#violet was a ball of stress

[rainbow-sunshine-unicorn]

The entrance scene to Lady Danbury’s ball is one of my most favourite scenes from Season 3 because there’s so many little details, and interesting tidbits that show the dynamics between these characters beautifully.

But I feel like a lot of these small but important details are missed, simply because this scene is a really quick one. So, let me breakdown some of my personal favourite bits from this scene:

Starting with, Anthony entering, proudly with his Viscountess on his arm. His head is held high and there’s even a spring in step. He’s so freaking happy to be walking in with Kate!!

But, besides being Kate’s proud husband, he’s also Francesca’s worrisome big brother and so he turns around check on her and when he sees that she’s feeling apprehensive, he holds her hand and tucks it into the crook of his elbow to remind her that he’s right beside her, to support her

While, Anthony comforts Francesca, Kate keeps the attention off them by dealing with all the polite courtesies and by complimenting Lady Danbury’s skills as a hostess.

Which distracts Lady Danbury from Anthony and Francesca long enough to preen at her Ball and also gives Anthony another convenient reason to keep falling deeper in love with his wife

Benedict and Colin are on their best behaviour because they are in Kate’s direct line of sight and she’s smiling sweetly at them and they absolutely will not be the reason she’s disappointed.

And for once, Violet Bridgerton is simply looking forward to a Ball

[thegreatcrowdragon]

Maybe it’s because I’m a younger sibling too + haven’t been able to buy the dlc yet (also avoiding spoilers) but I think Kieran should be able to kill at least once

[murdockparker]

Mr. Bridgerton and the Baker

Benedict Bridgerton x Reader

Summary: Covered in flour. It is how she usually spent her days, working hard at her family's bakery. She just hadn't expected to have met him in such a state.

Word Count: 11.8k

Warnings: pining, angst, fluff, a small assault (reader gets hit, not by Benedict!), mention of pregnancy (like, literally a line or two),

A/N: Did I write an entire fic barely based on that one scene in Camp Rock where Mitchie is covered in flour? Yes. Do I regret it? No.

With the melting of snow and the promise of new starts, the social season was nearly upon the ton, nearly upon all the potential suitors and debutantes—all waiting with bated breath to secure a match this year. Of course, those in waiting were of high status, usually tied to the aristocracy or drowning in wealth beyond compare.

The others? The ones not blessed with endless funds or pure luck of royal lineage had the privilege, nay, honor to serve those who would be so fortunate. For the many, it included servicing the estates—butlers, lady’s maids, governesses, home chefs and the like. For the patrons on Tilbury Street, it included the less sought after roles, polishers, cobblers, modistes and bakeries. One bakery in particular was the prime choice for the aristocracy, a diamond in the rough as some may say. 

—

“I just simply don’t understand why we cannot have our chefs prepare the pastries for the ball,” Eloise Bridgerton nearly groaned, her arm hooked onto her mother’s. They had been walking up and down Tilbury Street for the better part of twenty minutes, simply enjoying the fresh spring weather. “I’ve never known them to make horrid dishes.”

“It’s the first Bridgerton Ball of the season, Eloise,” the dowager viscountess murmured politely. “Along with it being the first Kate has had the pleasure of hosting, putting an order in here is a fresh foot forward, one that’ll impress our guests.”

Eloise barked back a laugh. “If it is so important, why is Kate not here to make the order herself?”

“That, dear sister, is an excellent point.” Following close behind the two Bridgerton ladies was a rather tall shadow, equally as dashing and nearly as clever—Benedict—the second eldest son of the Bridgerton brood. “Surely Anthony could spare his wife for one afternoon, I can’t imagine it being so difficult to pry them from their bedroom—”

“Benedict Bridgerton!” Violet snapped, turning hot on her heels to face her son. He could only laugh.

“Oh Mother, you must relax,” he said lovingly, patting both hands on her shoulders. “You know better than I that it could have been a far fouler thought—why, I can easily imagine three other ways I could have expressed my way of thinking.”

“Ah, ever the poet, Benedict,” Eloise smiled wryly, pushing her way to the front of their clump. No one had the heart to mention the glaring fact that it was likely she didn’t know the way in which they were headed. 

“This bakery,” Violet continued half-heartedly. “Is a prestigious supplier for the ton—you may recall their exquisite cake that we had ordered for Daphne’s wedding.”

Benedict hummed contently. “It was a good cake,” he practically nodded off at the thought. The decadent sponge nearly brought him to tears—of course, it could have very well been the relief from undue stress of Daphne’s season altogether, having nearly lost his older brother to an unnecessary duel.

“I think it was far too sweet,” Eloise said, scrunching her nose in distaste. “I had to drink nearly three cups of tea to clear out the sugar on my tongue.”

“Ah, but what’s life without a little bit of sweetness?” Benedict nearly sang.

“Perfectly fulfilling,” his younger sister quipped back.

The dowager viscountess could only sigh, her eyes reaching up to the clouds above. While she loved nothing more than being the mother of all eight of her perfect children, their endless bickering and bantering grew vexing. It merely took the Bridgerton siblings another minute of arguing before stopping in front of a quaint storefront—the sickeningly sweet aroma filling the street. “We’re here.”

“I could have told you as much,” Benedict mumbled, rubbing his temple lightly. “The scent is… overpowering.” If he were lucky, the headache that was quickly forming would dull fast.

“But Benedict,” Eloise turned hot on her heels. “What’s life without a bit of sweetness?”

Violet Bridgerton was quick to catch her second eldest's hand before it met the back of Eloise’s head. “If it’s too much for you, dear,” she released her grip. “Please feel free to wait for us out here. It should only take a moment.”

“Like a ‘moment’ at the modiste?” Benedict crossed his arms, his brow nearly touching his hairline. “If I recall, the last time I accompanied you to the dressmaker, I spent over an hour basking in the summer sun.”

“Nothing logical stopped you from coming in,” Eloise drawled. “Of course, if you wanted to managed to stay pleasant with the seamstress, one should have kept it in his trousers—”   

“We’ll only be a moment,” Violet hushed Eloise quickly, grasping the top of her arm firmly. “There seems to be little wait. We’ll be on our way shortly.”

He huffed towards the sun—while there had been little heat near the start of the English spring, the sun was warm against his skin. Benedict enjoyed being outdoors more often than not, it was usually the reason he accompanied his mother on their errands nearly every other day of the season. That, of course, and the fact it got his worrying mama off of his back to be wed. With Anthony finally securing a match, it was only fitting for Violet Bridgerton to be working her way down her list of endless children—having only two of eight married off. “It should only be a moment,” Benedict reassured himself, watching various other families and couples walk by. 

That is, until he heard a rather loud bang coming from the alley beside him. He should have known better—he was taught better—than to investigate outlandish sounds, especially in town, but Benedict Bridgerton was nothing if not curious. He peeked around the corner, holding his breath, preparing to be met with a wild animal of some kind. His view was shaky at best, hardly could see a thing around the bricks. If he wanted a better look, he’d have to take a few steps towards the unusual noise. 

A large white cloud had enveloped the small alley, it was difficult to even see a few meters ahead, let alone what could have caused the loud commotion. Benedict waved his hand through the mysterious fog, trying to clear some air. “Hello?” He heard a soft squeak. An animal, it had to have been, Benedict was sure of it now. “Is anyone there?” 

A cough rang through the alley, startling him more than rogue vermin could have. The cloud had begun to dissipate, the white settling on the stone street below. Flour, if he had to guess, given the location.

“I’m alright,” a voice murmured quietly, another soft cough following quickly after. The shape of a person came into view, the air finally clearing enough for him to make sense of the scene he came upon. It was one of a woman now covered head to toe in the white powder—she had no distinguishable features, the flour was caking every bit of her body and dress. Just striking eyes that made Benedict’s heart jump to his throat. “Just… made a mess.”

“So it seems,” Benedict hummed, stepping over a pile of powder to get closer. “Do you require any help?”

“No, no,” she laughed. “I wouldn’t want you to get dirty. I fear I’ve got quite enough of that for the both of us.”

“I don’t mind getting dirty,” Benedict said quickly, his tongue moving faster than his brain. “But… yes, I suppose it’d be for the best if I refrained from getting any flour on me. May I ask how…?”

“Clumsy,” she uttered simply, the shrug of her shoulders speaking nothing but truth. “I must have the slipperiest fingers in town—I wish I could say this was the first time…”

“Manage to cover yourself in flour often?” Benedict’s lips pulled into a jesting smirk.

“Nearly every other day,” the woman sighed. “We’ve grown accustomed to purchasing an extra sack or two just for situations like these."

“I hardly doubt you could be that clumsy,” Benedict laughed, leaning against the stone wall. “But, I am painting quite the image in my head.”

“Oh I do hope I’m decent in that image, Mr. Bridgerton,” she giggled, curtsying in a near-mocking manner.

“How do you know—”

“Everyone knows your family, Mr. Bridgerton, I’d be a fool to admit I don’t know who you are—though you and your brothers all blur together, so I am merely taking a shot in the dark in which of the four you are.”

“Oh?”

She nodded once, a flurry of powder falling from her hair. A muffled shout from the back door startled her, grabbing her attention. “Ah,” the woman waved the air in front of her face, “I suppose I should take my leave—get cleaned up.”

“Of course,” Benedict said simply. “I won’t keep you.” In nearly an instant, the mysterious dusted lady disappeared from view, diving into the back door. He was taken aback by her candidness—having addressed him so forwardly without the pleasantries of a name exchange. “Damn,” he mumbled to himself, kicking residual flour off of his polished shoe, “I never asked for her name.” Would it be too forward to knock on the back door to ask for her? Benedict Bridgerton couldn’t wrap his head around the interaction—she nearly sent him into a tizzy.

“Brother?” 

Eloise stood at the end of the alley, clutch in hand, face pinched in confusion. 

“Ah, I suppose you’re finished?”

“Hardly,” Eloise scoffed, “Mother insisted on doubling the initial order ‘just to be safe’. She’ll be out in a moment.” 

“Perhaps I should go inside to accompany her—”

“And leave your unwed sister unchaperoned in this part of town?” Eloise pressed a hand to her brother’s chest, stopping him dead in his tracks. His eyes danced quickly to the street in the distance, clearly not paying any attention to his sister. “Benedict?”

“Hm?” He glanced down. “Ah, maybe we should both go back inside—”

“You’re…” she pushed on him harder, nearly sending him backwards. “Acting strange. Not terribly long ago you wanted nothing to do with this place and now, you’re dying to jump into the building that brought you so much strife?” Eloise removed her hand from him, settling it down by her side as she glanced at him up and down. The blues of his outfit were covered slightly in a white power—not enough to really notice, but enough to give the appearance of filth. “And you’re covered in… flour?”

“I don’t wish to share every moment of my day with you, dear Sister,” Benedict said simply, sighing contently. “My business is my business.”

“Business,” Eloise parroted. “Sure.”

Violet Bridgerton had finished the order quickly, mumbling something about the higher prices this time of year—she had gotten a good deal regardless. Benedict was hardly listening, for he was already planning his next trip to this very bakery, hoping to meet the girl in flour once more. 

He never did get the chance, to go back to town. His studies took up most of his free time, any other moment he had was spent with his ever-growing family. Just recently, his sister Daphne brought over her newest addition—another daughter named Belinda—who happened to be yet another spitting image of her mother. Benedict had a theory that every new Bridgerton baby will simply just inherit all the Bridgerton features, so far he had been proven correct. 

“Damn,” Benedict mumbled, violently dabbing a paint brush into his water cup, the colors swirling from the end.

He had been in his studio for the last few hours, mixing endless pigments and oils together, trying to concoct the color in his mind’s eye. It was impossible, he theorized, to create the exact shades and hues of her eyes. It was the most striking thing he remembered about her appearance—save for the copious amount of white flour caking her form—and Benedict Bridgerton had come to the conclusion that her eyes were simply forged by God Himself, a color not meant for mortal recreation.

“Why can I not…” He sighed, slumping back in his stool, paintbrush nearly hitting his trousers. “This is impossible.”

The grand clock beside the door chimed out. It was nearly time to get ready for Anthony and Kate’s ball—an occasion he was most dreading, save for enjoying the few pastries that came from the quaint bakery down in town. Reluctantly, he began to pry himself from his studio and made his way to the washroom, preparing to soak away any remnants of her.

—

“Mother,” (Y/N) chimed out, tying the serving apron to her waist, “I don’t see the reason for my attendance this evening. Surely the hosts of the event will have their own serving staff?”

“(Y/N),” her mother exasperated, throwing a towel down. “Your brothers are ill and bedridden and have been the last few days. Your father and I are counting on you to help fulfill the order, my back isn’t what it used to be, if you recall.”  

The girl sighed, her eyes rolling right up to the cracking ceiling. “How funny, it seems your back flares up nearly in time for deliveries to be made,” the girl mumbled.

“What was that?” Her mother turned quickly towards her only daughter. “I’m sure I misheard you.”

“You must have,” (Y/N) sang. “For I said I’m willing to help with the delivery, mother.”

The older woman narrowed her brow. “Never do I hear such sass from the boys… Perhaps a bit of manual labor will refocus your priorities.” 

“I already agreed,” (Y/N) reiterated. “As if I had terribly too much of a choice…”

“No,” her mother clicked, slapping the a rather large ball of dough that resided on the floured surface. “You do not. Now come, help your mother roll this out.”

She had gotten ready for the ball in record time—seeing as how she’s never gotten ready for one. (Y/N) dug through her mother’s wardrobe, finding an old and somewhat outdated green dress to wear, but it did the trick just fine. It was far nicer than the frocks she had owned anyhow, a light embroidery laced the edges and was sure to be run over by her fingertips endlessly throughout the evening.   

“The carriage is here!” Her father couldn’t have shouted louder throughout the small flat. Their home resided above the bakery, a quaint little thing with only two bedrooms—(Y/N) had the pleasure of sleeping in a rather over-glorified closet. If she reached her arms out, she’d be able to touch two of the walls easily, but like everything in her life, she made do. Unexpected child? Unexpected room. 

“I’ll be right there,” (Y/N) said, tying the now-cleaned apron around her waist, checking herself in the reflection of her water pitcher. “Damned hair,” her fingers moved to tuck a loose ringlet back into position—she had spent the better part of the evening trying to style it. 

“We need to load the carriage and make way to Bridgerton House,” her father repeated, smoothing his formalwear out. He hardly had the chance to wear it, seeing as situations like this happen only once in a while. “We must make a good impression, perhaps we’ll find more business this evening.”

“That’ll be a blessing,” her mother agreed, heading down the stairs to the bakery. “We could always use more business and the dowager viscountess is well liked around the ton, surely she’ll have pleasant things to say about our work.”

“I thought we let the pastries ‘speak for themselves’,” (Y/N) chimed in, carefully picking up a parcel. Her parents simply glared at her, allowing their daughter to silently move along with the loading process. 

The silence continued throughout the lengthy ride to Bridgerton House—the bakers not uttering a word until disembarking to unload all of the sweets. True to her original thought, the Bridgertons had their staff do the bulk of the unloading, carrying each parcel and box into the grand room that was to be the heart of the ball, all that was left to move was the elegant cake specially ordered by the dowager viscountess.

“Do you need a hand?”

“Oh, that would be—” (Y/N) turned around to the mysterious voice, only to find the same Bridgerton boy from earlier in the week standing behind her. “I—Mr. Bridgerton, I’m sure I can find my father to assist, you really don’t need to—”

“I insist,” Benedict held up his hand, effectively cutting her off. “I shouldn’t allow a lady to carry such a thing on her own, it would be most improper.”

“I’m certainly no lady,” she scoffed, readjusting her apron. “I’m not a part of your ‘season’ or whatever it is you lot do during the spring and summer months.”

Benedict barked out a laugh. “Debuted into the Marriage Mart or not, you’re still a lady and I am ever the gentleman, so please, indulge me.”

A blinding heat flushed across her cheeks—she was sure it was visible from down the street. (Y/N) stepped to the side to allow Benedict to grab ahold of one side of the tray, her hands curling around the other. “Thank you… for your help.”

“It’s no bother,” Benedict said truthfully. “I’ve been practically bored out of my skull all afternoon, this is truly the highlight of my evening.”

“Helping me carry a cake?” She asked, turning a corner carefully.

“Seeing you again,” he hummed unabashedly, noting the way her grip stiffened. “Though I must say, I think I prefer you without the flour.”

“How do you know that girl was me? I was covered head to toe.”

“Your eyes,” Benedict said simply. “They’re the most expressive and exquisite eyes I’ve had the pleasure of viewing.”

Benedict Bridgerton. The man who made her speechless.

“That, and I made a bold assumption when I saw you and the pastries arrive this evening.” He laughed lightly, afraid to drop the masterpiece. “I assumed correctly, no?”

“You,” (Y/N) tried to allow her cheeks to cool before continuing.“Would be correct. Very wise you are, Mr. Bridgerton.”

“Benedict.”

“Benedict,” she repeated softly, twisting herself to set the cake down on the table. “My apologies.”

The ballroom was grand—much nicer than any place she’d dream of residing in—delicate decorations hung from the sconces, flowers covered nearly every inch of the free space. It was, in every meaning, elegant. “This is… where you live?”

“Ah,” Benedict rubbed the back of his neck. “My brother has been kind to allow me to stay here since he married, seeing as I only have my own property in the country. But yes, this is one of the homes I grew up in.”

“One of the homes,” she repeated back to him. “And here I thought I was spoiled with my broom closet.”

He turned a vibrant shade of red. “Oh! I didn't mean to—”

Her laughter filled the ballroom, the lightness practically lifting Benedict upwards. “I was merely teasing. I’m well aware of your status and wealth, Mr. Bridgerton—” 

“Benedict.”

“Ah! Sorry,” (Y/N) felt the twinge of shame hit her chest, it was small but enough to keep her in line to avoid making the mistake again. “I meant it in jest.”

“Funny girl,” Benedict clicked, waving his finger lightly. “You’ve got quite a sense of humor.”

