In fact… Someone else has warned me to be careful. That was not the word he used, but I would hate to subject your delicate ears to such language.”

Penelope sighs. “Mr Bridgerton is a protective friend, that is all.”

“I did not even need to say a name.” He laughs at her wide eyes. “Mr Bridgerton is neither your family, nor your suitor, and yet the way he spoke to me gave me the feeling he had a pistol ready to draw.”

“Surely you jest!”

Lord Remington shakes his head. “I wish it was merely an entertaining piece of gossip. Mr Bridgerton is quite blind, or perhaps stupid.” Penelope cannot help the small noise of protest that escapes her lips before she can stop it. “But he has clearly shown his interest these past few weeks, only not in Miss Thompson.” He takes a breath. “Your heart belongs to him, does it not? He is the one you are waiting for.”

“I do not want to!” Penelope refutes, implicitly confirming the man’s suspicion. “I— it was merely an infatuation, when he decided to court my cousin, I knew I had to move on. And please, do not assume I do not like you! If you proposed right at this moment, I’d…” She falters — she cannot even finish that sentence.

Her friend gives her a knowing look. “We can pretend I have. It would simply be a half-truth. If by next season, you are still a debutante, then we shall marry. Otherwise, there is no harm. Simply a promise between us without the pressure of the final decision. And perhaps the rumour of your engagement will spur him into action.”

“James, that is ludicrous.”

“Oh, now you use my name!” He laughs. “Allow me this opportunity to mess with him after the hassle he put me through.”

“You will be thoroughly disappointed, Colin would be supportive, rather than insanely jealous over you as you expect him to be.”

“I would wager a bet over this matter, but that is a dangerous path. As your father would know.”

Penelope rolls her eyes.

“You would lose anyhow,” she insists.

“We will see, my lady.”

She suspects he simply is pleased to be the source of some entertaining piece of gossip for once.

꧁༺࿅ིཽ• –– •❈• –– •࿅ིཽ༻꧂

Penelope is not quite sure why she and her family were invited to this engagement party when, aside from Lady Danbury, the Duke does not seem to have invited a family of his own. If they desired an intimate gathering, inviting the eccentric Featheringtons was far from a good idea. And if she has to listen to her mother embarrassingly try to make Lady Bridgerton and Lady Danbury laugh with her jokes, Penelope might fake an illness to be able to escape.

“A blue dress today? Trying to become an official part of the family?” Benedict Bridgerton comes up to her with that signature charming smile of his.

“Are you volunteering to make that happen?” she jests back, self-consciously brushing her skirts, indeed noting the eerily similar colour to Eloise’s dress or Benedict’s and Colin’s waistcoats. Not a deliberate choice, truth be told.

Benedict laughs. “I hear that you soon won’t bear the Featherington name, I may be too late?”

Ah. So the rumour has already spread in a mere day, for Benedict, of all people to hear about it.

“Tonight is not about me,” is all she says. “Your brother seems miffed.”

“Which one?”

“The Viscount.”

“Ah. The Duke is a close friend of his, yet he does not trust him with our Daphne. I think he’s being purposely obtuse. These two are quite smitten, as we say.”

Penelope recalls Lord Remington’s remark about the pressing wedding date, and despite her best judgement, it makes her observe Daphne and the Duke with more scrutiny than she ought to. They seem happy and content indeed, but she cannot help but sense some guilt from the gentleman, and some tension in the curves of Daphne’s smiles. Penelope sees love, yet one not quite yet resolved, in a sense. But she supposes, married life ought to refine the shape of their bond.

“Colin has been looking for you, so I am surprised to be finding you alone, not even with Eloise,” Benedict says.

“Eloise retired to her room early to avoid your mother,” she responds, prompting the man to chuckle under his breath. “As for Colin, I have not seen him at all apart from a brief glimpse upon arrival.”

“I have not seen your cousin either.” A shiver runs down Penelope’s spine at the remark. Benedict looks troubled, brow subtly furrowed as he scans the room. “Our mothers and Anthony seem fortunately occupied, if you understand what I mean.”

She nods. However, before they part in search of the missing pair, she asks, “Do you not trust your brother?”

Benedict smiles, a bit guiltily. “It is not him I do not trust.” He shakes his head. “I will check upstairs in the bedrooms, could you check the studies and library?”

Penelope has no time to respond before he leaves. She sighs, rubbing her left arm before she swiftly exits the room as well.

Eloise has told her how uneasy her family felt about the courtship between Colin and Marina, yet she has never witnessed it first-hand. Knowing her friend, Penelope assumed Eloise was being her usual hyperbolic self, but if even Benedict seems to distrust the courtship, he who is usually so welcoming, then… She shakes her head, her steps leading her to Anthony’s study by the staircase.

And noticing the door being half-opened, a faint light coming from inside. Her lips press into a thin line — she has heard her mother talk about her youth, when she prepared her and her sisters for the season, of how to secure a gentleman, some ladies would intentionally lure men into an isolated room, but leave the door slightly ajar, in the hope of another guest, or even a servant, taking notice. It could be the other way around as well, although her mother was sure to point out that men are much less eager about a marital prospect. Penelope’s heart sinks — surely Marina would not…?

She tentatively approaches the door. As such she can vaguely discern Colin and Marina standing in the middle of the room. Well, Penelope can only see Colin’s back, completely hiding Marina behind his imposing figure, but she can catch a glimpse of Marina’s yellow dress peeking between his legs.

Suddenly, Colin takes a step back.

“What are you doing?” he asks, voice shaking with an emotion Penelope cannot quite place.

“I was hoping for a kiss,” Marina answers frankly.

Penelope stifles her scandalised gasp behind her hand while Colin takes several steps back then, shaking his head vigorously.

“You are a lady, and I am a gentleman. I cannot take liberties of the sort with you.”

“You agreed to an unchaperoned moment with a lady, you believe that to be gentlemanly?” Marina says.

“It did not feel like a choice in the first place when you dragged me here,” Colin responds in kind, sounding just as exasperated as Marina. “I have told you long ago, that I wish to end our courting.”

Penelope blinks. But he has kept visiting?

“But… you kept calling on me,” Marina says softly, voicing Penelope’s thoughts. “I thought you simply needed a little push.”

“I have not?” Colin sounds genuinely confused. “I was visiting Penelope.”

“Penelope!?”

The girl in question winces. She has heard enough as well. She knocks on the door, prompting a loud gasp from the pair inside.

“You are being rather loud, if you wished to have a private moment,” Penelope quips as she steps in. She sees relief fall on Colin’s face meanwhile Marina looks horrified, refusing to meet her cousin's gaze.

“Pen! It is not— I assure you nothing—” Colin tries to explain, surprised when Marina shoves past him and Penelope to get out of the room.

Penelope watches her go, worried, but the glare her cousin gave her just before closing the door behind her tells her she might be the last person Marina would wish to confide in at the moment. She sighs, focusing her gaze back on Colin who is leaning against Anthony’s desk with a hand rubbing his forehead.

“It is lucky I was the one who found you, and not your brother,” she says, earning a derisive laugh from her best friend.

“I know,” Colin sighs. “How much did you…?”

“I heard the mention of a kiss.” Colin stiffens. She shakes her, reaching out to rub his arm reassuringly. “I know nothing happened, Colin, you are a gentleman, a kind and considerate one.”

“Pen…”

“In fact, if you wish I can speak with Marina, surely something—” Her voice trails off as she notices that Colin is starting to lean in, breath caressing her forehead. “Colin?”

Instead of a response, his hand reaches for her chin, tilting it forward so their eyes may meet. Penelope’s breath hitches upon meeting the dark forest of her friend’s gaze.

“I heard…” Colin starts, voice barely above a whisper. “You are not wearing a ring.”

Penelope frowns, before showing him her ring-empty hand with a small derisive smile. “Indeed, I am not. I doubt I ever will.”

“Pen, do not say that.”

“You are sweet, Colin, but the reality is as such — Lord Remington has asked me to wait another year, but he may change his mind, or I may not be able to be here next season anyhow.”

It is Colin’s turn to frown.

“Why would you not be?”

“Colin, I have learned I have no dowry.” Her friend’s eyes widen. “My parents are very much trying to hide it, but no sane gentleman shall wish for the third daughter of a Baron with not even a dowry to evaluate her status.”

Colin’s hold on her is stronger suddenly, both hands framing her face and his gaze piercing through her soul.

“You are wrong,” he announces, fervently.

“... About?”

“So many things. Everything you have just said.” He leans closer, eyes never leaving hers. “You have been driving me insane, Pen.”

“I— I apologise?”

“All the flirting, the compliments, and sweet smiles… but then you turn around and entertain another, leaving me to gather dirt in your devastating garden.”

“Colin, you are not making any sense.”

“Remington is besotted, enchanted. How can you even think for one second he would not propose even without a dowry when he was oh-so bragging about it at the gentleman’s club last night?” He scoffs. “How can you not see the effect you leave in your wake?”

“Do not mock me!”

“May I kiss you?”

Penelope’s eyes widen, too stunned by such an abrupt question, yet before her thoughts can understand, her heart decides to be the bearer of decisions for the first time in a long while and she finds herself nodding.

Colin does not let her take another breath, capturing her lips with his.

And what a glorious moment it is.

Penelope sighs, melting under Colin’s touch who cradles her face as if she were a precious diamond. She tentatively moves her lips to the rhythm he has set, feeling her heart flutter for every brush, for every caress.

“Pen,” Colin whispers as he pulls away. “A kiss is for two people.”

“I–! I am trying my best.” She is not pouting.

He chuckles. “Do you trust me?”

She should not. This is highly improper, and the very scenario she has just prevented Marina from executing. Besides, they were having a very important conversation about her prospect, and she seriously needed to have a word with Lord Remington the next time she saw him. And yet— “Of course— oh!”

Strong arms suddenly wrap around her waist, effortlessly lifting her so she may sit on the desk, with Colin standing between her legs. Then he kisses her again. Penelope hums pleasantly, now able to wind her arms around his neck without straining, inviting him closer and closer. Colin is relentless now, barely allowing her a breath in between kisses, like a stranded man in a desert whose thirst can only be quenched by her lips.

Penelope feels him reach for her face, a thumb caressing her left cheek before it travels to her lower lip, pulling at it before she feels his tongue probing inside and claiming her mouth fully. She moans a sound she never knew she could even produce, and to grab into any sense of self, her hands find her friend’s hair, tugging at it just as Colin inhales deeply, his movements suddenly a bit shakier. Penelope can feel a warmth start to build up and a tingle in her legs — she is thankful to be sitting or she would have surely collapsed. But she needs— she needs—

“Colin! Are you in there?”

They pull apart abruptly, both of them recognising Benedict’s voice. Penelope is the first to react, promptly jumping off the desk to hide under it, just as the door opens.

“There you are!” Benedict says. “And you look a mess, have you taken out Anthony’s secret stash of alcohol in here?”

“Wh— no, I just needed a moment,” Colin manages to reply with a somewhat steady voice. “Bracing myself to announce the end of my courtship at our sister’s engagement party, like the insensitive brother I am, it seems.”

“Uh, alright…? Have you seen Penelope? I had asked her to search for you here or at the library, but I could not find her there.”

Penelope hopes her heaving breath is not as loud as it sounds in her ears.

