#we ask you to chaperone one (1) time...........

[dungeons-and-dragon-age]

what if Veilguard but Addie is Rook

[elysians-adventures]

༉‧₊˚. 𝐈. Part 1

masterpost

Being a kindergarten teacher, you have your fair share of troubles regarding loud kids. But you didn't realise that on this school trip, a certain someone will make you experience your worst fear in your entire teaching career.

5 kids + 1 manchild = chaos. This wasn't the brother of Yuuji Itadori you were expecting!

“Miss! Nobara stole my toy!” 

“No I did not! Shut up!” 

The wailing of children made you exasperated, watching Nobara's and Megumi's squabble before the class boarded the coach. The brown haired girl had stolen Megumi's dog toy, one of a pair. Your lips puckered, crossing your arms:

“Nobara, give it back. Remember what we said about taking things without permission?”

The little girl gave a whimper, glancing downwards with a look of guilt, “It's mean…” 

“And?” You asked, putting on your best teacher-sounding tone.

“...And if we want something, ask first~!” She repeated in a jingle, obviously something that you had instilled in your students' brains for some time.

Nobara looked to her right, turning to Megumi and stuttering out, “Can I play with it?” 

“No!” Megumi snatched the plush back, earning a scowl of disgust from the other child. 

“Meanie! Meanniee! Go away!”

You had been a kindergarten teacher for two years now, watching classes grow up and leave, but this was by far the most boisterous of them all. Nobara Kugisaki, Megumi Fushiguro and Yuji Itadori were all the resident troublemakers, though, speaking of Itadori– he didn't show up yet. You look around, trying to spot locks of pink hair within the sea of excitable children.

Last week, quite spontaneously, you had been told that there was a new parent chaperone joining the field trip; Yuji's older half-brother– Choso Kamo. Assuming that you hadn't seen anyone with pigtails with the little rascal alongside them, you assume they must be both running late. 

“Megumi, let that little brat play with the toy, both of you screaming is pissing me off,” a gruff voice spoke. You turned back to the arguing duo, noticing a newcomer patting– rather, manhandling Megumi's head. Toji Fushiguro. 

“But I don't wanna!”

“Do it, or I'll sell you.” 

The black haired child gave a groan, finally nodding to Nobara's request. Internally sighing, you gave a wry smile to Toji, trying to telepathically remind him not to swear around kids. He seemed to get the message, holding his hands up in false defence. 

“Whoops. I'll do better, Miss L/N,” he joked in a high pitch, earning an eye roll from you. 

You two had a close friendship, meeting each other in university and later named godmother of Megumi by his late wife (the man would never bother with sentimental stuff like that). 

“Have you seen Yuji? Or his brother? The coach leaves soon…” you shot the question towards Toji, who had also taken up the role of parent chaperone by Megumi's incessant requests (begging). 

“Yuji Itadori…?” He paused, thinking, before his face contorted into a laugh, “Oh! That kid! Nah. The one that plays with Megumi? I'm friends with his older brother, y’know?” 

“Oh?” You shot a questioning look towards the seeming off handed comment Toji gave. Choso didn't seem like the type of guy to keep Toji around as a friend, but you were always willing to be proved wrong.

“Yea. Goes to the same MMA club as me, shit guy. Probably running late, dick stuck in some bitch and forgot the time.”

You give Toji a hard elbow at his rather loud tone near the kids. He smiles, shrugging carelessly. Though, it did make you wonder, who exactly was he talking about? Yuji's older brother had always seemed like a well adjusted guy, if you ignored his tendency to act emo. And he was always punctual to stuff, so this situation made you slightly worried. Itadori had no trouble cheering up the entire class, his selfless nature not lost on you. Whoever raised him did an amazing job… 

“Should probably load these fuc– kids… onto the coach. Where's Nanami?” Toji looked around, before spotting the blond-haired teacher. He turned on his heel without a goodbye, walking towards him. 

Toji was right, it was getting late, the driver was probably irritated at the entire ordeal. You gave a sigh, hoping that the two finally would show up. 

You rolled your shoulders back, and raised your chin, standing tall.

Clap! Clap!

The storm of children grew silent at a moment's notice. 

“Good! Go to Mr. Nanami and sign yourselves in! Straight line, remember!” You gave them instructions, seeing them clamber towards the two chaperones. The line was not as straight as you'd hoped, but it was fine enough for a group of six year olds.

Now, onto the matter of the late chaperone and child. You grasped at your phone within your pocket, opening your contacts. As policy, or rather as common sense, you saved all the parents’ numbers onto your phone. You scroll until you find ‘Y’, scanning over the names. 

… ‘Yuji's Brother’

‘Yuji's Brother’

‘Yuko's Mother’ …

You frown, when were they two? Probably a glitch. You tapped into one of the names, waiting.

Ring ring. Ring ring. Ri–

“What?” The deep voice that responds makes you jump,  absolutely not what you were expecting. This absolutely was not Choso, unless he had a vocal chord surgery or something. In the background, there were sounds of humming cars. Traffic jam, perhaps? You try to maintain a level of professionalism.

“Hi, I'm calling regarding the school trip. I'm wondering–” you were cut off by a youthful voice. 

“Gaah– Sukuna! Hurry up! We're late! I'm sorry Miss L/N! Hurry up, hurry up!” Yuji's frantic tone makes you smile, the boy obviously panicked at the prospect of missing the thing he had been looking forward to for months. 

“Shut up! Fuckin’ bastard… yea, we're almost here.” The voice, which you took as ‘Sukuna’, mumbled in an annoyed tone. So this was Toji's MMA friend? You could tell why they were friends now. 

Thumping sounds were heard in the background, but you ignored them, continuing: “Well, I'm sure Yuji wouldn't like to miss the trip. The coach is leaving in a few minutes, but if you need more time I can talk to the driver for you. How far are you?”

“Stop kicking my seat, you little shit! We're five minutes away, just wait,” the last part was hissed in a commanding tone, a scowl unknowingly painting your face. You already didn't like him, and you were never good at hiding your emotions. 

“Well, alright, I'll call you back soon if you aren't here.” Not wanting to hear the rest of the sibling spat between them, you promptly hung up. The blatant swearing, insults, and punctuality. He was going to be worse than Toji. 

Instantly after the call, you tap onto your work email, trying to see whether there had been some mixup with the guardians. It wasn't a huge deal, Yuuji was going to get here regardless and the job was easy enough for a teenager if anything. You scroll down to the form submitted by Choso Kamo– only to find that he had pulled out at the last minute, being replaced by a ‘Sukuna R. Itadori’.

Groaning, you turned back to the group, who had been dwindling to around ten kids in line. 

“Nanami!” You called, “Can you tell the coach driver to wait a little longer?”

The pitiful look on your face managed to soften Nanami's stern gaze– though not fully. With tight lips, he gave a slight nod. Something told you that the five minutes were not so true. 

.

.

.

Fifteen minutes passed before a car pulled near the group. A black Toyota, its slick form resembling a teardrop. You watched as the backdoor flew open, Yuji Itadori beelining straight for you. Backpackless, and without a care in the world, he gripped onto the fabric on your legs as he neared. 

“Miss L/N!” He hugged your leg, “I'm sorry! Can I get on the bus–”

“Oi, brat!” 

Both of your attentions were pulled back towards the car, the happy reunion making you momentarily forget that there was supposed to be another different person here after all. 

A tall man emerges from the vehicle, a tiny Spiderman backpack slung over broad shoulders. Jesus, how tall was he? About six foot, you surmised. He donned a tight black vest, with matching grey zip up hoodie and sweatpants pulled over himself– obviously in a rush, considering the creasing. The man combs through pink hair with his fingers, giving you a glower.

He neared the pair of you, chucking the bag towards the smaller child. Yuji caught it, blowing a raspberry towards him… this was his brother, was it not? In reality, you had completely forgotten that Yuuji had an older brother directly related to him. You've gotten so used to Choso picking him up after school, you've just defaulted to him.

“Miss! ‘Kuna made me late! Blame it on him!”

“Now, now, it's alright. The coach hasn't left yet, but catch up with it now! Who knows, it might just drive off without you now…” You feigned a face of worry as you crouched to meet his height, looking towards Nanami. The smaller of the pink haired duo was alarmed, grasping his backpack and sprinting towards the teacher.

 He was too fast for a six year old, you knew that for sure. 

Standing to your full height, you face Sukuna, trying to ignore how you comically dwarfed him. Are you short because he was tall, or was he tall because you were short? Such philosophical questions were pushed to the back of your mind as you nodded for him to follow you to the coach. You earn a grunt in response, the muscle bound man starting to walk ahead of you.

 ‘Alright, you don't like to follow, noted…’ You think. 

Trying to make small talk on the thirty second journey, you decide to bring up Toji as a common interest: “I heard you go to the same fighting club as Toji. What was it, boxing?” You purse your lips, thinking. You messed up on purpose to see if that would strain any more conversation out of him.

“MMA,” he answered bluntly. A pause, nothing else came out of his mouth. 

‘Alright, the silent type, noted…’ You think.

The both of you arrive at the coach, the driver giving you the most piercing glare you might have ever experienced in your life. It almost made you shudder. Scanning over the bus, you make sure everyone's seated. You assumed Nanami had already checked the kid's seat belts with his methodical nature, but one more pass through couldn't hurt. Letting Sukuna figure out his own seating situation, you walk and check the seat belts until you make your way towards the back, seeing a specific trio fiddling with Yuji's seatbelt. 

“Ah, let me do it sweetie,” you took the seat belts and swiftly buckled it, patting it to signify the task was done. 

“Thank you, miss,” they hummed respectively. 

“You're welcome.”

You make your way back up the coach, looking now for free seats. Nanami was sitting alongside Junpei, trying to break up a squabble between him and Mahito. Toji was sitting in the only lone seat at the very front of the coach, scrolling on his phone. That left you… your eyes narrow. 

Next to Sukuna? You just hoped he wasn't one of those people that smelt when you got near them. You sat.

He wasn't, rather the opposite, a subtle cologne filling your senses. Although, his man spread did invade a bit into your space, so you tried to reclaim it by also man spreading– though not as blatantly. 

“This ’s to a museum, right?” He questioned, staring at his phone. Glancing at it, you see that he has a privacy screen. Considering the comment Toji had thrown out previously, maybe you didn't want to see what was on his screen.

“Huh? Yea, the national museum. They're all so excited,” you smile earnestly, “especially Yuji. He hasn't stopped talking about it since he found out.”

“Hm, ‘s that so,” he slurred out in response. 

‘Alright, the coach ride will be in silence then, noted…’ Your eye twitched. Could this guy at least act amiably? Discarding Yuji and Sukuna's brotherly relationship– which you expected would be at least rocky, it seemed there was not a bone of politeness in this man towards strangers. 

You could feel someone's stare on you, intense. Peeking around you, your sight finally landed on Sukuna's red irises boring through you. Did you fuck up somehow, and now he was going to fillet you using his MMA skills? You quickly break eye contact, internally sighing. 

Sinking into the leather-bound seat, you tried to distract yourself, choosing to think of all the mess the kids would make during the hour trip. How many would throw up?

.

.

.

Answer: one. 

Mahito must have fed Junpei something earlier, because the projectile vomit that came out of the poor kid was not natural in any sense of the word. You almost feared he'd straight up die. Soon calling his mother to pick him up, Yuji and Megumi said bye to their dear friend as he disbanded the bus. 

Nanami's pristine suit got, needless to say, utterly demolished. The teacher scrambled off the coach when they arrived, in search of an actual toilet in place of the coach's small dingy one to clean up at. If anything, though, it would be more beneficial to buy a new shirt. 

“Take care of them!” He bellowed as he rushed into a nearby bakery, trying not to pay mind to the dirtied water dripping down his shirt. 

“Okay!” 

Now, to get them off. A task easier said than done. 

Thankfully, most of them were capable enough to pry their seatbelts off of themselves, though one or two needed some help. 

“It's okay, sweetie, I'll do it.”

Yuji gave you a beam, “Thank y–”

“You can take your own seatbelt off, brat. Don't waste my time,” Sukuna's voice came from behind you, making you jump. Glancing at him, you could tell he was towering over the pair of you– arms crossed. 

“It's fine, Sukuna. Yuji's just tired from all that sitting, no?” You coo towards the boy, who nods vigorously. 

“Yea! I‘m tired!” Itadori fakes a yawn, and you pinch his cheek: “Let's not go overboard, now. Off you pop!” 

Yuji grabs Nobara and Megumi's hands, and rushes off the coach, barging past Sukuna. The action earns a giggle from you, not lost to Sukuna's death stare. 

“Let's get off before they all run away from Toji,” you hummed, trying to mutually make your way past Sukuna. He didn't let you pass, stocky frame blocking the way. 

You stand for a second, waiting for him to move, before you speak up, “Umm… excuse me.” Trying to slip past between the seats and him, he finally let you go with another hum, this time sounding a bit more pleased. You frown, what was that about?

Coming out of the coach, the children stand timidly at the side of it, Toji watching over them with a bored gaze.

“Y'know, Y/N, I regret this already. This shit is so boring,” he mutters under his breath as you approach. He turns to the other ‘parent’ chaperone, smirking, “I wish you were there last Saturday, y'know…” 

Tuning out of the conversation, turning to the kids. Their chatter filled the air, so you rolled your shoulders back ready to clap– 

“Oi, shut up!” Sukuna clicked his fingers alongside the bellow, and it all fell silent without a moment's notice.

What… What was this power? It took you months of training just for them to hear your claps and calls for order, but this outsider manages to silence your class at the click of a finger? You stood in awe. 

“Fall in line! Anyone out of it will get chucked in a dinosaur's maw, got it?”

As if choreographed, the children lined up perfectly. Not one shoe or hair out of place. You weren't sure if they knew what ‘maw’ meant, but you felt as if the message got through without problem. 

He nodded towards the line, passing you full responsibility now. Perhaps, you had underestimated him. You nod back in thanks, a small smile threatening to appear on your lips. Sukuna turns back without a welcome on his lips, looking unimpressed. 

“Alright, sweeties! I know you are all excited, but we have to enter the museum quietly, all right? After we all sign in, we'll wait for Nanami and split into groups. C'mon,” you go in front of the queue of children leading them in. 

They follow you in, followed behind by Sukuna and Toji still talking– which you humorously think they're a little too like ducklings following their mother. But that metaphor quickly fizzled out when you realised in this situation, you would be the mother. You could never imagine raising them…

The museum had tall roofs, and its pillars resembled an ornate grecian style. Arches weaved above the roof, supporting the building, the interior remaining the modest brown of the brick. 

The class looked up in childish awe, eyes shining at the gigantic structure, gazing up at the pterodactyl replicas hanging as if in flight. You manage to quickly check in with the receptionist, and were told that two extra tour guides were on their way.

Nanami soon came back with a new shirt, the plastic wire of the price tag still hanging from the collar. His face was still turned in the iconic stern look, a glint of disgust still evident from the twitch of his lip. 

“Groups of five, quickly,” he stated with mechanical efficiency, trying to split the class equally. Without turning, he addressed the adults, “I'll be taking a tour guide with me. Toji, take one too. Sukuna and Y/N will stay together. Take Yuji with you, or he'll run off.” 

You didn't even have time to argue back at the pairing, you opened your mouth and suddenly there was a group of toddlers grasping at your feet as if you were some sort of deity. You didn't even have to corral the kids, Nobara and Megumi staring up at you expectantly.

“Let's go, miss!”

“I want to see some Egyptian stuff!”

“Bleh! Boring… Dinosaurs!”

“Mummies! Mummies!”

“ ‘Kuna! Mr. Kento said: you AND miss!” 

Yuji was busy trying to pull Sukuna closer towards your shared group. He was quickly pushed off, Sukuna finally rolling his eyes and neared you keeping a few paces behind, his expression a mixture of boredom and (shared) irritation. You didn’t seriously have to spend the next two or more hours with this self-absorbed prick, did you?

“Okay, okay! We're going!" you finally managed to say, smiling despite the chaos unfolding around you. 

As the groups started moving, you noticed Nanami leading his group with his usual stoic demeanour, already taking over the guide's job and explaining the historical significance of the museum's layout. You almost felt bad at the despondent look at the tour guide’s face, pouting miserably as they followed Nanami around. 

Toji, on the other hand, seemed to have his hands full with a particularly energetic child who was attempting to scale his back onto his shoulders. You worried they were going to fall, but that wasn't an issue when he took hold of the kid by their collar accompanied with stern talking to. 

The museum had massive, great pillars at every corner with vast displays. There were sections which you methodically scoured through, first the Chinese artefacts, then the Egyptian– old kingdom and new kingdom split into two different rooms. 

You had spent a bit too long reading about a mummy pair, brothers from what the hieroglyphs were supposedly saying, too invested in your own world to realise it had gone scarily quiet. Too quiet for a group of children, nevertheless if that group contained Yuuji, Megumi and Nobara.

Furrowing your eyebrows, you rip your attention away slowly from the mud-stained coffins, as if you were trying to avoid seeing the scene in front of you.

 There were two reasons for this silence: someone had gotten hurt, or they all ran off. You especially hoped it wasn't the latter as Sukuna was meant to be watching them, and the register was meant to be done in time for lunch soon…

Your eyes come upon the second reason. Your small group of 5 disappeared into thin air. At least Sukuna seemed to be gone too, hoping that he had simply led them off into the new kingdom room. With a quickened step, you make your way across the hallway opposite.

Nothing.

What? Did they really leave you behind? Your lower lip protrudes as you're in thought, pacing aimlessly further down a corridor. Perhaps they have gone further down, one of them wanted to see dinosaurs, or something along those lines.

“You seen them?” A nonchalant tone asks, followed by a slurp.

“Have I…  seen them?” You spit back incredulously, your optimistic daydream of the pink haired bastard looking after the group quickly shattered like glass. He was standing next to a display of old Japanese artefacts further down, avoiding eye contact. Somehow, he found the time to pick up a drink at the museum cafe.  Thankfully, you hadn't picked up on this fact, or else you're sure you would have strangled him. 

“I thought you were looking after them,” Sukuna states, unbothered by the lazy look in his eyes. He gestures towards the exhibit he must’ve been distracted by, a large wooden sculpture of a god, “Kōmokuten, Heian era of Japan. Interesting?” The last part of the sentence was worded as a rhetorical question, followed by a nod by the man as if agreeing with his own statement. 

He continues: “Not interested? Anyway, where the hell are they? I thought you were looking after the–” 

“No, you were looking after them,” your angered whisper-yells were countered by a scoff by the pink haired man, sipping the beverage in his hand. You almost wanted to knock it clean out and pour it all over that stupid dyed hair. Actually… was it dyed?

Now that you think about it, Yuuji always seemed to have pink hair too, though the underside was brown. Did they have special brotherly hair dying sessions? 