“Growing up with nothing more than sacks of flour and parcels of sugar allows one to get creative with her jokes,” she explained carefully, treading lightly as to not make it sound completely miserable. “Though, I think they were a better audience anyhow…”

“You wound me,” a hand grabbed his heart, knees buckling towards the ground. “Oh how the lady wounds me.”

“I believe I told you, Benedict, I certainly am no lady.”

“Well, the lady has neglected to give me her name,” he peeked up from the floor—having found quite a cozy position. “So how else should I address such a fair maiden?”

“Fair maiden,” she scoffed playfully, voice barely above a whisper. “Certainly am nothing close to a maiden… but, if you must know,” she paused, “my name is (Y/N), (Y/N) (Y/L/N).”

“(Y/N)…” Benedict repeated it, mostly to himself. He rose from the floor, eyes not leaving her own. “What a beautiful name.”

“I—thank you. I suppose you should give my parents such a compliment, though. I am simply the recipient of such a gift.”

“Well, when I ask your parents for permission to court their daughter, I’ll pass the message along.”

She froze. 

“Ah, what was that?”

“I hate to be so bold,” Benedict sighed, shoving a hand into his pocket. “But I feel the need to let you know of my intentions—my interest in you.”

“Oh you must be mistaken,” (Y/N) shook her head. “You’d want nothing to do with a girl like me. Surely there are other women in the ton who strike your fancy?”

“Nope,” he said simply. “Not a one. You, on the other hand, with your striking eyes and seemingly endless beauty, piqued my interest. If I may be honest, I haven’t stopped thinking about our encounter in the alley—it’s been on the forefront of my mind for days.”

She blinked, the gears in her head trying to keep up with the words Benedict was speaking. “But I am not from your world, Benedict. Even if I was interested in pursuing a courtship—”

“Are you not?” His eyes struck wide open. “I’m quite the catch, you see. Well-bred, scholarly and, if I might say so myself, I’m quite the talented artist. Easy on the eyes, too.”

“Benedict.” He stopped and looked at the woman. She was practically glowing in the candlelight. “While I’m not saying I’m… not interested, I can’t help but feel like you are infatuated with the idea of me and not… me.”

“How do you mean?”

She laughed humorlessly. “You don’t know me, truly. My likes, dislikes, how I take my tea, what weather I fancy—”

“See,” Benedict grabbed her hand, “I wish to know those things. Is that not the purpose of a courtship?”

“I am not from your world, Benedict. I have priorities, a duty to my family and our business—I can’t spend a moment thinking of the frivolity of a courtship with a man of your status.”

“But if I were, say, the butcher’s son it would be different?”

“Yes,” she removed her hand from his. “Of course it would be. I’m surprised you haven’t thought this through.”

“I have been thinking it through since we’ve met,” Benedict nearly spat, feeling anger bubble up in his chest. “I am not the type of man who wishes to court just anyone, you know.”

“So you wish to court me just because you can? Because how ever could I say no?”

“I—of course not!”

“We’re perfect strangers who shared a moment—albeit an endearing one—out in the middle of an alley. We both cleaned up and went about our lives,” she shook her head. “Nothing cosmic or magical about it.”

“I did not expect you to be so against the idea, unless… there’s another man of your affections?”

She groaned, pinching her nose. “No. No other man. Has a woman ever said no to you before, Mr. Bridgerton?”

He paused, clearly taken aback.

“Well,” she smoothed the tablecloth, the wrinkle in the bottom corner was annoying her, “let me be the first, then. No, I am not interested in a courtship, nor do I think I have any interest in a courtship—with you or anyone—so do not take it terribly too personally.” 

“Never? Don’t you plan to have a family of your own?”

“I already have a family,” she said simply. “I have no time for foolish ideas of having an adoring husband, three beautiful babies and a peaceful life out in the country.”

“That seems awfully specific—”

“No matter,” she waved. “Thank you for your interest, Mr. Bridgerton, I am flattered, truly.”

She walked away, hoping to hide in the carriage the rest of the night. Was she a fool? To turn down a courtship from such a sophisticated and notable man of the ton?

Benedict seemed to think so. True to her comment, he couldn’t recall a time in which a woman had rejected his advances—never in the name of a courtship, this would be his first—so to watch her walk away stung deeply, like a thorn to his heart. He was genuinely interested in the girl, he knew it. He just needed to prove it to her.

—

Days had passed since the Bridgerton ball and (Y/N) had successfully faked a stomach ache and ‘rested’ in the carriage until the night was over and done with. She was busy in the kitchen, working hard on a batch of fresh loaves for the storefront. Flour dusted her apron—the humor not lost on her—as she thought more and more about Benedict’s proposal. 

The bell to the shop rang out, her brother’s voice gave a muffled greeting, nothing out of the ordinary for a regular day at the bakery. It was calming, to work with the dough, taking virtually nothing and creating something delicious was soothing to her soul. She continued to knead the dough, working it like clay against her palms before the door to the back swung wide open.

“(Y/N), I do believe you have a visitor,” Harry, her second eldest brother smirked. He had finally recovered enough to help around the shop again, much to their mother’s delight. “One of the gentlemen variety, if you must know.”  

She stopped dead in her tracks.

“Did he give you a name?”

“Only asked for you,” Harry shrugged. “I figured you must’ve been expecting him,” he walked closer to her, taking over the kneading, “brought you flowers and looks rather fancy.”

She wiped her hands off on the already soiled apron, clapping her hands once for good measure. “Don’t over-work those, I’ll shove your face into the oven.”

Harry’s laugh rang out through the kitchen as she braved the door to the store. She knew it was inevitable, to expect him to come and try to woo her again, though she wasn’t expecting it so soon. The door felt rough against her palms, swinging wide open to the storefront. Sure enough, a one Benedict Bridgerton was standing by the counter, eyeing the various loaves on display. 

“Ah, Miss. (Y/L/N),” Benedict said, almost bowing. “I’m delighted you could join me.”

“Mr. Bridgerton,” (Y/N) smiled sickeningly sweet, forced beyond all measure. “What a… surprise.”

“A wonderful one, I presume?” He jested. Her eyes found the colorful bouquet quickly, she was trying her hardest to not make eye contact. It was ornate—fancy, just like her brother said—decked out in a healthy mix of wild blooms and expensive looking flowers. “Ah! My apologies, these are for you,” Benedict said, lifting the bouquet across the counter. 

She reluctantly took them, cradling the bunch as if it were a newborn babe. “Thank you, Mr. Bridgerton.”

He swallowed thickly at the formality of his name, but bit his tongue. “I must say, you looked exquisite at the ball, but I think your natural element suits you more favorably, why, you’re practically glowing.” Benedict pointed to her floured apron and messy frock, having been in the kitchen all morning. “Less flour than the first time.”

Her grip tightened around the bouquet. “Is there anything I can help you with? Perhaps another order for your mother?”

The man shook his head, laughing lightly. “No, no order. I just wished to see you.” The bluntness of his answer nearly shocked her, but the effect wore quickly.

“Perhaps I wished the opposite?”

“Oh, my dear,” Benedict practically mewled. “If that were true, you wouldn’t have come out here in the first place, now would you?”

Like a gaping trout, she had no reply. Perhaps he was right. She didn’t have to come out to the front of the store, the gnawing curiosity got the better of her and practically pulled her through that door. 

“If you are here to try to get me to change my mind—”

“I wish to spend the afternoon with you.”

She blinked.

“Just one afternoon, allow me to try and prove how serious I am about courting you,” Benedict said earnestly. “After that, if you are still of the same mind, I will never bother you again. You have my word.”

Hesitantly, she lowered the bouquet, her shoulders slumping. She was thinking so hard about his offer, Benedict swore he could see steam rising from her ears. “I… cannot just leave the bakery, it’s my family’s livelihood—”

“I’ll buy the lot,” Benedict said, pressing a handful of coins onto the counter top. “Sell me whatever it is you make in a day—a small price to pay for a moment of your time.”

“You cannot simply throw your money at things and expect it to always work out for you, Mr. Bridgerton,” she said sternly, eyeing the sack of coins longingly. She would be kidding herself if the offer didn’t sound appealing. “I am no woman on the corner, you cannot buy my time.”

“Then consider it a tip,” Benedict hummed, pushing the bag closer to her. “For your excellent service at the Bridgerton ball. Nothing nefarious, nothing expected of you. Just a man buying some bread.”

“Loads of bread,” (Y/N) mumbled, quickly calculating how many loaves he truly was willing to walk out with. The amount of money was unclear, but if she had to wager, he practically bought out the whole storefront. Her parents would be thrilled—they could even take a rare day off, just because their daughter spent the afternoon with a practical stranger. “Fine. One afternoon.”

The glee that washed across his body did not go unnoticed, he practically lit up the room with his joy.

“You won’t regret this,” he said seriously. “Trust that my intentions are pure and—”

“—honest and true,” she droned, finishing his thought. “Yes, yes, I understand.”

Benedict nodded. “Right. Well, shall we?”

“Will you allow me a moment to change? I do not think you wish to spend your day with a girl caked in flour.”

“Funny enough, I wouldn’t have it any other way,” he grinned. She was unamused. “But, if you insist.”

It didn’t take long for her to clean up, a change in her frock and a readjustment to her hair was all that was needed. She found herself staring in her mirror a bit longer than usual, taking in her features. Could he really be interested in her? He seemed so taken by her looks when she herself considered them… so plain. She shook her head, effectively jumping out of her haze and proceeded to head back downstairs to meet her suitor for the afternoon. 

“Perhaps you were right,” Benedict said softly. “This may be your best look to date.”

A heat warmed her cheeks and it wasn’t the summer sun. “Flattery will get you nowhere, Mr. Bridgerton—” 

“Ah!” Benedict waved a finger. “If we are to spend the afternoon together, I insist you call me by my given name.”

Her lips pressed together in protest. “If you insist—”

“Oh and I do, my darling,” Benedict nearly sang.

“Benedict,” she corrected. “What sorts of plans do you have for this afternoon? Surely you did not produce such a grand gesture only to leave our day up to chance.”

“I am feeling quite parched,” Benedict said, almost ignoring her comment. “Care for a spot of tea?” In their walk down the street, he had managed to stop right in front of a quaint little tea shop. She hardly noticed.

“And if I do not care for tea?”

“I hear they have excellent scones and biscuits,” Benedict countered. “Surely not sweeter than you, but delicious all the same.”

“Sweeter than my scones, you mean?”

Benedict raised a brow, puckering his lips lightly. She heard him correctly the first time. “So. Tea?”

They sat at a small table near the back of the shop, a hot pot of herbal tea sat between them. It looked entirely domestic, a pot of tea shared between lovers, any onlooker could have deduced as much.

“Pass the honey?” (Y/N) pointed to the small jar next to Benedict’s hand. He nodded and pushed it closer to her.

“You take your tea with honey?” He probed.

“Herbal tea, yes,” she confirmed, stirring a spoonful into her cup. “If it is black tea, a healthy amount of milk is entirely welcomed in my drink, no sugar.”

“Interesting,” Benedict said, watching her intently stir the honey until it dissolved into the hot liquid. “I prefer plain black tea myself, though occasionally my brother Colin will bring exquisite teas from his travels across the seas.”

“And Colin is which brother?” The question slipped out quickly, she hardly noticed she had asked.

“One of my two younger brothers,” Benedict smiled gently. “Not much younger than I, but I do have a few years on him, not as many as I have on Gregory, of course. He’s practically the babe of the family—save for sweet Hyacinth.”

“Eight children…” She thought aloud. “Were your parents working towards a record number?”

“I always jest that they wished to complete the entire alphabet,” Benedict mused. “But, alas, twenty six seems a bit much.” He took a sip of his tea, enjoying the lingering aroma. “So, you know there are eight of us?”

“Everyone knows your family,” she said simply. “Do not flatter yourself.”

“Of course,” he hummed into his cup, a smile brewing from his lips. “You have siblings, yes? I believe I met your brother earlier.”

“Two older brothers,” (Y/N) groaned lightly. “Jack and Harry, the latter being the one you met. They are… oh how do I put this? Exceptionally irritating.”

Benedict laughed into his drink. “Sounds quite a lot like my siblings.”

“My parents expect Jack to take over the bakery,” she explained quietly, her voice lowering. “But he has no desire to bake whatsoever. He can hardly make a sponge cake.”

“And a sponge cake is…?”

“One of the most basic cake recipes a baker can learn,” she continued. “I usually end up being the one who pulls the slack Jack creates.”

“And Harry?”

“When he isn’t galavanting across town with the ladies of the night, he is holed up in his room doing Lord knows what. Certainly nothing that helps the family business.”

“You care a lot about your family and the business,” Benedict said, stating what is clearly the obvious. “Surely your parents see it too?”

“Oh no,” she shook her head wildly. “That is the most asinine part of the ordeal! They simply do not see me as an asset to the bakery—something that should rightfully be mine should the time come.” She sighed, throwing her head into her hands. “But, I am expected to keep my head down and decorate cakes like a good girl.”

“You say that as if you are their pet,” Benedict scoffed lightly. “Do they truly expect such obedience from you?”

“I wasn’t wanted,” she said simply. “My parents merely wanted a son to take over the business—Jack, he’s the oldest. Good for nothing, as it turns out. Harry was to have an extra set of hands around the bakery, but now he’s their prodigal child. Me? I was shacked with an over glorified closet for a room because there truly was no space for me.” She sniffled. “At least they got a decorator out of it.”

Benedict tentatively put his hand on her shoulder, giving her a reassuring squeeze. “You’re more than a decorator. Surely your parents see that too?”

“They’ll see some use of me when I get home,” she said into her cup. “Seeing as you bought out our store just to spend a measly few hours with me. I’m sure that in of itself is worth having an accidental daughter.”

Benedict all but scoffed at this. “You cannot be serious.”

“Not everyone comes from loving families that wish to do nothing more than pop out babies left and right,” (Y/N) deadpanned, placing her cup back on the table. “If it were truly up to my parents, they would’ve stopped after Jack. But, much like the society you come from, an heir and a spare, I suppose.”

“And you?” Benedict almost felt afraid to ask. 

“It’s like you said,” she finished her cup of tea. “I am simply a pet.”

Benedict was never one for fights, but he suddenly had the urge to put his fist through a handful of faces in that moment. “That’s awful.” It was all he could say. 

“That’s life,” she shrugged, picking up a biscuit and examining it closely. Her nose scrunched. “If you were trying to gain my favor, perhaps you should’ve taken me somewhere with better biscuits. It’s insulting to a baker to see such poorly made ones, especially in a place like this.”

He knew she was trying to change the subject. “I shall do better next time.”

“Yes, I suppose you—” she stopped. “That was a rotten trick and you know it.”

“I am certainly no magician, (Y/N),” Benedict finished his tea, hiding the most devilish of smiles from behind the cup. “But seeing as we’re finished with our pot, perhaps we can take a turn about the park?”

“You’d risk public outcry and a scandal for being seen with a commoner in the park?” (Y/N) asked, pulling herself from her seat. “What would Lady Whistledown say?”

“You know of Lady Whistledown?”

“Everyone knows of Lady Whistledown,” she scoffs. “I may not have the pleasure to afford her column every time she publishes, but occasionally our regulars will leave their pamphlet for me once they’re finished.”

“Only read the good bits, I take it?”

“As much as I don’t understand the world you come from, Benedict, reading Whistledown helps me fill the gaps I am so obviously lacking. Truly, even if I did grow up in your society, I doubt I’d be able to understand much more than I do now anyway.”

“I reckon you’re right,” Benedict said, a laugh escaping through his nose. “I’m not one for society anyway—never cared much for it.”

“Surely news of this would cause a scandal, though?”

“News that I am simply walking in the park with a friend? Oh how the newsboys will have trouble selling that story,” Benedict mused, leaning down towards the lady. “Perhaps if we were seen doing something less proper, I suppose. Do you wish to be doing something less proper, (Y/N)?”

She didn’t dignify his question with a response, though, the rouge on her cheeks was answer enough.

—

It only took a handful of minutes to walk to the park, the tea shop was so close already. How convenient.

The other ladies in the park, the ones of a more genteel breeding, they were dressed finer than anything (Y/N) could have put on. She felt out of place. She usually did, of course, but something about her outdated frock in contrast to how striking Benedict looked and dressed? It felt rather foolish. 

Perhaps it was the notoriety of the Bridgerton walking beside her, or the self consciousness of being underdressed enough to catch the eyes of anyone walking past, but it felt like she was a spectacle—something in a museum or on display. She was holding bright light, nearly shouting at everyone that she was not enough, not worthy to be in this park, let alone with this man.

“I am tired of walking,” (Y/N) said suddenly. 

“We have only just begun,” he laughed. “But if you require a respite—”

“Let’s sit,” (Y/N) said just as quickly, practically running to the edge of the pond. Perfectly out of sight to everyone.

“How secluded,” Benedict mused. “I daresay, I never thought you’d be so agreeable—”

“Hush,” (Y/N) admonished, holding a finger up. “I am simply in need of a break—away from prying eyes.”

Benedict nodded, not daring to pry further. He watched her slump to the ground, her dress skirt billowing around her like a cloud before settling to the gravity. He continued to stand. “I rather like this park.”

“A park is a park.”

“Have you been before?”

“Here?” She shook her head. “Obviously not.”

“My family, we would come to London during the social season,” Benedict explained. “Our usual residence is out in Kent—anyhow, my father had this spectacular notion to come to the park every week as a family. Looking back, it was probably to save face and show a united Bridgerton front.”

She looked up at Benedict, who was currently plucking a few leaves off of the low hanging branches of the tree. “Sounds wise.”

“He was the wisest,” Benedict agreed. “Keeping the ever-growing number of Bridgerton children entertained became a sport. Anthony, Colin and I were always squabbling, drove my mother rightfully insane, so, my father had a bright idea.”

“Paste your lips together?” She offered. 

Benedict knelt down, close to the edge of the water. “No, but I do not doubt that idea crossed their minds,” he laughed, bringing the leaves in his hands to view, “my father suggested racing.”

“Horse racing?”

He shook his head. “We’d each pick a leaf and follow it to the other edge of the pond—kept us entertained for hours, running back and forth to reset our leaves and chase them down.”