“No. Perhaps one of our sisters kidnapped her. I heard Eloise retired to her chambers early.”

“Mm. Perhaps.” Benedict sounds entirely unconvinced. “Well, Mother is asking about you, we better get back to the party.”

“Right, yes of course.”

As the brothers leave, Penelope allows herself to simply lie on the floor for a moment as she lets the moment sink in. She brings a hand to her lips, still tingling from the kisses given by the love of her life.

And she is supposed to stand up, and simply exist as if the world as she knew it has not simply collapsed.

꧁༺࿅ིཽ• –– •❈• –– •࿅ིཽ༻꧂

A few days later, they are all invited to a garden party on a quaint sunny spring day, and Lord Remington is pouting. He looks incredibly young in his petulance.

“How come the end of a courtship is gaining more attention than the possibility of an engagement?” he complains, as he watches on the many debutantes surrounding Colin, trying to “comfort” him, and the many gentlemen back by Marina’s side, hoping for her favours.

It seems that nothing has truly changed, after all. Penelope supposes Marina shall get a proposal soon after all, even if from someone she did not choose at first.

Penelope chuckles, poking the lord’s arm. “I did tell you no one would truly care. The Bridgertons are the darlings of Mayfair, after all, and my cousin the diamond of the season.” Well, the second one.

“No, you told me Mr Bridgerton would not care,” James — she might as well start to refer to him as such, as they have agreed on a friendship until next season — corrects with a tut. “And he very much cares if he has ended his courtship with your cousin!”

“Colin ended it a while ago, it had nothing to do with us.”

“Now we both know that is false, as he kept visiting.”

Penelope’s lips form a thin line. Ever since the engagement party, she has been unable to talk to Colin. The news of the end of his and Marina’s courtship broke out the next day, and naturally, the third Bridgerton son did not try to call on her afterwards — would be quite the scandal, if he were to visit the cousin of the woman everyone thought he would be proposing to.

And at this garden party, Colin has not had a single moment to breathe in the middle of his many admirers. It makes Penelope wonder if what she has experienced is even real. It all feels like a distant memory, or a dream even.

“No matter,” James huffs, taking Penelope’s hand, “I suppose it is not so bad.”

She rubs the back of his hand. “I hope your ego is not too bruised, my lord.”

“Why would it be? I get your delightful presence all to myself.”

“James, I already agreed to marry you next season if everything is settled, you do not need to flatter me.”

“Penelope, I am being sincere, dear. And I still need to win your heart, don’t I? If Mr Bridgerton does not hurry…”

She drops his hand. “James.”

He holds his hands in surrender. “Very well, I will stop mentioning him. But I am being earnest, Penelope. I like you, and I know that I could learn to love you.”

Penelope’s heart flutters. How can you not see the effect you leave in your wake? She shakes that voice away.

“Thank you.”

James smiles. “May you help me? I wish to go see the flowers over there.”

“Of course, my lord.”

Carefully, and under the eye of James’ butler, Penelope pushes the gentleman’s wheelchair towards the edges of the garden, where fewer people are gathered, wishing to enjoy a cup of tea among the flowers, rather than the crowd. Jame directs her towards a corner with an empty table, on a ledge. As their respective maid and butler prepare them a glass of lemonade, Penelope quietly sits on a chair, a hand on James’ armrest.

“Would you care for a dance?” James asks suddenly.

“Wh—” Before she can ask, the gentleman takes her hand, prompting her to stand up before he directs her towards the short sets of stairs on their left. Penelope gasps, smiling wide as she understands his plan. She gleefully skips down the few steps, their hands never unlinking. “It is odd,” she says, as she looks up at James now. “I usually have to go up some stairs to meet anyone’s eyes.”

“I am delighted to be an exception,” he responds, leaning forward a little. Penelope holds back a giggle as his butler rushes to his side, worried he might somehow fall, while James waves him away with a roll of his eyes. “Shall we? I think I owe you more than one dance.”

Penelope nods. It is unconventional, she is aware. They are outside, in broad daylight, and she can see the few people around already turning a curious eye on them, but truthfully, she cannot care any less at the moment. The end of the season is near, her prospects are… insignificant as long as her father swims in debt, but she has a promised engagement in the future, and so, she can do whatever she pleases now, she can hardly be ruined, as the Ton believes her to soon be engaged to the man she is currently inappropriately dancing with, the only way she may be truly ruined were if she was caught unchaperoned with another gentleman, like in a closed study, with only the candles for witnesses—

Well, is that not a thought?

She shakes the memory away once more as she lets James twirl her and they improvise a routine with minimal steps, but allowing many spins for Penelope, wherein their hands never stray from each other. She laughs, feeling lighter than she has ever felt before.

After a few minutes, they bow to each other to end their impromptu dance, with Penelope now leaning against the handle of James’ wheelchair to catch her breath. Dancing under the sun sure is a different experience than under the moonlight, she realises, it is much more exhausting, for one. A glass of fresh lemonade is presented to her and she grabs it without looking up.

“Oh, thank you.”

“You’re welcome. That was quite the dance.”

She almost spits out her drink at the voice.

“Bridgerton!” James greets him with a friendly smile. “Wasn’t it? Penelope is an excellent dancer, despite having me as a partner.”

“James!” Penelope exclaims. “Do not speak of yourself as such, this was one of the best dances I ever had.”

“Oh,” Colin says, looking rather pained. “Shall I take offence, Pen?”

“Do not start too,” she huffs. “You kept stepping on my feet during our first lessons.”

“Now, those did not count, we were children!”

“So you are very old friends, are you not?” James remarks with a hum.

“Indeed,” Colin says, then he grabs Penelope’s free hand, kissing its back. She squeaks. “And hopefully we will continue to be for many years, yes?”

“Certainly, I will let you visit when we marry,” the lord says, but Penelope can tell he is entirely teasing.

“I do not see a ring attesting to such a promise…” Colin, on the other hand, cannot. “Nor was Lady Featherington boasting about it.”

“I have not asked the patriarch's permission yet indeed, although I have the lady’s agreement, which is the most important part, is it not?”

“And yet you wish to wait for next season. For monetary reasons, I hear.”

James is briefly taken aback. “How— Ah, you told him, didn’t you?”

“I do not like secrets,” Penelope mumbles. “It is not like I will be getting another proposal before the season ends anyhow. Papa would deny it.”

“We will see about that,” Colin huffs.

“Colin?”

He grins, throwing a challenging look at the other gentleman before he winks at Penelope. He explains nothing and simply leaves after giving Penelope’s hand another kiss.

“That was odd,” she comments after a while, trying to undermine the way her heart is now beating wildly, hope fuelling its frenetic dance.

Colin wishes to marry her.

“Entertaining, you mean,” James snickers. “Do you reckon he will allow me to visit?”

Penelope rolls her eyes.

꧁༺࿅ིཽ• –– •❈• –– •࿅ིཽ༻꧂

Daphne will be hosting the last ball of the season, Penelope learns when she receives a personalised and handwritten invitation from the former Bridgerton, now the Duchess of Hastings.

Colin delivers it to her personally, in fact.

“It is odd to see your house this empty,” he comments.

She hums, sweeping her gaze across the empty drawing room — Rae is by the door as a chaperone, but she and Colin are otherwise alone. Her mama and sisters are out promenading, while Penelope feigned a headache to stay at home. As for Marina…

A mere week has passed since the garden party, and yet so much has happened at once. The next morning, a certain Sir Phillip Crane showed up at their doors, and before Penelope could understand, Marina jumped in his carriage, leaving Mayfair behind without a second look. Then, James had to retire early to his country estate, a thing he has always done so he may avoid the high temperatures during the long journey there, but he has been sending letters regularly to compensate, and invited her and her family to one afternoon at his estate, whenever they so choose over the off-season.

And then, there is Colin, who has been sending gifts every single day, to her Papa’s growing dismay but her Mama’s astonished delight, who, with Marina now gone, Prudence with no suitor, and Philippa’s Mr Finch having been scared off by the head of the household, has been focusing all her attention on her youngest one. Penelope is both horrified and proud, somehow, an odd mixture she cannot fully grasp.

Her Mama knows James plans on proposing next season, and though pleased, she also seems rather apprehensive of Colin. Overall, she seems frustrated at the lack of imminent proposal from either man.

“These Bridgerton boys, so unreliable,” her Mama said one morning while breaking their fast. “That third one, stringing Marina along and never proposing, I simply do not wish for you to foolishly hope. Lord Remington is a secure match, although as young as Mister Bridgerton, he seems much more serious about marriage!”

Her Mama truly has no idea how similar James and Colin truly are, the only difference between them being a title.

Penelope wonders if Colin has some godly instincts, allowing him to avoid her Mama as he somehow chose the very day she is out of the house to call on Penelope.

“You have mastered the ways of avoiding my family,” she replies at last.

“Not really, Anthony forbade me to leave the house until now. Something about preventing me from tempting scandal,” Colin huffs. “As if he did not try to run away with an opera singer two nights ago.”

“What!”

“Benedict was panicking. Mother thankfully does not know… yet. And I am hoping to bring some news that might distract her. Anthony will owe me.”

Penelope laughs. “It seems you had your own eventful week. But why did he think you would try to tempt scandal?”

Colin clears his throat. “I may have hinted, jokingly, of course, er, perhaps not, that I wished to elope. With you.”

The atmosphere shifts.

“Colin…”

“Penelope.” He takes her hands in his, leaning in. “I must apologise for my blindness. And for taking such… liberties with you.”

“I was very much consenting, to be fair. We can bribe my maid to look away if you wish,” she teases.

“Pen!”

She laughs. “Sorry… sorry. Go on?” she prompts.

“Do not marry him.”

A pause. Penelope pulls back with an unimpressed look. “Try again.”

“Wh—”

“Colin, try again.”

“I was not done actually.”

“You stopped talking!”

“I— got distracted.” Only then does Penelope notice he has been looking at her lips the whole time. He shakes his head and goes down on one knee, hands never letting go of hers. “Penelope Featherington. Penelope. My Pen.”

A smile tugs at her lips. “That is my name, indeed.”

“And are you…?”

“Am I what?”

“Mine.”

“You still have not asked the question.”

He huffs out a smile. “My Pen, my dearest friend, and perhaps something more if you allow us to be. It seems there has been a misunderstanding, for I thought I had made my intentions clear. Every time I came here after the Vauxhall ball, it was you I was hoping to see. It was you I was wishing to court, and I— I believed you knew. And you preferred Remington anyhow, so I sat by Miss Thompson, waiting for an opportunity to speak. One Remington didn’t leave me.”

“Briarly kept announcing you for Marina…”

“And he is lucky I am a gentleman or I do not know what I would do considering his mistake made all of this more complicated than it needed to be!” For emphasis, he glares at the closed door, behind which the footman should be standing. “You could have been mine… weeks ago.”

“Would I be?” she inquires. She tugs at his suddenly tense hands, bringing his gaze back to her. “Colin. My friend, my life, my love, please ask me properly?”

Colin’s eyes shine, hope and adoration swimming in the dark pools of them. Penelope could drown in them, indeed.