“They’re kids, how fuckin’ far could they have ran?”

Tuning back into the conversation, it was your turn to scoff, “They're fucking kids! They could be on fucking Mars by now for all we know. Oh god, okay… let's follow the hallway down.” 

Attempting (but failing) to mask your worry, you bit your lip as you rushed past him and all the– truthfully interesting– exhibits. Another time, maybe. There was a loud slurp, before you heard thudding footsteps behind you. 

“Do you even know where you're going?” His gruff voice asks, you can feel his head peeking out from behind to look at the side of your face. 

“... Down there.”

“Stop. Fucking stop for a second, jesus. Let's look at a map of this place before you get us lost too.”

Sukuna grabs your shoulders, attempting to pull you back to the hallway you were previously. You wanted to spit some snarky comment about how you weren't going to be in this situation if it wasn't for him, but your tongue caught itself. 

You give in, sighing, and trace your steps back to a large display board. Right now, you were in the Japanese section, so if you followed it down– it split into two directions. Not so good. 

“They wanted to go see the dinosaurs,” you mutter to yourself in revelation, bending over to see the section on the board lower down. 

A loud sip, “Then let's go.”

You turn your head, ready to agree, until you see him nonchalantly texting on his phone. Your eye twitches.

“Put that away,” you hiss, uncaring to try to keep an air of friendliness, “You lost them and you can't even be fucking bothered to look. We have to get them back in at least–” you look at your phone, “-- at least the next 20 minutes. Can you please just help and not act condescending?” 

He switches his attention to you, his eyes glaring at you. Unmoving in his gaze, he raises an eyebrow. 

“Fine.”

“Thanks,” you spit out, full venom, obviously not thankful. Standing to your full height, you turn on your heel without caring whether the man was following you or not. But the thudding footsteps behind you signified as much.

You passed back by the Japanese displays, taking a cursory glance over them. Really, the statue Sukuna had tried showing you didn't pique that much of your interest. It looked rather, strange if anything. The man must have unique tastes. 

As you rush past them, you spot a certain black haired boy staring at a scroll– also from the Heian period. 

“Megumi!” You call out, relieved at having found at least one of the children. Sukuna grabs the boy's hand before you had the chance to scold him, and does your job for you:

“Who told you to run off, you brat?” He spits, crumpling the cup underneath his fingers. Megumi, unperturbed by the harsh words (perhaps training he had gotten from having Toji as a father), stared nonchalantly at the taller man. 

“They went to go look at the T-Rex, but I said I wanted to see this,” Megumi points towards the scroll, and you look to follow. Sukuna huffs, unsatisfied by the answer but knowing he isn't going to get much more tightens his grip around Megumi's hand.

“One down, four to go,” he glances at you with a humorous tone, but without a smile to match. 

You think it cute that Sukuna holds the little boy's hand in such a way, making sure he can't run off. He must be used to Yuuji's antics. Talking of Yuuji, Sukuna doesn't seem to be very nervous at all at the prospect of losing him.

“He's fine,” he states, sharp and short. The twitch in his brow isn't lost on you, however. Megumi yawns, trying to slip out of Sukuna's graso and back into your own– but the man pulls harshly, hissing. 

“Don't run again, jesus. These kids…”

With a smirk, you walk ahead of them, “They're probably running from you.”

–

Unfortunately, during your walk– halfway to the ‘dinosaurs’-- the three of you weren't able to spot any other lone children. Or rather fortunately, which indicated that they were still together. 

Sukuna had now resorted to letting Megumi piggyback him. The little boy rested his head against salmon-pink locks, eyes closed as if in dream. 

“Hey, why haven't you just called the museum staff?” The pink haired man asks, staring at you.

You blink, frowning. You can feel your cheeks burning up, the sensation uncomfortable, “It's embarrassing…” 

Your words were barely heard, so Sukuna furrows his brows: “Huh?”

“It's embarrassing,” you repeat, not daring to look behind you. 

There was a pregnant pause.

“Who the fuck cares about embarrassing?” He scoffs. 

“I do. It's my first proper trip and I've lost them. Plus, I know where they are! What's the big deal!”

Honestly, you don't believe your words. You knew kids, and you knew how small their 

attention span was. They could have already switched sections by now, or even wandered out. That sent a chill down your spine.

But for now, you were willing to hazard being irresponsible for the sake of your dignity. Not very good, is it?

 “At least it's like a… two minute walk,” you reasoned to yourself. Your steps hurried. In truth, if you didn't find them right now, you were willing to go straight for the intercom. Stupid you–

“Miss!” A higher pitched voice wailed out.

> part 2 (wip)

[hihomeghere]

1 and 81 for Charles smut! I’m so excited for these prompts it’s gonna be so fun!

Knight in Shining Armor | Charles Smith/Reader

I really didn't mean for this to be this long, and yet here we are! I hope you enjoy!

Prompt list

Word Count : 3.1k Prompts : 1. "Kiss me" "What-", 81. "Your heart is racing." Warnings/Tags : Mention of abuse, mentions of SH, piv smut, fingering, cleaning of cuts, getting bucked off a horse, cursing, female reader

The Parlour House was bustling with life, beer and whiskey freely flowing. Ever since moving to Clemens point, after that nasty business in Valentine, you had been frequenting the parlor house most nights. Dutch and Hosea had taught you well, pick pocketing was your specialty. It’s how you made your living in the gang, and there were more than enough drunkards to steal from in Rhodes.

Especially with the stupid rivalry between the Grays and Braithwaites. While Dutch and Hosea were dipping their hands into their pockets figuratively, you were literally doing it. 

“Honey, that must be so hard.” You cooed, not giving a shit what this Gray was actually saying. It was about the gold, always about the gold. Dutch was always talking about the gold, Hosea was always talking about the gold. Eventually to save your sanity you had to start tuning them out. You trailed your fingers down his chest, expertly slipping your fingers into his pocket, and pocketing his watch. 

“You have no idea darlin’.” He sighed, his glassy eyes raking over your body. 

“Oh but I do.” You said pouting your lips, your head lolling up and down in an exaggerated fashion. “It must be so tough.” Taking his hand in yours you lifted it to your mouth. Kissing each finger before slipping off his gold band. He wouldn’t be missing it, especially when he was flirting with any woman who would look his way. 

“Hey,” He grinned lazily, “You wanna get a room? Get a bath maybe?” He said trailing his fingers up your arm. You fought every urge to vomit, smiling sweetly at him.

“Oh honey I’m not that type of girl.” You said chuckling softly, pulling away from him. His featherlight touches turned firm, his hand wrapping around your wrist. 

“Don’t tell me you ain’t been thinking about it.” He says through gritted teeth.

“I haven’t honey, honest.” You whispered, shaking your head. Your eyes dart around the saloon for some knight in shining armor. Your eyes landing on a familiar outline outside. 

Why did it have to be him?

When you’ve been fighting feelings for the ox of a man for months. 

When he was asked to be your ‘chaperone’ after coming back to camp one too many times bruised from angry men’s fists. Turning down advances became second nature, but most boys didn’t take no for an answer.

Dutch and Hosea had given you two options, stop working or start taking a man from camp to act as muscle in case things got ugly. 

And things were starting to look ugly. 

You pulled hard against his hand, yanking your hand from his grip. Hissing as his fingernails scraped down your wrist. You turned on your heel, racing for the door. Pushing the doors open, gasping in a breath of fresh air, your eyes turned onto Charles.

“Charles!” You yelled, running into his arms. His large hands landed on your waist as you slammed into the brick wall of his chest.

“Y/n?” His brows furrowed as he looked down at you before his eyes snapped towards the sound of the parlor door busting open. 

“Kiss me.” You said grabbing his shirt, pulling him down to your height.

“Wha-“ Was all he managed to get out before you were slamming your lips onto his. He froze, his lips pursed against yours. A disgruntled huff came out of the Gray chasing you, along with a few not so kind words about your character. Although kissing Charles had deterred him, the door slamming behind the man as he headed back inside.

“I’m sorry.” You mumbled pulling away from him, “I didn’t know what else to do.” You said tucking a piece of hair behind your ear as your cheeks burned. 

“I think you’ve had enough fun for tonight.” He said, clearing his throat, avoiding your gaze. You nodded, swallowing thickly as you both walked back to your horses.

Taima and your newer stallion waited for your return. You set your foot in the stirrup, swinging your leg over your horse's back. You snuck a few glances over at Charles, his brow was set as he climbed up onto the Appaloosa.

You both set off to Clemens point, following the setting sun over the Scarlett meadows. You tried to keep your eyes forward and your mind off his lips against yours. His warm hands squeezing your waist, how they would feel against your bare skin. Shaking your head, you pulled yourself out of your daydream. Glad that Charles was riding behind you, unable to see your flushed face.

It was like time stood still for a moment, your stallions ears pinned back, a started squeal leaving his mouth. Your hands gripped the reins, trying to pull him away from the diamond rattlesnake curled up. He fought against you, bucking you off of his back. You hit the ground, hard. Gasping like a fish out of water as you tried to get the air back in your lungs. Charles was immediately at your side, helping you into a fetal position.

“Deep breath in your nose, out your mouth.” He said softly, his hand resting on your shoulder. You had no idea how he possibly could have gotten off Taima that fast, maybe you had been on the ground longer than you thought. Gasping in small strangled breaths. 

Finally you were able to take in a long shallow breath. “There we go.” He said rubbing your arm, helping you into a sitting position. His thumb moved across your cheek, wiping away a stray tear.

“Stupid fucking horse.” You groaned, eliciting a small chuckle from him. 

“Well you won’t have to worry about it anymore.” He said getting to his feet, looking down the road.

“I told Hosea he was worthless.” You huffed, taking Charles hand as he pulled you up. You hissed, standing up. Your back burning, no doubt tore up from your fall onto the dirt road.

“I think you have high standards, Glory was a great horse.” He said dusting you off. You sighed, Glory was the best horse, but she didn’t make it out of Blackwater.

“She was.” You sighed, putting your hands on your hips as you looked down the road, “That was a good saddle, too.” You said, shaking your head.

“We’ll find you a new one.” He smiled down at you, his warm eyes meeting yours. “Come on, let’s get you back to camp.” He said, his hand connecting with the small of your back. Pain shot up your back as you let out a low hiss, arching away from his hand. “Everything okay?” He asked, his brows furrowed.

“Think I tore up my back.” You nodded, waving him off, “Get on and I’ll sit behind you.” He nodded, climbing up onto the gray speckled Appaloosa. You grabbed his arm, slowly moving your leg over her back. You wrapped your arms around Charles waist, laying your head between his shoulder blades. You could feel the pounding of his heart against your cheek as Taima started to trot forward.

“Your heart is racing.” You said softly, his chest rumbling as he chuckled.

“You gave me quite a scare, you know?” He said, turning his head slightly to look at you. 

“You probably think I’m a mess.” You chuckled nervously, shaking your head.

“No,” He said softly, “I don’t.”

You rode in silence, your hips bumping into his behind with the sway of Taima’s steps. You were glad you were born a female, because there is no way you wouldn’t have gotten a hard on. You didn’t have to worry about your breasts pressing against Charles' back for much longer, the familiar line of trees coming into view. 

He led Taima over to the hitching posts, giving her a firm pat before turning to help you off. His hands landed on your waist for the second time. He lifted you off of her back as though you weighed nothing. Setting you gently on the ground, his hands lingering on your waist. 

“Let’s get you cleaned up.” He said softly, nodding as he looked down at you.

“Alright.” You nodded, walking towards your tent. He headed off to grab some supplies while you pulled the canvas flap down. You sat down on your cot, staring at the discolored fabric of your tent. You couldn’t tell if it was anxiety or anticipation bubbling up inside you. You just knew if Charles didn’t get back soon you would explode from it.

He cleared his throat, pulling back the flap as he stepped inside your tent. “Can you take your shirt off?” He asked, “I need to clean your back.” You swallowed thickly, nodding your head.

“Yeah, yeah.” You said looking down, your fingers trembling as you began to unbutton your blouse. You bit your lip as you pushed your shirt off of your shoulders, moving your hair off of your back. The cot sank as he settled his weight down next to you. 

“This’ll sting.” Charles said softly, pouring alcohol onto a cloth before pressing against the cuts on your back.

“Shit.” You said through gritted teeth, your knuckles turning white as you gripped the cot beneath you. He mumbled an apology, pulling the cloth away from your back. Your breath hitched in your throat as his fingers replaced the cloth. Goosebumps erupting on your skin as they trailed down your back. You felt frozen, wanting more than anything to look back at him, but at the same time you were afraid he would stop if you moved.

You bit the bullet, turning your head to glance back at him. His dark eyes met yours, cautious, like he was afraid to spook you. Although you wanted to shy away from his gaze, you held it, an unspoken exchange passing between the two of you.

 He leaned forward, pressing a kiss to your bare shoulder, holding your gaze. You reached up to cup his cheek, moving as though it was muscle memory. An intricate dance choreographed for you two. He let out a soft sigh against your skin as your hand connected to his face. Your soft palm resting against his scarred cheek. His hands moved to your waist, squeezing softly. His lips laid kisses from your shoulder up to your neck.

“Charles,” You sighed, not knowing what you were asking for. He hummed against your neck, his chest rumbling softly. You turned on the cot, pressing yourself against him. Your nipples rubbed against the cotton fabric of his shirt. You brushed your nose against his, your arms wrapped sweetly around his neck. He took the plunge, pressing his lips against yours.

Warmth flooded your body, like the first sip of whiskey. Heat spreads from your lips down into your belly. Arousal sparking between your legs as he moans softly into your mouth. You part your lips, swallowing his sounds greedily. Your tongue flicks into his mouth, dancing with his. Your hand threads into his dark locks, tugging experimentally at his scalp. 

He groans, low and reverberating through his chest. You smirk against his lip, repeating your motions. His hand, calloused and warm, laid over your breast. Kneading it gently, you gasp as his thumb runs over your nipple. You arch into his hand, closing your eyes as you pull him closer.

“Charles I-“ You said breathlessly, looking at him through half lidded eyes.

“I know.” He said softly, ducking his head to take your nipple into his mouth. You moaned, an unabashed whine pulled out of your throat as his tongue swirled around the bud.  He pulled away with a satisfying pop, his dark eyes meeting yours as he smiled up at him. “You need to stop with those sounds, sweet girl.” He whispered, leaning forward to brush his nose against yours again. A silent plea for a kiss which you eagerly gave. Your mouth clashed against his, unlike the first sickly sweet kiss you shared. 

“I’ll try.” You chuckled softly, looking at him with a lust filled gaze. His eyes only showed adoration, a look that had you faltering. “What?” You asked with a nervous smile.

“You’re beautiful.” He said nonchalantly, as though it was something as simple as saying the sky was blue. 

“Shut up.” You said, your cheeks burning as you pulled on the hem of his shirt. He chuckled softly, pulling the blue fabric over his head, throwing it onto the floor. 

Your lips met again, your hands laying on his bare chest. Feeling the heat radiating off of his body, feeding the fire between your legs. Your hands mapped a path down his chest, taking in every scar and divot. 

“I need you.” You whined, looking up at him. He smirked, a glint in his eye as he laid you back. You hissed, the rough fabric gliding against your cuts.

“That won’t work.” He said pulling you back up, you laid a chaste kiss on his lips before standing. You untied your skirts, letting them pool around your feet. He leaned back on the cot, unbuttoning his pants and shimmying out of them. You slipped your fingers into the top of your bloomers pulling them over the swell of your ass. You bit your lip, your eyes rising slowly to meet his.

“C’mere.” He said reaching for you, you took a step towards him. His hand wrapped around your waist, pulling you close. His head rested against your stomach, his other hand trailing up your thigh. You waited patiently for him to touch the place you needed him most. He didn’t make you wait long, his large hand cupping your mound. Trailing his fingers through your slick folds, his thumb pressing against the hood of your clit. 

Your breath hitched, pleasure shooting through your body. Your hands gripped his shoulders as he laid featherlight kisses on your stomach. His thick finger presses into your cunt, a low whine leaving your chest.

“Shh,” He said softly, starting to pump his finger in and out of you. You bite your lip to stifle your moans, your fingernails digging crescent shaped marks into his shoulders. 

Charles knows he shouldn’t be enjoying this as much as he is. Knows he shouldn’t like how you dig your nails into him. He knows when tomorrow comes those marks will remain, even if you don’t.

He adds a second finger and your knees start to shake, dancing dangerously close to the edge of your orgasm. You can feel his eyes burning into you, almost willing you to look at him. You’ve never felt this, this yearning for another person, not just for their body. You want Charles, you want all of him. You want him to be yours and you want to be his. You want to scream from the rooftops that you feel the closest to, well love, that you’ve ever been.

And fuck is that terrifying. 

Then his thumb circles on your clit and you’re fucking gone. Diving headfirst into a pool of pleasure. 

“There we go.” He cooed letting out a satisfied huff. You chuckle weakly, leaning your head against his. A bead of sweat runs down your forehead onto his. “You think you’re ready?” He asked, his deep brown eyes meeting yours.

“I’ve been ready for a long time.” You chuckled, shaking your head.

“That’s not what I meant.” He said taking your hand, placing it on his crotch.

Oh.

How was that supposed to fit inside you?

You stroked up his length through his undergarments. You grabbed the piece of clothing separating skin on skin and pulled it down this thick thighs. Your mouth watering as his cock bounced up onto his stomach. Painfully hard and weeping. You spit onto your hand, spreading your saliva over his cock head. You stand over him, letting his hands guide your hips down. His girthy head stretches you open, your breath catching in your throat.

“My girl.” He groans, as you slide down onto his length. My, My, My, My. It’s a constant loop in your head as he fully sheathes himself inside you. Stretching you wider than you’ve ever been before, painful in a good way. You let out a shaky breath, craning your neck back in pleasure. Charles' lips press against your pulse point, a silent apology on his part. Although there isn’t a need for it, your hips rise off of him slightly, before slamming back down. 

A near animalistic moan falls out of Charles lips, his hands dimpling your flesh. You clenched around him, gasping as his hips thrusted upwards. Concern flashed across his face before it quickly turned lustful as you grinded down onto him. He let you set the pace, wanting you to enjoy the experience as much as he was. He was along for the ride you could say. If he had it his way he would have buried his head between your thighs until you were crying.

You raised your hips until he was almost out of you before slamming back down. Repeating the motion until you could feel the coil tightening in your stomach.

“Yeah? You close?” Charles asked, sucking a mark that would definitely get you a few stares in the morning onto your neck. 

“Mmhm.” You said, your head lolling back and forth. Biting your lip to stop the wanton moans that threatened to break free. He took over, thrusting up into you. Suddenly the coil snapped, you gushed over his cock, slamming your hand over your mouth to muffle your moan. 