“Smart man,” she hummed, genuinely impressed by the late viscount’s cleverness.

“So, pick your contender,” Benedict said softly, displaying the spare leaves like cards in a deck. 

“You are serious?”

“Dead serious, I’m afraid,” Benedict clicked, pushing his hand a bit closer to her. “Come on, humor me.”

She looked down at the leaves and back up at Benedict, his blue eyes rivaling the color of the pond. Taking an interest in the middle leaf—it was the longest and skinniest—she plucked it from his fingers. “This one.”

“Excellent choice,” Benedict said cheerily, dropping the other leaves. “I am more inclined to a smaller one—seems they move faster down the shore.”

“Size isn’t everything, Mr. Bridgerton,” (Y/N) crossed her arms, resting them on her knees. She would never dare to admit it out loud, but she was having a bit of fun.

“Ah, perhaps not,” Benedict jested with her, her jab not even shocking him in the slightest. “But, I reckon it will be a close match regardless.”

After insuring that the lovely lady in his company was watching his movements closely, he set the leaves down on the surface of the water. “Finish line is by that tree over there,” he pointed, finally letting go with his other hand.

“May the best leaf win,” she giggled. Giggled? Good Lord. A crooked grin cracked on his face, focused too intently at the company rather than the match at hand. “Are you not going to chase them?”

“And leave you?” He scoffed. “Perish the thought.”

“I just thought,” her gaze was caught on the leaves, still floating down the edge of the pond—slower than she anticipated, “well, I suppose I wanted to get the whole picture of your family tradition.”

“Shall I run along the coast, then?” Benedict asked playfully, rising back to his feet, thumb pushed towards the water. 

“Only to humor me,” she shrugged, not even fighting the smile on her face. 

“Well, in that case,” Benedict began to remove his jacket, throwing it beside her. With a light jog he caught up to the leaves, they hadn’t gone very far anyway, perhaps if it were a windier day he’d have a faster time to keep up with. “You are in the lead!” He called out. 

“Brilliant!” Her hands were clasped around her mouth, a cone to help amplify her shout. His smile was like the sun, warm and inviting—she wished she could spend the day in such a warmth. Benedict practically jumped for joy when the leaves made it to the final stretch, crossing to the rocks on the shore. Nearly falling into the water, he managed to scoop the leaves up and jog back to the woman in the grass. “Well?”

“Well, what?” He asked, nearly out of breath, smile still pulling his lips upward. 

“The winner?”

“Ah,” he fell to the ground, sitting comfortably next to the baker’s daughter, pocketing the leaves. “A secret.”

“So you lost?”

“Oh, I assure you, if you won I would be celebrating you until the end of our time together,” Benedict sang. “However…”

“I lost?” She scoffed. 

“A gentleman is humble in his successes,” he explained carefully. “We could go again?”

“No,” she said, humor in her voice. “I think that was more than enough excitement for one afternoon.”

“For once, we agree,” he said. “May I…? Could I ask you a question?”

“If you are proposing marriage, I am afraid I’ll have to decline—”

“No, no,” he laughed heartily. “Nothing of that sort.”

“I suppose I could find it in myself to answer a different question, then.”

“You were cold to me this morning,” Benedict noted, twirling a blade of grass between his fingers. “But not on the day we met. What changed?”

She sighed, pulling her knees to her chest, gaze locked out on the now setting sun. “I… am not entirely sure.”

“Surely it was not the leaves—”

“The leaves may have helped,” she admitted. “Humanized you, in a way.”

“Was I inhuman before?”

“Naturally,” she retorted. “I mean, is it not obvious?”

“You were protecting your feelings,” Benedict finally realized. “All this time. You did not wish to be hurt—truly afraid I was merely stringing you along as an elaborate prank or ruse? Is that right?”

“How could someone like you ever have an interest in a pauper like me? The baker’s daughter and the son of a viscount?” Tears dotted her eyes, threatening to fall. How she came so close to crying was beyond her. “It seems implausible.”

Benedict dropped the grass, fully looking at the lady beside him. She had made herself nearly as small as she felt. He had hit the nail on the head. A gust of wind blew by, bringing leaves down from the tree above. 

“I do not think less of you because of whose daughter you are,” Benedict said softly, removing a stray leaf from her hair. His fingers guided her head towards him, begging for her to look his way. “I care only about you. Getting to know you. Frankly, your father seems like a mostly alright man, but I do not wish to know him the way I wish to know you.”

“You may wish for that,” she sniffled. “But what would the rest of your world think? You, trying to court a woman below your status—”

“The only people who should be caring so deeply about my potential courtship are my intended and me,” Benedict said sharply. “The rest of the ton can frankly kiss my rear end.”

This raised a laugh out of her. It was bubbly and pure, almost like the one of a child. “You truly don’t care what people think about you?”

“No,” he shook his head. “I do not.”

“How freeing that must be,” she said. 

“Being the second son has its perks,” Benedict looked at her, really looked at her. “No one expects me to be proper all the time. I am given the freedom—financially and otherwise—to do as I please. I do not have to worry about inheriting a title, siring heirs, that is my brother’s responsibility.”

“Why me?”

His head quirked. “I do not understand?”

“You could court any girl of the ton,” she said. “And I am sure more than half of them would never turn down a chance to be courted by a Bridgerton—”

“They wished for the title,” Benedict sighed. “To be Viscountess Bridgerton, to marry my older brother and have the notoriety. That ship has already sailed, I'm afraid. You are kind in thinking that many women would be after me though.”

“You are not ugly,” she listed, “you have a great humor about you, a pleasant demeanor and a kindness in your eyes. The women of the ton must be foolish, then.”

“Perhaps the foolish one is you?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“You truly think those things about me?” He asked, awaiting a response. Her jaw was slack, clearly not about to give him any sort of confirmation to his question. “I believe your words, I do. But perhaps you should look at yourself with such eyes?”

“I-I don’t understand—”

“Our class differences aside,” Benedict said, as if it was easy to just ignore that, “while I was taken by your beauty at first—your eyes are something the Gods themselves forged in the fires, stars rivaling their shine—it was your continuous personality that kept my attention. Granted, it helped you were once covered head-to-toe in flour, it really brought out your features.”

Her cheeks flared at the recollection of their first meeting. “It was not my finest moment.”

“And you were vulnerable all the same,” he continued. “You cared not for who I was, yet, you showed an interest in me anyway. You may not agree with that statement, but you and I know it to be true in some shape or form. The only thing that holds you back is this notion on our classes—”

“Perhaps I am interested in you,” (Y/N) cut him off. “Perhaps I wish to be courted by you, attend balls and dress in pretty gowns, drinking expensive drinks and whispering sweet nothings. But that is all that it is—a wish. I know my place in this world, it is a right shame you have such a fantasy about yours.”

“(Y/N)…”

“No,” she stood up, brushing the blades of grass and leaves off of her skirt. “I hoped that you would understand, Benedict. I agreed to this afternoon because it felt like I had no choice in the matter—you practically bought my time, after all. What I did not expect,” she hiccuped, “I did not expect that I would enjoy such an afternoon.”

“You enjoyed yourself,” Benedict rose to his feet, desperate to match her gaze head on. “Why can you not allow yourself to have that joy? Allow your heart to follow its call?”

“I do not have such liberties to listen to my heart,” (Y/N) said softly. “I must use my head for every choice I make. An afternoon with you allowed my family to have enough money to make it through the end of the season without going hungry—”

“And an afternoon with me has brought such happiness to fill your soul for much longer—”

“Happiness has little importance,” she scoffed. “I would rather see my family healthy and surviving than even think about a notion like happiness or joy.”

“You have said yourself that your family treats you like a pet,” Benedict took a deep breath, trying to regain his composure. He needn’t explode in the park. “Why do you care so much about them if they care so little for you?”

“Because it is all that I know!” The candle had finally reached its end, burning out with a sizzle. “All I have ever known is my life in the bakery, rising early to make the dough, peddling samples to those walking by and hoping—praying—that they step in our store and purchase something. Because a sale of a few loaves of bread or cakes meant we could afford to buy vegetables for a soup, something to eat with our days old bread.”

“If you were with me, you wouldn’t ever need to think about things like that again,” Benedict said, his voice wavering on a whisper. “I could support you, support your family.”

“And that is precisely why I do not wish to continue this,” she raised her finger. “I do not need an affluent man to come and save me—”

“But I could help—”

“I do not need your help!”

“You obviously do!”

She took a step back, the tears from before finally reappearing in her eyes. “O-obviously? Because I am of a lower class you believe, in that giant and empty head of yours, that you can simply win my favor by saving me? Offering riches and experiences that I should be grateful and thanking every God that will listen that you are even willing to give me?”

“You know that is not what I meant—” 

“You believe that because you are who you are, and I am who I am, that I couldn’t possibly say no to you,” her gaze flicked with anger, a fire looming. “While the ladies of the ton have their choices, I do not, so it makes it easy for you to pine over someone who simply has no choice in the matter.”

“No—(Y/N)—”  

“This afternoon has been lovely,” (Y/N) spat, looking to the skyline—the sun had finally set, “but I am afraid that the afternoon is over. I shall be taking my leave.”

“Please reconsider,” Benedict begged, willing to try anything to get her to stay. “I wish to know you.”

“A shame, then,” (Y/N) said, turning around. “Wishing for something so foolish.”

—

“Her head is in the clouds,” Jack whispered.

“No, I reckon her head is in the dough,” Harry mumbled back to his brother. 

“I can hear you, you know,” (Y/N) ground out, working hard on a rather unruly clump of dough that simply would not cooperate. “And if I can hear you, you are close enough to be helping.”

“But that is so exhausting," Harry groaned, leaning against the countertop. “Besides, how are you ever going to impress your betrothed if you do not keep such toned arms?”

She threw the dough against the counter—hard. “He is not my betrothed.”

“But you wish for him to be, no?” Jack giggled, playing with a few burnt buns—a mishap of his own creation.

“I say, Sister,” Harry said. “Why do you not pursue that Bridgerton? He clearly is interested in you, or, have you forgotten all of the flowers he has sent?”

The front of the shop was practically a florist’s dream—covering every free inch of counter space with beautiful bouquets. Her mother simply refused to throw out such lovely blooms, even going so far as to fish the first one out of the trash after her daughter made quick work to dispose of it. “How could I possibly forget about the man who continuously flaunts his wealth to get what he wants?”

“He wants you, surely that is not lost on you?”

“Of course not,” she continued to knead, a few hairs falling into her face. “But he is so insistent on getting me to agree to his whims simply because—”

“He has money, (Y/N),” Jack scoffed. “Good money. Christ, you spent half of a day with him a few weeks ago and we were able to finally purchase meat for dinner. Imagine if you married him—”

“So you want your sister to be married off for your own financial gain?”

“What else would you marry for?” Harry laughed. “Love?”

She stopped kneading. “Why do you not go and try to marry a wealthy lady, then? Hm? Surely a woman of genteel breeding would be much taken by the idea of a rugged baker—”

“That Bridgerton is already interested,” Harry shrugged. “At the very least, if you end up with child he would provide enough funds—”

“First you wish to marry me off, now you wish for me to have his bastard?” She couldn’t help but laugh, ignoring her hard work on the counter. “Why can I not make my own choice? I do not wish to be with Mr. Bridgerton, I wish to stay here at the bakery.”

“Fucking stupid,” Jack scoffed. “If I were in your shoes, I would let the gentleman pay for anything my heart desires—forget about this wretched place and move on with my life.”

“And abandon our legacy?”

“You mean my legacy,” Jack corrected. “I am to inherit the bakery, it is my birthright. You? I suppose I will allow you to continue your grunt work here—” 

“Who else will do the baking?” Her voice rang throughout the kitchen. “Mother and Father are nearing the end of their career, both becoming too frail to continue with the rigorous task of this place. I am the only one—the only competent member of this family who can keep this shit afloat! And you want me to just… give that up?”

Jack stood a little straighter. “It was never your place.”

“Harry is set to inherit the bakery now, you know it. Yet someone had to fill the shoes of the family fuck-up instead, no?” 

It was a sharp pain, suddenly and all at once against her cheek. It took her only half a second later to realize what had happened, her other brother’s face was only a confirmation on the fact.

“Jack, what the hell?!” Harry practically screamed. “You hit her?”

“She insulted me!”

“You deserved it,” Harry said, pushing his older brother back. “She only spoke the truth—”

“So I am allowed to be walked over by my baby sister?” Jack scoffed, pushing Harry back. “A woman? No fucking chance, mate.”

Her hand had covered her cheek, already feeling warm to the touch. Everything was too much, too loud, too bright. She had to get out of there, had to forget all about the dough on the counter, forgetting all about the brother who had just smacked her silly. The back door wasn’t locked—no surprise as Jack was the last one to use it—making it easy for her to push into the alleyway and into the rain. 

Rain. 

Pelting like bullets, the wet drenched her clothing in a mere instant, making it harder to escape. Where had she planned to run anyway? She had nowhere to go, her entire world was contained to the four walls of the bakery, never daring to explore the rest of it, not when her world was already so encompassing, so inviting. 

In theory, anyway, it seemed.

So, she ran. A mix of running and walking, she kept moving forward. By the time she left her part of town, she knew her brothers would not bother coming for her. The rain alone was a deterrent, even Harry, the one who loved her more, wouldn’t dare to brave the elements just to reel his sister’s whims in. 

A splotch of purple entered her vision. How long had she been moving? Did she even expect to come here? Did her subconscious send her in this direction for a reason?

She knocked on the bright door before she could find out.

“Good evening, ma’am,” a butter said politely. “What business do you have?”

“I am here to call upon Benedict Bridgerton.”

—

His quill had soaked the parchment below with ink, having left the tip upon it for far too long. He had been lost in thought, contemplative, especially the last few weeks. Benedict knew he had hurt her, had insulted her very being, yet he still tried. Every other day he’d send a fresh bouquet to the bakery, a new poem attached to the stems. Perhaps she read them? He knew it was more likely that she burned them, in the ovens or otherwise. 

At the very least, he knew that the blooms were being displayed at the shop. Hope. That is what it had given him.

“Mr. Bridgerton, you have a caller,” a butler knocked, opening his door a crack wider.

“A caller? In this weather?”

“She seemed rather insistent,” the butler shrugged. “She is waiting in the drawing room—I already sent for tea and towels for the lady.”

“A lady is here to see me?” Benedict quirked his brow.

“A Miss. (Y/L/N),” the butler said. “No calling card, soaked to the bone and she seemed a bit… out of sorts.”

Benedict had already risen from his desk, practically pushing past the staff member to reach the stairs. Missing a step or two, he made it to the drawing room and shoved the door open. In the center of the blue room was (Y/N), dripping onto the wooden floor, shaking like a leaf.

“(Y/N)…” 

“I-I had nowhere else to go,” she began to explain. “I did not even realize I was here until I knocked on the door. It was foolish—”

“No,” Benedict shook his head, reaching to take her hand in his own. “It is quite alright. You are more than welcome to be here.”

His hands were warm, or perhaps she was just that cold, making them feel like a fire. “I am so sorry, Benedict.”

“For what?” He asked genuinely. 

“Everything?” She offered. “I-I am not sure of what, exactly, but I feel that I need to apologize.”

“You needn’t apologize for anything,” he said. “Not with me, not ever.”

She looked up at the ceiling, afraid to make contact with his blue stare. “I needed to get away. My brother he—Jack hit me.”

Benedict froze, his entire body went rigid. “I’ll kill him.”

“I suppose I deserved it,” she shrugged, now looking at the ground. “Talking back to him, assuming things that could never be—” 

“A man has assaulted you,” Benedict squeezed her hand tighter. “Brother or not, he put his hands on you. You did nothing of the sort to deserve such a thing.”

“I don’t think I can go back there,” (Y/N) said softly. “Perhaps this was just the moment that gave me clarity. Opened my eyes, so to speak.”

Benedict took a good look at her face, red and splotchy, whether it was from the smack or the tears, he could not tell. “Tea is on the way, I shall request a cold compress for your cheek—”

“I do not wish to impose.”

“You shall wish for nothing here,” Benedict said quietly, firmly. “You will stay until the rain lets up, or, you provide me with a suggestible plan for your next steps.”

“I cannot go back,” she finally looked up at Benedict. “As much as I would like to, I simply cannot.”

“If you do not want to go back, I will support you. If you want to leave town, the country even, I will support you,” he said seriously. “Please allow me to support you.”

“I could never ask you for that—”

“You are not asking, I am offering,” he clarified. 

“Benedict…”

The rain seemed to lessen, if the pelting against the window had anything to say about it. The noise had dimmed, not as violent as before. “To know that you are safe, that you are cared for, that is all I care about.”

So, in the center of the blue Bridgerton drawing room, soaked to the bone and dripping all over the floor, she kissed him. It was a sudden thing, pulling him down towards her lips, the contact much quicker than she had expected. He returned the favor in kind, wrapping his arms around her and holding her tight, kissing her in a way he had yet to truly experience. 

If his hands were like a fire, his lips were an inferno. Fighting for dominance, it was all encompassing. How had she gone so long without a feeling such as this? The burn was coming from inside, not a superficial one atop her skin as she was quite used to, but this burn, this feeling, she could find herself craving this. 

“I-I am sorry—” she pulled away.

“Never be sorry,” Benedict shook his head. “Not for that, not ever.”

“I should not have done that…”

“No,” he agreed, a chuckle leaving his lips, “but how exhilarating it felt, regardless.”

His thumb ran lazy circles on her jaw. She leaned into the touch. “I do not know what to do, where to go…”

“But you cannot stay here…?”

She smiled sadly. “You know me scarily well, Benedict.”

He thought for a moment. “So… leave.”

“Excuse me?”

“Leave town, leave the country—”

“I do not have the means to do such a silly thing.”

“I will pay your way.”

She scoffed, trying to pull out of his embrace. He wouldn’t release his grip. “Benedict…”

“I told you, I wish to support you. Emotionally, financially, I want to be there for you,” Benedict said. “Even if we are not—if you do not want to be together romantically, I want to ensure your safety and your health, your well-being. A friend.”