“Penelope Featherington, I do not remember a world where you weren’t by my side. From childhood to now, I had a pocket of sunshine by my side. And perhaps I took you for granted, I thought you would always be there, even if our paths may stray. But as I saw you with another, and I felt dissatisfied with the path I had willingly walked on at the beginning of the season, I realised how foolish I had been. It is incredible, how a mere compliment and smile from you pierced through the infatuation I had found myself in. Oh, it is you, of course, it is you. And I can only hope you feel even a slither of what I feel for you, for I know you may simply see me as a friend you felt comfortable enough to… practice, as Daphne put it.”

Penelope blinks. Of course, Daphne told him. She wonders… if the now Duchess had predicted this outcome.

“I love you,” Colin continues, an easy smile on his lips, and all the relief and adoration in the world in the depths of his eyes. “I wish to see the world with you, so we may spend our past, present, and future together. Penelope Featherington, if a husband is what you seek, then let me be yours. Will you marry me? I also already asked your father until he could not take no for an answer, but that is less romantic.”

She laughs, loudly and carefree. “Colin Bridgerton,” she breathes out, a hand reaching for his face. “I have loved you from the moment we met. Yes, I will marry you.”

“From the moment—”

Penelope flushes. “We can discuss that later. Would you kiss me?”

And Colin will, rather gladly.

As luck would have it, the door opens a few moments later before Rae can warn them, and a scandalised Lady Featherington screams at Colin to get away from her daughter.

(Surprisingly enough, no special licence is issued.)

꧁༺࿅ིཽ• –– •❈• –– •࿅ིཽ༻꧂

Daphne fans herself with a proud smile as she overlooks the ball from the top of the staircase. She can see Penelope Featherington, soon to be Bridgerton, discussing vividly with Mr Finch on one side of the room, until Colin strides confidently to her side, finally signs her dancing card, and then swiftly brings her to the dancefloor.

“Your plan, I presume?” Simon whispers into her ear, his eyes equally following the newly engaged pair.

“Indeed,” Daphne confirms firmly. “The moment I heard Penelope wished to find a husband, I knew Colin would need a little push.”

“Seems common in the family.”

“Excuse you! I was willing for a courtship from the beginning, you were the one being difficult with this fake courting nonsense!”

Simon shrugs. “It worked, did it not?”

“You were the one tricked by your own plan,” she huffs. “Anyhow, see? I told you we needed to invite the Featheringtons to our engagement party, for Penelope’s family is an acquired taste, and would soon become a part of ours.”

“Joy,” he deadpans, before he kisses her temple and takes her hand. “Shall we go dance as well, dear wife?”

Daphne closes her fan with one sharp move. “Gladly, dear husband.”

Being the hosts, they easily find a spot right next to Colin and Penelope, so when the dance requires a brief partner change, Daphne finds herself dancing with Colin. She grins at him, nodding towards Penelope who is now dancing with Simon and engaging in a friendly conversation.

“You’re welcome, by the way,” she tells her older brother who rolls his eyes.

“Let’s say we’re even now, yes?”

Daphne hums. Indeed, she may not be married now if it weren’t for Colin telling her about the duel, and later encouraging her to speak with Simon regarding their marital expectations.

“Fair enough. Congratulations, Col.”

“Thank you, Daff.”

She pats him on the arm before they find their respective partner, and dance the night away as a celebration of their future.

[d1xonss]

Desert Rose

Chapter 35 ~ Hey Jude

✧ Pairing : Daryl Dixon x Rose

✧ Era : Season 3

✧ Word Count : 5.9k

In this chapter ~ Rose was left utterly heartbroken at the loss of the man she loved dearly, growing almost unphased and numb as they made their way back to the prison without him. A new and unexpected group of people are there when they returned however, just wanting a chance and someone else to survive alongside of. Though Rick didn't look like he was willing to hear them out whatsoever. But one thing he did want was to seek Rose out, wanting to patch up everything that had happened between them.

The car ride home was nothing but awful. Rick was the one who drove the woman and I back while Glenn and Maggie followed behind in a separate car we had hotwired. After Glenn and I finally broke away from each other, no one uttered a single word as we packed up and left. It was a very awkward and uncomfortable silence that filled our car, but to be honest I didn't really care. All I could think about was Daryl, how it all happened too fast, and to say I was heartbroken would be an understatement.

I quickly noticed how empty I felt without him, and I caught myself multiple times trying to glance towards the backseat expecting him to be there. But he wasn't, he was gone. I began to overthink that maybe I had made a mistake, maybe I should've gone with him. But I quickly shook my head at the thought the moment I let my mind wander there. I would've been just as heartbroken to leave the others as I was for him, and I needed to stick with the decisions I made, deal with the consequences.

Suddenly I felt Rick slow the car down to a stop, causing my eyes to glance up out of the windshield to see a truck in the middle of the road that was blocking our way of getting through. I just sighed to myself but yet made no effort to move.

I felt Rick place a hand on my shoulder, "You coming out?" he asked, his tone almost softer than it usually was.

But I silently shook my head and looked back in front of me as I felt him remove his hand, hearing his door open and shut seconds after. I watched absentmindedly as they made their way over to the truck, pausing for a moment before Glenn reached to open the driver's side door. Though the moment he did, a walker made itself known as it flew out of the vehicle in attempts to attack. But it didn't get the chance as Glenn quickly stomped on its skull repeatedly, but continued even after it was dead, taking out all his anger on the one thing he could find. I cringed and stopped watching the scene in front of me, looking back down at my hands.

"I'm sorry about Daryl."

My head tilted back a bit to look at the woman behind me, just silently nodding in thanks. I was surprised she said anything to me at all, but it somehow meant a lot that she did. Though I was quick to realize I still hadn't learned her name as she never so much as breathed it. I wanted to know it. But what I really wanted even more was to change the subject, even if she was only trying to be respectful.

"You never told us your name." I stated.

"I know." she said simply.

I couldn't help the chuckle that escaped my lips as I saw her smirking at me, "Well, can I know your name?" I asked.

She paused for a minute as she looked at me, before finally saying, "Michonne."

"That's really pretty." I smiled, turning back around to keep an eye on the rest of them, unaware of the small smile on Michonne's face at the compliment I just gave her.

Glenn and Rick's voices were muffled from inside the car, though it didn't take a genius to see that they were arguing from their pointed fingers and furrowed brows. I couldn't help but roll my eyes, debating in my head whether or not I should step in so we could move this along. But the second I saw Rick getting up closer in Glenn's face, I cursed under my breath and opened up the car door to get out.

"What the hell did you expect me to do?! Throw down a welcome mat for Merle?!" Rick yelled, "This is the hand we've been dealt!"

"Hey!" I yelled to get their attention, watching all their heads snap towards me as everything around us seemed to still, "What the fuck is going on?"

There was a moment of awkward silence, Rick stepping away from Glenn as they both breathed a bit heavier from the screaming match, "Nothing." he muttered.

I narrowed my eyes at him, "I'm not five, you don't have to stop talking about him just because I'm around. Now stop your arguing, move this fucking truck, so we can get back to the fucking prison!" I snapped.

I didn't wait for their response as I stormed back towards the car, getting in and shutting the door behind me with a slam. Breathing in and out deeply, I attempted to calm myself down as I rested my head back further on the seat and closing my eyes for a moment. Knowing in the back of my mind that all I really needed was some sleep.

Michonne scoffed, "Men." she muttered.

I huffed out a laugh as I briefly turned around to face her again, "Yeah, men."

She smiled a first genuine smile at me, before I turned back around and rested my head on the cool glass of the window. After the harsh words I seemed to spit at them to hurry up, they seemed to get the message. It felt like only a minute or two before I heard Rick get back in the car with a slam of his own door, muttering something bitchy under his breath.

But I couldn't bring myself to listen as I stayed perfectly still where I sat, watching the vehicle begin to move down the road again as the path was completely cleared. My eyelids grew heavier as I listened to the soft hum of the car, the sound alone coaxing me to fall deeper as I finally allowed my eyes to close.

Although it felt like I merely blinked before I felt someone's hand on my shoulder, gently shaking me awake again. I opened my eyes again and glanced back to see Michonne as she pointed up ahead towards the prison, silently waking me to show we were already back. I gave her a small smile in thanks and quickly sat up in my seat as I saw we were just about to pull up further to enter the gates.

Carl and Carol were up by the front, waiting anxiously for our return before big smiles were brought to their faces, quickly opening up the entrance for us the second they saw the cars. Rick pulled the vehicle far enough into the space, before quickly putting it in park and getting out to scoop Carl up in a hug.

I slowly got out after him, shutting the door behind me just in time to see Carl pull away from Rick and make a beeline towards me as he instantly wrapped his arms around my waist. I felt myself smile a little as I gave him a tight squeeze, moving his hat to place a quick kiss the top of his head.

"You're okay?" he asked as he finally pulled away.

I nodded, "Trying to be."

He looked confused but before he could say anything, Carol spoke up, "Where's Daryl?" she asked, looking towards me.

My smile instantly dropped as I tried to figure out where to even begin, but once she saw my hesitance, she thought the worst. Her eyes got wide as she stepped closer to me, "Oh sweetie." she breathed in obvious sympathy as she tried to bring me into a hug.

But I stepped back a bit and shook my head, "He's not dead, just...just gone." I said.

She gave me a confused look but I wasn't planning to say anything else about it, "I'm going to drive this car up." I muttered, not waiting for a response as I hopped back in the driver's seat.

Putting the car back in drive, I looked up once more in the rearview mirror, seeing Rick breaking the news to Carol as Carl and Michonne stood off to the side. Though I tried not to look for too long, I still managed to catch a glimpse of the slight devastation on her face as they broke the news to her. I drove the rest of the way up the gravel road in complete silence, though my thoughts were very loud as I couldn't seem to stop thinking.

As I rolled through the other sets of gates, putting the car in park along in line with the others, I saw Glenn and Maggie reuniting with the rest of the Greene's. I felt my heart warm at the sight, getting out of the car and walking up to them slowly I watched as they all embraced each other, relief washing over Hershel's face at the feeling of them being home and unharmed.

Beth then spotted me after she hugged her sister, laughing lightly with tears in her eyes as she ran over to me. I gave her the best smile I could muster and quickly wrapped my arms around her gently.

"I'm so glad you're okay." she whispered.

I nodded, "I'm okay." I confirmed, squeezing her shoulders a bit tighter.

She held onto me for longer than I expected her too, almost sensing something was off in a way. I had no idea how she was able to tell when the others hadn't come up to break the news, but she did. She could read me in a way I couldn't understand.

But I eventually broke away from her as I saw Hershel still standing there over her shoulder, moving over to greet him as well. He hugged me as best as he could as he balanced on the crutches, silently thanking me for everything and I only nodded in return. Not having the right thing to say. Though I quickly managed to move on and finally head back into the prison after greeting them, itching to just go off by myself so I could finally be alone after the extremely emotional day. The last thing I wanted was for anyone else to see me break.

The heavy door opened and shut loudly behind me, leaving me rushing past the common room to head to my cell to finally get some sleep in my own bed. But as I walked by, some unfamiliar figures were sitting down at one of the tables casually, making me  immediately pause and backtrack a few steps as I didn't recognize them at all.

My eyes were somewhat wide as I stared at them for a long moment, seeing Carl walk in a few seconds later and stepping past the complete strangers as if it was totally natural that they were there. I grabbed his arm to stop him as I gestured up to the people a few feet away.