“That’s my good girl.” He praises, his thrusts starting to get sloppier as he goes on. He quickly pulls out, groaning as he spills his seed onto the ground. You chuckled breathlessly, smiling as you laid your head onto his shoulder. He let out a long satisfied sigh, his hands rubbing soothing circles onto your thighs. “I didn’t hurt you, right?” He asked, looking into your eyes for confirmation.

“Far from it.” You laughed, shaking your head. “That was…” you trailed off grinning.

“Yeah.” He nodded, gently squeezing your thigh. A comfortable silence fell between the two of you. Nothing needed to be said, that was the wonderful thing about you and Charles. But you wanted- no needed to say something.

“Maybe I should get in trouble and fall off my horse more often.” You chuckled, rubbing your nose against his cheek.

“You don’t need to do that again.” He mumbled, a smile spreading across his face. “Just- just talk to me next time.” 

“Next time?” You asked, hoping bubbling up in your chest.

“Next time.” He nodded, brushing his nose against yours.

[szasfuckingwife]

DESIRE- pt 1

KING!SATORU X QUEEN READER

WARNINGS: arranged marriage, minor misogyny, dysfunctional family relationship

A/N: I am quite excited for this series, lets just see if I don’t give up on it halfway through, lol

series master list —> part two

It was far late from noon when one of your ladies ran into your room. Just when you thought your duties for the day were done, here comes another. Although it may seem easy living in your estate as princess with a thousand maids at your beck and call, you were also being groomed and moulded to be the best queen for your country.

“Your highness, your father writes to you.” She has a white letter in her hands. Knowing her, you wouldn’t be surprised if she opened the letter and read it herself.

A sigh leaves your lips as you hear it’s from your father, the king. Feigning a healthy father-daughter relationship was harder than it looks. In reality, you hadn’t seen your father regularly since he sent you to live in Seymour Manor when you were four. The only times you recall seeing him is during galas and balls where his attention is caught between the fine port being served or being involved in a dance, not you.

Your thumb grazed over the red Royal seal that your father was known for. Reluctantly, you open the letter, reading the words carefully.

To my darling daughter,

I hope the standards and degree of the manor has provided you with the upmost guidance as you reach this new age of womanhood. I wish to see you again as we approach our new season.

However, I do not write you to discuss your wellbeing, unfortunately. I wish to discuss your betrothal to Sir Satoru Gojo of the Gojo clan. His father, the head of the Gojo clan, wishes to see you and his son marry before the year ends.

I will not hasten you, daughter. But, as princess of our great kingdom, I do wish to see what you will do once you become queen. More importantly, if you will produce an heir that will continue our great monarchy. I rest assured knowing the nannies and ladies at Seymour Manor have groomed you into being the perfect wife to Satoru and the perfect queen for our nation.

May God be with you,

Your father.

This is the 5th letter he’s sent about this Satoru Gojo since some months ago. You crumble it up and throw it behind you, like you’ve done before. Who is he to rush you into marrying a man you’ve never met? You’ve hardly ‘met’ with your father.

“Augusta, remind our mailman that I will not receive any more letters from my father-” “But, your highness..” Your maid interrupts.

You look at her softly, “My father must be having you all nervous. Trust me, Augusta, that man is not to be feared. Oh, are you scared? You shouldn’t be. Tell the mailman it is the princess’ direct orders.”

“Your highness…” She sighs. “A carriage awaits you outside from the palace. Along with your bags…”

She sees your features soften as you come to the realisation. The joints in your body stiffened up as you blinked at her a couple more times, trying to spot dishonesty. But, to no avail.

You were getting sent down to the palace, whether you liked it or not.

“My lady-” “Very well.” You purse your lips as you exit the room.

The manor became smaller and smaller as you begin your journey. Memories of you playing with toys when you were a toddler and running around in the outside fields plague your mind.

It was home. No mother. No father. No worries. Just the maids and nannies raising you into the open minded woman you are. They were the mother(s) you never had. It made you fear how quickly your happiness could be snatched away.

“Excited, my lady?” Your father’s footman asked. God knows why he was selected to chaperone your travel. He saw you glare at him before returning your gaze back yo the window.

“Take this as an opportunity, your highness. Soon, you will be married and produce a surplus amount of heirs for your kingdom.” He says, a little too excitedly.

You sigh. “James?”

He sits up, “Yes, my lady?”

“Stop talking.” You sarcastically smile.

As you arrive to the palace, you see your father stand outside the front stairs of the palace. He looks mighty in his royal clothing, a proud smile adorns his face as your carriage comes to a stop, like he raised you.

It was unnerving seeing your father standing alone. It was just last winter where your mother succumb to a terrible illness and met her maker. If you weren’t in this predicament you’re in now, you’d count that as the most depressive moment in your life.

Your father’s footman offered his hand, helping you step out of the carriage. The king speed walked down the steps, grinning from ear to ear. You curtsey in front of him, almost second nature to you.

“Hello, father,” the words leave your mouth bitterly. “How are you?”

“Better now you are here, darling.” His eyes squinted as he smiled. “Please, tell me, how was your travel?”

Another fake smile plasters your face, “A little home sick. However, I was fine.”

His fave dropped, “Well, this is your home now, dear. You are at rest when you are here.”

You watch him as he takes a deep breath in, “That is good. Well, what are you all waiting for?! Accompany my daughter with her things as she settles into her new home.”

You’re left with your thoughts as you sit on your new bed. The only thing that comes to mind is how your freedom is gone and now in the hands of this Satoru Gojo.

Wonders of his appearance come flooding into your mind. What would he look like? He could be some scrawny adolescent. No, your father couldn’t give the title of ‘King’ to a child. Maybe he was an old man. As old as your father. His belly round and his hair fading.

Goosebumps plague your skin as someone suddenly walks into your room.

“My lady, the garments have arrived.” A maid walks in.

Your brow raises, “Garments? I did not send for garments.”

She smiles, “My apologies, your betrothed sent them.” Some more people walk in, holding beautiful dresses. They contrast your everyday dresses you wear back home, where the thoughts of marriage never crossed your mind and days ended when you passed out in the fields.

“My betrothed..?”

“He sent these for you to wear tonight during dinner. It’ll be you, him, his mother and father and of course, the King.” She says merrily. “He must be enamoured by your beauty.”

Your brow rises, the fabric used is clearly expensive and foreign. Silky satin and the brightest purple that has ever met the eye. It was all too grand. A huge contrast from your country-house dresses you grew to love.

But beautiful nonetheless.

Whoever this Gojo Satoru was, he was playing his cards right.

Everything tells you to run out of the palace gates as you head downstairs for dinner. If you took off your shoes, you could make it to the town hall. Or was it the boutique?

It had been so long you’ve forgotten what surrounds the palace. Soldiers would definitely catch you within seconds.

A sound of laughters interrupts your thoughts. It’s your father’s and someone else’s. Before you could even breathe into the room, you are held back as you remember you are to be announced.

“Her highness, Princess Y/N!” A butler announced.

All murmurs stop as you walk in the room. The Gojo clan stood up upon your arrival. You noticed the smiles of the mother and the father and then your eyes landed on a man no other suitor could compare to.

His hair was snow white, it reminded you of snowy days where you cosied up to the fire place. His eyes were cerulean, bright and blue. But his stare made you feel small. The way he looked at you, like he was analysing your demeanour, how you walked, how you carried yourself.

They all bowed as you took your seat. “Pleasure to meet you, your highness.” The head of the Gojo clan grinned. “Your father has spoken highly of you. He’s assured you will be the perfect fit for our son.”

So, this is the infamous Satoru Gojo. The way they spoke of him, as if he is the prize. It was hard to not be egotistical considering you were, quite frankly, the future queen.

“Yes. This is a momentous occasion. We are currently witnessing the start of the of the next generation. I’m confident that Gojo will be a great king.”

You sit there, waiting for your father to mention you and how great you will take care of your kingdom. But your wishes were never grabted, they moved onto another topic swiftly.

Throughout dinner, Satoru kept locking eyes with you. Even with the jokes and banter your father and his were throwing about, his eyes lured you back in.

“We are to discuss the date of the wedding, and then the coronation. It should be quick and around the same time, we don’t want to string this along any more than we have.” The king spoke with a certain dominance that shook the bones of everyone in the room, but you of course.

Gojo’s father nodded, “Of course, your majesty. And may I thank you again for recognising Satoru as capable of being king.”

You clearly have missed a plethora of conversations and rumours of Satoru becoming king. “Yes, I see Satoru as the son I never had. He’s most capable of carrying this kingdom to glory.”

Satoru smiles for the first time during dinner, “I’m sure I’ll do that with the help of your daughter, your majesty. Every king needs his queen.”

You want to scoff.

“Of course. And then, hopefully, we’ll see Princess Y/N withchild very soon.” His father spoke. It made you sick how they spoke about you as if you weren’t there.

Suddenly, you felt something wet on your lap. As you look down, you notice the burgundy red wine staining your blush pink gown.

Gojo’s mother gasped, “Oh no, your gown..” You wonder if she was even worried about you embarrassing yourself or rather the fact her family spent a pretty dime on was ruined by your carelessness.

You take a deep breath in, already frustrated from the lack of communication regarding your own marriage and your father’s lack of awareness. “Pardon my absence for one moment..”

The party watches as you stand up and leave abruptly. Satoru notices as your father mumbles something about you being dramatic and unladylike. “I shall go check on her.” Satoru suggests.

“Satoru, you shouldn’t-” “I’m only to check on her welfare. She seemed conflicted tonight.”

The Gojo parents turn to look at the king who is now slumped over in his seat, “Very well.”

You seek comfort under the stars on a balcony, the atmosphere downstairs was too suffocating. It seemed you were a pawn in this big crown game.

“My lady.”

You gasp as you turn around to see the very man you grew to despise in a short amount of time. “Must you cut up my peace..?”

Satoru walked towards you slowly, “It’s a shame the dress is stained…This is the one I wanted you to specifically wear.”

His attempts at flirting made you sick. “I would thank you for the dress. But seeing its already ruined, I don’t think my appreciation would go far.”

Satoru nodded, “It is alright. Did you like your dresses? Were they a good fit? If not, I can get my men to-”

You hold up a hand, “Leave the other two. They are sufficient for gardening.”

He breathed out a chuckle, “Your highness, did I do something to offend you? If so, I do apologise. My father raised me to be a gentleman.”

Nothing leaves your lips as he responds. No smart remark, No rolling of your eyes, nothing. He was nicer than he seemed during dinner. However, you didn’t know what to trust. But something inside you told you to build some sort of relationship with him, considering you two will rule a nation together.

You scoffed as you remain your gaze on the environment, “Gentlemen? You…You hardly know me, why do you wish to be wed?”

“You are really magnificent, Y/N.” He whispers. The absence of formalities and honourifics threw you off immensely. He was now very close to you. It was only now you noticed how tall he was. “If I was just a commoner, I’d still want you as my bride.”

You blink up at him, “Satoru, if I am to be your bride, you can leave the theatrics at home. I’m not a child, I will not fall for such…dishonesty!”

“Dishonesty?” He chuckles once more, stroking the side of his face with his gloved hand, “Have you been like this with other suitors or just me?”

You look away. You’ve never had other suitors. Only him.

“Pardon me, Satoru, but I must go to my chambers. The sun is resting, and I shall rest with it. You don’t want to stop the future queen from receiving her sleep.” You begin to walk away from him.

“Trust me your highness, once wed, I plan to.” He mumbled.

Satoru sees you turn around swiftly staring at him with confusion. If it weren’t for his good looks, you would’ve sent the guards to behead him as quickly as possible. You open your mouth to say something but nothing comes out. Instead, you walk away.

[pinkthrone445]

Hi this is my first request ever, I’m not sure if you were planning on doing a part two on ‘we need each other in all our lives’. But if you are, I would love to see the reader say something like “I don’t think I wanna be friends anymore” and then before Melissa can react the reader says “I wanna be yours” and then Melissa’s wheels are turning in her head and then Melissa kisses her.

Anyways love your work, you never miss a beat!

-We need each other in all lives- Part 2

Part 1

Pairing:Melissa Schemmenti x Reader

Gender:Fluff, love, friends to lovers

Warnings:none

Summary:Mel decides to give you the happiest night of your life by fulfilling something you loved so much.

Hi hon, thank you for your request and your kind words, thanks for giving me the honor of being your first request, I hope you like it!

Btw, I love how when Mel smiles like in the gift, her eyes shine.

-"So... How is it going?" - Barbara asked a very distracted Melissa, who looked at her confused

-"What?..."-The redhead took off her glasses, rubbing her eyes in confusion

-"How is it going with (Y/N)?" - Her friend asked again now that she had her attention again

-"Just like always, we're still just friends" - The Italian replied, unconsciously putting a hand to her chest at the thought of you as she remembered the heat your body produced when you fell asleep on her, you looked so happy and calm

-"I meant how was going her job and classes, if you helped or not... But now that you opened that path... Tell me, when are you going to stop being just friends?" -Barbara asked interestedly, and Mel feigned insanity

-"I don't know what you are talking about, we're just friends and that's it, just friends" - She whispered, avoiding her friend's gaze so she wouldn't see the truth in her eyes

-"Yeah... Friends that sleep in each other chest and go to prom together, vacations together and cook for each other and have movie night together... Come on Mel, I know you, when are you going to be brave and tell her about your big crush on her? Maybe she likes you back..." - Barbara whispered, preventing anyone else from mistakenly hearing her

-"We have a big age gap, I don't think I'm the right person for her or someone she wants to spend her future with..."-muttered the redhead, a little embarrassed to admit that

-"If you don't try, you'll never know how she truly feels about you"- The voice of reason, Barbara, answered

-"I don't want to mess things up, if I talk and she doesn't feel the same, it will be awkward and we won't go back to the way we were before, and I can't lose her...The only way I'm going to try anything else with her is if she gives me a signal or something that she likes me back"-Melissa commented a little sadly and her friend rolled her eyes

-"She practically looks at you like you're one of the 7 wonders of the world... Don't tell me that's not a sign!"-Her friend commented, raising her voice and the redhead slapped her arm to calm her down

-"Good morning to the most gorgeous women in my life!" - You commented very happily entering the teacher's room, causing the two women to stop their talk about you. The two greeted you kindly and had breakfast together with you.

The weeks started to go by, Ava went back to her old self and you started to be a little calmer, too, graduation started to get closer. Since you had never been to a graduation either as a student or as a chaperone, Mel gave you some tips on how to dress and what to do. The redhead explained to you that you had to be well dressed, the more delicate and fancy, the better, accompanied by a good hairstyle and confortable shoes. She promised to pick you up and bring you home when you're done.

When the day came, you looked in the mirror at the dress you had bought, you didn't have many opportunities to dress up, so you had decided to take advantage of it. Your hair was pulled up in an elegant ponytail and you had matching shoes and jewelry.

When it was about time and you felt a knock on your door, you opened the door excited to see your friend, but when you saw how she was dressed, your brain emptied and your heart began to jump trying to get out of your chest and run to her. She looked like a princess straight out of some fairy tale, her hair pulled up in a beautiful hairstyle that you were pretty sure she paid someone to do it, her dress looked ready for a red carpet, her shoes and bag matching, and the smile she had was the final and perfect touch to complete her look. She was a woman out of a perfect dream, your dreams. You were afraid you had stared at her for a long time, but you laughed when you realized that she had also stared at the way you were dressed

-"Hi Mel-Mel... You're gorgeous, you look like a princess..."-You commented a little nervously as you were under her intense gaze

-"Hi hon, this look will fade after 10... But you, you're breathtaking..." She whispered and pulled something out of her bag, smiling-"This is for you" - She carefully grabbed your wrist and delicately placed a corsage that matched the dress she was wearing-"Since you're my graduation date and you've never been to one before, I figured it would be nice for you to have the whole experience" - she commented, taking your hand and pointing to a large limo outside your house

-"Melissa! Are you crazy?!" -You screamed with excitement and she laughed dumbfounded, seeing your happy face-"How did you do this?! How much did you spend?" - You frowned at her and she couldn't stop laughing, gently kissing your hand as you were still intertwined. She carefully helped you walk to the car and opened the door for you

-"Don't worry, I know a guy who owed me a favor... The only thing you have to worry about tonight is enjoying yourself" - she said in a kind voice as she sat by your side on the limo-"We have juice, because we can't drink if we're going to chaperone, and I bought your favorite pizza, be careful with your dress..."-She muttered pointing to the pizza boxes and you laughed looking at her in disbelief

-"I can't believe you did all this for me... I can't believe the amazing woman you are Mel-Mel, I'm so lucky to have you in my life and I don't just mean this, I mean everything... I'm thankful for everything, for you,for this, for helping even when I'm being hard-headed, for letting me invade the personal space that you protect so much, for cooking for me, for helping me relax, for letting me pic the movie even knowing I'll pick something that probably you would not understand, like when I show you Marvel for the first time. Thank you for taking care of me, for doing things like this, for celebrating my accomplishments as if they were your own, thank you for coming into my life and staying..."-You talked until she raised a hand to stop you

-"You'll make me cry and ruin my makeup"-she muttered and you laughed, the truth was that if she kept listening to what you were saying, she couldn't take it anymore and would kiss you ruining the friendship she was trying so hard to protect

-"I'm sorry Mel-Mel, I just wanted to say thank you and let you know that I love you so much" - You muttered blushing and she kissed your hand again

-"I love you too kiddo... Now eat before it gets cold" - she whispered, trying to take the weight off the situation.

After eating and joking, the driver stopped at the school and the two of you came down smiling holding hands.

The gym was nicely decorated with the fairytale theme, delicate lights, soft music and a table with food and drinks, plus a DJ and a photo booth.

As the night began to move on and the children began to arrive, you and the other teachers began to do the work of looking after the students' behavior as you had been told, but you couldn't help but look for your friend in the crowd.

After a little bit, you and Mel exchanged glances across the room smiling, you pointed to the photo booth and she nodded walking over. The two went inside and took several pictures of yourselves making funny faces and hugging each other, after that you save each one half of the photo strip and return to work.

When the kids and the situation calmed down a bit, you decided to go to one edge of the gym watching everything.