She tried to find the lie in his eyes, in his tone. Coming up empty, she had no excuse to not believe him. 

“France,” he said, as if struck by lightning.

“France?”

“I hear only the expert bakers study in France—I have no doubts you could go to learn,” he explained. “I could pay for your travel, housing, you name it. Ask for it, and it is yours.”

“I doubt anyone would want to teach a woman, no matter how lovely a thought it might be.”

“I have a cousin,” Benedict explained. “Her and her husband own a café—I am quite certain that they would love to hire an expert baker to add to their inventory and menu. You could earn your own income, make your own way. A fresh start.”

“A fresh start…” she repeated. “That sounds too good to be true.”

“I shall write to her in the morning,” Benedict said, holding her hands again. 

“And you…?”

“I will only come with you if you want me to join,” Benedict said slowly. “I will not trap you. I want your happiness, your freedom.”

She nodded, understanding.

“I think France sounds nice,” she smiled. “Will you write to me?”

“Every chance I get.”

“Even if you are vexed with me?”

“Especially if I am vexed with you.”

She kissed his lips again, sweeter and softer than the first time.

“Sounds perfect.”

—

A year. An entire year had passed and she couldn’t recall a happier time in her life. The only time that something could have rivaled it was a visit to a tea shop followed by a respite by a pond—in handsome company all the while. 

They kept correspondence, just like they promised. Every week came a new letter, a new story to be told by the poetic Benedict Bridgerton. She tried to rival his words, explaining every detail about France, about her new life, but something was nagging. She missed him. They had grown close over the correspondence, leaving her heart wanting more. But, she knew when she left for France it was to fulfill her dreams, leaving a foolish notion like love on the back burner.

“(Y/N),” Marie, the Bridgerton cousin, called out behind her. “We are in need of more buns.”

“I just restocked the buns,” (Y/N) giggled, turning to the blonde. “What? Has someone mysteriously bought the lot?”

“Oui,” Marie said with a jest, heading into the storage room, “perhaps you should go bring more out?”

“You are in luck, the last batch just finished resting from the oven,” she said, carrying a tray on her shoulder, “I will bring them out with haste.”

“I am sure he will appreciate it.”

(Y/N) faltered, hand already pressed to the door leading to the front shop. A tingle ran through her spine, her heart picking up to a freeing flutter. 

Could it be?

“You know, I would buy your entire stock,” the man hummed, looking thoughtfully into the display case, “but I fear I would be recreating a rather taxing memory for the both of us.”

“Benedict,” she gasped, nearly dropping her tray. 

“You look radiant,” he mused, that wicked grin of his breaking on his face. “Much like the first time I saw you—covered in flour.”

“I am in my element,” (Y/N) said sweetly, “just as you would expect.” She had noticed that Marie and her husband were not in the café, the sign flipped to close. “You planned this.”

“Do you insinuate that I bribed my distant cousin to close her café to give you the day off, travel all the way to France, hoping I could spend the day with you?” Benedict scoffed playfully. “You truly do not know me at all.”

“I do not think Marie would take a bribe,” (Y/N) said slyly, knowing how much of a champion the cousin had been for the baker and viscount’s son to get together.

“She refused payment,” he admitted, agreeing with her notion. “But, was ever eager to see you get out of the kitchen and enjoy yourself.”

“You hadn’t written to me in two weeks,” (Y/N) said, walking around the counter. “I was worried.”

“I needed to refrain from our correspondence, I fear I would have let the surprise slip otherwise.”

“Smart man,” she hummed.

“I am known to be smart occasionally,” he shrugged.

“What are you doing here?” She finally asked. “N-not that I am not happy to see you, of course, but as you had said, this is a surprise.”

“I came to study art,” Benedict said, a hand in his coat pocket. “I felt that if I truly wanted to learn the craft, I needed to learn from the masters—many of their works are housed here in France. I even began to rent a little home in town, finding the need to stay a while.”

“That is the only reason?”

Benedict’s gaze softened. “Of course it is not the only reason.”

Her heart fluttered again.

“It is only fair that I try this again, correctly and without the prying eyes of society, this time,” Benedict said, clearing his throat and spinning around.

“Correctly?” She giggled, watching him twirl to face the door.

“Ah, good morning miss!” Benedict said, turning back to face (Y/N). “I must say, you look ever-so-pretty—tell me, do all bakers have a beauty such as your own?”

“I would wager no,” she said, trying to keep serious. “Most of the bakers around here are men.”

“Shame. Might I learn your name? It seems only fair—I fear I might just die if I do not know the sweet sound of it.”

“(Y/N),” she sang. “My name is (Y/N) (Y/L/N).”

“Benedict Bridgerton,” he stretched out his hand, reaching for her own. She allowed him to take it, a soft kiss was placed on the back of her cracked hand—a working hand, one that she was proud to have. 

“You are very charming, Mr. Bridgerton,” she hummed, looking deeply into his blue eyes. “Pleased to make your company.”

“I assure you, I am more pleased to be in yours,” Benedict insisted, kissing her hand again. “Tell me, do you have plans this afternoon?”

“It seems my schedule has cleared up,” she looked to the sign on the door and sighed. “Why? Do you have any suggestions on how I should spend it?”

“Might we take a turn around the park? A friend of mine has written to me about just how lovely one nearby is, I reckon I would like to see it for myself.”

She smiled brightly at him, as if he held the world in his hands. Instead, he held two leaves between his fingers—brown and cracked, but clearly treated with such care. They had been the same ones from their time at the park the first go around, she was nearly certain. Why else would he bring dead leaves with him?

"Leaves?"

"You see, my family, we have this tradition of racing with leaves—I would very much like to share it with you. These two in particular seem to be very lucky, thought it would be best to bring them along."

His smile melted her heart, endearing and thoughtful in the same breath. She could get used to a smile like that.

“Well… what are we waiting for, Mr. Bridgerton?”

[serpentandlily]

Hi!!! Could you do fluffy Rhys x reader where whenever she around Rhys, she can just relax and turn her mind off? Like she doesn’t have to be alert for everything and Rhys is more than happy because he likes how she trusts him enough to just relax and let down her walls around him.

Hopefully that makes sense I just woke up and my brain is not fully working right now lol🫡

Hope your doing well💜💜

This was such a cute idea! This is more of a drabble but I hope you like it!

Head in the Clouds:

Rhys x Reader Drabble

+++

“Where’s your coat?”

You smiled at Rhys, your mate and husband, as you bounded down the stairs in your house two at a time. His violet eyes looked back at you, shining with adoration and love, causing your heart to jump in your chest.

“My what?” You breathed out, coming to a stop in front of him. His lips twitched as he looked down at you.

“Your coat, darling,” he repeated. “It’s snowing outside.”

Your gaze shifted to the window by the door, now remembering that it was and had been snowing outside the past few days—the first sign of winter.

“Oh,” you said, sheepishly. “I forgot it upstairs.”

Rhys chuckled before grabbing a coat off the rack near the door, a coat he kept there because he knew his mate was oftentimes a bit forgetful when she was around him. But it never bothered him. He liked taking care of you.

It was a sign of trust, one he didn’t take for granted. He knew how hard you worked and he loved that about you, but he also loved this side of you. The side that could just relax around him.

“Come here,” Rhys said, holding out the coat for you. He helped you slip your arms through it before tugging it on you. “One more thing.”

He grabbed a small snow hat, one with a little puff ball on top. He pulled it over your head before flicking the little puff ball with a smile. You wrinkled your nose at him causing another small chuckle to leave his lips.

Rhys brushed your hair over your shoulders before pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Now you’re all ready. Shall we?”

He opened the door for you, smacking you on the butt as you passed him making you yelp. You shot him an amused glare but let him take your hand in his as he guided you towards the city streets.

"Did you eat breakfast this morning?"

Your eyes widened, suddenly feeling the hunger growling in your stomach. Normally you had breakfast with Rhys but this morning he had been stuck in a meeting with some local traders. You looked up at him, shaking your head.

"No, I forgot," you muttered, cheeks red.

You couldn’t help it. Whenever you were home and around Rhys, it was like your brain shut off. You knew Rhys would take care of you and you liked being taken care of for once. Your normal job usually caused you a lot of stress and it was nice to let someone else take charge, especially if that someone was your mate.

Rhys shook his head with a soft smile. "What are we going to do with you?" His tone was light, teasing. "Well, let's go get you something to eat. Can't have you running around the city on an empty stomach, can we, darling?"

You let Rhys take you to a small bakery near your house, one of your favorite places to go for pastries. You skipped inside, eyes scanning the display cases that housed all the delicious looking food, from fruit tarts to coffee cakes and other finger foods. You were too busy absentmindedly meandering down the small bakery to notice that the worker had asked what you wanted. You vaguely heard Rhys and the worker talking to each other, but paid them no mind.

A few minutes later, Rhys grabbed onto your elbow, catching your attention. "Let's go, darling."

Your brows furrowed as he escorted you outside, the bell over the door ringing as you exited the shop. "But we didn't get anything—"

Rhys held out a little white paper bag, cutting you off. You let out a soft, "Oh!", before grabbing it from him and opening it up to peer inside. "A glowberry tart! My—"

"Favorite," Rhys finished your sentence causing you to smile up at him. "I know, darling."

"Thank you, Rhys," you sang out, eagerly grabbing the small pastry and taking a small bite.

"Of course, my love," Rhys said, kissing the side of your head as he pulled you close to him with an arm around your waist. “Now, I believe we have some people to buy gifts for.”

You happily let Rhys escort you further into the city, eager to spend the rest of the day with him.

[lovelettersfromluna]

͙⁺˚*･༓☾　Sink my teeth in you　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

{Ellie Williams x Reader}

Summary: One stupid dare had changed Ellie’s life forever, and the person she cared about the most was suffering because of it.

an: Shes baaaackk!! The amount of feedback you guys gave me for Still Alive had my jaw on the floor, so here’s part two! This will most likely be the last part of the Still Alive story that I’ll be doing, but if you guys do want more of angsty, hot, demon Ellie, please let me know. I also changed my format a little bit, so let me know if you guys prefer this or how I was writing before. I hope you all enjoy this one as much as you enjoyed the last. (Also this one isn’t proofread either sorryyyy)

Warnings: smut! Will be a lot softer and more loving than last time but still…smut. Mentions of blood (don’t worry I don’t get too graphic I can’t handle that shit either), Ellie smoking because bby is stressed and having an identity crisis, angst, use of strap (r!receiving), pet names, shy!reader standing up for herself, Ellie is shamelessly in love with reader, mentions of…spells and rituals?? It’s mainly from memory of Jennifers body and things im making up myself, let me know if I missed anything pleaseee.

You can read part 1 here!

Ellie Williams was fucking dead.

At least she was pretty sure she was dead, she truly couldn’t tell. She felt…different, and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t put her finger on what had changed. She was so out of tune with herself, and her thoughts and her actions, it was like she was standing behind a wall while someone else controlled her, and it was fucking scary.

She did know however, that she sure as hell wasn’t human anymore.

It was fucking ridiculous, and she felt like she was losing her mind, but she was pretty sure she knew how this all happened.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

It was her typical Friday night, hopping from bar to bar with a group of her party friends. They were drinking too much, smoking too much, and she felt herself slowly slipping away from reality with each sip of her drink that she took. She fucking needed it, classes were kicking her ass, and her grades were dropping..

And it was becoming harder and harder to pretend like she wasn’t in love with you.

It was fucking pathetic, because you’ve been her best friend since you guys were like…8 years old, and she’s always felt butterflies whenever she was around you. But she let it go on too far, her feelings settling in the pit of her stomach every time you laid your head on her shoulder, or held her hand whenever you were nervous, and before she knew it she wasn’t 8 years old with a crush anymore, she was well into her 20s and falling in love.

She hated it because she felt selfish, she felt like she was taking advantage of your kindness, of your friendship.

So, she went out with her friends and she got drunk, as one does when they’re hopelessly in love with their best friend.

She was following behind her group of friends, already visiting the fourth bar of the night, and Ellie was mindlessly staring at her shoes hitting the ground, her fists balled up in her pockets, images of your pretty face flashing through her head, when Dina spoke up.

“Let’s go into this one! I think there’s a live band here tonight” She gasped, squinting her eyes as she tried to read the horribly written sign outside. Ellie frowned softly as she tried to as well, leaning in a bit to get a better look at what it said.

Live performance tonight! Violet Skies!

Ellie furrowed her eyebrows as she read, blinking a few times before she sighed, noticing that her friends were already stumbling into the bar without any further questions. “Corny fuckin’ band name…” she mumbled our, taking one more look at the sketchy looking bar before she walked in.

Whoever the hell it was, sure as hell wasn’t popular. The bar had ten people max, and most of them were already too belligerent to even comprehend that there was a live performance. She sighed, making her way to the bar and ordering herself a glass of whiskey.

Her friends were crowded near the stage, creating some what of a make shift audience for the band that would be playing soon. Ellie was miserable, she was getting to a point where she wasn’t even having fun anymore.

She just wanted you, in your comfy little home with your comfy blankets and your sweet smelling lotion that you wore every night. She wondered time and time again why she chose a cold, empty bar over your warm inviting home and even warmer embrace.

She was a coward, that’s why.

She was more than half way done with her drink far too quickly, when the band began to set up for their show. She turned her attention towards them, squinting her drunk eyes a bit as she watched them all tune their instruments and adjust the microphone.

Before she could even realize what was happening, she was being tugged throughout the bar by her arm, by Dina. Ellie let out an annoyed groan, letting the girl drag her around like a rag doll. Once Dina had brought her with the rest of the group in front of the stage, Dina gave her a gentle nudge. “M’not letting you sit at the bar all night like a creep…maybe these guys are good!” She beamed, causing Ellie to roll her eyes gently.

Dina smirked gently as she leaned into her a bit, her voice dropping. “I caught a glimpse of the lead singer…she’s hot”. Dina’s words made Ellie scoff, because Dina knew that she was sulking over you right now. And there wasn’t even any reason to, Ellie was simply the queen of self sabotage.

Ellie opened her mouth to complain, but before she could, the show was starting.

The bright lights that settled onto the stage hurt Ellie’s head, and they weren’t even directed at her. She was just fucking annoyed and she wanted to leave but she also didn’t know where to go because she couldn’t escape her fucking thoughts. And now this godforsaken band was walking on stage and she couldn’t care less and..

Her breath gets caught in her throat, because Dina was right. The lead singer is hot.

Because she reminds Ellie of you.

If she didn’t know any better, she’d think this girl modeled her entire appearance after you. She’s got the same pretty hair color as you, and the corner of her lips turn up the same way yours do when you’ve got that cute little smirk on, and it’s making Ellie feel warm inside because she’s bringing her the same comfort that you bring. Ellie finds that she can’t take her eyes off of her.

The band sucks, and they’re out of tune and the songs are cheesy and it sounds like radio music, but Ellie doesn’t fucking care, because you’re literal twin is standing in front of her on a stage, swaying her hips in a tiny skirt, and she’s too drunk to apply any common sense she has in that moment. She pretends it’s you on stage, putting a show on for her.

It doesn’t help that she’s eye fucking Ellie the entire time.

It burns her because she wonders what you’d look like if you looked at her that way, not some carbon copy, but you, her best friend, her girl. She’s licking her lips, her eyes burning from a lacking of blinking as she stares at your clone, and in that moment she feels like this is the closest she’ll ever fucking get to the real thing.

Dina notices immediately, and she smirks gently. She’s just as drunk as Ellie, and her better judgment has flown out the window far too long ago, so she doesn’t stop herself when she leans into Ellie again towards the end of the set and whispers to her.

“I dare you to try and get it in with her”

Ellie truly didn’t need to be told twice, because adrenaline was already pumping through her veins and she was fucking horny, and she seriously had nothing to lose at this point.

Or so she thought.

She smirked softly as she eyed the lead singer, downing the rest of what was in her glass and passing it to Dina.

The bands set had ended a few minutes after that, and the little smirk that the lead singer gave Ellie, followed by the silent calling with her fingers when she walked off was all she needed to carry out the dare that she was given.

The bar was small, with little security, so it was fairly easy to navigate her way to the backstage area. She made her way out of the bar, the warm breeze wafting onto her face as she circled around the bar so that she was at the back of it.

And as if they shared a brain, there she was. She looked even more like you in the moonlight, and it made Ellie’s heart beat faster. Her back was pressed up against the brick wall of the bar as she brought her cigarette to her lips, smirking the second she saw Ellie making her way over to her.

“Didn’t think you’d come…” She purred out, trying desperately to sound sexy. If Ellie wasn’t so gone, the attempt would’ve made her cringe. But the alcohol and weed in her system made it so that she even sounded like you, so she took it.

Ellie smirked softly, leaning against the wall as she stood next to the girl, her bottom lip pulled between her teeth as her eyes shamelessly roamed down her body. “With that little show you were putting on for me? I’d be crazy not to come…” she sighed out, her voice raspy.

The girl giggled softly, her cheeks turning pink as she turned her body so that she was facing Ellie before she nodded her head towards the building. “Wanna see my dressing room?” 

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

Ellie had the girl pressed up against the dark walls of the dressing room, if she could even call it that. It was a small room with a couch against the wall, a make shift vanity and a tiny rack with a few hangers on it, but Ellie didn’t care.

Because in her drunken state, a pair of soft lips and a warm body pressed up against hers was just what she needed. The little moans and whines that came from the girl were urging her on, and it was finally giving her the distraction from you that she needed so badly.

“Fuck…you taste so good..” she moaned out. Ellie knew she was lying, she tasted of weed and whiskey and her kisses were harsh. It made Ellie wonder how many times she’d told someone these things before.

Ellie groaned, gripping the girls waist and walking backwards until they had reached the couch. The girl pressed her palms against Ellie’s chest, pushing her back to lay on the couch as she straddled her.

Without missing another beat, her lips were on Ellie’s again. Ellie placed her large hands on her hips as she began rocking her back and forth, letting her grind down on her body. The moans that she let out were sinful and Ellie wanted more, she needed to hear more.

When the girl broke the kiss, she expected her to take her top off, or stand up to take her skirt off, or anything other than what she actually did.