"I'm sorry, who the hell is this?" I asked him.

One of the men in the group stood up from his seat, "Hi, uh...I'm Tyreese, and this is my sister Sasha," he said while pointing to a girl next to him, "And these are our friends Allen and Ben."

I shook my head at him, "What are you doing here?"

He paused, "Well...I was hoping you guys would give us a chance to be a part of your group. I would love to talk to you and-"

"It's not my call." I interrupted him, hearing the door open once more, knowing Rick was about to come in and give these people a run for their money the second he caught a glimpse of them just as I did.

I scoffed, knowing exactly how this was going to go, "Good luck." I said sarcastically before turning on my heel and making my way back to the cellblock.

As my footsteps got more distant, I faintly heard Carl speaking to them quietly, "She just lost someone important to her, don't take it personal. She's really nice."

The sentence made me stop in my tracks. I closed my eyes and sighed heavily before shaking my head and continuing to make my way to my cell. As I slowly walked into the space, I couldn't help but stare at some of Daryl's things still sitting in one of the corners of the room, scattered and all over the place, yet somehow still neat. A part of me wanted to go through the things he left but I couldn't bring myself to do it, not yet at least.

My body practically tumbled onto the mattress in exhaustion, mentally and physically. Though I felt myself almost immediately shiver, wrapping the blanket tighter around myself to offer more warmth as I tried to get some more sleep. But I soon came to realize how much warmer it was with him in the bed next to me, how he was practically a furnace with the amount of heat that radiated off of him.

That single thought alone caused my mind to spiral again, thinking about the things I would no longer have now that he wasn't here. The things I would miss the most. How I would never feel the warmth of his hands on my skin, or never be in his embrace. But it wasn't all about that either. It was also about the loss of his laugh, his deep voice, even his eyes and how they could look at me any certain way and I would know exactly what he was thinking.

The familiar tears built up in the corners of my eyes now that I was alone, finally allowing myself to cry softly as I tried desperately to drift off to sleep.

My eyes peeled open as I heard the faint sound of a baby fussing near my cell, sitting up quickly as I tried to rack my brain for when I actually fell asleep. But I couldn't remember, the only thing my mind could process was the tears that still stained my cheeks, quickly wiping them as I looked up to see Beth slightly pacing just outside.

She shook a bottle in her hand as she walked back and forth down the line of cells, trying to calm the baby down as she prepared to feed her.

"I can feed her." I offered.

Her eyes snapped up to meet mine, nodding silently as she came into my room and sat down next to me on the bed. She passed the baby over to me along with the bottle, watching for a moment as I rocked her lightly and placed it in her mouth to finally calm her down.

"Didn't mean to wake you." she said apologetically.

I shook my head as I kept my eyes on the baby, "You didn't."

I could see her nod slowly out of the corner of my eye, before she grew quiet as she spaced off, clearly thinking deeply about something. For the most part I didn't acknowledge it as I watched the little girl's eyes get faintly heavy as she slowly drank, but after a few minutes it was getting hard to ignore.

As I went to say something, she actually opened her mouth first. "I just wanted to say I'm sorry...about Daryl." she finally muttered.

My eyes glanced up at her as I nodded in appreciation, "Thanks hon."

"I think it's bullshit, leaving us like that." she suddenly said quite bitterly, "Leaving you like that. I thought you would be more angry."

I sighed as I adjusted the baby in my arms, "I'm not angry. I understand why he left." I spoke.

She stayed silent as she stewed over that, contemplated about how I couldn't possibly be angry when he did such a selfish thing. But the truth was, it wasn't selfish at all. If I was being honest I almost believed that being angry with him would make things easier, if the things he did were truly selfish and ignorant. But that wasn't the case at all. He wasn't selfish, and I couldn't find the strength to be angry. Not after everything he said to me at the last few moments we shared.

"You know, he asked me to come with him." I went on when she didn't say anything.

A look of shock crossed her face, "Really?"

"Really."

"So...why didn't you-"

"Because I couldn't leave the rest of you. You all mean too much to me, and I just...couldn't." I explained.

She smiled, a twinge of sadness still present on her features, "I'm glad you didn't. I'd miss ya too much." she admitted while leaning her head on my shoulder.

"I'd miss you too." I told her, placing a kiss on her head, "And I'd miss this little nugget right here."

She laughed a little, "You know, Rick and Carl picked a name for her; Judith."

I glanced back down at the baby before nodding my head in confirmation, "It suits her."

She nodded in agreement, and I then asked her to tell me what happened here while we were gone to take my mind off of everything. She began to tell me a little bit more about Tyreese's group, and the more she spoke, the worse I felt for completely brushing him off earlier. I hadn't meant to initially; I just didn't trust any strangers we came across, not knowing what their true intentions were.

But the more she talked about them, the more they sounded like genuinely good people, although I knew they wouldn't stay. With the way Rick was right now, taking one hit after another, I wouldn't be surprised if he threatened them right off the bat.

A lull grew in the conversation as the two of us quieted down on instinct, hearing the others in the cellblock somewhat whispering with one another. We both wordlessly looked at each other before getting up at the same time to trail downstairs and see what was happening. The two of us briefly caught Rick talking about what went down at Woodbury, how he had captured Maggie and Glenn while one of his men shot Oscar dead in the streets. It was clear to almost everyone that the way he was talking, this fight was far from over.

As Beth and I made our presence known, she spoke when it grew silent, "So what now? Do you think The Governor will retaliate?"

"Yes." Maggie said with no hesitation.

"Let him try." Glenn spoke lowly.

Hershel nodded to himself before slowly making his way up to Rick, placing a hand on his shoulder, "We could use some reinforcements." he obviously hinted.

Rick debated in his head for a moment, before sighing to himself as he turned to make his way back out to the common room to talk to the new people. I quickly handed Judith back to Beth to follow him out there and see what he was going to say, keep an eye on him in case anything happened. I quietly advised her and Carl to stay in the cellblock as the others seemed to follow Rick's lead, not wanting them to be in the space in case things somehow turned sour. They both protested with hushed whispers but I gave them one look that made them shut their mouths instantly, before turning around to enter the common room.

Rick walked up to Tyreese and the man introduced himself, but Rick barely even gave him a chance to speak before already interrupting him. "How did you get in?" he asked him.

"Fire damage to the administrative part of the prison. Walls down." Tyreese told him.

"That side is completely overrun with walkers, how'd you get this far?" Rick asked.

The man ducked his head as he swallowed a bit thickly, "We didn't...we lost our friend Dona."

It all grew silent around the space as he admitted they lost someone they cared for, an awkwardness lingering in the air.

"They were lost in the tombs." Carl voice suddenly came from behind me.

I whipped around to see both him and Beth lingering towards the back sheepishly, rolling my eyes at the two as they couldn't listen for shit.

Rick seemed to look back at him just as I did, processing his words as he suddenly started to lose his patience, "...You brought them here?" he snapped loudly.

Everyone seemed to instinctively flinch at his loudness, that alone causing me to silently pull Carl closer to me and wrap an arm around the front of him. Rick wasn't in his right state of mind, that much was clear, and I didn't want him to lash out at anyone. But definitely not his own kid.

"He had no choice." Hershel softly defended, watching as Rick slowly nodded his head in somewhat of an understanding.

"...I'm sorry about your friend...we know what that's like." Rick murmured.

Tyreese nodded in appreciation before continuing, "Hershel said you could use some extra hands, and we're no strangers to hard work. We'll go out, get our own food, stay out of your hair. You got a problem with another group, we'll help with that too. Anything to contribute." he said positively.

I felt myself smile at Tyreese, he was a smooth talker that was for sure. Just from the little speech he just gave, I was willing to let them be a part of the group and they seemed like good people. They never gave us a reason not to trust them from what I've seen.

Rick however, was clearly not thinking the same as I. "No." he instantly declined.

"Rick." I protested to get his attention, but he ignored me completely.

"Please." Sasha begged, "It's like ten little Indians out there...it's just us now."

Rick looked at her for a moment before repeating, "No."

"Let's talk about this, we can't just keep-" Hershel tried.

"We've been through this. With Tomas, Andrew, look what happened." Rick said, wanting these people out.

Carol stepped in, "Axel and Oscar weren't like them."

"And where's Oscar now?" he snapped at her.

She backed away slightly at his outburst, turning towards the rest of us with slightly wide eyes. There was a thick tension in the air as he continued, "I can't be responsible." Rick concluded.

"You turn us out, you are responsible." Tyreese argued, yet kept his tone calm.

Hershel then approached the scene cautiously, placing a hand on Rick's shoulder and began whispering something to him that none of us could make out. My guess was he was trying to convince him to let these people stay and really working his old man charm. He always had a way with words and could get you to agree with him over practically anything. And this wasn't any different.

After Rick pulled away he looked to all of us, his eyes lingering on where Carl and I stood. He sighed in silent defeat as a small smile was brought to his face, leaving me convinced that he was going to agree, to give these people a chance. But then his eyes slowly drifted above us, beginning to stare at the balcony above the common room. His smile faded immediately, nearly cowering away as he grew obviously afraid. My brows furrowed as I turned to see what he was looking at, but there was nothing there.

He began to silently panic, whispering quietly to himself as he pinched the bridge of his nose and kept his eyes down. We all watched in utter silence as he tried to pull himself together, looking back up towards the balcony, blinking rapidly as if he was trying to get something to disappear.

"Why are you here? What do you want from me?" he suddenly asked towards the empty space, his voice audibly shaking now.

"Dad?" Carl questioned, but he ignored him.

His breathing became heavy as he began to look around the room, "I can't help you! Get out!" he suddenly yelled.

I watched as he walked back and forth, brushing past me as I tried to reach out to him in attempts to stop his movements, "Woah easy Rick, calm down."

But that set him off completely. "You don't belong here! Get out! Please!" he yelled to no one in particular, raising his gun suddenly and began to wave it around.

Tyreese's eyes widened as he began to frantically talk, "Woah, woah okay, we'll leave. Ain't nobody gotta get shot here."

"What are you doing here?!" he screamed.

I pulled Carl closer to me and we both took a step back and I could feel him tense up, his eyes wide as he followed his father's figure. Glenn tried to get Tyreese's group out as fast as possible, frantically telling them that they could just go so Rick wouldn't do something he might regret.

When they finally retreated back towards the door, leaving the building with a slam, Rick stopped yelling, but he didn't look calm in the slightest. He looked up at the balcony one last time and sighed to himself, shaking his head as if he was trying to get rid of the memories. I held onto Carl tighter, starting to back away into the cellblock and he didn't hesitate to step back with me. The rest of the group started to follow us in silence, and it was clear everyone was disappointed at Rick's decision and a little scared at his outburst. Everything was falling apart.

Later in the night when everyone was peacefully sleeping, I couldn't for the life of me. I was thinking too much, and my brain just wouldn't calm down as I tossed and turned every few minutes uncontrollably. I thought about what happened just a few hours ago, I thought about The Governor now knowing where we are...and I thought about Daryl.

It's crazy, I thought, how someone can be in your life for so long and then suddenly...they're not. I began thinking about him more than I would ever admit to anyone around me, mostly because I didn't want them to worry. Though I knew no matter what, they would anyway.