The music sounded soft and the lights were dim, on the floor you could feel the distant vibration of the rhythm coming from the speakers. A few glasses glittered under the reflection of the soft sequence of lights hanging from the ceiling. Your body swayed gently to the rhythm of the music as you watched the children dance, your hands unconsciously caressing the flower on your wrist making you smile

-"Do you want to dance?" - Mel whispered getting close to your ear, brushing her pinky finger delicately against the back of your hand

-"I would love to"-You whispered and took her hand gently as you walked to the center of the floor, with her gaze she asked for permission to place her hands on your waist while you intertwined yours behind her neck making her shudder a little. Very close together, you both began to move to the rhythm of the soft music, her hands gently caressing your waist in circular motions while you played with the baby hairs on the back of her neck. Her eyes were on yours and you couldn't take your eyes off hers, the normal green of her eyes had transformed into a brilliant emerald, an emerald as hypnotic as the flow of a powerful river. They seemed like the door to another world, to a paradise that hid wonders. It felt like you were under a spell, like a scene form a romantic movie. Not a word was spoken, but at the same time you were having a deep conversation with each other's eyes. Your head was blank and your heart was beating harder than ever, your breathing ragged even though you tried to control it, you got teary eyes trying to contain the emotion you were feeling. What had you done well in this life to have ended up in this perfect situation? With the perfect person... How you wish you could stop time and be able to admire forever how the lights decorated the redhead's hair, how her hands generated heat in your body, how her feet moved perfectly with yours, how her eyes looked at you as if you were the most perfect thing in this world. How you wanted to hold her in your arms until the two of you were old and had shared a lifetime together. How you wish you could kiss her and be hers all night every night. Hold her in your arms until the moon says goodbye to the sky and the sun welcomes a new day. You were so close to each other and at the same time it wasn't enough. You wanted to be with her in the most intimate way possible, hearts bare, bodies intertwined and souls united, desiring the deepest of connections, those where you don't know where one ends and the other begins, moments when time has mercy and stops so that the glimmer of perfection lasts a little longer. You wanted Melissa to look at you like she was doing at that moment, but forever.

At what point did she go from being your friend to being the love of your life? At what point did your feelings for her change?

The moment was so perfect that you wanted to keep it forever like in a crystal ball so you could relive it whenever you wanted. Was fragile like the crystal goblet that your mother kept on a shelf to use on a special occasion so that it would not break, so fragile that anything could break it, that a breeze could throw it over and shatter it. You didn't want anything to break that fragile and perfect moment, but you also realized something, it was fragile and it could break at any moment, but that made it even more perfect. It was going to break at some point, what better way to take advantage of it than until the last second? You decided to act even if the moment could break, you decided to finally kiss Melissa, but before you could do that, her lips were already on yours. She only connected her lips at first without moving them, just pressed against yours, but it was enough to take your breath away. When she felt you smile softly, she began to delicately move her lips over yours, muddying her lipstick on your lips, her hands clenching hard grabbing your dress and pressing your body against her, while your hands squeezed the back of her neck to keep her close.

How had you lived so long without her kisses? You had no idea, but now that you'd tried them, you didn't want to part away anymore.

The redhead bit your lip gently causing a sigh to escape your lips, but before the kiss could escalate any further, a voice called you to reality

-"Daam, Schemmenti, (Y/N), you are the chaperones, you are here to control the children, not to teach them how to kiss" - One of the teachers commented, making you blush and quickly separate from Mel, a little bit scared. On the other hand, the redhead was a little disappointed to see the embarrassment on your face. Didn't you like it? Were you regretting it?

-"I'll go to see the children, sorry" - You commented before quickly disappearing.

For the rest of the night, Melissa didn't see you again, it wasn't until the party was over and she went to the limo that she saw you waiting for her there

-"Hey..."-You whispered, barely smiling, and she sighed, leaning on the car next to you, but turning her attention to the visible stars of the night

-"Hey hon..."-she answered, not knowing what else to say, what made you sigh and play with your hands nervously

-"What a night...right?" - You whispered and she nodded

-"Yeah... Crazy" - The redhead looked at you out of the corner of her eye and saw how your body shivered a little, you looked so fragile-"Where's the driver?" - she asked

-"He went to the bathroom..."-You responded by looking at her sideways as well-"You know? It's past twelve o'clock and you still look like a beautiful princess" - You joked and she smiled blushing-"Thank you for all this Mel, it was a magical night, and I really mean all of it... There's not a moment tonight that I wish I could have done differently..."-You barely smiled and she looked at you

-"That's why friends are for..."-she whispered and you sighed at the word friends

-"Mel-Mel... Can I ask you something?" - You inquired and she nodded-"What are we? Are we really just friends?..." - You asked avoiding her gaze with a bit of sadness, the whole situation had become so awkward when usually everything was perfect and easy with her

-"Look kid, I think it was just the magic of the moment, I really don't know what happened inside... Maybe too many teenagers hormones" - The redhead tried to joke but only an awkward laugh came out of you-"What I do know, it's that not matter what happened, we're still friends, okay?" - she murmured, rubbing her pinky with your hand. Melissa wanted to keep you from drifting away and making things awkward, she would rather pretend she just wanted to have you as a friend than lose you completely

-"I don't think I wanna be friends with you anymore..."-You muttered, moving your hand away from hers-"I can't believe you're blaming that to teen hormones... I felt something, that spark, and I don't know if you felt it too, but I can't believe you're blaming other people for your actions... I can't keep being eternal friends with you Mel-Mel, maybe in another life we're eternal friends, but I can't do it anymore in this life. I'm sorry" - You murmured and hugged yourself, you didn't know if the shivering was cold or nervous, but you wanted it to stop-"I think I'll walk home, thanks for a magical night" - You muttered starting to walk away from her

-"I love you" - Those three words escaped from the redhead's mouth faster than she could have thought, hearing them paralyzed you on the spot. There was no point in denying it anymore , the cat was out of the bag-"I love being with you... I remember that summer we spent together and the kisses we never gave each other even though all I wanted was to have my mouth on you, I remember your favorite movie, your favorite snack, what you like and what you don't, what you fear and what makes you happy, I remember how you love to sleep, I remember your favorite color, your favorite weather, I remember the funny dances you do when you eat or are happy, I remember everything you love, I remember it because I love you... Please don't go, I was afraid to admit my feelings because I was afraid to lose you, but I don't want to be eternal friends either, I want to be with you, kiss you every morning and wake up next to you. I want to see your dances every day every time I cook for you... I thought love only existed in movies until I met you, I want to be with you for the rest of my days... You know? It's funny how love finds you when you least expect it, it doesn't care if you're coming out of a breakup or don't feel ready to love, when it's coming nothing can stop it... And the love of my life came the moment I saw you... You know I'm telling the truth because such cheesy words wouldn't come out of my mouth even if I wanted to fake it..."-She murmured and you turned ln your place looking at her with teary eyes-" Are you really staying there after all I said?"-She asked with a raised eyebrow and you laughed making a little run to her

-"This are the hormones talking?"-You asked standing in front of her and she shook her head

-"No, it's my love for you..." - She murmured, hugging you carefully around your waist and you ran your hands down her neck looking into her eyes

-"Good, because I love you too and I want to kiss you again"-You murmured before kissing her again.

[melanieph321]

Dominik Szoboszlai x Reader - The Double Date Part 2/2

Part 1

Reader unwillingly joins her best friend on a double date with Andy Robertson and Dominik Szoboszlai.

Enjoy!

"Now, why did you have to tell Dominik that you had a boyfriend?"

You arrived at the crowded rooftop bar. Lexi, immediately pulling you aside.

"Because I do."

"No, you don't." She chuckled. "We've been over this."

"The guy is a dickhead Alexandra. It's better that I astablish some boundaries before he tries to hit on me."

"Right, and when exactly do you think that will happen? The two of you have barely spoken a word to each other."

"Because his a dickhead."

She rolled her eyes. "Okay, fine. Maybe he is. But I'm really trying to hit it off with Andy, but if he sees that you and Dominik aren't getting along...."

"Okay, okay." You sighed. "I got it, I'll play nice."

"That's all I ask." She kissed your cheek and strutted over to Andy, who stood chatting with a friend. A lot of known faces were encountered at the Gallaway. It was a nice place. Known for its expensive alcohol and wild nightlife. But nothing beat the view. You let the cool breeze stir your hair as you moved to the balcony railing. Liverpool at night was truly breathtaking.

"It's nice, no?"

"Dominik?" You turned in suprise, not expecting him to find you and not the other way around.

"The view." He smiled. It's nice, no?"

You look back over the city. "It really is."

A comfortable silence came then about, lasting longer than you wanted. Then Dominik moved closer to you, leaning in for you to hear him over the music. "It takes a while to get a drink from the bar. Do you want me to go ahead and order for you?"

"Erm...sure. That would be great, actually. A redbull vodka, please. Make that a double shot."

He made a sound under his breath.

"What?"

"Nothing, nothing." He grinned.

"Just fucking say it Dominik, we're both adults."

He chuckled. "Y/N, It's really nothing. I guess I expected you to have a fancier taste, that's all."

"Well, are you the one paying for the drinks?"

"....maybe"

"I guess I'll have a glass of Moët then."

"And two shots of Grey Goose?"

You frowned.  "Two shots?"

"Yes, one for me and one for you." He winked, leaving you a bit dumbfounded as he made his way through the crowded balcony. It left you with the sudden urge to check on your makeup. However, that's when a pair of heels rushed towards you, ambushing you from behind.

"God, Lexi. What's gotten into you?

She looked pale and breathless from her little run. "He's here." She panted.

"Who is here?"

"Mike."

"What?"

"Yes, and he's here with another girl."

Most of the rage had left you once you made it through the crowded rooftop. But then you spotted your boyfriend with his arm around another girls waist, his mouth nibbling at her ear, and the rage that welled up inside of you was quickly replaced by something heavy, almost unbearable "Whatta hell, Mike?"

He froze at the sound of your voice. It took him a second to spot you in the midst of the crowd. And as his arm let go of the girls' waist, you felt a presence beside you other than Lexi and Andy's. It was Dominik, back with your drinks. He was back just in time to witness the most humiliating moment of your life.

"Y/N, I can explain." Mike made his way over to you, wearing the clean cut suit that you gifted him for his birthday just last month.

"She's just a friend right?" You said, watching the woman that stood awkwardly in the back. You knew it would be her, it was always her. Mike's best friend from medical school. The one he always made excuses for, even if it meant missing a date night. Or that time you needed help moving out of your apparment. Even tonight. A Friday night that you should've spent with your boyfriend instead of chaperoning your best friends double date.

"Look, can we speak for a moment." He said. "...in private."

"No way buddy." Lexi stepped forward.

"I wasn't talking to you was I?"

"Hey man..." Andy put a hand on Mike's chest for him to step off.

"Y/N, who are these people?"

You felt a tug at your arm, Dominik, with his hand around your wrist. You turned to him and saw the expression on his face, one that you only recognize from the football pitch.

"Y/N, please. Let me take you home and we can talk about this."

"No, Mike."

"What?"

Your voice was frail, but you spoke through the pain. "I said no."

"You heard her buddy, she's staying with us."

"Andy, please." Lexi said. Like you, she saw the look in Mike's eyes, realizing that the situation was escalating into something....toxic.

"Fuck, this." He groaned. "Let's go—" He reached for your arm, however that's when he noticed Dominik's grip around it.

"Huh, what's this now?" His eyebrows furrowed but quickly faltered when he realized....."Szoboszlai?" He was a fan, but Dominik didn't seem to care as his grip around your hand tightened, much like the expression on his face. "Let's go." He muttered.

"What?"

He turned to you, nodding his head. "I'll take you home. Let's go."

"O...okay."

"The hell you are."

"Andy!" Lexi shouted as he threw himself towards Mike, who initially threw himself at you. Luckily, Dominik was quick to pull you to stand behind him. What unfolded next could have been a disaster hadn't it been for the bouncers, grabbing Mike and escorting him away from the rooftop, towards the escalators.

"Y/N, are you okay?" Lexi asked.

You were brought to sit at the table, but you struggled to express how you felt right in that moment. "I...I think I'm just gonna go home."

"Of course." Lexi nodded. "We'll take you home right now."

"No, please. Stay. I don't want to ruin your date."

"It's a double date, love." Andy said, his smile mending your heart. "We'll all leave together."

"That's very sweet of you Andy but I really don't want—"

"I'll take her."

"... impose." It was the second time in the span of few minutes that Dominik had managed to scrap all previous assumptions that you had about him.

"I'll take her. You guys keep having a great night." He said and basically dragged you away from the crowd towards the escalators. You shifted your head once you were out on the street, worring about bumping into Mike. Dominik kind on the other hand, paced himself by walking back and forth as if he was trying to calm himself down or something.

"Hey, it's okay." You said, approching him.

He shook his head for you not to touch him, at least for that split second when he looked to have the ability to flip the nearest car onto its roof.

"I just fucking hate guys like that." He said, claming down a bit.

"Cheaters?"

He looked to you, a sly smile on his lips. "Nah, dickheads. They ruin everything."

"I agree." You wrapped your arms around yourself, trying to keep warm.

"I'm sorry. Give me a second. I'll call us an Uber."

Dominik was quick to make the call for an Uber, and soon a car pulled up to the sidewalk where you stood. Dominik held the door open for you and let the driver drop you off near a kebab joint not too far from your address.

"You need to eat." He said. And just the way he said it, with such authority, made it impossible for you to protest.

Dominik ended up ordering you a lot of food. You invited him up to your apartment to share it with you. However, he hesitated as the two of you lingered on the streets below.

"The food is for you, not me." He smiled.

"I'll feel like a piece of shit eating all of this food by myself."

"Don't. Your ex-boyfriend is the one who should feel like a piece of shit."

You chuckled. It was a very sweet thing of him to say. He was all around sweet to you compared to the beginning of the night. You wondered why that was.

"It was nice meeting you Y/N, have a good night."

"Dominik?" You stopped him from leaving.

"Yes?"

"I'm sorry for this double date thing. I know I was a bit moody at the start, but that's only because my friend really wanted me to come with her even though she knew about Mike. Although she was probably right about him being toxic. Still, I didn't listen to her and ended up ruining the entire night."

He smiled. A brimming smile, showing off his immaculately white teeth. "It's okay. I only came to make sure my friend Andy wasn't being set up by yet another girl. He's a really good guy, you know. But terrible with women. I told him not to take you guys to that arcade. I mean, what guy invites beautiful girls to play video games?"

"I assume you know what girls want then?"

He smirked. "Nah, everybody's different. Some of them prefer staying home, posting terrible songs on Tiktok."

"I've never—"  It suddenly hit you. The reason for his mood at the beginning of the night.

Oh, God. Oh god.

He's heard it.

Of course he's heard it, as fans were singing it all last season.

Dommy Dommy, sat on a wall. Dommy Dommy had a great fall.....

"Humpty Dumpty, eh?"

"Dominik, I'm so sorry."

"I thought fans would be more sympathetic to their injured players. But then I see a song go viral about two girls referring to me as an egg. An egg?"

You chuckled. "I really am sorry, Dominik. Lexi and I were just having a laugh. It's kind of our thing."

"Yeah, I got that."

Wait, so you knew who I was before meeting me? But that means that Andy—"

"Like I said," Dominik smiled. "He's a really good guy, who likes your friend."

"Well, good thing she likes him too then."

"Does that mean we'll be seeing more of each other?" He asked, hands on his hips.

"Yes." You nodded. "For sure. We might as well start bonding now. Over all of this food, for example."

He laughed but saw you struggling with the heavy bag containing all of it. "Fine. But no singing."

"Dommy, Dommy sat on a wall...."

"I'm serious."

You laughed all the way up to your apartment. Perhaps double dating wasn't so bad after all.

Part 1

[vinelark]

Do you have any more outtakes you'd be willing to share? I love seeing what did and didn't make the cut on fics

i do!! i remember doing a little roundup of some outtakes for chapters 1 - 3 (found it! here) and i have some similar snippets from chapters 4 & 5 ☺️

chapter 4

a bit of cut dialogue from the zoo rescue:

“Oh, I’m aware,” Nightwing says. “Atlanta, remember?”

“What happened in Atlanta?” Tim demands, ducking away from another bird.

Nightwing waves a hand. “Classified superhero business.”

“Superboy, what happened in Atlanta?”

In Atlanta, Kon yelled at Superman about Tim’s misinterpreted fear toxin hallucinations right in front of Batman and Nightwing, which still makes Kon cringe a bit to think about. “Uhh,” Kon says. “Yeah, classified.”

two cut texting exchanges after the date:

Text message: Clark & Kon

[Saturday, 10:21pm ET]

Clark

Hey Kon—is everything all right?

I can have someone cover the rest of my watch if need be.

Kon

no, all good

apparently mr. wayne’s lawyers are On It

whatever that means in rich people speak

sorry if you like. get asked about this by the press lol

like we weren’t trying for a photo op but i should’ve heard the drone earlier

Clark

This isn’t your fault.

And I’m sure Bruce’s lawyers will have it sorted out by morning

Kon

yeah that’s basically what tim said

Text message: Jon & Conner

[Saturday, 10:23pm ET]

Jon

Ok the live is gone now

Also pa’s asking where u are what do i tell him

I think i have to tell him the truth he sounds worried because earlier i said u went to rescue someone n you haven’t come back

I can’t lie about this i feel bad :(

oh i just heard your window open nvm !!

Conner

all good kiddo, thanks for looking out

in tim & bruce’s conversation, there was a longer section about tim leaning into the “socialite” civilian role, which included the following exchange:

“Like…Paris Fashion Week?” Tim says. That’s always a big one for Bruce Wayne to be caught ducking into dressing rooms with various models.

Bruce gives him a flat look. “You are welcome to attend Paris Fashion Week. Chaperoned.”

tim’s instagram post originally had comments:

briancollinsss i KNEW i saw superboy at car’s party!!!

jerseygirlsteph 👅👅👅

itsanickname_grayson Hope you stayed safe up there!

chapter 5

this exchange in the flashback at the top of chapter 5 was cut/altered for flow, but i still like it:

“Okay,” Tim had said. “And, um, if you can’t come get me, is there a plan B?”

“I will come for you,” Bruce repeated, at the same time Dick called: “Superman.”

extra banter (co-brainstormed by @tigerjpg) that got cut because it didn’t quite keep with the tone, but i still adore it:

“I’m not perfect, anyway,” Kon says. “I snore. Maybe next time make a specimen who doesn’t snore.”

“Sometimes his sneezes register on the Richter Scale,” Tim says.

“And I have a crooked tooth, though honestly that might be from the time I slammed face-first into a volcano.”

“He also thinks wearing sunglasses at night is cool.”

and a bit later, also cut for tone/flow:

“[…] Hey, how unhinged about eugenics do you have to be for Cadmus to send you packing as an intern?”

Cadmus. Did Kon—did he tell Tim the name Cadmus, earlier? He can’t remember—he doesn’t think he did—but it doesn’t matter, because his thoughts scatter as the guy whirls on Tim. The rod comes up, jams under Tim’s jaw, pressing into the side of his neck. Not on yet, but it could be. Kon freezes; Tim doesn’t react except to go rigid, still tracking the guy with his eyes.

“Tell me honestly,” Cadmus guy says, lip curling as he looks sideways to address Kon. “Do you even like this one, or was kissing him the only way you could get him to shut up?”