She was straddling Ellie, and Ellie moaned out softly as she let her hand trail up her body, grabbing and squeezing as she waited for her to do something else. The girl opened her mouth and she began speaking, but Ellie couldn’t understand what she was saying.

Her words sounded like they were in a different language, one Ellie couldn’t quite pinpoint, and it made her furrow her eyebrows in confusion. She sat up a bit, proving herself up on her elbows as she stared up at the girl. “What…what are you doing?” She mumbled out, but she was only met with a hand pressed to her chest and pushing her back down to lay on the couch.

The girl continued speaking, reaching behind her and grabbing a small dagger, and Ellie’s heart began beating faster and faster.

The girl got louder with each passing word she spoke, and Ellie was starting to think for a moment that this was all a bad dream and she’d wake up soon.

But she never did.

The girl inhaled deeply, holding the handle of the dagger with both hands before she lifted it over her head, biting her lip almost nervously as she stared down at Ellie.

“We won’t make it on our own in Hollywood…you’re our ticket there…sorry” she mumbled softly, and Ellie’s eyes went wide.

“Are you fucking crazy!? What are you-“ her words were cut off by the dagger piercing her through her chest.

She doesn’t remember anything after that.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

That night was the last normal night of Ellie’s life.

Because after all of that, she woke up gasping for air in the woods. She had no idea where the fuck she was or how long she had been there, but she did know that whoever the hell put here there, thought that she was dead.

When she got up, she had the worst headache of her entire fucking life. The throbbing was so loud, she was sure if anyone was standing next to her they’d be able to hear it too. And she was so fucking hungry. She placed a hand on her stomach to try and calm the pain she felt, but it didn’t help.

She felt empty, drained, like all of the life had been sucked from her body, and she was merely a corpse left to rot in the woods.

Corpse…death…dying.

That girl tried to fucking kill her.

It was all coming back to her, but when she looked down at the area of where the girl had stabbed her, it was completely gone.

And Ellie was sure she was having a bad fucking trip at that point.

All she knew, was that she needed to get home and fucking eat something.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

It was like she was suffering the worst hangover of her entire life.

No matter how much she ate, she couldn’t shake the empty feeling that settled at the pit of her stomach. She tried everything, cleaning out her fridge, her pantry, she even splurged and bought food from her favorite fucking take out place.

And nothing.

She felt like she was going to pass out every time she stood up. She was weak, and frail, and there wasn’t enough medicine to get rid of the pain that riddled her entire body.

And to make things worse, she couldn’t stop thinking about you.

She always did, you were almost always on her mind, but this was all different.

The hunger she felt in her stomach was almost identical to the hunger she felt for you. It was like she couldn’t separate lust and basic human needs, and she felt like she was going to lose her mind if she wasn’t able to touch you soon.

But she couldn’t, not in this state. She had to wait to see you.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

Ellie learned a lot within the week that she took off of school.

She learned that food wasn’t enough. After about the third day of trying to satisfy herself with the second set of groceries she went through, she was convinced that food just was not going to cut it.

Then what the hell would?

Her answer came to her when she was at the store, trying to buy more medicine for her everlasting headache.

The fluorescent lights in the pharmacy were making her dizzy, everything around her just entirely too loud, and it was making her angry.

But for a moment, it was all clear.

The girl standing next to Ellie was so unsuspecting, bending down a bit to find whatever medicine it was that she needed, living her life just as everyone else was doing in the store.

But Ellie couldn’t ignore the way that her mind was clear, and for a split second, her headache was gone and the hunger she felt subsided.

Until it all came rushing back again once she stepped away.

She wasn’t sure what it was that ignited her to follow the girl, or what it was that was even prompting her to continue doing so outside of the store. But before she knew it, her new instincts were taking over and she was pouncing the girl outside of her car in the dim parking lot.

So yeah, Ellie finally figured out what it was that she needed to satisfy her hunger.

Because after she finished the girl, she felt stronger, like she had been born again. Any pain and suffering that she was experiencing had disappeared the second her teeth sunk into the girls skin. It was like euphoria, and she wanted more.

That week was spent entirely by herself. Researching and trying to understand what the hell had happened to her. She figured she wasn’t a vampire, because she’d watch those twilight movies with you and she was pretty damn sure she wouldn’t turn into stone if someone killed her, and she was breathing and walking around just as much as any other living person so she wasn’t necessarily dead.

But she was stronger, radiant, she was sure her skin even had a new fucking glow to it that wasn’t there before. So something had changed.

After digging through countless libraries, she finally found a book on spells and rituals. That’s how she settled on the fact that she indeed was used as a sacrifice.

A fame spell to be exact. Ellie couldn’t decipher what spell it was exactly that had been used on her, but from what was physically done, and the final words that the girl spoke to her, she narrowed it down to that.

Dealing with…her new way of life was..strange.

Because her strength would last for a few days after she…ate, and she would feel like she was on top of the world. But then, she’d crash.

After reading further, she figured out that she had to feed every other day now. She tried her best to put it off as much as she possibly could, but Jesus was it hard.

The books she had about the spells and rituals also told her, that her hunger could only be satisfied when in the presence of her true love, and that made Ellie’s cold, dead her skip a beat.

Because she knew it was you, and she knew that she needed a lot of time before she could face you again. The hunger for you was still there, no matter how much she fed on others, she only wanted to be with you, and that scared her.

Ellie wouldn’t be able to live with herself if she ever hurt you.

And that’s why she waited so long to see you, wanting to be at her strongest before she was setting foot in your home and into your embrace. She told herself she could do it, that it would all be easy.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

She was wrong.

Because come Monday and you’re sitting in the courtyard, the sun dancing on your pretty skin, soaking it up beautiful, your skirt flowing in the wind, and Ellie just wants to whisk you away and keep you in her bed until the end of time.

But she gets closer and she notices that you’re sitting with Amber.

It was stupid enough that Ellie had gone too many days without feeding, and she was already irritated to begin with, but now you were sitting there looking like a fucking goddess and it wasn’t for her, you weren’t waiting for her and it made her want to rip someone’s fucking throat to shreds.

Ellie finds that she can’t really control herself or her actions these days, especially when it’s been a while since she’s gone…hunting..it’s like she’s suddenly seeing red at any minor inconvenience and she’s too weak to even care about the white hot rage that’s surging through her body.

And that’s how you end up crying in front of her in the library, and Ellie feels like fucking shit about it.

Once her head is clear and she isn’t tucking starving, shes texting you and she’s trying to apologize but it’s all left in vain, because she’s sure at this point you’ve either muted her messages or gone all out and blocked her, and it’s making her want to cry because don’t you know that you’re all she fucking wants? Can’t you see how she feels about you? She’s suffering without you and it seems like you don’t even fucking care.

Ellie finds herself getting upset again, and the worst part is, is that you aren’t even there to defend yourself.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

It had been a few days since the party, and Ellie was once again suffering.

You’d gone completely silent after it all. You gently pushed her off of your body, put your clothes on and walked out of the room to go home.

Ellie had sat there with a confused look on her face, scurrying around to grab her own clothes as she kept trying to talk to you, see what was going through your head, anything.

But you said nothing, you simply got dressed and left, and it left Ellie panicking.

Because she felt as though she just got you back, and she finally felt okay with herself and with you when she was around you, kissing you and holding you. But you were slipping through her fingers just as quickly as you were falling into bed with her, and she didn’t know what to do.

So, she gave you space.

She ignored any impulse that she had to text you, to show up at your apartment with your favorite flowers and a stuffed animal of the stupid cartoon you like, but it was fucking hard, and she couldn’t help but feel like this was the end between the two of you.

She started taking things a lot more serious when you didn’t show up to school.

Never in all of your friendship did you let anything make you miss school. Even when you were 11 and Ellie gave you strep and you almost passed out during gym class, or when you refused to miss a final even after a dentist appointment and you were all loopy on laughing gas, to this day Ellie doesn’t know how you passed a test in that state.

But bottom line was, you never let anything get in the way of your education. So Ellie was really fucking worried when her first lecture of the day was going on and all she could focus on was your empty seat that was next to her.

After class, she had raced to your apartment. She had given you more than enough time to figure out what you wanted from her, and she decided it was time you let her know.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

Her hand was banging on your door, the same exact way it was the first time she revealed herself to you after she had…changed.

She knew she had to be persistent, she knew that the sudden silence from you was only going to grow more space between the two of you if she didn’t do something about it.

So she stood there for about ten minutes, knocking on your door and calling out for you until you’d decide to call the cops, or open up for her.

“Baby come on…we…fuck, we need to talk. Either you let me in or I’m letting myself in” her tone was stern, and from the other side of it you stood there, staring at it, and you knew you should take her seriously.

Ellie almost passed out when she catches sight of you, and it feels like she hasn’t seen you in years. Your eyes are puffy, and your lips are swollen from all the times you’d rub your sweater sleeve against your nose, and as sick and twisted as it may sound.

Ellie thinks you look so fucking pretty.

But she can’t ignore the way her heart tugs at the tiny sniffle you let out. You’re standing in front of her, and you have that cute little pout on your lips, and your arms are wrapped around yourself like you’re protecting yourself from her and she feels like she’ll break at any second because this is her doing, she’s the reason you’re like this.

She let out a soft sigh and she’s pushing the door closed before she’s pulling you down to sit on the couch to sit with her. She winces slightly because you still won’t look at her, and she feels like she’s already lost you.

Her voice falls lower, just above a whisper as she brings her hand up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Bambi…you’ve gotta talk to me…we…we can’t just…do what we did and not talk about it”

She feels like the worst person in the world because the second she speaks, she can already see your chin wobbling and she hears the way your breathing becomes uneven and she knows it’s coming, and she wishes she can do something to stop it.

When you finally look up at her, your eyes are red, eyelashes clumping together from your wet tears and it looks like you’ll crumble at any second.

“You’ve changed Ellie…you’re not the same and I…I want my best friend back”

Your words hit her deep within her chest, like the dagger the girl at the bar drove through her, but worse. Because you’re pleading with her for something she can’t give you, and it’s the first time in her life and in your friendship that she feels like she can’t provide you with everything you’ll ever need.

She inhales deeply, her hands dropping to take yours in her own before she gives a slight nod. “I have changed…and I…I’m not sure if I can go back to the way I was before baby..” her voice is low, and her words make you scoff.

“Typical, you’re just dancing around my words at this point Ellie. What is going on with you? What are you not telling me?” You whimper out, your voice breaking between the sobs and tears you’re holding back for your own sake, and her own.

She sighs, because she knows she can’t keep this up anymore.

With a deep inhale, she give your hand a squeeze, and she’s telling you everything she’s experienced within the past few weeks.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

You’re slowly pulling your hands away from hers when she finishes, eyebrows furrowed as you stare at her as if she had three heads.

“Is this a fucking joke?”

Ellie felt like she was going to cry, and you were staring at her with furrowed eyebrows, looking so fucking angry. For the first time since all of this had happened, she realized that everything she was telling you probably sounded like a load of bullshit.

“Look, I know it’s hard to believe and…and I know you probably don’t trust me all that much right now. But I don’t even fully understand it all myself I just…” she stuttered out, feeling more and more hopeless the longer you stared at her with that dumbfounded look on your face.

Your best friend was sat in front of you, telling you that within the past two and a half weeks, she had someone been used in some…fame ritual, and because it went wrong, she was now some…some monster.

You let out a tired sigh, you were over it, all of it. You didn’t know what to think or what to feel, and in all honesty, you felt like the stories that Ellie were feeding you were all a sorry excuse to get rid of you.

“Look Ellie, I’m not an idiot…okay? And I’m not a child..if you…if you don’t wanna be friends anymore you can just say that. You don’t have to make up some elaborate story to try and soften the blow” you sighed out, your voice barely above a whisper. You slowly got up, letting her hands fall from your lap as you made your way to your bedroom, leaving her behind.

Ellie panicked, the tone in your voice told her that you were tired, and you were over her. The fact alone that you thought she could ever end your friendship made her heart tug.

The only reason she’d ever do that, is if she ever grew the balls to tell you how much she loved you.

She quickly got up from the couch and followed you into your bedroom. You were laying there, cuddling with Angel as you turned on your TV, acting as if Ellie wasn’t even there.

Ellie frowned, crawling onto your bed grabbing your thigh gently so she could spread your legs, settling between them as she stared into your eyes desperately.

“Im not lying! I wish I was fucking lying but I promise you I’m not” she groaned, grabbing your hand and holding it against her chest. “What can I do to prove it to you?” She mumbled out, staring into your sad eyes.

Angel caught her attention, and she noticed the way the cat that was curled into your side stared at her, eyes slanted and hair puffed up.

And it gave her an idea.

Her eyes widened a bit before she pointed at the cat. “Angel! She used to love me, and now she won’t even step near me. Don’t you think that means something?” She pleaded.

You frowned softly as you looked down at your cat, realizing then just how strange she had been acting.

Angel loved Ellie, she actually went with you to the adoption center to get her when she was just a baby. She crawled towards the both of you, meowing happily the second Ellie brought her hand down to pet her, and you knew that she was the one you’d take home with you.

Even when Ellie would visit, she’d be eager to jump into the girls lap.

But that had all gone through the window, and you started to think about when she started acting this way, but you were only left with the night that Ellie had came to you after her disappearance.

You blinked a few times in thought as you stared at your spooked cat before you shook your head, looking back up at Ellie.

“That doesn’t prove anything, she could just be…going through a phase or something” you shrugged, and Ellie was letting out a frustrated groan.

She looked down at her body, trying to find anything that she could physically show you that would prove to you that she wasn’t lying, and that this was all the truth.

Then she remembered. Her fucking fangs.

They freaked her out when she first realized she had them, and the sort of weighed in on the whole vampire theory that she had at first, but she remembered that she had them.

And that was all the proof she could give, so it had to be enough.

She inhaled deeply, staring down at you before she rested a hand on your soft thigh. “I’m going to show you something, but I need you to know that I’m not going to hurt you, and you don’t need to be afraid of me…okay?” She nodded slowly, trying to get you to understand that she was serious with what she was.

You furrowed your eyebrows as you stared up at her from your spot against your plush pillows, rolling your eyes as you shook your head. “Ellie I don’t have time for this, and really tired. Maybe you should just-“ she quickly cut you off.

“You know my better than anyone else does…please…just give me five minutes” she begged, her big green eyes staring into yours.

Your heart skipped a bit as she stared down at you, and you felt like you had no choice but to hear her out. You inhaled deeply before you gave her a gentle nod, urging her to carry on with what it was she had to show you.

She nodded with you, sighing gently before she closed her eyes, and focused. She had only tried pushing them out on her own once, the times before that her body simply took over and did it for her. She found that she had to make her mind completely blank, only focusing on bringing the new set of teeth that she had down.

Soon enough, her gums began to feel sore, and she felt her teeth shift a bit as the sharp fangs pushed out and settled where her canines would be. Once she was sure they were down completely, she opened her mouth for you to see.

Your eyes widened as you stared at her, sitting up a bit to get a closer look. The memories of her on top of you came flooding in, and what you wrote off to be a drunken hallucination was sitting right in front of your sober eyes.

Ellie Williams had fucking fangs.

You couldn’t stop yourself from crawling closer to her, settling on your knees as you reached out and grasped her chin gently, a soft gasp leaving your lips as you stared into your friends mouth.

“They were real…” you whispered out, more so to yourself than to her. Ellie furrowed her eyebrows in confusion at your words, letting you stare into her mouth for a moment longer before she grabbed your wrist and closed her mouth. “Wait, you saw them?”

You nodded slowly as you stared at her. “At the party..when you���when we finished…I saw them. But I just…assumed I was just seeing things because of how drunk I was” you mumbled out softly before you licked your lips, staring down at her hand wrapped around your wrist.

“Okay fine…so what if you are telling the truth. What does this all even mean? What are you trying to tell me?” You sighed out, your voice soft and tired.

Ellie sighed, her thumb rubbing your soft skin gently before she shrugged. “I’m not totally sure what it means…but I do know that I feel…I feel better when I’m with you…I feel normal, like I don’t even need to do any of that stuff to feel okay…” she sighed out, staring up at you. Her green eyes sparkled against the dark light in your room, and the sight alone had you in shambles.

She sighed out gently, her hands cautiously going to hold your waist gently before she continued on.

“I’m tired of pretending..I know I’m different now but I…..I…” she stuttered, her heart beating a mile a minute. She was scared, scared that she’d lose you forever.

But it was worth the fucking risk.

“I’m in love with you.” She confessed, her voice low as she stared up at you, hands massaging your waist gently as you stared down at her.

And you realized there were two things you had thought you imagined, but were real.

One, your best friend had fangs.

Two, she told you she was in love with you.

You froze, because you didn’t know what to say. In all the years of knowing her, you’d dream about being with her in this very moment, wishing she’d utter those words to you every night before you went to sleep.

But now that you were here, you didn’t know what to say.

Ellie continued massaging your skin, giving you as much time as you needed to respond to her. When a few seconds passed and you were still silent, she continue giving your waist small, reassuring squeezes.

“Don’t worry if you don’t feel the same way Bambi, we can still be friends-“ she was cut off by your lips pressed against hers.

Ellie groans softly, her eyes fluttering shut at the feeling. She has yearned for it the moment you broke apart the last time she was with you, and having you there with her, pressed up against her, it was like having her air fill up with lungs again.

You moved to straddle her lap, your tongue pushing into her mouth in a passionate kiss as you wrapped your arms around her neck and held her close to your body.

Ellie feels the best when she’s pressed up against you, but you haven’t said a word since she’s confessed, and she can’t let this carry on if you don’t feel the same way.

It takes everything in her to pull away from you, and the little whine you let out when she breaks the kiss doesn’t make it any easier, but she’s pulling you away by your waist and she’s staring up at you, trying to catch her breath.

“Baby…baby wait I…I can’t…I can’t keep going if you don’t feel the same way..” she breaths out, and she thinks you’re going to come to your senses and tell her to go home, that you were done with her nonsense

But you’re not, your smiling softly down at her and she swears she can see the hearts floating around in your eyes. They’re twinkling and glowing and they look like pools of love and you honestly don’t even have to say it back, but she’s desperate to hear those words fall from your lips.