A cry then ripped through the air and quickly pulled me out of my thoughts, immediately recognizing it was Judith who had just woken up from the floor below me. I stood to my feet as I quietly made it down towards Carl's cell, figuring I would take her since I couldn't sleep anyways and I knew Beth deserved a break.

I walked down the stairs and peeked into Beth's cell, seeing she was sleeping like a rock. She didn't even flinch when the baby kept crying, that alone proved how much she needed the rest. My feet were light and quiet as I made my way into Carl's cell, taking Judith out and slowly beginning to rock her as I made my way back out into the common room.

I figured she might be hungry again so I began to make a bottle, but she was still restlessly fussing in my arms. An idea popped into my head as I found the formula under the tables, glancing back behind me to make sure no one else was around, before I began to sing softly.

Hey Jude, don't make it bad

Take a sad song, and make it better

Remember to let her into your heart

Then you can start to make it better

Upon hearing the softness of my voice, that seemed to calm her the smallest bit as I tried quickly to finish up. But I practically jumped clean out of my skin when I heard someone faintly clapping from behind me, turning to see Rick standing near the door to the cellblock. His head was only peeking through as he looked at the two of us, smiling small as he walked in further. My lip barely quirked up in return before I turned back around to shake the bottle I had just finished.

I could hear his footsteps entering the room further, and I dreaded turning back around to face him, yet I somehow did when his movements stopped from only a few inches behind me.

"Didn't mean to scare you." he said quietly.

I looked up from the baby, "It's fine." I assured gently.

He paused for a moment as he gazed down at me, "I think we need to talk."

I immediately looked for an out, but running with a brand new baby probably wasn't the best idea. I just tried to put all my focus on Judith as I avoided his eyes, "About?" I asked, moving around him to sit at one of the tables.

He seemed to instantly follow and took a seat next to me, "We've kind of been at each other's throats recently...I just wanted to apologize for that."

Glancing up at him again, I saw he was being sincere, "It's okay. I've been kind of on edge lately and I shouldn't have taken it out on you. I'm sorry too."

He nodded gratefully before his mouth parted again, "Now...about Lori-"

"Don't." I stopped him.

"I just want to thank you for being there for Carl. For being there for Judith. For being there for...her." he said, his voice filled with pain at the mere mention of Lori. Not even being able to bring himself to say her name.

I couldn't look back up at him as he spoke, and I heard him sigh, "Will you look at me?" he asked softly.

I slowly lifted my gaze and looked into his eyes, watching him continue, "Don't blame yourself for what happened, alright? It's the last thing you need right now...especially when it's not true."

I felt myself start to get a little tearful at his words, looking away from him again as I didn't want him to notice. But then I felt his finger come under my chin and lift my head gently, to look at him again. He rubbed my chin softly with his thumb, his eyes pleading at me to say something.

I sighed softly and finally gave in, "Okay." I whispered.

He gave a small smile, "Okay." he repeated.

I smiled back at him and he removed his hand, pulling me into his side for a gentle hug. I leaned in as best as I could with the baby still in my arms, feeling him rest his chin on top of my head. For once he sighed in relief, relief in knowing that we were finally okay again, and we could stop walking on eggshells around each other. Relief in realizing that we needed each other a lot more than we both thought, seeking each other out at a time like this when things were so shitty. Relief in knowing now that we were okay.

We stayed like that for a while until I eventually noticed Judith had now fallen back asleep, and I slowly pulled away.

"Hey, will you put her back down? I'm gonna head outside for a bit to get some air." I informed him.

He nodded his head and took her from me carefully, "Why don't you get some sleep?" he suggested.

"I can't." I said simply before slowly making my way towards the doors.

Instant goosebumps rose on my skin at the chill in the air as soon as I stepped foot outside. My feet then carried me all the way out to the field to sit down in the grass and look up at the stars. I tried to just breathe the fresh air and let my mind relax, but I couldn't help but wonder if Daryl was okay. I knew in the back of my mind that he was, he knew how to take care of himself with little to nothing at all, but I couldn't help but worry.

If I was being completely honest with myself, I felt lost. I was trying to stay positive and not mention it around everyone else, but it was hard. Forcing myself to be strong about this was one of the hardest things I've ever had to do. Relying on someone else was never something easy for me, but yet it happened, and now I felt so off like a piece of me was missing.

So I stared up at the stars, thinking about how we were under the same sky, but miles and miles apart from each other.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* DARYL POV ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Merle and I set up camp near a clearing in the woods when we got too tired to keep going for the day. I sat perfectly still with my knees to my chest, staring mindlessly into the fire a few inches from me as I felt the warmth blow towards me at every gust of wind that passed by. Although I remained silent as I watched the giant flame, I still had one thing on my mind. Rose.

Regret began to fill my chest as the hours passed slowly, rethinking every dumb decision I made that led me to this point. But I knew I couldn't force her to come with me and make her leave the group, make her leave her own family. And I couldn't leave Merle, even though he was nothing more than a dumbass piece of shit that always got himself into trouble, he was still my brother. The brother I had lost for months, thinking he was dead. But even though I found him, a part of me knew there would always be something constantly missing now.

I didn't have much trouble leaving the group behind, knowing that even after a little over a year, I still didn't open up much to those people...not as much as I opened up to Rose. She was the only one who really understood me, understood my thoughts without me even having to say them out loud, and truly made me happy. Happier than I had ever been. Hell, Merle didn't even understand me as much as she did, and we had known each other our whole lives.

I missed her. I missed her more than I could put into words, but I knew I couldn't go back, not with Merle following behind me. They would never let him stay and he and I both knew that.

I then heard some rustling coming my way, not even glancing up as I heard him pushing his way past the bushes. Speak of the devil.

"I found more sticks for the fire." he commented, and I just grunted in response as I kept my eyes on the flames.

But I could almost feel the smirk grow on his face as he sat down across from me. "Whatcha thinkin about? Hm? Maybe a certain brunette with a nice ass?"

My eyes snapped up, "Shut up." I muttered.

He laughed to himself, "Nah, I thought it was cute how you practically begged her to come with us. She's more predictable than I ever imagined."

"The hell you talkin bout?" I asked with narrowed eyes.

"I could see it coming from a mile away that she wouldn't follow ya. You know why? Cause she don't give a shit about you. She used ya." he said.

"You don't know fucking anything about her." I snapped.

He shrugged, "Maybe. But don't ya think if she really loved you, she would be here with ya right now?"

I just stared at him, not having anything else to say as he laughed loudly at my sudden silence, "Thought so. You take first watch...you seem to have a lot to think about now, yeah?" he smirked again, knowing damn well that he got in my head.

He then turned his back to me and fell asleep within a matter of minutes, snoring loudly. I let his words replay over and over in my mind. I didn't want to believe him, he's been bullshiting ever since he could talk, so why the hell should I believe him? But I would be lying if I said I hadn't considered him to be telling the truth.

But I knew Rose. I knew her better than anyone else and I knew she cared about me, she still loved me just like I still loved her. I couldn't let him twist my thoughts like that because in the back of my mind, I knew he was always good at it. So I settled with looking at the stars above me, hoping that she was doing okay, and that she was safe behind the walls of the prison.

~ Thanks for reading!

[slow-motionlovepotion]

𝒊𝒕'𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒎𝒐𝒔𝒕 𝒘𝒐𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓𝒇𝒖𝒍 𝒕𝒊𝒎𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒚𝒆𝒂𝒓 | 𝒃.𝒃𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒆𝒔

𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈: SonsBestFriend!Bucky x OlderWoman!Reader

𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕: 3.2k

𝒂/𝒏: a very simple plot bunny (college Bucky likes milfs) got out of hand so please enjoy 3k words of pure Christmas smut. no beta, we die like men.  

𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔:  18+ -  age gap (21ish!Bucky x mid-late 40s/early 50s!Reader), explicit language, smut, cunnilingus, fingering, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, inappropriate relationship, infidelity, a lil bit of subby Bucky - minors do not interact.

𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚:  Your sons best friend comes to stay for Christmas

Bucky Barnes stands in the doorway of the kitchen smirking. Eyes trailing up and down your body, pausing at your glossy red lips, the peak of cleavage in the v-neck of your dress, and the curve of your hips. You can feel his eyes on you but you don’t look over. 

You definitely didn’t dress up for Bucky, you didn’t pick this dress with its neckline more revealing than normal, you’re definitely not wearing the lipstick he complimented the last time he visited. 

You definitely haven’t made an effort to impress Bucky Barnes. 

“Anything else to go out?” he asks casually, like he’s not spent the last five minutes blatantly checking you out

Bucky’s been a darling all day, insisting on helping you with the prep for your annual Christmas party, taking round plates of appetisers, chatting to Mrs Marshall from next door, ensuring your wine is never empty. 

“Just this, if you wouldn’t mind” you finish plating the mince pies and hand the tray to Bucky, his fingers brush yours as he takes the tray off you and his touch feels electric. 

When your son mentioned Bucky was planning to stay at university over the Christmas break you’d extended an invitation almost immediately, your house was plenty big enough and you always cooked too much for just the three of you. And Bucky had been so lovely when he’d come to stay for your husband’s recent birthday, you couldn't stand the thought of him spending Christmas alone.

-

“Thanks for having me” his words are muffled by his face pressed into your shoulder, arms wrapped around you in the most welcome hug. 

“Nonsense, can’t be having you alone at Christmas” you loosen your embrace, immediately missing the heat of his body. 

“This is for you” he blushes, handing you a bottle of wine. 

You take the bottle, noticing the label as your favourite “Bucky you shouldn’t have”

“My ma taught me you never show up to a woman’s house empty handed” Bucky winks at you, the implication not missed.  

-

You’re in the kitchen wiping down the counters when Bucky finds you at the end of the night. 

The majority of the guests had gone, just two of your husband's golf buddies left outside, smoking cigars and drinking some expensive whiskey with your husband and son, the same tradition every year.  

“Everything alright sweetie?” His cheeks and nose are red from the cold and he’s rubbing his hands together to warm them up. 

“Yeah, I thought I'd come see if you needed any help with anything.” He leans against the counter and you can’t help but think he looks very comfortable in your kitchen, almost like he belongs there. 

“Oh, everything’s all done don’t worry” Bucky notices your empty glass on the side and goes to refill it but you place your hand over the top to stop him 

“I shouldn't” you explain. 

Bucky scoffs at you “One more, it's Christmas” He can tell you’re almost persuaded, “How about I join you?” He takes another glass out the cupboard and you remove your hand from your glass.

Bucky hands the full glass to you, holding his out you clink your glass to his “Cheers” 

You barely take a sip of your wine before the glass is pulled from your hand and Bucky’s lips are on yours. 

One hand reaches for your waist, the fingers of his other hand trace the line of your jaw, tipping your head back as it does. Your hands grab the collar of his shirt and pull him closer as all self control dissipates. 

There’s no explanation if you’re caught like this, your son and husband only outside. Your husband who, in all your years of marriage, had never once treated you like this. Your husband who’s sleeping with his secretary. The brief pang of guilt disappearing at the thought. 

Bucky’s lips feel like fire against yours, searing hot and stealing your breath. You wrap your arms around his neck as he lifts you into the kitchen island, his lips burning a trail down your throat and chest as you wrap your legs around his hips. 