Kon’s heart pounds in his throat. “You’re so…obsessed with my dating life, dude,” he says. Every moment the guy is looking at him feels like one less moment the rod might switch on. “Sorry, but you’re a bit old for me.”

and i have some extra core four shenanigans that probably won’t fit into chapter 6 at this point, but i’ll wait til i’m done to share that 💪

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Carpe Noctem 1

Warnings: dark elements, noncon, age gap, other dark elements. Proceed with caution. (short!reader)

Note: thank you for waiting! Please let me know what you think as it helps me a lot with ideas and I love interacting with you all.

Part of The Club AU

The condensation of the glass drips from your fingers.. You hate the feeling, slick and slightly irritating. You switch hands as you sway to the music, penned in by strangers as you try to see past them. You’re a bit awkward, off on your own, but no one seems to notice as you stand nearly a head below the rest of clubbers.

You stand on your toes but it doesn’t help. The music and the haze of voices doesn’t help your search. You yipe as you feel a tug on your arm. You turn to Sabrina and Selena, the tall blondes with cocktails as identical as they are. The twins are stunning individually, but together, they’re gobsmackingly gorgeous. And, you must admit, chaotic.

“Where did you two get off to?” You yell over the music.

“Mom!” Selena teases as she rolls her eyes.

“Someone has to keep an eye on you two.”

“We were just getting drinks, duh!” Sabrina shows her bright pink cocktail and takes a slurp through the skinny straw.

“Right,” you look at your ginger ale, the ice has already melted. Responsible and bland, just like you. Designated driver and designated mom friend. “I’m sure that’s all you were doing.”

“Well,” Selena smirks, “we did meet a guy.”

“Really?” You tilt your head sardonically, “you said this was a girls’ night. No dudes.”

“Relax, we know Johnny would have a fit, alright? It’s not like that, we’d just go up for the drinks.”

“You have drinks,” you counter, “and go up where?”

“Private room,” Sabrina says, “come on, don’t be a sourpuss! When’s the last time you went to a private room?”

You almost snarl. They know you aren’t the club sort and it’s obvious you don’t have the looks to be invited up to some playboys crow’s nest. Besides, it gives you the ick. Those men standing up there leering from the windows like some deranged lookouts.

“Are you asking me or telling me?” You rebuff.

“Come on, pleeeeaaaaassseeee,” Sabrina pouts, “we promise, we’re not going to hook up. We’re just going to flirt our way into bottle service.”

“Look, you come up and we’ll pay for the uber. Since we won’t be paying for booze, we’ll be able to afford it,” Selena winks.

“I don’t really…” you sigh. It’s two against one, as always. Even if you wanted to drink, you know you can’t. You have to keep an eye on these two. “Fine, but I mean it. No hook ups. And I don’t want to be up there all night.”

“Yessss!” Selena throws her fist up.

“Ugh, you guys,” you roll your eyes, “you make me feel like a bitch.”

“No, you’re just the responsible one,” Sabrina chuckles and turns on her heel, “come on! Before someone else takes our spot.”

“Are you sure… it’s okay that I’m with you?” You ask as you trail after them, speaking to the end of their long ponytails.

“Of course, we said we had a third. Just… play along.”

“Play along? What does that mean?”

“You don’t have to make out with anyone but like, don’t be frigid.”

“You are making me regret my decision already,” you retort.

“Come on. You can handle it. You’ve never had any issue giving a guy a swat. He gets too handsy and–” she flicks her hand above her shoulder so you can see, “give him one.”

You hold back your complaints. You know once the twins have their minds set, there’s not changing them. All you can do is act as chaperone and make sure they don’t get too messy.

You follow them to a set of spiral stairs and climb up behind them, balancing your ginger ale perilously as you refuse to look down and see the height building below you. Sabrina leads the way, striding up to a door with a golden snake on it. She knocks and peeks over her shoulder, giving a wink. 

It opens and a man appears, clean shaven with neatly parted hair, a glint in his blue eyes as he smirks at Sabrina.

“Selena?” He asks.

“I’m Sab,” she chides.

“Ah, I’ll figure it out,” he kids, “come in.”

He leaves the door open as Sabrina enters, then Selena, and you reluctantly bring up the rear. The music is muffled by the walls as you do and your ears feel ready to pop. You take a drink of your soda to hide your discomfort. 

“Twins,” another man muses. He sits on the sofa, an arm across the back. A satin shirt is unbuttoned way too low on his chest, the mustache adding to the allusion to Tom Selleck several decades ago. 

You’re used to being overshadowed by the twins. You really don’t mind given the circumstance, you have a boyfriend. You nurse the ginger ale as a third man approaches; tall, blonde, and sleek in a powder blue jacket. Probably the best looking of the trio.

“Jonathan,” he introduces himself to the twins.

“Sabrina and Selena,” the man who answered the door stretches his arms around the twins’ waists.

“And our friend,” Selena makes sure to introduce you, waving you forward.

“Ah, pardon.”

“This is Ransom,” Sabrina leans into the man between them.

The man from the couch says nothing, almost scowling as he watches Selena, her eyes on Jonathan as she accepts a polite kiss on the cheek. Yep, doesn’t feel great to be third wheel, though it saves you a lot of trouble.

The girls fall into a low conversation with Ransom and Jonathan. You hover and hesitate before sitting on the other end of the couch, staring at the bubbles rising to the top of your soda. Awkward.

“Couldn’t have found triplets,” the man grumbles as he twists a golden ring on his finger.

“Sorry to disappoint,” you snip.

He looks at you, almost surprised to find you there. His cheek twitches and he sighs, pushing himself up with the armrest. “I need a fucking drink.”

So much for pretenses. You watch him go to the small bar in the corner and you turn your attention to the windows flashing with a spectrum of lights. It’s not entirely unexpected for the night to take this turn, you were just hoping it wouldn’t.

[crisalidaseason]

From Parapet to Threshing - Tairn's POV

Summary: In which we see Tairn's thoughts as he chaperones Andarna and ends up gaining a rider in the process (from Parapet to Threshing) CW: Tairn being a girl dad, Andarna being an iconic feathertail, Spoilers for Fourth wing, Set in book 1, Sgaeyl is mother, one suggestive line (mdni), also this is a bit more than 4k words

A grumble was his only response to the hatchling beside him.

“I sense your impatience” Sgaeyl’s low voice echoed in Tairn’s head, managing to inflame his growing irritation.

“How am I supposed to be patient when the Golden one will not cease her pestering!”

“She is young, you were her age once” his mate countered.

“I do not recall being this insolent”

The sound of Sgaeyl’s amusement rumbled in his head, still low considering the distance between the two mates.

“Then your memory is finally catching up to your age” Sgaeyl teased “what is it that she wants?”

Train chuffed at her response.

“I want to fly outside the vale” the younger voice intruded in the conversation.

Train huffed once more, leaving his mate to deal with the antics of the hatchling. He had heard enough of her incessant demands to leave safety.

“You will not do such thing!” his mate commanded “you are not to leave the Vale”

“I could go with you” Andarna’s voice was small “Your rider needs your presence today, let me join”

“I will not repeat myself, you will not fly above the Vale!” Sgaeyl's impatience was evident.

There was a reason for Tairn being the one to deal with the hatchling’s tantrums more often, Sgaeyl had a temper unmatched.

“I have said so for the past hour” Tairn complained “She does not listen, as per usual”

Andarna’s upset growl was the last thing she spoke before closing herself for communication.

“Watch over her” Sgaeyl muttered “knowing this little one, she will attempt to fly on her own”

“Of course, I shall happily chaperone the hatchling as if that was my greatest duty” Tairn’s voice dripped in sarcasm.

Sgaeyl did nothing but huff at him, but mind at rest knowing Tairn would watch over Andarna either way since - as a bonded dragon - his mate often did not have time to teach and care for the young dragon. Tairn watched as the golden scales disappeared inside the cave guarding the other hatchlings and decided to rest near the entrance, waiting for the chance Andarna decided to test him yet again. He watched with familiarity as the morning shine disappeared and storm clouds formed in the sky, the droplets of water hitting his scales, not a good omen for the humans crossing the death bridge.

“Was it raining that day?” Andarna’s voice was quiet.

“I’ve lived many days” he replied, already sure of her meaning.

“The day your last rider crossed the bridge”

Tairn let a puff of steam out of his lungs.

“I do not wish to speak of him” he warned.

“Just this question, please” she pleaded “I will not bother you after”

He highly doubted it, but decided to indulge just this once.

“If I answer, you shall not ask more about it”

“I will not” the hatchling promised.

“It was raining, but not as much as this morning. Question answered, now rest!”

She remained silent, but Tairn could sense worry before her communication severed. Her behavior was new - it had been strange lately. She was insistent to explore outside the Vale, restless, asking about Sgaeyl’s bond with her rider with insistence.

“I am returning” Sgaeyl’s voice echoed a few hours later “the humans are done with their ritualistic death bridge”

Her navy scales soon emerged from the still storm filled sky, landing soundly beside Tairn and encouraging other dragons to keep their distance.

“Torched any frail human out of amusement today?” he asked.

“I have not” she replied, taking offense “I have restraint”

Tairn let out a huff of laughter. She had as much restraint as Andarna.

“Yes, do insult me” she hissed “I’ll have you take Andarna hunting for the entire waning moon”

The black dragon quickly let go of his courageous teasing, Sgaeyl was a dragon of honor and words. His mate soon joined their resting place, the black dragon lifting one of his massive wings to fit her frame under. He laid his head over her neck, chest rumbling with her proximity.

“There are many strong humans this year” she said after a moment of silence.

The black dragon let a puff of steam into the air, the heat mixing with the cold droplets of water.

“I will not bond Sgaeyl” his tone was firm “he was my last”

“The war is near, you are a war dragon” Sgaeyl snarls.

Tairn saw no point to that discussion - a conversation both of them repeatedly had over the last years. He knew how it would end and decided that sharing bitter words was not something he wanted that day, the rain brought too many unpleasant memories. His massive frame carefully moved around Sgaeyl’s, untangling himself from her and preparing to fly.

“You will fly away again”

“You know my decision better than any other” he said “It was my choice then and it remains my choice now. I will not take another rider”

With that, Tairn stood to his full height and spread his wings, flying away to the mountains. A common behavior whenever the subject was brought up yet again by elders and his mate. He had taken a last chance, a choice that left him scarred and almost took his last breath. He would fight when the time came, but he would never relive the pain of losing another rider ever again.

______

“Speak some sense into her mind!” Sgaeyl’s voice was loud, commanding.

“You think I have not tried?” he replied “not only has she forsaken my words, but successfully managed to have the elders allow her to see the humans”

Andarna’s latest victory still rattled in Tairn’s mind. He did not know what possessed the young dragon to wish to be near the unbonded humans, curiosity certainly not being the sole reason. All he could do was accept once the elders allowed her to participate in the presentation. He had asked the golden dragon about her reasoning for such recklessness countless times before, but none of her answers were satisfactory.

“The little one is naive if she thinks she can bond at that age” Sgaeyl worry flew through their bond “she cannot possibly plan to do so”

Tairn would not put past Andarna to disobey the rules, the dread settled in his gut thinking about it. A hatchling with her abilities bonding with a greedy human would be destructive to her and all feathertails.

“I will watch over her, to be certain she won’t approach the humans” Sgaeyl’s verdict seemed certain enough “my rider will not need me”

“I will be minutes away” he guaranteed.

Later that afternoon, he saw through his mate’s eyes as the small feathertail kept her distance while the humans walked. The golden dragon seemed disinterested, resting on the ground. Tairn wondered if she was only curious after all, if seeing the humans proved to be below her expectations and soon her desire to explore would subside…until she perked up and stood in complete attention. Her tail moved from side to side, her head lowered near the ground - following the humans intently with her eyes.

“What is it?” Tairn demanded “Andarna!”

But the feathertail did not reply, nor did she pay Sgaeyl any attention either.

“She is watching the smaller female” his mate replied instead “the one who smells of blood”

He could not smell the blood from the distance, but Sgaeyl provided him with the perfect view of the woman. She was smaller than her other peers, hands covered in dark cloth, an unusual silver color in her hair. The small human took notice of Andarna with as much intensity as the feathertail. Andarna’s interest was evident as she followed the human with her golden gaze, taking a small step towards the human.

“Golden one!” Train’s voice was louder and authoritative “do not approach!”

“Who the hell would bond that thing?” a human male said, pointing at Andarna.

Tairn’s chest grumbled a threat. Insolent human.

“They can hear you” the silver woman warned.

The humans kept speaking about the feathertail, trying to understand her presence. Two of the humans were more than deserving of scorching.

“I shall have the pleasure” Sgaeyl growls.

“You should totally bond it, Sorrengail. You’re both freakishly weak. It’s a match made in heaven” the man taunted the silver one.

“Burn him first” Andarna’s voice was full of fury “She is not weak”

Her words rattled in his head, proving the suspicion that her interest was not on the humans, but one human only. He would have to discuss it with Sgaeyl later.

“It looks powerful enough to burn you to death” the silver woman answered the man’s words.

Another man rushed to the insolent one, wisely and aggressively warning him of the dragons nearby. They all began discussing, attentive of the danger surrounding them. Tairn was not one to bother listening to humans, but the insolent one had his full attention with the next words.

“Someone should kill it before it bonds. It’s just going to get its rider killed, and it’s not like we get a choice if it wants to bond us”

Sgaeyl and Tairn growled at the same time. This human would not bond and neither live, the black dragon would see that it happened. He wondered for a few seconds if he should fly to the canyon and scorch the human himself.

“You know what it means if you come here” Sgaeyl said, her attention mostly on her mate at that moment.

Train grumbled, knowing well what his presence in front of the humans would mean for the elders. He would not bond, nor give them reasons to believe so.

“I can have others burn him” he simply grumbled.

“Sgaeyl could” Andarna replied.

“I might, though my rider would suffer the consequences” the navy dragon murmured.

Sgaeyl hid her disappointment fast enough not to subdue their attention to the humans. They returned to their stroll after the tense moment. Train watched attentively as the silver human spoke with her comrades, mostly chattering until her next words.

“I mean, it could be worse. We could be walking past a line of wyvern, right?”

Tairn went rigid and he felt Sgaeyl’s mutual feelings settling in their bond.

“Could she know?” Andarna whispered, but none of the adult dragons replied.

“Oh please, Violet, do give us one of your nervous-babble story times” another woman scorns “Let me guess. Wyvern are some elite squad of gryphon riders created because of something we did at a battle only you can manage to remember with your scribe brain”

“You don’t know what a wyvern is?” another asked “Didn’t your parents tell you bedtime stories, Luca?”

“Do enlighten me”

“They’re folklore” the silver one answered “Kind of like dragons but bigger, with two feet instead of four, a mane of razor-sharp feathers streaking down their necks, and a taste for humans. Unlike dragons, who think we’re a little gamey”

“She does not” Tairn confirmed.

Her description was accurate for someone who believed it to be bedtime stories. Suddenly, he shared a small part of Andarna’s interest in the small human.

“I can feel your interest” his mate commented, but he remained silent.

The silver human reminisced in a childhood tale, one full of the said folklore. Andarna was unusually quiet, only observing the her as much as Tairn was.

“Yegdra” Sgaeyl quickly warned.

Tairn could see as the red swordtail stepped out of the dragon line and approached the humans.

“No!” Andarna screamed “Do not hurt her”

“Andarna, do not interfere!” Tairn warned.

Yegdra was quick to breathe fire into a weakling man within the group. The black dragon tried his best to conceal his relief that the silver one still stood - alive. Andarna would have been devastated otherwise, he convinced himself.

Though the feeling was short lived.

Two green dragons walked towards the small woman, who was recklessly distracted by another human. As soon as she turned, the fear in her eyes was evident - though she masked it well. They breathed steam onto her, and Tairn could feel the apprehension in Andarna’s non-coherent words. The dragons quickly assessed the silver one’s hands.

“I cut my hands climbing the obstacle course” her tone was nervous, but clear.

They continued their assessment, smelling her midsection attentively. Tairn silently urged the woman to continue her speech, indulge the dragons.

“You smell Teine, don’t you?” her voice was firmer than before “I’m Mira’s sister, Violet. She collected Teine’s scales after he shed them last year and had them shrunk down so she could sew them into the vest to help keep me safe”

She spoke to them, whispering a few more sentences before they let her return to her stroll. He listened as she laughed a few times while assuring her companions, but her laughter held no arrogance.

“Have you quenched your curiosity, little one?” Sgaeyl asked.

Andarna’s excitement was all the answer she gave and he now was certain of her attachment to the silver woman.

“Andarnaurram” his voice was gentle, yet firm “you shall not bond, you know it”

Her shimmering golden frame sunk. He felt no pleasure in her sorrow, but he could not allow the hatchling to bond, even if the woman was seemingly honorable enough, the dangers were too much of a risk to take. The turbulent irritation coming from the other side of his bond assured him Sgaeyl shared his despair.

______

“What do you know of the woman?” Train asked.

Sgaeyl’s left eye opened, staring into his, the dark moonless night doing nothing to dull their shimmer. Her tail slowly stroked his left hind leg, careful not to harm his scales.

“I know enough. Against my will, of course ” she replied “my rider has an invested interest in her despite their family matters”

Tairn huffed at her answer.

“Spare me of your rider’s lust-tainted opinions, what do you see?”

“A fragile body, she is easily breakable. Though I must admit she is intelligent, observant, courageous albeit naive and reckless as you have noticed today” she replied “also trustworthy in keeping my rider’s secrets”

He felt as his mate sent him images of her, blurry considering it was her rider’s inferior sight that composed most of the memories. One of them caught his attention, pale eyes locking briefly with Sgaeyl’s as his mate assessed her from the roof of a courtyard. Sgaeyl shared with him the smell of fear and determination, the steadiness despite the intimidating actions of the navy blue dragon. Not many stood still under his mate’s gaze.

“Many share the woman’s qualities and flaws” Tairn spoke “there must be another reason for Andarna’s interest”

“Indeed, but we will not know because the little one will not bond” Sgaeyl’s gave her ultimatum “I might not sense greed or cruelty on the woman, but I will not trust her with Andarna’s bond”

__________

“I will watch over her” Sgaeyl said to him as she prepared to fly to her rider.

Andarna exhaled happiness that morning. Tairn noticed as she ate carelessly, too ecstatic to focus on her sustenance in a proper way. The black dragon remained silent, still livid at the elders who allowed her to watch the humans in their hunt for a dragon. Despite his and Sgaeyl’s attempts at warning the elders, the result was far from satisfactory.

“She shall not bond now, she will be of no use for her rider until fully grown” their words were nothing but mere advice.

“I still wish you rethink your decisions, Golden one” the black dragon said as they flew from the vale.