“You’re such an idiot…of course I love you too Els…always have…” you whispered out, toying with the soft ends of her hair at the nape of her neck.

You hum softly, one of your hands coming from around her and tracing her features, dancing over her freckles as if they were tiny constellations, there just for your viewing and no one else.

“I…we need to talk more about…what happened to you…but I believe you” you nodded, affirming to her that you truly did believe her.

And she feels her heart beating out of her chest, because not only do you believe her, but you loved her, and she feels like it’s all she needs to keep her going for the rest of her days.

She’s nodding eagerly, pulling you closer as she agrees. “Anything, I’ll tell you anything you want. I promise” her words were genuine, and you’re smiling softly as you stare down at her, feeling so comfortable and at peace in her lap, with her arms wrapped around you, you can’t even think for another minute that the story she’s telling you is far fetched.

You nod with her before leaning in and pressing a kiss to the corner of her lips. “Before we do that…I’ve missed you, Ellie..” you sigh out against her ear, and she feels a chill run up her spine. Her hands are roaming your body in an instant and she’s nodding eagerly, almost looking silly as she gently lays you down into your bed.

“Fuck…please…let me show you how much I love you baby…come here…” she moaned out, already far too eager to touch you, feel you, love you.

You whine softly underneath her, staring up into her eyes lovingly before she leans down, catching your lips against hers in a loving kiss. Her hands are traveling up your body, slipping under your shirt and cupping your boob, twisting your nipple between her calloused fingers, and it’s pathetic but you’re already a moaning mess.

Her other hand comes up to grab both of your wrists, pinning them above your head. She breaks the kiss, staring down at you and moaning softly, she sounds so pretty you think you could cry. Your last memory with her like this was so fuzzy, and rough and hard to see through.

But this is all crystal clear, and it’s making your heart burst with love. The way she’s staring down at your body as she pushes your sleep shirt up to get a good look at you is so intense it almost makes you shy away, but this is Ellie, your Ellie, and you don’t trust anyone as much as you trust her.

Ellie bit her lip softly as she stares down at you for a moment longer before she’s helping you sit up, tearing off both your clothes and her clothes and tossing them in different directions of your room until your both naked and pressed up against one another.

You feel something press up against your soaked core and you furrow your eyebrows as you look down, only to see Ellie’s pink strap pushing against you. You look up at her, opening your mouth to ask her about it before she’s cutting you off with an answer.

“I…was hoping I’d be able to make love to you tonight…wore it just in case you didn’t kick me out…” she mumbles out sheepishly. And once again, your heart is bursting with love with her because she’s such an idiot sometimes, but it’s okay because she’s your idiot.

You pull her closer, pressing your lips to hers before your hand is trailing down between you and you grab the base, pushing it towards your soaked entrance with a soft hum.

“Shut up and fuck me already..” you moan out, and she doesn’t need to be told twice.

She pushes into you, and the moan you let out is enough to have her moaning with you. Her tattooed hand comes down to grip your hip gently as she steadies herself before she falls into a slow rhythm, moaning at the way her strap is rubbing up against her clit, and at the way that you’re moaning beneath her.

“F-fuck! Ahhhh Ellieeee…mmm-oh my god!” You whine out, and she’s nodding her head to urge you on further, her own words cut off by her moans and hissing.

“That’s it…that’s my fucking girl…o-oh fuck! My good girl…god I love you…fuck” she’s just as much of a mess as you are, and she’s positive she won’t last long. You’re staring up at her with those big heart eyes and she knows she’s a goner.

Because this is what she’s always wanted, to make you hers, show you how much she loves you and that you were it for her, you were her endgame, forever and always.

Her eyes are hungry and they’re eating you up, because you look like a work of art to her right now and she doesn’t even want to blink in fear that she’ll miss a fucking second of you.

“Love you so much…mmm fuuuuckk…gonna cum Els..please…please make me cum” you’re begging her, and it’s making her moans grow louder, the two of you babbling incoherently as you both confess your undying love for one another.

Ellie nods, speeding up her pace. “That’s it baby, such a good girl for me- fuck! I’m gonna fucking come. Oh my god I’m-“ she moans out, and just from the look of her throwing her head back, her fucking fangs on full display for you, looking like the prettiest goddamn demon you’ve ever seen, you cum with her.

There’s little sparkles dancing around you, at least that’s what it feels like. Ellie tossed her strap to the side once you both caught your breath and cleaned you both up, and she put you in your favorite sleep shirt, and a pair of spare boxers you had for her laying around, and you both simply lay there, holding each other in your dim room.

And it feels complete, because it’s the first time that you can actually feel her there with you, and not just pretending to be there. And Ellie feels it too, she feels satisfied and she feels like she’s normal again, even though she knows she’s not.

A few moments pass as you’re pressed up against her, your fingers tracing small shapes on her collar bone before you break the silence.

“So…are we talking like…resident evil vampires? Or…Edward Cullen vampire?” And your words makes her chuckle softly before she sighs, finally giving it some thought for a moment before she hum.

“We’ll find out together baby…”

[cyberdragoninfinity]

I would love to hear your thoughts about the fucked-up turtle (Terapagos)

"Now let's talk about the turtle. Can we talk about the turtle please, Mac? I've been dying to talk about the turtle with you all day."

Ok so. Short Answer Re: Thoughts About Terapagos:

WHAT THE FUCK. WHAT THE FUCK. WHAT THE FUCK. WHY DID IT DO THAT. WHY DID THEY [GAMEFREAK] DO THAT.

Long Answer Re: Thoughts About Terapagos [SPOILERS FOR THE SCARVIO DLC naturally. i havent seen Horizons so i dont rly know whats goin on with this little guy in the anime, just what we've got in the games]:

When the last little batch of new Pokemon in Indigo Disk leaked, about 12 hours or so-ish before the DLC dropped, I was at dinner with my bestie and we were looking at our phones like we were reading breaking world news. And I was looking at this tiny ass png of Terapagos's full Tera (Stellar) form.

And I immediately blurted out "holy SHIT it's turtles all the way down."

If you're not familiar with the phrase, check out its wikipedia page; here it's most relevant as a saying thrown around with regards to the philosophical concept of infinite regress, i.e. a series of elements (or questions begging an explanation) that that goes on infinitely with each member producing the next. So let's say the world rests on the back of a giant turtle--well, then, what does that turtle stand on to keep it from falling into the void? Why, another, bigger turtle, of course! But what about that turtle? Well, you're not gonna believe this, but it's turtles all the way down.

And here's the other thing about infinite regress: it's a logical fallacy, it's circular reasoning--honestly it's a little bit of a cousin to the "which came first?" chicken and egg argument. The question in these cases never truly gets answered, it just goes on and on forever. Bigger turtles on top of even bigger turtles.

It's a paradox. :)

So Stellar Terapagos, just look at that thing. Even its dex entries talk about how it looks like a planet, how it resembles "the world as the ancients saw it"--it's very much not only trying to evoke the World Turtle concept, but the symbolism of a classic paradoxical saying. So we've already got that going on with it, that already makes me bonkers. AND THAT'S JUST THE SURFACE LEVEL.

Cuz when we look at how Terapagos behaves, things start to go from "well isnt this guy a little weird" to "oh. oh this thing is kind of fucked up and terrifying, hello, what the hell is wrong with it" REAL FAST. Its two most stressed features we see in Indigo Disk are A.) its crystalline nature and how its the progenitor of Terastalization, but also B.) it is ferociously powerful and borderline uncontrollable. It's violent. It bursts out of a Master Ball and almost kills Kieran for daring to try and control it. Heath's illustration of its Stellar form in the Scarlet/Violet Book looks so otherworldly and almost cosmically horrifying. It has Weird Fucking Powers the game does NOT elaborate on (but I will; see more below.)

And also, hey, yeah, its Stellar Form looks like a stack of world turtles, but why the FUCK does its Terastal form also look like a goddamn dream catcher.

Personally I've been a big fan of the 'imagination theory' re: the Professors and the Paradox Pokemon and Area Zero, and folks have been arguing that Indigo Disk debunks that, but honestly I feel like we're loitering around some untold explanation that's even more bizarre. Terapagos is at least on some level tied to dreams and existentialism, and I really feel like there's more to Tera Crystals and Terapagos's relationship with them than what we've been told. Hell, its cry is even the noise we hear all game when we Terastalize our Pokemon, which produces its own myriad of questions (Are the Crystals some degree of alive? The Tera Crowns all do have Terapago's little turtle head at their base, too--does Terapagos physically or spiritually connect with a Terastalizing Pokemon? And what about that weird crystalizing the AI Professor does during its big boss fight? MUCH TO THINK ABOUT.)

Oh, speaking of Crystals--yeah. I can't NOT talk about the Indigo Disk Crystal Pool Postgame Secret when talking about Terapagos. ONE MORE SPOILER WARNING FOR THAT--SERIOUSLY GO TO THE CRYSTAL POOL AFTER GETTING THE DLC CREDITS. IT WILL BLAST YOU TO BITS. anyway.

Yeah so that's what I mean with Why Did It [Terapagos] Do That. The fact that you dont even need to have it in your party for the postgame Crystal Pool cutscene to trigger and for Terapagos to just pop out of the PC boxes on its own accord and warp space and time (and maybe even reality itself) to irreversible consequence, implying once again some great and uncontrollable power within this beast. Crazy Ass Moments in Pokemon History for CERTAIN.

And the thing that makes me most insane, thinking about Terapagos twisting time to allow you to meet the Professor, the Real Live Professor, to swap notes with them so to speak, the way it facilitates all of that, is the position it now puts the player and Scarvio itself in. If the Professor's research rests on the back of a white book given to them by a child, then what does the research of that white book rest upon? Ah, well, the expedition of Area Zero spurred forth by the fallout of the Professor's research. And what did THAT research rest upon, again...?

Turtles. The whole way down. Chickens and eggs and a paradox you're now responsible for. At the hands of a Normal Type Pokemon that tried to kill a 14 year old.

Terapagos scares the shit out of me. I love it so much. Why Did They Make It Like That <3

[bucknastysbabe]

IGHT THIS IS GONNA BE FOR YOUR BINGO POST !! 🩷🩷and you can throw this in the garbage is it ain't to your standards 🤪 but I'm thinking: Aegon ii x Bethroned! Reader-- LITTLE AGNST , FLUFF, SMUT (maybe if you want to) (Arranged Marriage) where Alicent has gotten extremely tired of options with what she can do to keep Aegon in line from committing more atrocious acts that she and Otto decided it was best to not only have a noble that is the complete opposite of him --keep him in line but to also form relations with against the blacks since (readers family) contains good army and weaponry.

Aegon is not fond of this marriage but changes his mind when he sees (reader) for the first time.

YENI YENI BO BENI!!!! I loved this w my whole heart and had tons of fun, so refreshing! We got a little angst, plenty of fluff, and some devious smut😏 I’m so glad you sent the ask, enjoy mwah mwah mwah!!!!

AU Bingo - Arranged Marriage - Aegon II

Rating: Mature, explicit at the end.

Tags: Arranged marriage, douche Aegon falls in LOVE, Redwyne!reader, Cringefail baby Aeg and his shifty family dynamics, TW: verbal abuse, Aegon’s derogatory thinking, non-descript throwing up, fluffity fluff fluff, big tiddy Arbor gf, soft kissing, a little groping, cumming in pants, clitoral orgasm, crying erotically, oh it’s happily ever after tonite, Aemond and Criston stay being done w Aegon

In the dimly lit council chamber, Lord Hand Otto Hightower and Queen Alicent pondered over a map of Westeros. A bottle of wine was split between the pair, something to dull the utter stress that was marrying their eldest. He had already refused Helaena and succeeded by torturing enough bugs. Or that the heir walled himself up in a whorehouse surrounded by gold cloaks until Ser Criston announced that Prince Aemond would wed the princess.

Outside the whorehouse.

Aegon’s antics had worsened as he grew older with no ‘ball and chain’, so to speak. Otto sighed, “I fear we have no more choices left,” his long fingers curled tighter around the golden cup, “Not a house with enough power, that isn’t already pledged to Rhaenyra.

Alicent wanted to scream. She grabbed the bottle of wine and went to pour. Then stopped suddenly, brown eyes searching up at her father. The queen asked, “Say, what about the Redwynes? They have money, daughters, and that precious fleet. 200 warships.”

Otto’s once dull eyes gleamed and he smiled pleasantly. He hummed, “Smart, smart girl. Marten has two beautiful maidens from what I’ve heard. The Arbor is always loyal to Oldtown.”

“I’ll send a raven immediately.”

Aegon had begged the maidservant to pull his cock until she had ran off crying. He shrugged and grabbed the bottle of wine, slugging it with no care in the world. Until it was ripped from his greedy lips. The blonde sputtered and water splashed as he met his mother’s disappointed eyes. No surprise there.

Alicent spat, “Do you ever spend your time doing something productive? Aemond’s been in the yard for hours.”

“Aemond’s a stiff cunt.”

Aegon frowned when a hand crossed his cheek. His mother hissed, “You will not speak of your brother like that! Pay attention, there’s news regarding your bachelorhood.” Aegon rolled his eyes and sat up, staring silently, sullen. He knew this was to come but dreaded it every night.

The queen opened a scroll and read off, “I, Lord Marten Redwyne of the Arbor— approve of the betrothal between my eldest and Prince Aegon. Good tidings and we hope to arrive with some ships within a fortnight.”

Aegon giggled, “You’re marrying me to the wine house’s daughter? How fitting.”

Another crack on the cheek. Aegon shut up, tears now stinging his violet eyes. His mother hissed, “She’s from a very powerful, devout, and noble family. That fleet will keep your head on your shoulders when Rhaenyra comes to lop it off. Clean yourself up!”

As she exited the room with a dissatisfied scoff, Aegon felt more tears well up. He suddenly felt very alone and frightened. Gods forbid she can’t stand the sight of him like any other nobility. He wept softly, shaking fingers clinging to his bottle. Funny enough, it was Arbor Red. His favorite.

Aegon busied himself drowning in whores and spirits the weeks, then days, leading up to his betrothed’s arrival. So much so that he hadn’t left the Street of Silk since the announcement. They hadn’t sent Criston out either. He desperately hoped they would magically forget about him here.

The whore sucking his cock hummed softly, Aegon arching a bit into her mouth. He wondered what the girl would look like. Not that it mattered. He closed his eyes and slid a ringed finger into her hair, fucking the whores throat with a soft moan.

As soon as he came, the door flung open. Aegon jerked away from the light pouring in, hissing and cursing the fiend who so dared to interrupt his climax.

Long fingers grabbed his arm and jerked the blonde off the bed into a mess of limbs onto the floor. A familiar voice uttered, “Pathetic.” Oh joyous day, it was Aemond, his knight in shining armor. Aegon whined in annoyance, “You didn’t have to manhandle me like some Yunkish brute!” The younger prince crossed his arms, face impassive.

“You fucking reek. Get your clothes on, it’s time to meet your betrothed.”

Aegon pressed a forefinger and thumb into his pounding eyes, mumbling, “Fine, give me a second.” Aemond hummed in distaste, shifting on his feet. The whore scurried out, the clink of coin hitting her hands from the younger. He shuffled blearily over to where his clothes were last, putting them on haphazardly.

Aegon realized his breeches were on backwards but really couldn’t give a bigger fuck. He needed a drink for this hangover. Aemond barked from behind, “Let’s go! You’re so slow brother.” Aegon cursed him again and followed behind, shuffling. Fear and bile were beginning to rise in his throat.

The ensuing ride on horseback with a lecture from Cole had Aegon throwing up on some poor peasant’s blanket covered in wares. More coin had to be given out from Aemond for that. The heir felt absolutely horrid by the time they had reached the Red Keep.

He remained silent through his mother’s verbal torture, the scrub down and dressing, then left alone in his chambers. Aegon’s headache had died down a bit but he was shaky. He idly got up and stared into the mirror. A haggard, dull eyed face met his own. Aegon thumbed at the red rims and dark bags under his eyes, frowning.

He skimmed a hand down his midsection, growing further despondent at the residual puffiness from overindulging at meals and the drink. Maybe she would see something in him. Probably not, the rumor mill was rampant around Westeros. Aegon was aware there wasn’t much to him but an inherited title, a name, and a dragon.

Ser Criston peeped in the door, brown eyes squinting. He asked, “Are you ready my prince? You look…groomed.” Aegon sighed and followed along the white knight, tremors threatening to overtake his frame. They walked and walked to the throne room, his decrepit father having managed to make it onto the Iron Throne. Some smaller lord was petitioning him and Otto.

Aegon searched the crowds of people, looking for something. He didn’t even know what their coat of arms looked like. Probably burgundy. Wine. He wanted wine so bad. Otto cleared his throat as soon as Aegon joined the retainer of the Targaryens.

The Hand dismissed the lord and peered at Viserys for approval. The king nodded and rasped, “Lords and ladies, we have a grand announcement.” A gasp erupted across the crowd, Aegon curled into himself. Otto boomed, “House Redwyne please come forward!”

The nobility peered at the group of burgundy and blue clad group coming up towards the throne. There were two girls clad in the rich red, one distinctly more gorgeous than the other. She had thick hair elegantly done, soft glowing skin, and pretty eyes. Aegon prayed over and over that she would be the one.

He was so struck with desire all thoughts and whims had flown out the doors. The young woman’s body was shapely— heavy tits pushed up by the dress. Fuck, Aegon might be in love. If that existed. Aemond had pushed him forward, the elder prince realizing they had called his name.

Aegon cleared his throat and walked towards his father and Otto’s intense gaze, eyes glued to the beauty. She was singled out now, family having stayed behind. The lady smiled gently at him, demure and gentle. Aegon held a hand out and took her hand, kissing the soft skin as his grandfather announced the betrothal to the excitement of the people.

Then she was whisked away, Aegon almost crying from the suddenness. Alicent had him back on the sides now, whispering, “You did good son. Don’t ruin her like you do everything else please.”

Aegon swallowed heavily. He didn’t want that either.