As a woman of a certain age, you’d learnt a few things over the years. You certainly had a bit more experience than the young man grinding between your legs. 

“Bucky…Bucky” a muffled hum of acknowledgment comes from between your breasts 

“Bucky. Get on your knees” his head shoots up at the instruction and he slides to the floor, eyes never leaving yours. 

You want to take your time with him, tease him, get him all worked up before giving him everything he wants but it’s too risky.

Dragging your dress up your thighs, you slide to the edge of the counter. Bucky takes this as his que and dives his head between your spread legs, licking a stripe over your already damp underwear. Lifting yourself up from the counter Bucky helps you slide your underwear down your legs before he slips them into his back pocket. His head is back between your thighs, tongue working your cunt, focused on pulling the pleasure out of you as quickly as he can. 

Bucky’s all enthusiasm, lacking the finesse of a more mature man but his eagerness makes up for it. His arms wrap around your thighs, holding you against his mouth as he sweeps his tongue against your entrance, you can feel your wetness practically puddling on the counter. 

He’s a quick study, so when his nose bumps your clit and your breath hitches, he moves his attention, pressing soft kisses to your clit before lapping and sucking with chaotic fervour. 

“Fuck, that’s it Bucky” he groans against your core, the vibrations edging you closer to your climax. Keeping his attention on your clit he slides a thick finger into you, adding a second that makes you gasp, the gentle stretch making your eyes flutter and your head fall back.

“Yes baby, yes, so good” You slide your fingers into his hair, holding him close as you rock your hips against him, legs shaking as you feel yourself teetering on the edge of utter bliss. A gentle crook of his finger has you crashing over the edge, waves of pure pleasure lapping over you. 

Bucky continues his relentless assault on your clit, sucking harder and licking sloppily, his fingers still buried in your cunt, coaxing that sweet spot “Again” Bucky mumbles against your clit, you open your mouth to protest, your first orgasm not even over but you can already feel the  pressure building again. Your hips rock without your control and a gentle graze of his teeth on your clit has you gripping his hair as the force of your second orgasm overwhelms every fibre of your being. You let out a quiet sob as you pass your peak, legs trembling, and completely breathless. 

Your hand in Bucky’s hair guides his head back, looking down at his swollen and wet lips, the throbbing between your legs is almost painful. He’s breathing hard and his eyes are soft and needy. You release the grip on his hair, moving your hand to lift his chin, running your thumb along his lips 

“Good boy” your praise sends a shiver through him and there's no hiding the desperation in his eyes. 

The sound of the back door opening crashes you both back down to earth. Faster than lighting  Bucky stands and helps you down from the counter, you quickly grab a tea towel, pretending you’ve just finished washing up. Bucky bends over the island, burying his face in his wine, hiding the swelling in his jeans and the sticky mess you left behind on the counter. 

Your husband's golf buddies wave at you as they pass the kitchen “Bye Jim, Bye Nick” you smile and wave as they leave, you look like the perfect housewife and if only they knew. Your husband stumbles a few steps behind them, clearly he’s overdone it on the Shiraz this evening. 

The drinking had become a bit of a habit for him and on nights like this you put him to bed and sleep in the spare room. You’re always up before him anyway, and if he notices he’s never said anything. Your husband wobbles and your son catches him “I’ll put him to bed” he nods at you knowingly “C’mon dad, lets go” Your husband mumbles something as your son leads him up the stairs.  

You’re left in the kitchen with Bucky, you can feel your wetness sticky between your thighs, a delicious reminder of what you’ve just done. You’re absentmindedly fiddling with your wedding rings and Bucky notices.

Truthfully, you hadn’t been wearing them much recently, your relationship with your husband could be described as rocky at best. You had to laugh at the irony when you found out about your husband and his secretary. He didn’t know you knew and you weren’t ready to deal with that yet. You hadn’t decided what you were going to do and didn’t want your son to think anything was wrong, so you’d put your rings back on to keep up appearances. 

“You okay?” There’s concern in his voice but it’s underlined with lust, he stands and you can see the thick outline of his cock straining his jeans. 

Upstairs you hear your son’s voice as he answers a call and the sound of his door closing leaving the rest of the house in silence. You ponder your next move for a moment before bringing your wine to your lips, you tip your head back, finishing the last of it, Bucky follows suit.  

Taking Bucky’s hand you lead him down the stairs to his room, thankful for your foresight to purchase a house with a separate guest suite, two floors away from the bedrooms currently occupied by your husband and son. 

Bucky enters the room first, settling himself on the end of the bed. You close the door behind you and pause for a second, resting your back against the cool wood.

“Come’re” Bucky’s words are barely a whisper, you can hear the desperation in his voice and the desire flashing in his eyes. 

You take a few steps towards him, stopping just out of reach 

“Please” He begs and reaches out for you, hands hooking behind your knee, bringing it to the bed by his hips, copying the motion with your other leg, sliding his hands up your thighs to pull you down against him. Your bare cunt meets the fabric of his jeans and the thick line of his cock. The moan in the back of your throat catches when you hear the groan Bucky lets out as he gently rolls his hips, lost in the feeling of your body pressed to his, thrusting against you with breathy moans. 

“Need you, need to feel you” He’s muttering against your cheek, dragging his mouth against yours, desperate and needy, tongue working its way between your lips, you can taste the wine on his mouth and your moan finally falls from your lips. Bucky’s hands grip your hips as he continues to buck into you, he breaks the kiss, unable to focus on anything but your heat seeping through his jeans, he throws his head back, a whine falling from him with one particularly hard thrust. 

He tugs at the neckline of your dress, pulling your dress below your breasts he closes his hot mouth over your nipple, licking, and tugging gently with his teeth. 

Each thrust has him pressed harder against you, the rough material dragging on your clit and you could cum like this, rutting against each other but he’s already made you cum twice and you desperately want watch him unravel as you fuck him. 

“You still with me?” He hums in response, eyes closed and blissed out “You wanna fuck me?” 

Bucky’s eyes flick open and his usual blue has been replaced with black “Yes, god yes, yes, please” 

Guiding him flat on his back you lift yourself off his thighs, he lets out a disappointed sound before you bring your hand down to trace the outline of him over the fabric. He urges you on, tugging at the buckle of his belt and you swiftly push his hands away. 

“Let me” You roll to his side, giving yourself more space to work the buckle and button open, pulling the zip down, you slip your hand inside and you can feel a damp spot on his pants before you quickly drag his jeans and boxers over his hips. His cock sways heavily between his legs, red and dripping. You try to mask the shock on your face because you really didn’t expect him to be so big, he’s long and thick, curved just so and you’ll know he’ll hit every spot perfectly. 

“Oh Buck, such a pretty cock. So big, you’re going to fill me up so good” You reach out to grasp his length, giving it a slow stroke that draws the neediest whine from him.  

“Fuck, I need you. Please, need you. Now, please” The hazy desperation has been replaced with heated desire as he pushes your dress up round your hips, tugging at the bodice “Get this off” 

You guide his hands to the zip of your dress and he makes quick work, helping you pull the fabric off. Bucky sits up, dragging his shirt over his head before discarding it on the floor with the rest of his clothes. 

He cups your jaw, capturing your mouth with fierce urgency while he moves you, pulling you back on him, your bare core this time meeting his aching cock. “F-uck baby”, you arch into him, tilting your hips to press your aching clit against him.

Raising yourself up, you slide your hand between your legs, nails ghosting over his tip and he shudders at the contact. His grip on your waist is gentle yet possessive and it tightens when you wrap your hand around his length and stroke once, twice, pulling a roughened groan from him.

Hovering with his tip just pressed against your cunt, you touch your fingers delicately to his face “Look at me.” Only once his eyes meet yours do you ease yourself down onto him, the stretch almost painful despite how wet you are. Bucky whines, his hold bruising your hips and his eyes rolling back and fluttering closed.

When you’re fully seated, the curve of his cock presses deliciously against that sweet spot deep inside, one that isn’t reached by your fingers or toys, and it sends a shudder through your body. 

The sharp clench of your cunt is enough to snap Bucky from the daze he had momentarily been lost to

“Shit, please move” He bucks slightly, pushing himself even deeper and the ache is exquisite.  

You begin to move, rolling your hips, lifting yourself and sinking back down. Your hands find Bucky’s chest, pressing him hard into the mattress, increasing your speed as you ride him. 

“Yeah, just like that, fuck” Bucky’s chanting under his breath, letting you take what you need from him. Your shallow breaths are painful in your lungs, unable to pull in enough oxygen you can feel your head getting dizzy. A familiar heat coils in your belly, overwhelming and driving your need. 

Noticing the falter in your hips and the catch in your breath Bucky takes over, thrusting from beneath you, driving into that spot over and over until you cry out, “Shit, oh fuck, yes”, thrashing waves surge beneath your skin, uncontrollable tremors rolling through your body as Bucky holds you steady, nails clawing at his chest, your cunt quivering around his cock. 

He gives you just enough slack to rock your hips as your orgasm subsides, writhing against his thighs, breathing unsteady. 

“You’re so fucking pretty when you cum” He’s moving you as he speaks, rolling you both, pushing you down onto the sheets in the middle of the bed “You look so fucking good.” 

Your legs instinctively open as he crawls up the mattress towards you, hooking your legs over his hips, his cock rests heavily on your belly. He pauses, taking in the sight, thighs flush against your bum, cock reaching up to your belly button. “Can’t believe you can take all of it” he breathes.

You reach down to trace the length of him, fingers gently teasing the underside of the head 

“C’mon Buck, fuck me” your tone is encouraging, maybe a bit teasing but he takes your instruction.

Dragging his tip down your slit, teasing the head against your entrance. It’s a tighter push after your orgasm and he watches you take every inch, eyes never leaving where his cock is splitting you open “Shit” He lets out an unsteady breath as he bottoms out.

It doesn’t take long for Bucky to pick up the pace, grunting softly against your lips “Fuck. Need’t- Fuck, feels so good” He lifts your leg, wrapping your knee around his waist, burying his cock deeper. “That’s it” You hear him groan and you’re not able to stop the shiver that runs through your body.

The pace he sets is relentless, there’s not an inch of space between your bodies and the sounds of skin on skin and soft moans fill the room. 

“So good, filling me so good Buck” The familiar heat is building in the pit of your stomach, your head can’t comprehend the approaching fourth orgasm but your body is racing towards ecstasy, already lost to it.

“You gonna cum?” Bucky pants against your cheek and you nod “yeah? Fuck, need you to cum, wanna feel it” 

Bucky pulls up, giving you space to slip your hand between your bodies if you want to but you don’t feel the need to, his cock hitting just perfectly to throw you over the edge.

“Fuck yes, c’mon” Bucky’s whiney and needy, desperate to make you cum he doubles down, thrusting harder, chanting a soft string of “yes, yes, yes” as he feels the tell-tale clench of your release. 

“Buc-Ah” You can't help the strangled cry you let out as you fall over the edge, vision blacking and body arching, hands clawing at the sheets beneath you. 

Bucky sobs your name quietly as he buries himself inside you and you pull him closer with your legs. Blistering heat floods inside you, “Fuck, fuck, fuck ” Bucky pants in a whisper as his cock throbs. 