“I just want to see her” she replied with her softest voice “I will behave”

Tairn grumbled. Andarna and behavior were only similar if there was mischief involved.

“You must listen to Sgaeyl, if she orders you to leave, do so” he warned “I will be near should you not obey her”

She huffed at Tairn as a reply.

“I will be minutes away” he sent to his mate “do not hesitate to call me”

He accompanied Andarna half of the way as she flew to the forest below, he landed behind the cover of the mountains, expectant to any danger or disobeyment from the young dragon.

“Remember what I said, Golden one” he grumbled one last time “observe only, do not draw attention”

“I know” she replied, unfocused on his words as the humans began their race.

The sun moved slowly in the sky, with every passing hour feeding into Tairn’s impatience. He called Sgaeyl through his bond, feeling her growing irritation.

“She exposes herself!” her words were menacing.

Through her eyes, Tairn saw as Andarna caught the sunshine with her golden scales, becoming a beacon of light to whomever noticed.

“As if she would listen to a word I say” Tairn growled.

“Tairn! My rider says three humans wish to harm herl” His mate’s panic swim through the bond, fueling the black dragon’s fury.

“Andarna, enough!” He growled “return with me to the vale this instant!”

The golden dragon refused to comply, laying on the grass with her head attentive to the treeline.

“I will end this” Sgaeyl snarls “we should have forbidden her, the elders could rot in their verdict”

He sensed as Sgaeyl flew closer to him, sharing her sight as she landed behind a treeline encasing the clearing in which the hatchling sunbathed.

“Andarna, I will not repeat myself. Fly to Tairn!” his mate’s voice was stern, but Andarna did not move.

Movement from the opposite side of the treeline captured the blue dragon’s attention. The silver one hid within the trees.

“You have to get out of here!” her voice is low, but enough for Sgaeyl and Andarna to hear “They’re going to kill you if you don’t leave!”

Tairn watched attentively through Sgaeyl. Maybe the stubborn hatchling would actually listen-

Of course not. Andarna remained seated, her head tilting as she watched the woman curiously.

“Yes! You! Goldie!” the woman insisted.

“Golden one, return! Other humans wish to hurt you” Tairn warned again, preparing to fly.

“They are already here” Sgaeyl growled, but desperation painted her words “I cannot interfere, Tairn, my rider is bound by the human laws”

Three men broke through the treeline, armed with blades. Andarna had at least the sane mind to growl at them, assuming a defensive position.

“We’ll make it painless” one of the men spoke.

“Tairn!”

He began his ascent through the mountains, rocks crumbling under his talons as he gradually gained momentum to fly as fast as possible. Another growl from Sgaeyl caught his attention.

“Reckless woman!” his mate snarled.

Tairn focused on his mate’s sight for a brief moment, seeing as the silver haired woman stood in front of Andarna with small blades in hand. Her steps carefully measured, but clearly strained in his advanced sight.

“You’re going to have to get through me, then” the woman’s voice echoed through their bond.

“The silver one is injured” Tairn warned “put your rider to use within his limits until I arrive!”

He finally flew over the mountain, his wings wildly beating as he seeked the gold color amongst the sea of green. With the clearing in sight, he watched from above as the three men ran to attack, which impulsed the dragon to fly even faster. The small silver woman returned the aggression viciously, quick and calculated movements despite the injury.

“One of them fled, but she cannot hold much longer” Sgaeyl said “fly faster!”

He would deal with the insult at his speed on a later occasion. Tairn dived to the clearing, in time to see one of the attackers unconscious and the other wounded. The silver woman’s scarlet blood painted her side but he noticed that Andarna seemed unharmed. His rage boiled inside his guts, seeing as the coward man intended to strike the unarmed woman for protecting one of his kin. He recognized the man as the one who threatened Andarna’s life before. He growled in pleasure. He would burn the insolent low life himself.

“I knew you would come” the hatchling’s voice was ringing with joy “she intends to die for me, do not let it happen!”

Tairn was right above them as the man cowardly prepared to strike. The black dragon landed, the ground trembling under his weight and the wind disorienting everyone in the clearing. Tairn did not hesitate as he reached for the woman’s mind, the silver strands of her mind quickly entangling with his as if expecting it since the beginning of times.

“Tairn!” Sgaeyl’s tone was unmistakably surprised.

“Not now” he replied.

“Step aside, Silver One” he spoke sternly in the woman’s mind, eyes on the despicable man in front of his massive form.

Did he just speak to me? Her voice echoed in his head in return. He almost sighed in frustration, who else would he speak with?

“Yes. You. Move” he ordered.

The silver woman stumbled away and he did not hesitate to open his maw and breathe the most searing fire he could muster upon the running man. When the threat was burnt out of existence, he turned his golden eyes to the small woman below him - now his rider. She was bleeding profusely from her arms, her weight focused on her uninjured foot. In her face, disbelief was evident. Tairn noticed the unconscious man on the ground, still breathing.

“You should end the enemy at your feet” he advised.

“I can’t kill an unconscious man” she shouted, shaking her head.

“He would kill you if given the same chance”

She studied the man, hesitant.

“Well, that’s a statement on his character. Not mine”

Tairn blinked at her. Courageous and fierce enough to defend a dragon - who was safe from harm considering Sgaeyl and Tairn were near - but naive to let an enemy live to see another sunrise. He would have to deal with her naivety later, for now her intelligence and bravery would be more than enough.

“You bonded the woman” Sgaeyl spoke again.

“I am aware” he replied “I made my choice”

His mate flew past them, leaving him and his rider to complete the human ritual. The amount of blood pooling around her feet was alarming, he would not have an unconscious rider.

“You’re bleeding. Stop it” he warned.

“It’s not that simple when you’ve been run through with a—” she began arguing “You know what? That’s a great idea”

She wrapped her arm with torn cloth, a practiced motion. He noticed her hands were still bound.

“There. Better?” she said, looking at him almost defiantly. He understood the recklessness.

“It will do” he replied “Your hands are bound, too. Do you bleed often?”

The woman looked at her wrapped hands, bittersweet features on her exhausted face.

“I try not to” she answered.

Tairn let out a dissatisfied sound. Reckless woman, indeed. He would have to build her self-preservation.

“Let’s go, Violet Sorrengail” He simply said, ready to be done with the theatrics of human events. Andarna - who was safely shielding under his wing finally left her hiding spot, her joy barely contained as she watched the scene unfold.

“How do you know my name?” she asked in surprise.

Tairn sighed in annoyance and frustration, disturbing the trees in the process.

“And to think, I’d almost forgotten just how loquacious humans are. Get on my back”

“Get on your back? Have you seen you? Do you have any idea how huge you are?”

“Be patient!” Andarna’s voice was pleading “she is new to this!”

Tairn grumbled and narrowed his eyes in annoyance to the human girl.

“One does not live a century without being well aware of the space one takes up. Now get on” he wanted this to be over, and soon!

Unfortunately, his new rider seemed to test him just as much as the hatchling he took under his care.

“I can’t just leave it. What if Oren wakes up or Jack comes back?” she argued once more, pointing at Andarna.

“Will you fly so the silver one and I can be done with this?” he warned the smaller dragon.

Andarna quickly took flight, to the surprise of his rider.

“Get. On” he growled, patience already running thin.

“You don’t want me” she spoke once more “I’m—”

“I’m not going to tell you again” his voice is a command.

At least that time she did listen. Though he knew that would be a rare occasion.

[fantasyescapes17]

Wings (Part 2)

Your debut in society was as spectacular as one could be, but nobody had prepared you for what came afterward. When you find yourself overwhelmed during your very first season and unable to keep up with the rat race to secure yourself an eligible husband, a curious mentor appears- in the form of notorious flirt and self-proclaimed rake, Mr. Kim Mingyu.

Genre: Mingyu x Female!reader. Regency!AU .You are Jeonghan's sibling so your last name is Yoon but the reader has no other physical characteristics.

Warnings: Discussions of social anxiety, smoking (don't smoke kids, the characters in this story are from a time when they didn't know how bad it was for their health)

Word Count: 5k+

Part 1 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

Series Masterlist [You WILL need to read Patience, the earlier installment in this series first in order to understand the character dynamics in this story. Reading Candle before this is also strongly recommended.]

Your mother's habit of playing cards at Mrs. Patty's home multiple afternoons per week provided a convenient opportunity for Mr. Kim to call on you and impart his wisdom.

Despite your ankle not being fully recovered, you were in dire need of some fresh air. Mr. Kim was kind enough to lend you an arm so that you could hobble down into the garden and sit down at a bench for your first mentoring session. 

Your sister-in-law the watchful chaperone, sat underneath an oak tree not far away, just out of earshot and with a book in her hands. 

"Well, Miss Yoon," Mr. Kim began. He reached into his jacket and pulled out a single rose attached to a long stem. "In celebration of our new courtship, I thought perhaps you might like one of these."

Your eyes widened as he handed you the flower. 

"O-oh," you said shyly, taking it from him. "Thank you."

"Of course, a mere rose is nothing compared to your famed beauty, but I suppose we must give the rose some credit for trying," he continued smoothly.

Your cheeks turned hot at his bold words. Mr. Kim had a playful smile on his face but you turned your gaze away from him, unable to meet his twinkling eyes. 

He chuckled and leaned back on the bench.

"I see we have a long way to go," Mr. Kim noted. He spread his arm out on the benchrest behind you. "Allow me to begin today's first lesson. Flirtation is nothing but a game, Miss Yoon, and the sooner you see it that way, the sooner you will be able to master the game and not allow it to overwhelm you."

You swallowed and nodded. "I see."

"This game,” he continued, "is lost the moment you allow your opponent to render you genuinely flustered- as you are now. Do you consider yourself to be more beautiful than a rose?"

You blinked in surprise at the sudden question. "No, no, of course not-"

"Well, you should. Before entering into a conversation with a gentleman, you must first consider yourself to be the most beautiful, precious, magnificent creature that walks this earth. Your vanity must be so enormous that nothing the gentleman says can truly flatter or embarrass you."

You stared at him in disbelief. "Mr. Kim, that sounds very strange and rude. Young ladies are supposed to be humble."

Mingyu tsk-ed. "And how has humility helped you thus far?"

"Not well," you admitted quietly. "But vanity does not seem a much better option."

"Doesn't it?" he challenged you. "I want you to say out loud I am more beautiful than a rose."

"I cannot possibly-"

"Humour me, Miss Yoon. I am more beautiful than a rose," he repeated. "Say it."

You took a deep breath. This felt rather nonsensical, and you were beginning to doubt whether Mr. Kim Mingyu was entirely right in the head. But your sister-in-law was sitting not far away and if she trusted him, then you would try to do what he asked. 

"I am more beautiful than a rose," you mumbled. 

"Louder."

"I am more beautiful than a rose," you repeated, with a little more volume. Your hands were fidgeting in your lap and you were avoiding Mr. Kim's gaze. 

"Once more."

"I am more beautiful than a rose."

"Look at me when you say it." 

You forced yourself to look into Mr. Kim's dark, twinkling eyes. He seemed to be delighting in your discomfort. There was a hint of annoyance in your tone when you repeated the phrase again- it was empty words coming out of your mouth now, and seemed to be losing its meaning. 

"I am more beautiful than a rose!" you said firmly. 

Mr. Kim nodded. He leaned a little closer to you, his dark eyes never wavering from yours. 

"Miss Yoon," he said softly. "You are more beautiful than a rose."

You did not even blink. 

He leaned back and grinned triumphantly. "See! You were not flustered or shy when I said it this time! You could perhaps have looked a little less irritated, but we will address that problem separately. The point remains- I paid you a flirtatious compliment and you were not embarrassed.”

"That is not because I believed it to be true!" you protested hotly. "It is only because you made me say it so many times that it was less surprising!"

"Repetition breeds familiarity," Mingyu explained to you simply, "and with time, familiarity can blend in with the hard truth."

You blinked at him. "By which you mean to tell me that I should repeat this strange compliment to myself until I grow confused enough to believe it."

"Precisely."

You sighed and looked up at the handsome gentleman sitting beside you. He was onto something, certainly, but you were still not convinced that this would solve your problem. 

"Your methods are rather strange, Mr. Kim," you mumbled. 

Mr. Kim did not seem offended. He merely smiled and flashed his perfect teeth at you once more. His easy-going and playful nature made it much easier for you to be more open in the way you spoke to him. 

"You will understand in time, Miss Yoon. You only need to trust me. Allow me to give you another example. Your dress is blue."

You raised an eyebrow at Mr. Kim and looked down at your gown- indeed, you were wearing a pastel blue summer gown. You looked back up at him and nodded. 

"Yes," you said warily. "I suppose it is."

"The blue in your dress makes you shine brighter than the sun," he continued with a teasing smile. You were well aware that Mr. Kim was trying to elicit a reaction from you this time- but you could not help it. The flirtatious words said in his deep voice caused you to break eye contact with him and avert your eyes shyly. 

"I-thank you," you said quickly, but you knew it was too late. You had lost. 

Mr. Kim raised an eyebrow. "It is your turn to tell me why one of those statements elicited a different response from you than the other."

You sighed. 

"Because the first one was something I already knew to be true, and the second was something that I didn't really believe," you admitted. 

Mr. Kim beamed. "Excellent!"

"I think I understand the point you are trying to make," you told him patiently. "In order to not be flustered or caught off guard by compliments I must indulge my vanity and consider them to be true. Then I will be able to receive the compliment more calmly."

"Correct. In short, I want you to be more confident," Mr. Kim affirmed. He stretched his arms out in front of him lazily and leaned further back in his seat. "Enough of that. Now- tell me what went wrong on the night of the Duchess of Graham's ball."

You bit your lip. "I would rather not relive that nightmare."

"You must if we are to assess how to prevent it from happening again," he pressed gently. "Perhaps you should take some time to think about what triggered your anxiety that evening. But I will not overwhelm you with too many lessons in a single sitting. Once your ankle is healed, will you join me for afternoon tea at the teahouse near the assembly rooms?"

You nodded, relieved that he was not pushing you further. "Yes- I should be glad to."

"Then I shall leave you with an assignment to complete in the meantime," Mr. Kim said with a smile. He reached into his inner coat pocket and pulled out a small sheet of paper. "Stand in front of the mirror and read each of these out ten times before you go to bed."

You took the paper and unfolded it. It contained a list of flirtatious sentences- ranging from simple, realistic ones such as You are the most beautiful woman in the room this evening to more bold and outrageous ones such as The light in your eyes is brighter than the twinkling of all the stars in the night sky.

You stared at him in disbelief. "Mr. Kim! You cannot be serious!'

"Repetition breeds familiarity," he reminded you. "What you hold there is my most precious collection. I do not give it to you lightly- many bachelors of the ton would kill for a glimpse at that sheet. I hope you will keep it safe."

You frowned and tucked the paper away. "I assure you; your collection of rehearsed compliments is quite safe with me."

"Then we shall meet soon. At the teahouse."

Mr. Kim bid his goodbyes and left before your sister-in-law approached you. Her book was abandoned on the grass and her eyes looked a little drowsy; you had a sudden feeling that perhaps she had been napping under the tree instead of reading. 

"Well?" she asked. "How was your first lesson with Mr. Kim?"

"I cannot tell if he is brilliant or mad."

She laughed. 

"A common problem with men," she said as she took your arm to help you back indoors. "But I am sure everything will reveal itself in time."

—------------------------------------------------------------

You dutifully completed the assignment Mr. Kim had given you. You stood in front of your mirror once the rest of the household had gone to bed, and recited the compliments on his list. It felt silly at first, but you were surprised by how quickly you grew used to them. 

Mr. Kim Mingyu was a strange man indeed, but he was right about one thing- repetition caused familiarity which made you more comfortable, and less nervous, with the idea of a gentleman saying these words to you. You began to daydream of a handsome, faceless gentleman whispering these sweet compliments in your ear….

But of course. 

There were other problems to surmount. 

"Mr. Kim Mingyu?" your mother demanded with a displeased frown. "He has asked you to have tea with him at the teahouse, you say? What do we know about this young man?"

"I have heard he is an only son," you said anxiously. "And that he has a very large estate near where the Chois live."

Your mother huffed. She turned to your sister-in-law, who was sitting at a table nearby and silently writing a letter. "And you?" your mother asked her accusingly. "What do you think of him?"

Your sister-in-law looked up and blinked. "I have heard that Mr. Kim is a rake and has a bit of a gambling problem."

Your eyes widened. Her plan had been to encourage this fake courtship with Mr. Kim, not give your mother a reason to oppose it! But you discovered moments later that your sister-in-law was far cleverer than you. 

"Nonsense," your mother said. Her pride would not allow her to agree with your sister-in-law on any matter. "Perhaps he has simply not found a woman captivating enough to retain his attention- and what young man does not play a little cards for entertainment? I think it is perfectly acceptable for you to meet him at the teahouse this afternoon."

"Thank you, mother-"

"But I will chaperone," your mother said firmly. "You may sit at a different table but I will be keeping my eyes on this Mr. Kim."

You sighed. "Yes, mother."

Your ankle was fully healed but still a little stiff when you finally made your way down to the teahouse with your mother. Mr. Kim was waiting by the entrance and he made a grand gesture of kissing your gloved hand. 

"You look quite radiant this afternoon, Miss Yoon," Mr. Kim greeted you with a handsome smile. The phrase was one of the lines from his sheet, and you were more amused than embarrassed at the sound of the familiar words.

"Thank you, Mr. Kim," you replied politely. 

"And Mrs. Yoon- of course, madam, you must permit me to say that it is very evident where your daughter gets her unrivalled beauty," Mr. Kim flattered her. Your mother was highly susceptible to flattery of this nature. She giggled. 

"How very kind, Mr. Kim. I see you are quite the polite young gentleman!"

"Thank you, Mrs. Yoon. May I seek your permission to have a cup of tea with your daughter?" Mr. Kim asked. 

"Of course- you may both find a table for yourselves. I shall be nearby, I see Mrs. Grisham and Mrs. Hessington over there…"

Your mother left to join some older women at their table and Mr. Kim led you to another table near the wall; it was still within sight of your mother, but well out of earshot. He gracefully pulled out your chair for you. 

"You received my compliment well," he noted with a grin. 

You raised an eyebrow at him. "I had heard it so many times before. It was on your sheet. I am sure you knew perfectly well that it would not affect me."

"I was merely testing to see if you completed my assignment," he replied lightly. He sat down across from you- Mr. Kim was almost too tall to fit in the dainty little chairs and miniature tea tables at the teahouse. His long legs were forced to stretch out awkwardly to the side. You held back a giggle as he poured you a cup of tea. 

"Something amusing?" he asked. 

"Not at all."

He opened his mouth to question you further, but he was interrupted by a sudden commotion from the nearby table of older woman. There was a loud exclamation from your mother and the women seemed to be discussing something with great excitement. 