They sat together again at dinner. Aegon tried to suppress his urge to gorge and suck down anything alcoholic. She nervously peeked at him, smiling still. He finally leaned closer to the beauty and hummed, “You are the most gorgeous maiden I have laid eyes on. If you ever need anything, please let me know. The Red Keep will swallow anything whole.”

Her eyes widened a bit, pretty hand dropping her fork. The Redwyne girl blushed and demurred, “I’m honored you think so my prince, all I ask of you is to accompany me to the sept and mayhaps around the Keep. Just so I do not get swallowed whole.”

Aegon wanted to screech at the idea of sitting in the cold, domineering sept. But he found himself agreeing enthusiastically, “Yes, yes my dear lady, I’d only be doing my duty to keep my lovely betrothed safe.” Watching her grin and stifle a giggle made the prince’s nausea at being a lovesick buffoon die down.

He walked her to her quarters after the meal, disposing of the delightful vixen at the door with a courtly kiss of the cheek. Too bad the dog Cole was watching with dark eyes behind them. Looming like an angry ghost.

Once back in his own rooms, Aegon sipped on his wine, grinning like the fool. She was perfect. Maybe a bit stuffy and devout, but a ray of goodness in his debauchery laden life. Miserable life. The sweet thing didn’t even coyly bring up his past, like most of the ladies who wanted into the blonde’s bed. He found himself waiting for the morn, eager to walk with her to the Sept.

The family was rightfully surprised at their wily heir becoming the picture of courtly love. Attentive, sober, and kind as he tended to the new additions simple and kind requests. They attended the sept every day, had luncheons in the Godswood, even made it to court for petitions.

Alicent and Otto even visited Aegon to praise him for his good behavior. Which the blonde scoffed and hissed, “It’s not me, it’s the girl. Glad I needed an attachment to garner approval.” Which did not end well but Aegon needn’t care, he had his Redwyne waiting on him afterward.

He wanted the maiden so very bad. But he wasn’t going to ruin the wait. Something about tearing her open with his cock for the first time had Aegon stripping himself raw every night, gasping her name and staining his belly white. Mayhaps he could play with her a bit, but he’d be the good prince for once and keep his manhood tucked away, almost regretfully.

She had tested him a bit as of late. Curling into his frame under the heart tree, holding hands that somehow ended in her lap. Shared sweet little kisses that turned breathless, the lady’s heavy bosom heaving from excitement. She wanted him too, the heady haze in her eyes if they were too close for too long.

Like now for instance. They had supped in the Godswood yet again. After a long and arduous conversation about Aegon’s past. The sweet thing thumbed away his tears and murmured, “I do not judge you, seeking company in a loveless place. We all can be slaves to our vices. I only hope that I may fill that hole in your heart, dearest betrothed.”

Aegon tried not to weep, sniffling a bit. He smiled, lips puffy from biting them, and kissed her ever so gently against the lips. He sighed, “Is it so bad that you may be the best thing that has happened in my dim life?” She stroked his soft curls and simpered, “No, my dear prince, you’ve brightened my days since I’ve come. I was so scared you’d find me unbecoming.”

“Never,” Aegon promised with intense pecks, “Never, I have been struck since I first saw you.” She cried his name softly, throwing silk covered arms around his neck, pressing her soft body to his own. This was the closest they had been, the maiden practically in his lap. Aegon reached a hand around to her lower back for stabilization, the other coming to her cheek to tilt for better access.

She was less experienced as he predicted, but that made the possessive streak in his heart grow tenfold. He would show her, show the sweet nymph the pleasures of touch. All his.

They lapped into each other’s mouth in slow movements, Aegon leading the way. She was tentative and slow, gasping when he suckled softly on her tongue. The adorable thing pressed closer, whining softly as Aegon dominated the kiss.

She hiccuped, “Oh, my prince, ah, we mustn’t.”

Aegon smiled as she drew closer, curling lithe fingers into his chopped locks. He murmured, “I will save your precious maidenhead for our wedding day, as befits the pact.” Pausing for a effect with a sharp nip to her plump lower lip, earning a yelp, Aegon continued, “I can show you other ways to achieve pleasure, if you’d like.”

She warbled needily, “Please Aegon, oh, but we cannot be seen!”

“Come on then my lady,” Aegon offered as he scrambled up, holding a hand out.

They giggled nervously as Aegon pulled them into a sculpted Alcove, hidden by shrubbery and a statue of a snarling dragon. He laid his cloak down and gestured for her to sit between his thighs. Her cheeks darkened as she whimpered, “I- I’ve never.”

Aegon cooed, “Our little secret, my sweet girl.”

She climbed down and rested flush against Aegon’s front, breathing sped up again. He nuzzled and pressed featherlight kisses to her neck, humming, “Do you trust me my lady?” The girl whined, “Yes, yes, you’ve given me no reason not to.”

“Good.”

Now he nosed up to the sensitive skin under her jaw, lapping and suckling soft enough to leave no marks, but she whimpered and shivered like it was heaven. One of her dainty hands clutched at his thigh like a lifeline. Aegon reached a ringed hand around to massage her heavy breast, earning the most wanton moan.

She squeaked in shock, covering her mouth, cheeks aflame. Aegon huffed a laugh, “Poor sweetling, I bet they’re so sensitive, gorgeous tits like yours aching to be touched.”

“More, yes Aegon, please!”

So he groped and got his fill, eventually easing down her top to expose busty chest. Aegon plucked and thumbed her plush buds, growing harder and harder at her little whimpers and bitten-off squeals. Gods, she was divine,

“Sweetness, sweetness,” Aegon hummed.

Teary eyes and swollen lips slowly turned to look at him, face wrought with ecstasy. He rambled, “I will not go near your maidenhead, but let me help you, is your sweet cunny aching?”

She whined, eyes shut tight, “Ohhh- yes it hurts!”

His violet eyes shifted to see where her plush thighs were rubbing together with need. He grinned and held back his snicker, “I’ll make you feel better my sweet. Poor, poor nymph. I’ve got you.” She turned and buried her head half into his shoulder, whimpering and shaking.

Aegon kissed the crown of her head, snaking a hand to get under her long velvety dress. His eyes rolled at the feeling of her engorged and slick cunt, throbbing with blood. Poor thing really was riled up, squealing when he slid his pointer and index across the collected slick.

The prince instantly swirled around her plump button, watching her arch and spread those shapely thighs. Those teats of hers bounced as she heaved and whined. Aegon rubbed her in tight little circles, knowing she’d be a proper mess. So he went back to tweaking a nipple, cooing when his perfect betrothed’s eyes rolled back in her head.

Drool slipped down her full lips at the onslaught of pleasure, Aegon praising and promising filthy sweetness in her ear. The nymph began to twitch and tremble all over, whimpers turning into huffy little sobs. She hiccuped, “A-ah, Aegon! I-I-I oh!” He grinned as she seized tight as a bow and gushed slick, thrashing when she reached the precipice.

The heir worked her through the intense feeling until she pushed his hand away, yanking up her top. Aegon pet her sweaty hair, suddenly aware that he too, had spent all in his breeches like a green boy. He’d laugh, but focused on coddling and holding his pretty girl until she had calmed.

She finally turned to him with wide eyes, questioning so achingly small, “This wasn’t bad right? We will not be cursed no? I- It felt so good my love.”

Aegon cooed yet again, violet eyes soft, body feeling like a puddle of mush. He shook his head, promising, “We keep your precious maidenhead intact, then this is nothing but a little play. A forecast of what’s to come when we’re truly one.”

She nodded slowly, reaching out to straighten his frizzy locks. The lady of the Arbor puckered her lips, reaching up for Aegon. He chastely kissed her— humming in full content.

“Oh the gods have blessed me, yes they have,” he almost weeped.

[squirrellypoo]

Hot on the heels of my blood drip socks, I've loom knitted this 💜🖤 pair in anticipation of Interview with the Vampire season 3, using the colours and logo from the Rockstar Lestat S3 teaser.

First, I turned the logo into a pixellated, two colour, 32x30 pattern using the excellent Floss Cross site. I wanted to only have the logo on the outside ankle, so I'm proud that I remembered to move it to the opposite corner for the second sock!

In order to keep the floats short & tidy, I used three separate mini-bundles of black yarn instead of just using the ball. This meant I was juggling four strands instead of two but I got a much neater result inside.

I used my favourite Kb Sock Loom (fine gauge) set at 56 pegs. 🧶 Glendale Fibres Standard Sock in “Violet” 75% superwash merino / 25% nylon and @mothyandthesquid’s merino sock yarn in “Midnight Black” 75% merino / 25% nylon.

I knitted these toe up, with the Kitchener cast on, then knit the toe, 75 rows knit for the foot, an Eye of Partridge heel, then 10 rows of knit, 30 rows of the pattern, followed by 10 more rows of knit and finally 5 rows of 2x2 rib and a stretchy cast off.

The most impressive thing about this pair is how quickly I knitted them up! In total, this pair took me only 16 days from casting on to blocking, with the second sock only taking me FOUR DAYS! 😳 This is absolutely a new record for me, thanks to stress knitting and opportunistic infections on top of my Long Covid keeping me in bed even more than usual… but yay for one-of-a-kind Vampire Lestat socks!

[tulipatheticee]

tulippa's masterlist!

welcome friends to my offical masterlist! i'll do my best to keep this updated and as organised as i can, please do not hesitate to talk to me, send requests, or give feedback ever!!!!

currently writing for; brigderton

anthony bridgerton

labyrinth - x fem! reader ~ romance

anthony bridgerton had swore off love, but after meeting miss y/n l/n, he couldn't keep himself away. after a talk with his mother he now has to navigate his feelings to courting the owner of his heart

benedict brigderton

superman - x wife! reader ~ romance

benedict bridgerton, stressed by his artistic pursuits, finds comfort in his wife Y/N's loving support. through tender moments and playful interactions, they reaffirm their deep love, showing how they face life's challenges together.

eloise bridgerton

secret love song - x fem! reader ~ romance

When Eloise Bridgerton and Y/N L/N are caught in a forbidden kiss by Benedict, he offers an unexpected solution: a ruse marriage to protect their love

love story - x queen charlottes daughter! reader ~ romance

In the heart of Regency London, Princess Y/N, daughter of Queen Charlotte, and Eloise Bridgerton find themselves entangled in a clandestine romance amidst the glittering balls and gossip of high society. Their love defies conventions and faces scrutiny, ultimately prompting Queen Charlotte to propose a marriage that could change society's perception of same-sex love forever.

violet bridgerton

i've been waiting for you - x daughter oc ~ platonic

pt2 never grow up

From the moment Edmund Bridgerton passed, leaving his wife widowed with eight children and one on the way, Violet found herself adrift until the arrival of Isadora, her youngest daughter. Isadora, quiet and calm, becomes Violet's constant companion in bustling Mayfair, offering solace and steadfast support at her mother's side.

forever and always,

your author,

tulippa <3

[d0llylove]

♡furry feline [3]

♡pairing: saiki kusuo x f!reader

♡synopsis: saiki notices that you had a bad day, getting annoyed by your whining about how much you longed to see the neighbourhood cat, he decided to take matters into his own hands to shut you up.

♡t/w: saiki turns into a cat lol, srsly slow burn like really slow I'm warning u LOL, implied that reader cries from stress at job, sorry I forgot the colour of saiki's eyes 💀

♡link to pt1 , pt2

"please, please, please, let me see that cat again, just one pat, just one!"

yet again, it was your annoying voice ringing in kusuo's ears again. summer break is usually saiki's favourite time of the year, a break from all the people who loves to bother him so much.

however, recently, his neighbour (you) has gotten a part-time job. constantly coming home whining about how tired you were, and the worst of all, insistently praying to see the stray cats that roamed around the neighbourhood.

your feet dragged against the pavement, awfully loud against saiki's ears, you kept letting out continuous sighs as if the winds weren't loud enough. it was almost ten pm, the moonlight that shined against your skin almost made you look breath-taking. (even though saiki can't see lol and even if he did he probably would never admit it)

this wasn't the first time you came home letting out such loud complaints. even though you were the one who signed up for the job, he could tell you were tired from all the customers that you dealt with. he almost finds it humorous how you would rant to yourself excessively, retelling the story of how a customer was rude to you in an over-exaggerated manner.

today was particularly different, even though you often ranted to yourself, you would usually just laugh it off. but this time, your voice was filled with a hint of sadness. perhaps it was the accumulation of unlucky things that occurred.

you were almost reaching home passing by saiki's residence when your eyes landed on a pearl white feline that stood in the middle of the pavement. it's head adorned with two odd pink balls and emerald green glasses that sat above it's nose.

you froze in place.

'are the gods finally answering to my prayers?'

'no you idiot, its just your neighbour,' saiki thinks to himself sarcastically.

it's violet eyes that sparkled behind it glasses that seemed to stare into your soul, you stood for a moment, contemplating whether to approach the cat or not.

getting into a squatting position, you slowly waddled towards the furry feline.

'good grief, what is wrong with you..'

"can I pet you?" you whispered, waddling towards it.

'you have 5 minutes.' saiki thought to himself, yet again with his sarcastic remarks.

saiki's senses have heightened even more in his cat form, he could easily take in your subtle sweet scent of perfume as you crouched in front of him. if he were to be honest, he was curious about how you would look under the moonlight, obviously without his x-ray vision.

you reached out, letting the cat sniff your hand. it's soft fur that rubbed against your hand, your heart fluttered as you revelled in the sight of the cat pushing its furry head into your hand.

wet? he feels something wet hitting his head. the cat looks up at you, watching in shock as tears ran down your cheeks. stroking the cat gently, giving it one last pet before getting up.

you whispered a gentle thank you, before turning away, hands wiping your tears away, a stupid smile that was plastered on your face as you walked towards your house.

saiki waited a little, watching as you went through your gate. you glanced back, seeing as the cat stayed in its place. letting out a little squeal you walked into your house, steps bouncing a little.

finally, he transformed back to his human form.

'good grief, aren't you emotional..' saiki let out a scoff, walking back to his house.

"what the hell?!" it was your voice? it was you? he thought you went into your house already.

'shit.'

[winters-rose-daughterofcain]

While I'm at it both Colin and Pen are so brave and trusting of each other this season and it's a huge reason why the pacing works for me. This post from @dollypopup goes into detail about the kiss and the bravery it took for Penelope to ask and how important and meaningful it is for her ark (in a far better way than I can), but I think it can translate thought out a lot of what they both do. (Elaborating on this post.)

So much of their relationship is driven by an active want to continue, grow and improve it. They start talking again because Colin notices she's upset and makes the effort to follow her and see what's wrong, they make up after last season because, once again Colin makes the active choice to visit her, apologise, and agree to help her with what she wants. Because there is a baseline there, there is trust and friendship and respect already established from years of knowing each other and the last two seasons. He already values her and cares for her and so makes an effort to maintain their relationship. She trusts him and loves him and knows him well enough to see past this new act, and she accepts his help and apology readily.

Then their lessons happen because they make the effort the seek each other out, Colin actually listens to her about her insecurity and comfort and ranges for them to practise at the Bridgerton house because it was a safe, calm, stress free environment. And it worked, she opened up (as much as she ever dose lol) because he knows her already and she is comfortable enough around him to let her guard down and even let some of her true feelings out, even if unintentionally.

The kiss has already been discussed and said much better than I ever could lol, but it really really is so important. It's not chance or coincidence or force that kickstarts their relationship it's Pen. At one of her lowest moments It's Pen and her choice and her love and her trust and bravery in that moment to ask Colin what she wants and be open and vulnerable in a way she almost never allows herself to be, in a way woman as a whole are punished and looked down on and seen as lesser for doing (clearly, as seen by peoples reactions.) And she is reworded for her bravery by a beautiful, tender, blissful kiss. She wanted to be loved even for a moment and she so aching obviously was.

Then after that they take a break from each other for a little at least in the sense of spending time together, but they continue thinking about each other they entire time.

And in the end, even if it took some help from Violet, it's Colin's actions that lead to that ending. It's hope and bravery and love and desperation that led him storming into that ball half way through and interrupting dances and chasing carriages. It's bravery and vulnerability and trust in Pen, who has always been there for him, always been constant, always been patient and kind and steady, as well as love, that leads to him being able to give a confession like that and her feeling everything in equal parts for him that allows her to actually confess her feeling for him for the first time in the entire show.

Obviously all stories are driven by characters making choices, and outside influence definitely played a role in theirs, but so much of it was them both trusting each other and being brave enough to take a leap of faith and hope to be caught, and they always are. We (I) joke that they're stupid in love and down bad and absolutely unhinged feel loser behaviour abounds, because it's funny and true. But at the heart of it is so much care and unsaid words and bravery that in the end proves worth it because of who they are to each other and how much love is there.

[gabessquishytum]

Hi!! A few months ago you had answered my ask about 1789 Hob getting ready for the meeting by wearing every article of clothing piece by piece and Dream staying back instead of leaving and proceeding to take apart every piece. It was based on a video I had seen of Pinset Tailoring, where the guy basically dresses up in historical clothing and here he did one of late 1700s fashion. I just saw another video last week where he had organized the second Bridgerton ball and everyone was in costumes. And then his real-life boyfriend took the mic from him and surprised him and all the guests with a proposal!!! It was so cute!

I was thinking maybe a dreamling AU would be so great! One scenario could be an academic AU, where they are English and history professors (you take your pick who's who) and they are attending a fundraiser ball where everyone is wearing historical costumes. Hob has been very stressed out planning the ball since he's the event committee chair and Dream has been so aloof lately, which is making him even more stressed out. But Dream is just nervous about the proposal and planning everything and wondering if Hob will say yes! He is not trying to avoid him! Hob thinks Dream looks absolutely gorgeous in his black and violet outfit, and although he knows he looks good too, he can't help but feel some insecurity, especially with all the department people like that sleazy philosophy faculty Alex Burgess flirting with Dream. Joanna and Matthew tell Hob that he is overthinking it and he has nothing to worry about because Dream is on the other side of the room sending him horny looks.