You reach up to touch his face, pushing his hair back from his sweaty forehead, he presses his lips to yours, breathing heavily against your mouth. Letting your legs fall away from him, he hesitates slightly before slipping out of you. 

Bucky moves to lay next to you, pulling the duvet from underneath your boneless body and covering you both with it. Your body feels heavy and you shouldn’t stay, you know you shouldn’t but the warmth of his body next to yours is nice, and when he reaches for you, pulling you close and mumbling sleepily “don’t go” you don’t want to leave, can’t bear the thought of the cold empty guest bed waiting for you upstairs. 

So you stay, wrapped in the arms of a man half your age, promising yourself you’ll deal with the consequences in the morning. 

𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝒊𝒊 -  ♡.

𝐁𝐔𝐂𝐊𝐘 𝐁𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐄𝐒 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

[h3lfaerie]

Okay first off this PoA is the most amazing fanfic I have ever read. Like it's just so good I can read it multiple times a day and I notice more minute details the more I reread. Which brings me to the reason why I'm sending this terror mail.

The creature (I refuse to believe it's a dragon) has caught my attention so bad it's led my to scouring the internet for it's name using the small details i was given.

It's only today that I realized this may be the product of another one of your brilliant ideas that popped into your mind.

So I am BEGGING YOU please! Clarify if this is entirely made up from that beautiful brain of yours or a mythic creature that I have yet to gaze upon.

I thank you in advance,

<3 anon

First of all,

The fact that you went LOOKING-

Bestie, I am squealing and kicking my feet right now. You ended up actively trying to figure it out, which is like... the best freaking compliment ever?? Thank you so much!!

Secondly, when I originally began this project I didn't think I'd wind up setting up an entire murder mystery. I've had to go down some very niche rabbit holes to understand the ins and outs of... well, crime and I'm pretty sure I might be on a watchlist due to my search history-

I must say... The predator is somewhat of a combination between an already existing entity (I can't say what kind, so it could be a dragon, who knows 👀) and something I have had to think about and devise myself for quite a while.

A huge thing about Chapter 7 in particular was that it took me so long to write (despite it being relatively short) because the details of what happened to Kingstail are essentially the end result of what is a timeline of occurrences.

I needed to know what manner of creature would end up hunting after dragons (which are already an apex predator). I had to consider motivation, appearances, strengths and weaknesses, behavioral patterns, location. I needed to have figured out EVERYTHING about this before I could devise Hiccup's point of view because he is essentially playing the role of a crimes investor and a forensic scientist (poor guy).

In other words, he is working backwards from what is basically the very gruesome aftermath towards what may have caused it by trailing clues and certain details. And in order to understand what he would be seeing in this situation is if I, as an author, KNOW my creature inside outside back to front.

A lot of thought and research went into this predator. As well as a lot of creative liberties. Nordic Mythos is weirdly rather difficult to research because upon trying to find information about anything the Norse would consider wights or monsters or spirits is largely overshadowed by singular, almost deity-like figures like Fenrir, or Sleipnir or Jörmungandr. I didn't need that.

I needed the shit they'd scare their children with when they misbehaved. I needed the reason why they'd continuously tell you not to stray from the path when entering the woods.

I needed what they called Vaettir.

Now you're more than welcome to scour the page and consider the possibilities. But I can't say you'll find the answer ;)

Only that this is where I, as an author, started.

If I was to leave a hint to stir you in the right direction it would be: consider the location where Kingstail's body was found, and consider what is missing from it.

Thank you so much for your ask, anon <3 Your continuous support for Path of Alfheim is something I can never truly thank you enough for. I'm hoping to be able to post the new Chapter soon.

___________________

BONUS: I recently made an audio for the Craze, which you can also find under the PoA Audio tag <3

🎧HEADPHONE WARNING, LOUD🎧

[not-quite-there-myself]

BRAIDING HAIR—BOYS COMPILATION

Small drabbles on a master attendant who wants to braid their Food Soul's hair. How do the boys react?

Feat. Beer, Zabaione, Wuyi Da Hong Pao, Mashed Potatoes, Red Wine

Girls version here!

Reblogs are greatly appreciated!

Beer

" You want to braid my hair? Oh, well go on! Don't be shy, you should've said so sooner! "

He absolutely loves the idea of you braiding his hair—he's definitely let others play with his hair before, so the fact that you've shown interest as well makes him smile. He eagerly sits in front of you, whether on the floor or in a chair, in front of a mirror or not. As you braid, he hums a little tune, a song you recognize. It doesn't matter how good your braiding skills are, because to Beer, he thinks any effort from you brings wonderful results. When you're done, he feels the braid gently with his fingers, thanking and complimenting you with a big grin on his face.

" One braid is wonderful, but Attendant, you know what would be more great? Multiple braids! If you don't want to do all of it alone, let me help! "

Zabaione

" Oh? Would that interest you? Sure, let me take a seat so you may begin. "

He certainly doesn't mind it. Entertaining your idea, he closes his eyes and relaxes, almost instantly, when you start. His hair is rather thick but well kept, so you find little trouble in fixing up a braid. Your hands combing through his hair feel surprisingly good, but he ends up lightly teasing you about this affair instead of the other way around. At times when he can see your focused expression, Zabaione lets a small quip about it slip through, chuckling when you stop braiding for just a moment.

" If touching me like this brings you pleasure, then I'm more than willing to indulge you. I won't deny it feels rather nice for me, too."

Wuyi Da Hong Pao

" You wish to braid my hair? Hehe, of course. It is rather long, isn't it? "

He welcomes it with an amused smile as you reach out to start braiding. The feeling of your fingers weaving the thick strands of his hair is something he hasn't felt in some time, and Wuyi can admit to you that he enjoys it quite a lot. To him, it's like a gentle wind coming up to push the hair covering his face. He lets out a small sigh of contentment, enjoying the feeling and finding it satisfying, comparing it to when he's mixing medicines or other concoctions. There's a kind of easy harmony that comes with this moment, a peace he likes... And he seems to smile at the thought that you might be liking this just as much as he does.

" This looks lovely, Master Attendant. Perhaps next time, I could trouble you to fix up my hair again when I go out to get more herbs? "

Mashed Potatoes

" Ah, really? How nice of you to offer! "

He thinks it's cute that you ask him for such a simple request. How could he reject such a thing, especially from his dear master? He lets you do whatever you want in a heartbeat, and he probably makes a point to find some hair ties for you to use as well! Mashed Potatoes would prefer it if there was a mirror nearby so he could watch your progress. He sees the action of braiding his hair as a lovely gift from you, and even if you aren't particularly skilled at it, the Food Soul will still thank you for it with a smile.

" All living things grow at their own pace. Master Attendant, I think it looks wonderful! If you aren't satisfied, you're welcome to practice on me again in the future. "

Red Wine

" Master Attendant, don't do anything distasteful. "

As expected of him, this hair is well kept if not a little short. Unfortunately, if you're just starting out and have no idea how to braid, he's probably not be the best person to practice on. If your skills aren't adequate to his standards, he'll definitely berate you on poor braid quality. You may very well find the tables turning on you in the end. If your hair is long enough, Red Wine will stop you from braiding his hair and instead prop you by the nearest mirror and demonstrate on your hair instead. His teaching method is a bit strict, but that's because he prefers quality over quantity when practicing with you.

" Here, take a seat and watch as I do. Play close attention, I'm not going to repeat myself more times than I have to. "

____________________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐ Please do not copy, repost, or translate, thank you !

[zeldotsbrainrot]

Hi, I'm Zeldot,

Here's my request info, tags, and some stuff about me. On hiatus.

Requests: CLOSED

- I take drawing requests, regular asks, asks directed towards the characters... and compliments (teehee)

- Please don't send multiple requests for the same thing/reminders to complete your request, I'm nowhere near a large enough creator to 'lose' your asks. Some asks just take longer to get to than others.

- I take multiple requests, again just keep in mind I like to take my time with them to ensure I reply with something of actual quality.

- Keep it 16+ for now... might make a more raunchy side acc in the future.

Tag Info:

Suggestive posts are under: #zdotgetssuggestive

Ship Art: #ship art

Nudity: #ohtheyrenaked

Art Tag (Finished Stuff Only): #zdotsfinest

Art Tag (Everything I've Ever Drawn): #zdotsdump

Ask Tag: #zdotdoesrequests

Thank You Doodles: #zsaysthanks

Oc Stuff: #zsocs

Me Talking/Bullshitting: #zrants

Whiteboard Events: #zdotsboard

More may be added.

Welcome to the obligatory introductory post. You can call me Z or Zeldot. All I do is draw TF2 stuff 24/7. Here's some other stuff about me:

- Medic Kin (I say that very lightheartedly, I don't think I was Medic in a past life or something- he's just relatable and I like to project on him.)

- He/Him

- 20/Yrs Old

- Bisexual and Genderfluid

I do traditional and digital work, but I'm still learning the ropes on a lot of things so I apologize if my art is inconsistent at times. Likes, requests, follows, reblogs, etc, are all very much appreciated, but if you'd like to go the extra mile I also have a Ko-Fi: https://ko-fi.com/zeld0t

Reblog, do NOT repost.

That's all for now.

-Z

[footballffbarbiex]

7 years on tumblr

I've officially been on this blog for 7 years. 7 whole years of me writing your requests and feeding your imaginations. I realise that I've had a few hiatuses in that time which range from my two labours and newborn stages, multiple deaths in my family, a short term break up and a depression period but I'm still here. Still writing.

Here on tumblr there are almost 4000 of us. This is a number I never thought I'd reach when I first started writing on here. I didn't think even one person would read the thoughts that I managed to get down, but I was wrong and the love poured in. I've seen almost every footballer get their own spotlight and have that light removed. I've seen the "fads", the flavour of the day which sometimes stretched to a few weeks. I've watched the fandom grow from a handful of us, no more than 15 writers at one point, to what this fandom is now.

I've written some of my favourite pieces for footballers who are now no longer sought after but that doesn't mean I don't love those pieces any less. I've written hundreds, if not at this point, over a thousand pieces for this fandom and with each new request, I can only hope that not only has my story telling improved, but that I've met your requests with the justice they've deserved.

Some of you have followed me to Patreon which is one of the highest compliments that I could possibly receive. Some have left and some have been there since the very beginning and have remained. I cannot thank each and every one of you who has signed up and supported me that way - no matter how long you've been there. Each sign up, each request, each like and comment over there fuels me to keep going. So thank you.

I've made a lot of friends along the way because of this blog and I've lost quite a few of them for one reason or another but I try not to let that get in the way of the storytelling that I wish to do. The ones I still have, continue to save my sanity on a daily basis and have brought more joy and stability to my life than I could ever explain - some of these current friends I've had the pleasure of having at my own home.

I didn't think I'd last a few months on here. I thought the interest for my work, who I am and what I do wouldn't last. At times I do feel lonely on here and forgotten about, I won't deny that. But I try not to let that eat me up and I try to engage with my readers and followers as much as I possibly can. I love interacting with other writers, and I love seeing what my readers have thought about a new piece. I welcome feedback and keyboard smashing in the form of asks in responses to smut.

I won't stop trying to do better on here and I hope that I will continue to write and post pieces that will stay with you long after you've finished reading them and that in my blog, you will always find your safe place to snuggle down and read something comforting.