"I wonder what that is about…" you mumbled. 

Mr. Kim placed your teacup in front of you calmly. "I would not be too concerned. I imagine they have just discovered the news of the Duchess of Graham's engagement to Mr. Kwon Soonyoung."

You blinked. "Mr. Kwon Soonyoung? I have never heard of him."

"Neither have they. That is what makes it so shocking," Mr. Kim told you with a chuckle. "But we have more important things to discuss. Have you thought more about what went wrong at the Duchess' ball? I heard that you were dancing with Mr. Lee Seokmin when you stumbled and injured yourself."

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat. "It was not Mr. Lee's fault."

"Then tell me what happened. Let us try to understand it together."

You took a deep breath. You had been thinking about it for the past few days, as unpleasant as the memory was to you, and had come up with a few conclusions. 

"I think I was overwhelmed by the grandeur of it all," you admitted shyly. "It was so magnificent and the other young ladies all looked so beautiful. I began to worry that I should make a mistake, or make a fool of myself, and then what should happen to my sister-"

Mr. Kim interrupted you. "Your sister?" he asked in surprise. "I should have imagined you would fear your mother far more."

"I do fear my mother," you whispered. "But with my sister, it is…"

Mr. Kim waited silently for your response. 

You took a deep breath and sighed. "My sister has put her marriage with Mr. Choi on hold for my benefit. Everything she has ever done has been to ensure my happiness, and it distressed me to think that she should have to suffer any longer than necessary. If I do not find a husband this season, then my sister will not be able to marry Mr. Choi."

Mr. Kim took a sip of his tea and nodded for you to continue. 

"And… and I had always thought it was simply a matter of having a successful debut and choosing the most eligible man that would have me. But when it came to actually standing in the room, surrounded by so many fashionable people and all the grandeur and all the eyes watching me I began to realise it was not going to be as easy as I had thought. And that led to the worry that perhaps I would embarrass myself and be unable to make a match, and what that would mean for my poor sister…” 

Mr. Kim cut you off. “It seems to me that all your spiralling anxious thoughts escalate with the fear of disappointing your sister.” 

You nodded reluctantly. “That may be true.” 

“Then the solution before us is simple,” he replied. “Or, at least, as simple as a solution can be without considering the complexities of executing it. We must prevent you from thinking of your sister while in public.” 

You stared at Mr. Kim as he picked up a large slice of lemon cake and took a generous bite from it. He silently offered to put another slice on your plate but you shook your head. 

“How can I not think of my sister?” you demanded. “She is the entire reason I am here!” 

“That manner of thinking is what is causing your anxiety to spiral out of control," Mr. Kim told you matter-of-factly. "You need to live in the moment. Stop tracing every small action back to your sister and your fear of disappointing her."

"How do I do that?'

"Think smaller," he replied. "For example- why am I here?"

You raised an eyebrow. "Here… in this teahouse?"

"Yes."

"To help me practise interacting with gentlemen so that I can find a husband by the end of the season?" you guessed. 

Mr. Kim sighed. "Correct, but no. The purpose is to think smaller. I am here because I like the lemon cakes they serve here," he informed you simply before taking another bite. "Delicious."

"That is…"

"Think small."

"But I cannot always control my thoughts!" you protested. "They often go off on a tangent of their own. How long can thoughts of things I do not care about like lemon cakes ward off the looming dread that comes from thinking about failing my sister?"

Mr. Kim rubbed his chin thoughtfully. He leaned back in his seat and you watched him for a long moment, having nothing to do except sip your tea and admire his handsome form while he contemplated a solution to your problem. 

"What if…" Mr. Kim began slowly. "We found a backup thought- a safety net of sorts? Something pleasant that you could force yourself to think of whenever you find yourself spiralling into anxiety-inducing thoughts of your sister?"

You bit your lip. "Such as?"

"You have to find that for yourself. Look for a memory; something that makes you happy. Preferably one that does not involve your sister," Mr. Kim added. 

You took a deep breath and thought hard. You'd had a sheltered childhood and spent most of your time at the Yoons' countryside estate with your parents and siblings. It had been a quiet upbringing and you could not think of a single moment that brought any immense happiness. 

"When I was nine," you said finally after much thought. "My Father bought me my first pony. I named her Chocolate."

Mr. Kim burst into laughter. 

"Chocolate the pony is what you came up with after so much thought?" he demanded with another loud laugh. Your cheeks suddenly felt hot and you stiffened from embarrassment. 

"I-I could only-"

"I presume Chocolate was a brown pony?" he continued to chuckle. 

The embarrassment was too much to take. Your entire face had now turned hot and your lower lip trembled as you stood up from your seat with a frown. "If you are going to laugh at my expense, Mr. Kim, then I will not sit here."

His smile fell. Mr. Kim hurried to jump to his own feet- it took him a moment since his long limbs were tangled under the tiny tea table. He took your hand and gently guided you back to your seat. 

"No- of course not. I am extremely sorry, Miss Yoon. I did not mean to laugh at you."

You stiffened. "But you did laugh."

"I am extremely sorry."

His expression was genuine. You cleared your throat and sat down again, as Mr. Kim hurried to refill your teacup from the pot and handed you a plate with a slice of lemon cake. You accepted it silently and he gave you a small smile. 

"I see you do have a sense of pride," he commented lightly. 

"I will not be ridiculed."

"I am glad to hear it," he promised solemnly. "Let us come back to the topic at hand. If Chocolate the pony is a thought that makes you happy, then so be it. Whenever you are in danger of feeling overwhelmed, I want you to close your eyes and picture the moment your father presented you with this pony. The pony will be your happy thought."

You nodded. "I… can do that."

"We will test this the next time you are stressed," Mr. Kim suggested. He leaned back and sipped his tea, noticing that you were not eating. "Do you dislike lemon cakes?"

You looked down at them disinterestedly. "Not particularly," you said. "I am not hungry at all. My ankle feels rather stiff in this position. I wish it was possible to walk around instead of sitting still."

Mr. Kim nodded. "We could walk up the street- the weather is pleasant today. But your mother would have to permit you."

"I will ask her."

You went up to your mother's table- the older women were still deeply engaged in gossip about the Duchess of Graham and you had to tap your mother's arm a few times before she would even notice you. 

"What?" she demanded irritably. "Can you not see that I am in the middle of a conversation?"

"I was only wondering if I might go for a stroll outside with Mr. Kim-"

"Yes, yes, don't go too far," she said dismissively before turning back to the conversation. Mrs. Patty was loudly making an emphatic point about how it was a terrible mistake to grant daughters their own titles. You turned to Mr. Kim and waved at him to signal that you had obtained her consent. 

Mr. Kim opened the door to the teahouse and offered his arm to you. You both began to stroll slowly down the busy London street. 

"So," Mr. Kim continued. "Is there anything else that went wrong at the Duchess of Graham's ball?"

You nodded thoughtfully. "Yes. While I was dancing with Mr. Lee, there was a lull in the conversation. I could not think of anything to say to him so I made a foolish faux pas- I asked him if he had any siblings although I already knew he was the Viscountess' brother."

Mr. Kim smiled. "Ah- yes. The art of polite conversation. How to speak constantly and yet say nothing valuable. That is an entire lesson of its own and I am afraid even I cannot impart that skill to you in a single day."

You pouted at him. "Then you condemn me to pass my dances at every social event in silence."

"Conversation is an art, Miss Yoon. But you are fortunate that it is not always necessary to converse in order to communicate. Humans were communicating long before the invention of spoken language."

You frowned up at him. "What does that mean? Must I gesture at my dance partners as though I am speaking to an animal?"

Mr. Kim laughed. "No. Instead of the art of conversation, you will have a much easier time if you learn the art of silence."

"Silence?"

"As long as you do not look anxious or panicked," Mr. Kim explained patiently. "Silence can be a very useful tool. Most gentlemen love to speak. You simply need to prompt them to lead the conversation. A few one-liners such as That was terribly interesting, do tell me more! or I am very interested to learn more about you and the average gentlemen will be happy to take the burden of speaking off your hands."

You nodded thoughtfully. "You must write down some of these one-liners for me."

Mr. Kim chuckled. "All right, I shall prepare a list for you to study. And, if all else fails, you may resort to the golden three."

"The golden three?"

He lifted three fingers. "Hunting, horse-riding and croquet. I have never met a gentleman who did not enjoy conversing extensively on at least one of these subjects."

You nodded. "That is helpful."

"My purpose is to serve," Mr. Kim replied playfully. You had both reached the end of the street. Mr. Kim reached into his coat pocket to extract a small notepad and make a note of your discussion- when you saw something peeking out of his coat. 

"Are those cigars?" you asked. 

He looked down at his pocket and nodded. "Oh-yes. I was going to go down to the gentlemen's club for a smoke later."

You looked up at him with a curious glance; could you count on Mr. Kim's discretion? After all, he was in a fake courtship with you and clearly your sister-in-law trusted him enough to keep that secret. He had made you comfortable enough to open up to him about your deepest thoughts. 

Surely one more secret couldn't hurt?

"Can I have one?" you asked hesitantly. 

Mr. Kim looked down at you in confusion. "A cigar?"

You nodded. 

"Whatever for?"

"To smoke, naturally."

Mr. Kim glanced furtively around the street and then lowered his voice. He seemed mildly concerned, but also amused. "Miss Yoon, I am sure you do not require me to inform you that young ladies do not smoke in public- and they certainly do not smoke cigars."

You turned away from him with a sigh. "If you do not want to give it to me-"

Mr. Kim looked torn. He glanced up and down the street once more to make sure nobody was looking at you both before taking your arm and steering you towards a narrow, deserted alleyway. Your eyes widened. 

"Mr. Kim!" you hissed. "We shall be caught if we leave the main street. Or do you wish to end up in a scandal like Mr. Jeon and Miss Hong-"

He brushed your concerns away lightly. "Mr. Jeon is a good friend of mine but his inexperience was his downfall. I am not quite so careless- you are safe with me," he promised. Once you were both alone in the deserted alleyway, out of the view of the main street, he took the cigar out of his pocket. 

"Are you sure?" Mr. Kim asked you. 

You nodded. 

He carefully lit the cigar and held it up. "It is not at easy as it looks," he told you firmly. "Place it to your lips like so and take a deep breath through your teeth. You will almost certainly cough the first time-"

You snatched the cigar from him and placed it expertly between your lips. You took a long, satisfying drag and held the smoke in your lungs for a moment before smoothly exhaling. 

Mr. Kim stared at you for a long moment before the corner of his lips turned up and he let out a small, disbelieving chuckle. 

"That," he said with a grin, "was not your first cigar."

"I never said it was."

"You must forgive me if I am surprised, Miss Yoon, that a young lady who claims her happiest memory is Chocolate the pony knows how to smoke a cigar designed for gentlemen," he said, sounding almost impressed. Mr. Kim folded his arms across his chest and leaned against the wall of the alleyway as he watched you take another drag. 

You exhaled before frowning up at him. "You will not laugh at Chocolate."

"I am not laughing at all."

The tobacco relaxed your nerves and you quickly stepped away from the smoke before putting out the cigar. Mr. Kim was watching you curiously and you felt self-conscious under his gaze. You could almost read the questions in his dark eyes. 

"My father used to leave his cigars lying around," you explained, your cheeks warm. "One of the stable boys taught me how to smoke them."

Mr. Kim's eyes widened in absolute delight. "A stableboy?" he gasped, pretending to look absolutely scandalised. "Miss Yoon!"

You flushed deeply. "That is not-"

"Is that why Chocolate the pony is such a pleasant memory for you? Because of the stableboy?" he laughed. His eyes sparkled playfully as he watched you compose yourself. 

You frowned. "You will tell no-one. Once we step back onto the main street you will never mention Chocolate, cigars or a stableboy ever again," you ordered. "Especially not to my brother or sister-in-law."

Mr. Kim beamed. "I am sworn to secrecy, my lady."

"Good."

You both slipped back onto the main street and turned back towards the teahouse. Mr. Kim kept glancing at you out of the corners of his eyes- he seemed to be unable to take his gaze off you, and you suddenly began to feel rather flustered from the attention. 

You noticed a large, modern building coming up on the opposite side of the street that had large sheets covering the entrance. 

"Whatever is that?" you wondered. 

Mr. Kim tore his eyes away from you and turned to look at the building. The corner of his lips curved up in a smile. 

"Interesting that you should notice that," he said lightly. "That building belongs to me."

"Does it really?"

He nodded. "Indeed. It is an art gallery that I decided to fund not long ago. It should be open to the public  in a few weeks' time."

You looked at him in interest. "An art gallery? I did not know you had artistic inclinations, Mr. Kim."

"I consider myself a… patron of the arts, so to speak. I would be delighted to invite you to the grand opening of the gallery once we have announced it."

"I would be delighted to attend," you replied. Then you paused. "Provided, of course, we are able to resolve my crippling anxiety and fear of social events in the meantime."

Mr. Kim grinned as you both arrived back at the teahouse. Your mother was waiting for you inside. 

"I think it is time we put some of your lessons into action," he said. "The Hessingtons' ball is on Saturday; I intend to see you there. You may reserve the first dance for me."

You nodded. "I should be glad to."

Mr. Kim reached for your gloved hand and lifted it slowly to his lips as his dark eyes rose to meet yours. You saw his usual playfulness and a hint of something far darker behind those eyes. He kissed your hand and his lips lingered for a moment longer than necessary before allowing it to fall. 

Your breath hitched in your throat. 

No wonder they called this man a rake. 

"Goodbye for now, Miss Yoon," he said quietly before turning away down the street and leaving you in a foggy, confused and flustered state. 

—--------------------------------------------------

[gleefullypolin]

Stacy's Tipsy Musing's – Penelope Bridgerton Hot Takes - Part 1

Ok boys and girls, we need to have a little chat about Penelope Bridgerton.

Part 2 has been out now for a couple of days and there have been a lot of hot takes to come out of the season. A LOT of hot takes. I’m going to break this down into 4 parts like I did for Colin ((Part 1, 2, 3, 4, Bonus). 4 questions that I'm seeing really bad hot takes about Penelope.

Not surprising I see lots of hot takes about Pen, because either A) people cannot handle a woman complex emotions and facets, B) hate on a woman who does not fit societal norms and standards or C) are stans who refuse to see that all characters have imperfections which make them even more delicious to watch.

So let’s get to question number one:

Why didn’t Pen leave Colin after the entrapment comment or express more anger toward him, she seemed to give up?

Let’s start with where the idea of entrapment lives within Pen. In Season 1 she worked really hard to stop Marina and her mother’s plan to entrap Colin into marriage by deceiving him into compromising her so that he would marry her quickly while she was pregnant with another man’s child. She used Lady Whistledown to stop this from happening when Colin did not heed her warnings about Marina being in love with another man.

Move on to Season 3 and her mother finds out that she is now engaged to Colin and her very first thought is that Pen must have entrapped Colin herself to get him to marry her. Colin puts a stop to this notion with her mother of course, but the comment was there.

“And now you’ve been out at all hours of the night with no chaperone. And then you traipse in this morning with news of an engagement to the very same Bridgerton Boy! Using Lord knows what wiles to entrap him.” – Portia

Now when Colin finds out about Lady Whistledown, if you read my musing earlier, he reacted angrily and lashes out to hurt Pen with his own entrapment comment. And while it stings, I can tell you Pen does not react the way that so many fics that are being written today have her reacting.

“Perhaps that was another part of your planned entrapment.” - Colin

“I did not mean to entrap you, Colin. I love you.” - Penelope

So let’s discuss.

Pen did not tell Colin about LW herself (we will discuss this in part 2) so he found out on his own. At this point, he is still reconciling with her lie. And at this point it has been a lie. Up until the point she had simply been keeping this a secret, but when he asked her directly about the ink on her fingers when he gave her the engagement ring, she lied. She was writing letters. Again, this post isn’t going to go into that, tune in for part 2 for that piece. But anyway, he’s reeling from the lies he realizes she has now told. And Pen knows she hurt him.

Pen knows she has made mistakes. And at this point, she does not feel that she deserves Colin. She even says so when she speaks to Gen the night before her wedding. So we know that she knows what entrapment means. She knows what her mother accused her of, she knows what Marina did, but she KNOWS she did not entrap Colin.

If anyone entrapped anyone in marriage, Colin entrapped Pen. He ruined her engagement to a Lord in front of the Queen and the ton. He chased her carriage in front of others, he was alone with her, he was inappropriate with her in that carriage. He then proposed, he has taken her alone to their home, compromised her, and if he ended this engagement would ruin her, especially now knowing she was pregnant after their first time. So, let’s get that out of the way.

Pen knows she did not entrap Colin; however, she also does not feel deserving of him. She knows she lied to him. But all she knows she can do in this moment is to remind him that she loves him. That she did this to protect him, because she loves him. Pen does not fight him. She simply wants to know what he intends to do. She cannot bear his silence.

I honestly feel like at this point, it is more torture for her that he is NOT yelling at her, that he has not released his anger at her. I think she wants him to yell at her, she wants him to engage, she wants him to tell her that she is not worthy of him. Because then she would know the truth. It’s his holding to being a good man, to his honor, to marrying her because they were intimate that seems to rattle her more. Because that is NOT love. She wants more than anything for Colin to love her, she does NOT want him to be trapped by the fact he had sex with her.

And that is why she offers him the annulment even after EVERYTHING is said and done. Even after they are married, after he has told her he loves her still, after she has given up her identity, given reprieve from the Queen, laid herself bare to society, even after all of that, her biggest concern is to him. She still does not want him to feel trapped by her. She still offers him grace, and a way to release himself from her if he chooses. She is not angry; she smiles as she says it. Because she loves him.

At the bottom of everything, she wants to do better. She told her mother the same. Their family needed to do better. She would not allow her mother’s schemes; their past ways of entrapping men like they had tried with Marina. So, at the end of it, Pen did not give up when Colin spoke those words to her originally, she did not shrink back in anger or attack, instead she listened, she responded with regret, she reiterated her love and in the end she released him because she loved him. And she was rewarded with unconditional requited love in return.

Stick around for part 2....

Why didn’t Pen tell Colin about Lady Whistledown after X? (Their first time, during the engagement party, when he gave her the engagement ring, after El met with her and she decided to write the column to protect the Bridgerton’s)

[peachy-panic]

Shared Sessions: Week 1, Part 1

Grayson & Elijah cautiously give this group therapy idea a shot.

WARNINGS: Therapy setting, anxiety, past captivity

Grayson was the first to arrive at Dr. Collins’s office. Years of learned punctuality were not to be undone by a spiraling downfall to rock bottom, it turned out. 

A week out of the hospital, he was still struggling to find his footing. He only left the house for his mandatory therapy sessions, and even then, it was only under the guardianship of his parents. He wasn’t sure if it was because they could sense his anxiety about going outside, or if they expected him to steer his car into the first big tree he came across. He didn’t plan on asking. 