When it's Hob's turn to give a speech as committee chair, he suddenly sees Dream walking towards him with steely determination but his tiny smile. Dream interrupts Hob's speech and requests Hob to hand him the mic. Hob is so confused. Even the musicians stop playing in the background. Dream starts talking and Joanna and Matthew, who were recording Hob's speech, just start saying oh no oh no he's doing it oh my God, and it finally strikes Hob. And there is Dream pulling out a beautiful box, bending on one knee, and holding the most beautiful ring. He asks Hob to marry him and Hob hugs him and says yes before Dream even finishes!!

Everyone cheers, the orchestra starts playing again, and Joanna and Matthew say first dance first dance. So Dream and Hob dance and while everyone thinks they look so adorable and Hob is all red with tears and emotions, Dream is actually saying all the filthy things he will do to Hob when they are alone, taking off all the parts of his costume and saving Hob's cute cravat for last. They may have waited till they went home or may have just sneaked off to an empty corner outside the hall!

I am dying this is so cuuuuuuuute.

While they're dancing slowly around the room, Hob jokingly tells Dream about how he thought that maybe Dream didn't like him anymore. And Dream growls in his ear that if he chooses, he'll take Hob to the cloakroom and show him exactly how much he likes him. All the guests hear Hob’s moan as he clings onto Dream, but nobody really minds.

Later when Hob is standing wearing only his beautiful engagement ring and cute ruffled cravat, with Dream kneeling in between his legs and kissing all the way up from his ankle to his cock... he is very much reassured that Dream likes him a lot. Feeling Dream’s mouth caressing the skin that has been all wrapped up in stockings for hours is the most delightful sensory experience of his life, and Hob is already daydreaming about how he'll wear stockings to their wedding and get Dream to peel them off with his mouth afterwards...

A nibble to his sensitive thigh reminds him to stay in the moment - there's still an engagement to celebrate, before he can start planning the wedding! He's got a beautiful Dream between his legs (still all decked out in his regency-style finery) and he'd better make the most of it!

[writeslikeanaria]

kinktober: day one — free use

husband!sebastian sallow x reader

warnings: idk man it’s free use it’s a kink what do you want from me, SMUT, oral (m!receiving), dubcon

Your beautiful husband, Sebastian, looked disastrous. His hair was fluffed up, falling across his face in messy locks. Violet under eye bags decorated his eyes, showing just how exhausted he was. His skin, usually glowy, was dull, almost lifeless. In his eyes, there was a glaze, his pupils unfocused and staring off into space. Stress oozed from him like a volcano.

You pushed down your judgment and rushed up to your husband with a smile. “Sebastian! How was your day? I missed y—”

With no words having escaped his mouth, Sebastian crashed in lips on yours with such intensity that your eyes widened in surprise. Linking his fingers into the tendrils on the back of your head, he pulled you impossibly closer to him, your body pressed against his.

Heat was radiating off of him like a fireplace, surrounding you in a thick blanket of tension. You could only just notice the clinking sound of an unbuckling belt, readjusting around your middle. There was no slack in Sebastian’s wrist, meaning you couldn’t flicker your eyes downwards, but you knew exactly what was going to happen.

With his rough fingers still knitted into your hair, he wordlessly pushed you down onto your knees, scraping against the tiles of your kitchen. Glaring upwards, you watched as his pants fell to his side, releasing his hardened cock to the cool air. You knew exactly what he wanted.

“Suck.”

You weren’t given any time to argue. Pushing your head onto his cock, Sebastian hissed at the contact. Your wet mouth felt so good against his burning skin, as you gently licked at the tip of his member. Beads of precum flowed from the slit, like the fountain of youth, basically yearning for you to drink.

With gusto, you attempted to take him all in your mouth, gagging around halfway. Your husband, bless his heart, was well endowed, but that never deterred you from pleasing him in the way you knew he loved. Your tongue curled around his cocked, as you bobbed your head up and down, letting his tip collide with the back of your soaking throat.

Hands behind your back, you itched to cup his balls, adding to his pleasure, but he had yet to ask that of you, and you didn’t want to misstep. Sebastian was stressed — and he called all the shots.

Head thrown back in pleasure, Sebastian’s eyes were screwed in place, lip pulled taught between his teeth. “Hmpf—” He moaned, unable to string together a coherent sentence in his state. His grip on your head became tighter as his hips thrusted at a stronger pace, speeding up.

Spit was drooling down your chin, eyes glossy with tears, but you knew he was nearly done, feeling his cock pulse in his mouth. After a couple more rough strokes, and a particularly strong suck, he finished in your mouth, moans spilling from your lips. “Good girl—”

Swallowing it all, you took a deep breath, collapsing to the ground, as Sebastian unthreaded his fingers from your hair. Less stressed, he tucked his softening cock back into your pants, and stepped over your shaking body, heading towards the stove.

“What’s for dinner, hon?”

[shinyhoundhandseagle]

The Emerald of the Season.

Eloise Bridgerton x Male Character.

AU where Eloise Bridgerton falls in love with someone unexpected.

Word Count: 1,776

Part 1/?

Part 2: https://www.tumblr.com/shinyhoundhandseagle/754292327975092224/the-emerald-of-the-season

Relationship: Eloise Bridgerton/Male Character

Warning: None

• • •

The first day of the season started in quite a stressful way. With a beautiful carriage stopping in front of the Buckingham house. Brimsley waited outside with some more service people, all of them excited for the guest to arrive.

“Your Highness”-. Said Brimsley as a man, not older than 18 years old came out of the carriage. Wearing a blue tailcoat with gold buttons, black pants and shoes.

“Hello Brimsley”-. The young smiled at him as he started walking towards him. Right behind him was another man, a servant, that Brimsley recognized reminded him of Reynolds-. “This is Marcel, he doesn’t leave me alone.”

“I was appointed as your chaperone the day you turn 13 your Highness.”

“Where is my aunt?”

“The Queen is waiting for you inside. I’ll have the servants take you stuff to your chambers-.” With a movement of his hand Brimsley had the servants moving quickly to collect everything they had to-. “If you follow me, I’ll take you to the Queen.”

The walk was silent, with Brimsley leading the way as the young man looked around, amused by the castle. Marcel behind his Lord, constantly worrying about his safety and comfort. After some walking they stopped in front of a beautiful door for just one second, enough for both of them to catch their breath and then they went inside.

“Sebastian!”- The Queen looked happy, thrilled even. Her clothes and hair reminiscing of another Era, the Era when King George wasn’t hidden away.

“Aunt!”- He passed Brimsley, forgetting to bow or show any type of manners and just hugged his aunt. He had miss her and her blunt attitude.

“You have grown so much since the last time I saw you.”

“I would hope so! I was just 15 when you did-.” He laugh while his Aunt inspected him-. “It would be kind of embarrassing if I didn’t”.

“Have some tea dear”-. They sat down and while Sebastian decided to have some tea and biscuits the Queen kept inspecting him. He could feel her eyes, watching his every move so he decided to make some conversation.

“The weather seems nic…”

“You know why your father has send you here, correct?”- A sigh escape his lips, he knew exactly why.

“For me to find a wife now that I’ve declined every single woman in Spain?”

“You are the Prince of Spain, the future King and leader of your people. How long did you think you could go without marrying?”

“I knew I had to marry, I just couldn’t find anyone that was bearable enough”.

“Well that’s why you’re here with me, so I can help you find someone worthy of the title you will give them”.

• • •

The Bridgerton house was a mess. Gregory and Hyacinth ran around like the children they were, Anthony, Benedict and Colin were trying to get them ready and under control while Daphne and Violet tried (unsuccessfully) to calm Eloise down. It was her second season on the market and after the disappointment and mess of last year she was more stressed than ever. She couldn’t bring shame to her family anymore.

“Calm down, you will do great”-. Assure Daphne but that felt to deaf ears. Eloise was having a full blown panic attack at this point.

“Eloise calm down, it will be ok!”- Her mother held her face between her hands, trying to make her safer and it sorta worked. Her breathing was still erratic but calmer-. “We must make haste”.

That gained her a smile from Eloise, still remembering what she had screamed at Daphne two seasons ago. She wasn’t comfortable enough to talk yet but decided to give her mother a nod instead. She wasn’t ready but honestly would she ever be fully ready?

The ride to the ball was mostly quiet, Benedict tried to get Eloise to talk but he was unsuccessful. She wanted quiet time and thats what they gave her. With each minute that passed, her heart sank a little bit more and once she saw Lady Danbury’s house her stomach felt like it was turning on itself. She wanted to run, to hide away where no one could find her.

The carriage stopped at the entrance and with a heavy heart she got out of it. Walking in was dreadful and the stares she got didn’t make anything better.

But this was her life and it was time to face it.

• • •

The ball wasn’t as bad as he thought it would be but to be honest the reason it wasn’t bad it’s because no one knew who he was, no one knew his title and that saved him from every mamma throwing their daughters to him.

He walked around everyone, watching closely at every girl in that house. Marcel was right behind him, making sure to watch after his Prince. Sebastian was so concentrated on the dance floor, on moving so quickly and he didn’t realize until his shoulder clashed with someone.

Eloise on the other hand was aware of how quickly she was moving, it was actually on purpose. Lord Fife was right behind her, trying to ask her to dance and that was definitely going to go horribly. She was so concentrated on running away from him that she didn’t see the man in front of her until her chest hit his shoulder.

The clash was harsh, Eloise almost hit the floor and barely kept her balance. Thankfully Sebastian held her by her shoulders, as gentle as he could. Eloise looked up, ready to argue with whoever had bumped into her but before she could articulate any words he spoke.

“Are you hurt?”- He sounded worried and Eloise was frozen. She had never been this close to a man before.

“Ms Bridgerton!”- Lord Fife voice brought her back to reality, he had almost caught up to her.

“What is your name my Lord?”- She asked the blonde man in front who had stopped holding her shoulders a few seconds ago.

“What?”

“Your name… Please he is coming and I don’t want to…”- It was clear on her face what she meant and Sebastian wasn’t dumb. She wanted to play pretend so the guy would leave her alone.

“Would you allow me this dance my Lady?”- He asked politely while extending a hand for her to take. Lord Fife stopped on his tracks, looking at the strange man in front of Eloise. He had never seen him before.

“Of course”-. She whispered thankfully that the Lord had decided to help her out. They walked to the dance floor together, him holding her hand up.

“What’s your name my Lady?”- He asked once the dance had started. He wasn’t planning on spending a whole song without any conversation.

“One, two, one… What?”- Counting her steps was important, the last thing she wanted was to step on the nice gentleman foot after he saved her from Lord Fife.

“Your name? Or would you rather me call you ��The Lady who runs from her matches’?”

“I’m Eloise Bridgerton”-. She could sense the stares from the people around her. She wasn’t know to interact with suitors and that included dancing with them-. “What if your name my Lord?”

“Just Sebastian Borbón”-. Eloise raised an eyebrow. The surname sounded familiar and the accent confused her. It wasn’t French and it was definitely not English.

“Where are you from? I can’t place the accent”.

“You’re blunt”-. He laughed softly.

“I’m sorry, that question was inappropriate…”

“Don’t apologize, be blunt. I promise you my ego won’t get hurt”-. He didn’t find it amusing, he found it brave. There’s not that many women in this society with the guts to be mouthy and it felt like fresh air-. “And to answer your question, it’s a Spanish accent”.

“I’m use to people telling me to act more like a lady and those kind of questions aren’t ladylike”-. Her eye rolled made him giggle-. “Spain? You seem to be far from home my Lord”.

“Seems like it”.

“If I could ask, why have you come so far?”

“For the same reason you’re in this ball my Lady”.

“Because your mamma decided to bring you against your will?”

“More like my aunt but yes”.

“Why is it that older women like the idea of forcing younger people to marry? We should be able to choose if we want to do it or not”-. Her eyebrows created a frown and she started ranting about liberation and women’s rights. Sebastian didn’t interrupt her, he just looked at her with wonder on his eyes. She really was a entertaining woman-. “I apologize, I’ve been ranting”.

She looked up, waiting for him to be angry and disgusted at her. After all that’s what every man felt once they heard her ‘radical’ opinions but not him. He kept looking at her with a soft smile and softly nodded for her to continue speaking but before she could, the song ended, Colin appeared out of thin air and he took her away from the gentleman.

“Are you ok sister?”- Colin whispered to her as they walked back to the rest of the family where their mother was waiting. Violet had been worried about her daughter since she had disappeared about 15 minutes ago without saying anything.

“I’m fine brother, just exhausted”-. Eloise lied, not wanting to admit to her brother that the mysterious young man had made her nervous.

“Welcome to my humble house!”- Lady Danbury was now in the middle of the dance floor, with a glass in her hand and a smile on her face-. “Each season we rejoice in courting and in the idea of finding love, and this year won’t be that much different. Except for one thing ladies and gentlemen and that is that the Queen’s nephew, the Prince of Spain will be part of our season. He will be looking for a wife and a future Queen”.

Everyone was whispering and staring. The Prince of Spain? Here? Looking for a wife? The mamas were going insane, looking around hoping to get their hands on the Prince. Almost all the Bridgertons were whispering to each other except Eloise because she was just dancing with a Spanish man… Could it be the Prince? No… Or yes?

“Come here dear, show your face”-. Lady Danbury reached her hand to one of the young men closed to her and pulled him to the center so everyone could get a good look of him.

Eloise’s heart stopped for one second as she looked at Sebastian standing next to Lady Danbury. No, he wasn’t just Sebastian. He was the Prince and she felt like an idiot.

[internals1ut]

How do you think tdb girlies handle their periods?

I need this,,,, okay!

If I have to go through this pain why can't I bend these boys and make them go through the same pain!?

*＊✿❀　❀✿＊*

Feel free to join the discord linked on @internalscream1ng carrd

*＊✿❀　❀✿＊*

18+/nsfw/minors gtfo

Frosthiem

Jin - She gets more lazy. She lays around in her room, especially on her couch to prop her legs on the arm to help with cramping.

Tohma -Working queen 🙏 she powers through it, always worried if she will leak through though .

Lucas - She will try and take the day off if she can on the first day if they are so bad she can't move.

Kaito - An absolute baby, poor girlie 🥺 , give her some treats!

Vagastorm

Mido - She will fight through it! What's a little cramping?! Just give her one minute to pull herself together -

Sho - For the first two days she will take a break from her food truck to do self care on herself as she is in pain for the first day and the second day she just needs to recover from the stress... She will work through it the rest of the week.

Leo - thinks she DESERVES to get babied. She will huff and puff at Sho until she gets what she wants. It's a Leo week like every day isn't a Lek Day

Jabberwock

Haru - Her bleeding doesn't really stop her from doing work, it does slow her down a bit, needs to take breaks often.

Towa - She tries to make do with it, doesn't stop loving on Haru ofc.

Ren - She is a baby, she definitely says she can't do work.

Sinostra

Taiga - She doesn't work any worse or better or it really changes her, except she could be more violet if provoked..

Romeo - She is a lot more pissy. She will take it out on anyone that is near her!

Ritsu - Nothing much changes. She is a hard working queen

Hotarubi

Subaru - She tries to work through it, but the pain does make her more weak. Haku does her best to support her.

Haku - She takes medicine early on to help with the pain. It helps a little, at least she can get through the day

Zenji - She doesn't get it as a ghost ;-;

Obscury

Lyca - She doesn't get it, she hates how she is in pain when it comes, and how she bleeds.. She thinks something is wrong until she learns it is normal. In the prison she free balled it but when in the dorm she had to learn about how to avoid making a mess.

Edward - She is still the same, but good luck trying to hide the fact that it is that time when around her, she will not hesitate to attached to you

Rui - She takes medicine, will not work the bar until she is all better from it, tries to avoid Edward at all possible chance

Mortkraken

Yuri - She is whiney, she stays locked up in the lab to drown herself in work than worrying about the cramps.

Jiro - Actually gets more sickly and is more weak so she doesn't do much. She does give herself and Yuri special pain meds.

[mjrtaurus]

Now I can't stop thinking about Dragon and Crocodile having a shroom hunting date on Jaya and spending the entire night tripping on Gold Roger Caps while the South Birds are watching like

“Gold Roger Caps” being the name of a psychedelic mushroom is hilarious to me because it establishes that either A) They were discovered and named after Gol D. Roger, or B) Gol D. Roger learned about them before his first bounty poster and knew his moniker from day one, or C) Gol D. Roger discovered them himself on accident, tripped balls, and he and the crew referred to them as “Gold Roger Caps” from then on as an inside joke that eventually breached containment.

My money’s on option C.

Anyway…

Crocodile has a sort of “calendar” for his migraines. He knows approximately when the Big One will happen, and adjusts that calendar depending on how taxing and/or stressful a week has been.

He plots his course to Jaya whenever that time draws near.

After reconciling and rekindling his relationship with Dragon, most likely after Luffy finds the One Piece and Mary Geoise, the Celestial Dragons, and Imu are dead and buried beneath a monument to their cruelty, he invites him out for a bit of fun.

Dragon mentions that the mushrooms were often used as medicine for the people of Shandia that had chronic migraines and stress… he mentions how he didn’t know if his own stress “counted” as grounds to have them.

Crocodile, being Crocodile, lightly cuffs him over the head because if anyone on the planet needs a de-stressor, it’s him.

Cut to the both of them camped out on Jaya for the night. The Southbirds know the both of them by now, Crocodile for his treats and respectful nature towards them, and Dragon for his ability to converse with them with help from the Amaru. They are both trusted.

The colors of the vegetation all around shift and swirl and are so much more vivid, the Southbirds circling above and calling sounds like music… and just as the sun sinks beneath the horizon, and the green flash marks the day as done, the Golden Bell of Shandia rings.

It’s like Dragon is hearing it for the first time all over again, and now Crocodile is with him to hear it as well. The proof of his heritage that their son rediscovered and cemented into history.

Crocodile looks as he had when Whitebeard first coaxed him to the upper deck of the Moby Dick to see the clear blue sky. Awe and wonder in wide violet-gold eyes.

Then Dragon can’t help but start laughing, and then he can’t stop laughing, and then he gets Crocodile to start laughing, and then they both get each other to laughing. Come morning, their sides are so sore they can’t move very quickly.