Here's to the next 7 years and the next 4000 followers.

Love,

Amy

x

[bookinit02]

hi I'm a new byler shipper (was a part of the GA for like 2 years before I rewatched everything and realised Mike went through a brief no homo phase during season 3). I just started binge-reading your retelling series and THEY'RE SO AMAZING! I'm literally recommending them to my friends rn and turning them into byler shippers and I can't wait to get to the s5 scripts!

Also, random question but are you, astrobei, and wiseatom the popular girl clique of byler tumblr?

hi, thank you so much!! i was GA for a long time as well, so we’re happy to have you here🫂💗 thank you for the compliment and for sharing my stories with your friends, that means the world to me!!

your last question made me laugh😭 i definitely wouldn’t call us a “popular girl clique” by any means!! i’ve met suni and thea multiple times irl and they’re some of my very best friends. i also respect them greatly as authors, and they both inspire me a lot! but there are so many other people in this fandom that i’m also friends with, and i’d never dream of excluding anyone. so i’m sorry to disappoint, but the answer is a firm no🫡

thanks for the ask, and welcome to byler tumblr!💗

[lacunafiction]

Hey, I hope you are doing well. The fernweh saga is one of the best things happened to me😩. I can't get enough of it. I want to live inside it😤. I have never read an if where I love all ros but fernweh's every ro has me at chokehold. I have a question if you don't mind me asking. Will R ever apologize if they are at fault? I'm saying this with heavy heart, but my mc will definitely leave their ass if they don't apologize while being in a relationship. Thank you so much 💞.

Hi Anon,

Thank you for the well wishes! 💚

Wanting to live inside Fernweh despite its eerie charm is a great compliment to the town! It will always welcome you home. I do get excited when I see readers vibing with multiple ROs since that means you will experience even more of the story on the different routes.

Oof, apologizing and R is a complicated mix given their upbringing and how they can internalize blame. (You all read what can happen at the memorium with Ms. Verner; the scene is worse if you fail a stat check.) But, it's very important to note that R's care for the MC helps to balance out some of those learned behaviors of refusing fault or stubbornly doubling-down on their stance. So, yes, R is willing to not only apologize to the MC, but to try and be better for them as well, especially in romance/bffs. It's because they do care for you, etc.

In Chapter 10, MCs who are not on the R or JR romance route, can get a hint of R expressing contrition. If your MC was genuinely scared or upset over R's prank, they do express regret for trying to make you laugh. It's an important scene along with a few others where R is self-aware enough to walk back what they say because despite all of that charm and quippy snark, they are a generally well-meaning person.

There is a lot of depth to R with that elegant Verner composure, their particular upbringing, what happened to their family, and much more. It'll be fun to explore what lies beneath. 🖤 Best wishes!

[misc-obeyme]

i'm not really good at these type of reactions but i'm sure if barbatos met you, he would've liked you. you give these positive energy/vibes that make people feel closer and safe around you you're writing and your answers says it all i've been satisfied with you're answers, opinions, thoughts, headcanons as well. you're respecftul even when others aren't to you which shows you're mature at least that's the impression you have given me. btw barbatos is my favourite too and usually when i play the game i just want his attention i literally play the game for him and only his opinion and thoughts on me matter. actually in general the demon brothers love mc because of their attraction aura and it looks like some of us really have that in real life and one of them is you. (sorry for my english)

Dearest anon. I read through this ask multiple times because it left me so speechless. It took me a minute, but I'm nothing if not a writer, so the words finally came.

Thank you so much, this really means a lot to me. If I'm being honest, I don't really have a very high opinion of myself. But I know that my own perception is not accurate because I'm me. So I have to rely on other people's opinions. And if you think Barbatos would like me if he was real, well, that just fills me with so much happiness.

I really try to be as welcoming and accepting as possible, here on the blog and irl. I want to be a safe space for people. I'm really glad that's coming through in my writing and answers to asks and things because sometimes it's hard to read tone on the internet lol.

I dunno about mature, but I am kinda old, so there's that. I personally would rather joke around than get upset about people being weird to me. I haven't had much of that on here, thankfully!

I also have that reaction when playing the game! I'll be going along, enjoying the story and stuff, but then Barbatos shows up and I lose my cool instantly lol. I always get so excited when he makes an appearance, even if it's brief!

It's really hard for me to accept such nice compliments. I love the idea that I have an attraction aura, but I'm not capable of seeing it myself. Still, I'm going to take your word for it, anon! It makes me feel so happy to know that people feel that way just from the things I post here. I think of my writing as little pieces of my soul because I put so much of myself into it, so it's wonderful to hear that some of that gets through to others!

Anyway, thank you so much for your kind words! This ask made me so happy (even if I also cried a little, but that's normal for me lol). Also your English is excellent so no need to apologize for it! I appreciate you taking the time to write this to me! 💕💕

[hyuuukais]

It is a good thing that tumblr asks have a character limit, because otherwise we would be here all day. To start off with my opinion on Lake (that’s YOU 🫵) I will begin this dissertation with my first impression - which was, “wow, they are SO talented.” My introduction to you came in the form of a Lee Felix x Reader series called Sunshine and Strawberries. Sound familiar? Good. That series changed lives. Every character you write has depth. Every world you creat feels real - somewhere I would want to be transported to (and sort of am every time I read your works). Fuck the MCU. You have your own cinematic universe IMO. Your ideas are fresh and creative and have me wondering just how your mind works to create such masterful art. Which, speaking of art - that brings me to my second impression of you. I.e- your doodles. Another showcase of your talents. Every time I am on your blog, I feel like you are undertaking another project that you will undoubtedly ace. I feel as if you do not give yourself enough credit, but I’m here to tell you at least one person on this dogforsaken site thinks that you are wonderfully inspiring!! Your efforts do not go unnoticed. On top of all of that, you are incredibly humble and kind! You are welcoming, easy to talk to, funny, silly, understanding, and overall just a very amazing person to know!!! You also have impeccable taste (being a Bang Chan bias and all) and I would trust your opinion on almost anything. All of that to say, I think you are neat. 👍

me reading this ask:

no but fr this is like the most in depth perception(/compliment) of myself & my blog that i've ever gotten and like. i cried. i shed a tear or two. everything u said i will be carrying with me forever 🥹 singlehandedly boosting my motivation to 1 million percent !!!!!!!!!!!!! thank u so much for your kind and sweet words, u quite literally made my day, week, month, year, life.... hugging u rn 🥹🫂 i feel like i can't even put into words how this made me feel 😭

fun fact, i've always been a bit insecure of my writing and had never finished something until sunshine and strawberries (can you believe it's almost been a year? i can't.) but i'm so grateful for that fic. i've written fanfiction for multiple different fandoms, but this is the place where it's really truly stuck and felt like something more, if you know what i mean? all this to say, i think you're neat as well, and i hope ur having an amazing day 🥹💙

[lizziebobizzie]

your favorite OC and tell me as much about them as you can

So admittedly I've been putting this question off for a while since I don't really have a lot of OCs in the conventional sense. That's just not how I've engaged with the media I like and it's only recently that I've realized that not only is it okay and even cool, but that it's something I want to do.

But. Here me out here. I play a lot of tablestuck. So I'm going to have to roll out the Homestuck OCs. And there's a few (around 3) that I love very dearly, so I'll pick one that's probably the most interesting.

Jay Callahagn (or fantasicallyStrung[FS]) is a young man with an interest in shows like House MD, The Walking Dead, and Criminal minds, and enjoys games like Danganronpa, Persona, and Magic: The Gathering. In addition to Crime Dramas, he's also very interested in Film Noir. He's well meaning, but paranoid and patronizing. He thinks he knows better than his friends and it causes him to be a bit of a jerk. He also thinks "the ends justify the means", so he gets into a lot of moral scrapes. He also thinks everyone is out to get him.

Jay lives in a mobile home with his Aunt. His absentee father filled the house with traps of varying lethality, causing Jay to constantly be on edge. He's probably even been hurt by a few. While he understands on some level this is fucked up, he also feels like this is this is important training from his father to teach him to be observant.

Jay wants to be a Criminal Psychologist. He wants to understand why people commit crimes, but he's still stuck in this mindset that "the system is in place because it works".

His Fetch Modus, that system that manages his inventory, is based on compliments. You compliment an object to pick it up, and insult it to put it down.

After a 5 year time skip in the game I played him in, he became a sort of peace broker for the group in a failing game. Multiple important players had dropped out and vanished or died, so he and 2 others were saddled with trying to find a way to break the game's rules to find a way to win. He also started a police academy he simply called "The Agency", where he took up a job as something between a Police Detective and Chief. This came back to bite him when the underlings that ran the agency started to try and overthrow him, inspired by the film noir media he brought with him and eager to grab the power he held. He was betrayed by his right hand man at a crucial part of the story and left for dead, a problem caused mostly by him recreating the toxic, hierarchical environment he grew up in.

I had a lot of fun writing up magic items for Jay, and I could speak at length about the story I had designed for him, but this character summary is lengthy already so I think it would be prudent to stop here. Thank you very much for asking! It isn't often I get to talk about my characters and the opportunity is always welcome!

[faeratil]

As someone on the customer service side of this, I LOVE my regulars. It makes my day every time one of them walks in. They usually start out a little nervous that someone remembers their name or their order, but it’s so welcoming to the people behind the counter that we see a familiar face.

I know more about some of my regulars than I ever knew about some of my classmates. I know that Susan (not the real names) always gets a bold roast except for one specific blend that we brew every few months, and I know that Susan will appreciate if I already have the medium roast ready for her. I know that Joe like his sandwich cooked a very specific way, and if he orders online I can already have it made the way he likes it. I know Fred gets almond milk in his coffee, and only ordered 2% because online it says we’re out but I have just enough left to make it right for him. I know that Gus will show up exactly 48 seconds after placing his order online with his big old mastiff hanging out of the back window ready for a cup of whipped cream and that all of the baristas are going to ask how the puppy is doing.

I even know that John and Jane are married, I knew them through Jane’s pregnancy announcement and all the way to the baby’s first birthday and they tell me all about their family every time they come in. I know Francis has multiple kids in the military and she shows me their wedding photos and asks me when I’m getting married so she can send a gift. I know Peter is sitting in the cafe for sometimes 12 hours a day writing his second novel and will gladly tell you all about his first one if you ask. I know Ashley got in a car wreck a few months ago and is almost done with physical therapy and is happy to have a new car. I know Jill doesn’t like to talk to people, but her face still lights up when you compliment her anime sweatshirts and she’ll give you a small “thanks” and then keep smiling for the rest of the time she’s in the cafe. I know Ellie cried when she saw the baristas supporting pride month and gave everyone rainbow wristbands as a gift.

I love my regulars. I see you as more than your order. Become a regular. Tell us about your stories. Show off your new t-shirt. Tell me about the people you met at comic con. Tell me about how much you hate exams. Share your latest art piece with us. Show us pictures of your pets. We love getting to know people.

It’s so much more refreshing to see the same people everyday than to have every face be a cold stranger. Regulars make the shifts bearable. Regulars are the ones who recognize that we’re people too.

Starving to death this morning because ive been to the new local cafe twice this week already and if i go a third time ill look desperate.