Today, though, a chaperone was a necessity. Grayson wasn’t sure his shaking hands would have had the dexterity to so much as start his car, let alone make the drive to Dr. Collins’s office on his own.

Grayson’s mother had even had the good grace to keep her opinions to herself on the drive over. Not that he didn’t know them anyway. Not that she and his father hadn’t made themselves abundantly clear leading up to the appointment on how poor an idea they thought it was for Grayson to share a joint session with “that boy.”

It was one of the first times Grayson Dawning ever raised his voice at his parents. He had left their stunned faces in the dim lighting of the dining room and slammed his bedroom door shut behind him, wishing grimly for the lock that had been removed during his hospital stay. 

They hadn’t brought the session, or Elijah, up again after that.

A few minutes before the top of the hour, Grayson sat in his usual corner of the couch in the office, hands twisting in his lap. If his more-than-normal nerves or lack of sleep were apparent to Dr. Collins, he didn’t mention it. Instead, he settled into the armchair across from him, crossing one leg over his knee. 

“How are you feeling about today?” he asked.  

A couple weeks ago, Grayson might have tried to conceal his vulnerability behind a mask. Recent events had left him too tired for pretending. 

“Scared,” he replied. “I didn’t sleep much last night.”

“Is there any specific element of today that frightens you most? Something that stands out?”

Oh, sure. The possibility that Elijah bails and never speaks to him again. The possibility that he shows up and confirms Grayson’s worst fears: that he does, in fact, hate him for every part he played in his torment. Hearing Myles Voss’s name spoken between them for the first time since they returned. Addressing Grayson's attempt. Bringing up what happened on—

“Grayson?” Dr. Collins pulled him out of his spiral. He was using his firm voice—the one he used when Grayson was starting to fall too deep inside his own head.

Grayson blinked a few times, curling his fingers into the fabric of his sweatshirt. “Sorry.”

“It’s alright,” his doctor said. 

He nodded, relieved to have been spared from answering, but the reprieve was short-lived. A hesitant knock on the door turned him to stone where he sat. 

Dr. Collins rose gracefully and crossed the room in a few short steps. Grayson heard, rather than saw, the door latch release, a slight squeal in the hinges. 

“Elijah,” Dr. Collins greeted through an audible smile. “Welcome. It’s good to see you again.”

“Sorry I’m late,” was the first thing Elijah said. The sound of his voice—a bit winded, faint—unlocked Grayson’s muscles enough to glance up at the clock on the wall. It was only two minutes after. “I, uh. My mom had to take the car to work, and the bus was running behind.”

Grayson winced. He remembered, in the hospital, how Elijah flinched away when the nurses and staff brushed too closely, on guard against every potential touch. He couldn’t imagine how difficult public transit might have been.  

“It’s no problem at all,” Dr. Collins said warmly. “We were only just sitting down. You can hang your jacket here, if you’d like.”

Grayson willed himself, at last, to look in Elijah direction’s. 

Elijah pushed back a rain-speckled hood, freeing the few damp tendrils that escaped the bundle of hair at the nape of his neck, and shrugged out of the sleeves. Grayson took in the sight of him: black jeans that fit more loosely than they probably should have and a zip-up sweatshirt with thumbholes cut out of the sleeves. His fingers moved in quick, fidgeting movements that mirrored Grayson’s own anxiety. When Elijah  turned from the coat rack to face the room, their eyes met.

In a blink, it was as if every inch of progress they had carved inside the hospital walls had existed in a vacuum. The half-lucid hugs and promises, the familiarity of company and the attempt at shared humor—all of it swept away like ashes in the clarity of the outside world. 

In the hospital, Grayson had felt so sure that talking with Elijah, that airing out the festering wound between them, was the way to move forward. Now, in the light of day, doubt ate away at his optimism, a hungry, gnarled beast in the pit of his stomach. 

What if he had made a mistake that they would both now pay for? He had hoped his days of hurting Elijah were behind him. 

This was a bad idea bad idea bad idea—

“Hey,” Elijah spoke first. 

Grayson swallowed a lump that felt a lot like the start of a scream. “Hi.”

Dr. Collins let a few seconds of quiet play out between them, then cleared his throat. “Please, make yourself comfortable, Elijah. Can I get you anything? Water, tea, coffee?”

Elijah shook his head. “No. Um, thanks. Is here okay?” he asked, pointing to the far end of the sofa from Grayson. 

“There is fine. Wherever you’d like.”

There weren’t many other options for sitting in the small room—had the room always felt quite so small?—other than the plush carpet beneath the couch, but Grayson didn’t think they would get off to a very good start if he sat on the couch while Elijah sat on the floor, at his feet. If, though, for some reason he was more comfortable on the floor, Grayson could offer to sit down there with him, keeping enough space to—

Elijah’s weight sank into the cushion on the far side, leaving one space between them and putting Grayson’s internal spiral to rest. 

Get it together. Keep it together.

“Thank you both for being here today,” Dr. Collins said, taking his seat once more. “I understand this year has not been an easy road, and I can only imagine that agreeing to meet in this setting was not a decision either of you took lightly. I want to remind you that the two of you are in charge of what happens inside this room. Anything you say will be strictly confidential.” 

The doctor looked to Elijah, and Grayson could see the way he shifted under the attention in his periphery. 

“Elijah, I understand that you’ve been seeing someone on your own. I will not share anything from this session with your doctor without your explicit request.”

“Okay.” Elijah’s voice cracked on the first attempt, so he repeated it, slightly stronger.

“Okay,” Dr. Collins echoed with a smile. “Let’s begin.”

TBC

****

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[give-to-oblivion]

My Hero Academia Recs: Erasermic Edition

This is one of my favorite pairings for this fandom, but it's very often a background pairing or not the central focus of the story. So, this recs list is for fics where the pairing is the main point of the story.

This list isn't comprehensive, just some of my favorites - you should check out other works by the authors listed here, or reblog with your own recommendations!

I realized while compiling this that even though in my head they've been married for years, I really like fics where they don't get together until the anime events. Look, pining is my #1 bulletproof kink, I know this about myself.

Previous posts:

Dadmight & Dadzawa recs where nobody gets bashed

By the Numbers by ill go with that then (Linelenagain)

“So they must know you pretty well, to get you so many gifts you like,” Tensei prompts. “They must be paying a lot of attention.”

Impossibly, Hizashi turns an even darker shade of red. “That doesn’t mean that they like me. They could just be friendly and shy.”

Kayama grins. “Do you want them to like you?”

Shouta would like to know that, too.

Cat Person by biframes

Present Mic gets so drunk he wakes up as a cat

Don't Know the First Thing by HoneyBeeez

“Shouta?” Yamada says when he answers, the concern practically leaking from his voice. “Is everything okay?”

“Are you free right now?” Aizawa asks.

“I am, but you know that doesn’t answer my question,” Yamada says. “I know things have been pretty rough, but a booty call is out of the--”

Aizawa can’t take another word, his ears burning. “I was given permission to take Eri home with me,” he says quickly.

“Oh shit,” Yamada replies in soft English.

Lean on Me by Ezray

When Yamada turns up to work one morning looking uncharacteristically miserable, Shouta decides to take matters into his own hands and figure out a way to cheer him up. In a bid to be a better friend, he arranges for them to spend more time together - and while Shouta is busy worrying about Yamada's emotions, his own feelings begin to change, too.

Obstacles by deafmic

Yamada Hizashi is doing exactly what he's always wanted to do with his life—running his own preschool and daycare. Even though it's small, it's his and he knows he's good at what he does.

Then, Aizawa Shouta, an underground pro hero, enrolls his adoptive son, four year-old Shinsou Hitoshi, a boy who's been kicked out of every other daycare and school he's been put in since the development of his brainwashing quirk. Hizashi is more than happy to have him in his school, especially since Hizashi was born with a 'dangerous' quirk himself, and he quickly finds out that he has a soft spot for this kid and a serious liking towards his father that he has to learn to deal with.

I love pretty much everything by this author!

On Secret Relationships And The Importance Of Representation Among Pro Heroes by smol_bird

“I guess,” Midoriya sighs. “But then – some of the pro heroes are our teachers, you know? And still, it’s not like any of them are... I mean, it’s certainly not a common occurrence for a hero to be... out.”

Out? Aizawa thinks. He begins to suspect that he knows what this conversation is about.

Pick Me Up by ill go with that then (Linelenagain)

“You’ll never make it. You’ll drop me before we get halfway there.”

“Bet you I won’t,” Yamada says. The look in his eye is bright and dangerous. It makes Shouta want to agree to things he shouldn’t.

“Bet me what?” he answers, against his better judgement.

Also has a short & cute sequel.

Running to Stand Still by Kiyoko_Michi

Shouta never needed much. He had his dream—getting into the UA Heroes course—and he had Hizashi, who’d carved out his own spot in Shouta’s life. That was enough for him… until he wakes up in a dirty alleyway wearing clothes three sizes too big. Faced with an unreliable memory and a school full of strangers, Shouta struggles to unravel what happened to him.

Seashores and Chaperones by Astrogeekery

When it comes time for Eri to start school, Shouta and Hizashi are called upon to drive her. Matters grow a little more complicated when a villain threat leads to the hero department spending a week at a seaside resort.

Strays by djbunn3

Cats are objectively better than people. Of course, there are always exceptions.

there is nothing for me but to love (you) by sobashouto (snowandfire)

There’s a strange look in Shouta’s eyes, a soft flush in his cheeks “This is the first song you sang to me. The first night that you did.”

“It is,” Hizashi confirms. He remembers. Frank Sinatra, 'The Way You Look Tonight'. Ironically, Shouta had looked terrible that night, completely bandaged and recently beaten to within an inch of his life. But maybe that was the point.

to my hearbeat sound by hannahbal

Hitoshi owes his adopted dad a lot, even if the man would argue otherwise. He’s got a safe home, a legion of cats, and a way to make his heroic dreams come true; villainous quirk or not. But he can’t help but feel that his dad might be missing something. Or someone.

Izuku owes his neighbor and role model more than he can ever say so he won’t outright admit it. But to think the kind man who regularly helped him with his bullies would be a hero, and one willing to train him? Crazy for any quirkless kid. So, he’ll do whatever he can to make his new mentor happy, even reuniting him with the man in all of those photos.

(Two almost-sweethearts grow up, grow apart, and become father figures. Their “sons” have something to say about that.)

Worrywart by athena_crikey

Hizashi worries. He worries about a lot of things from nuclear war to the rumoured break-up of Morning Musume to the expired carton of milk he saw a student drinking from that morning. But most of all, he worries that Aizawa Shouta is going to end up old and unlovable and alone.

Hizashi is a good friend - a great friend, the All Might of friends - and he doesn't want to see that happen.

Also he's been crushing on Shouta since high school, and he came back to U.A. as a last-ditch effort to see if he could make anything of it.

So it goes without saying that when he notices the U.A. faculty accommodation is taking applications for a shared 2-bed 2-bath unit, he immediately starts inking in their names.

Bonus fan comic:

Hanahaki by nanabbi

[lifesizehysteria]

A Mother's Blessings | A Bridgerton Fic

Part 6: Anthony

Fandom: Bridgerton (TV) Rating: Gen Pairing: Violet Bridgerton/Marcus Anderson Characters: Violet Bridgerton, Anthony Bridgerton, Benedict Bridgerton, Kate Bridgerton, Hyacinth Bridgerton, Gregory Bridgerton Summary: A collection of moments through Violet and Marcus’ courtship in which Violet seeks the blessings of her children. AO3 Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

Violet’s body hummed, and as she entered the drawing room after seeing Marcus out, she held her hand against her stomach, her other hand resting on top, as though that might stop her from feeling the absence of his hand in hers. It did not. 

She was hoping to slip into the room unnoticed, where the remaining members of her family were gathered, but she had barely stepped foot inside when five heads turned towards her, their faces a range of emotions from Hyacinth’s bright, expectant smile to Anthony’s glowering scowl. 

“Back from your stroll, Mother?” Anthony asked pointedly.

“Mhmm.” Violet smiled at him, stubbornly holding onto the giddiness she was still feeling. 

“With Lord Anderson?” Hyacinth asked as she dashed over to her mother, her hands clasped under her chin and curls bouncing around her smiling face.

Violet looked down at her, blinking in bewilderment. “Yes, but… How did you know?” She had only mentioned at breakfast that she would be going to the gardens, not that she would be accompanied. 

“We saw you in the garden through the window,” Gregory said from his seat beside Benedict. 

“Oh, yes, of course,” Violet said with an awkward laugh, her smile returning to her face while her gaze darted around the room and heat rose to her cheeks. Her mind immediately wondered just what they had seen, but she pushed the thought away. It was no matter. What was done, was done.

“You are looking quite flushed, Mother,” Benedict said, his eyes dancing with mischief. 

Violet’s head whipped towards him, daggers of warning in her eyes.

Benedict laughed outright, looking nonplussed as he crossed one leg over the other, clasping his hands around his knee as he tilted his most charming smile at her.

“It must have been rather vigorous. The stroll, I mean.”

Violet could feel her whole body blushing, but she refused to be embarrassed about such matters, by her own son, no less. She was an adult, and there was nothing she had to feel ashamed of.

“That is none of your business,” she said, attempting to sound blasé but coming across much more curt than intended.

Benedict, bordering on gleeful at having clearly ruffled her feathers, said, “Perhaps next time I shall insist on chaperoning.”

“Benedict Bridgerton!”

Before her admonishment was even complete, Anthony shoved his way out of his chair, making Violet turn, her mouth hanging open in shock as she watched him thunder from the room.  

Kate prepared to stand, but Violet gestured for her to sit back down. She offered her daughter-in-law a tender glance, one hand coming to rest just over her sternum. 

“I believe it would be best for me to handle this one.”

Kate bowed her head, and Violet offered her a reassuring smile before turning a glare fit for murder on her second son.

Benedict showed no remorse, offering only a self-congratulatory grin in return before his mother swept from the room. 

Her footsteps echoed down the hall as she approached Anthony’s study. She paused for a moment outside the wooden door, collecting herself. The effects of her earlier embrace were still present in her body; her skin still tingled, her cheeks were still flushed, and if she was to be quite honest with herself, she would have much preferred retiring to her chambers to linger in the delight of it for as long as it remained than to have this particular conversation. Her mistake had been returning to the drawing room at all. 

Unfortunately, this situation had been brewing for weeks now, and it seemed, between what occurred with Marcus outside the garden, and the way Anthony responded to even a suggestion of intimacy between them, it required her immediate attention. 

After a few deep breaths, she knocked on the door but did not wait for an answer before pushing it open. 

“Anthony?” she called, closing the door behind her and crossing into the room. 

“Mother, I am busy,” her son said, sitting at his desk with nary a quill nor a sheet of paper in sight. His eyes were fixed on the portrait of his father above the mantle. 

“I think it is time we talked.”

“I do not wish to talk. I wish to—”

“To brood?”

“I am not brooding,” he insisted.

“Forgive me,” she said with a soft chuckle. “I must have been fooled by the furrow in your brow and the jaw clenched to the point it might require a surgeon to loosen.” Violet watched as her son jutted out his jaw and worked it back and forth for a moment. “Perhaps you are simply in need of some rest.”

“I do not require rest.”

“Then what is it you do require?”

“What I require is to know what you are doing with that man!” The way he was nearly seething took Violet by surprise, though she concealed it, aside from her eyes widening ever so slightly. 

“If you must know,” she said with a subtle lift of her chin, “I am enjoying his company.”

Anthony spun his head, panic stricken as he searched his mother’s face for the meaning behind her words. Finding no evidence of sincerity behind the double entendre, and, in fact, seeing the slightest hint of a cheeky smile on her face, he pinched the bridge of his nose. 

“I am to leave with Kate to India in three days' time. How am I to leave you here alone, knowing such a man is pursuing you?”

“Well, I think the easiest way is for you to simply get onto the ship before it leaves,” Violet shrugged, determined not to get pulled into his dramatics.

Anthony looked at her without a glint of humor. Despite herself, Violet pursed her lips, feeling the edge of irritation setting in. 

“I am a grown woman, Anthony. I do not need you to chaperone me. I am quite capable.”

“I do not doubt you, Mother. It is him I do not trust. He is a rake.”

“He had a reputation in his youth, yes. Not unlike your reputation, as recently as last season.”

“That is not the same.”

“It is not any different. You are now blissfully wed, expecting your first child, and you could not be further from the young man you were before marrying Kate. Marcus—Lord Anderson,” she felt a flush rise to her cheeks at the slip, “is no different. Indeed, he was married, he raised his children, he has done his duty and he, like you, does not deserve to be judged purely by the character of his past.”

Anthony flexed his jaw, his eyebrows furrowing again as he stared down at his desk. When Violet tried to catch his gaze, he averted it even further away. 

“My dear boy,” she said as gently as she could given her current frustration, “what is really troubling you?” 

“I have told you,” he grumbled. 

“Yes, and a simple conversation between you and Lord Anderson would have put such a concern to rest, so I do not believe that is truly what troubles you.”

Anthony refused to look at her, looking remarkably like the toddler who used to pout about not getting extra dessert. 

Waiting, she clasped her hands in front of her waist, and when he did not answer, she closed her eyes and heaved a sigh.

“Is this to be the way we leave things, then? Before you depart to India for heaven knows how long?” she asked, disappointment coloring her words.

“What do you want me to say, Mother?”

“I want you to tell me what is causing you such distress about my involvement with a gentleman who is more than honorable, when no declaration has even been made.” Her voice remained low, her steady calm a contrast to his rising, barely contained tension. “Honestly, Anthony, you act as though I am some naive girl in need of protection and not your mother who has been Lady of this house longer than you have been alive. What I should like is for you to be honest with me, so that we might sort through the matter and move on.” 

Anthony stretched his hand that had been balled in a fist on his desk. Beneath Violet’s expectant stare, he flexed his jaw again, jutting it out as he closed his eyes and tipped his head to one side. Finally, he opened his eyes again, looking back up to Edmund’s portrait on the wall. 

“You have always said that Father was the love of your life. That he was the greatest love you would ever know.” His voice was quiet but tense with a hint of something in it. Hurt? Accusation? Both, perhaps? Violet could not quite tell just yet.

“He is,” she said plainly. 

“And yet you allow another man to court you.”

“Well, it is not as if your father is here to do it,” she said with a dry laugh.

Anthony did not laugh. He grew very still and spoke with a deathly seriousness. “If Kate died, I would never replace her.” 

Violet’s mouth fell open slightly and she blinked, taken aback. “Is that what you believe I am doing? Replacing your father?”

When he looked at her, beneath the anger ready to brim over, there was hurt in his eyes. “Is it not?”

Violet bit her lip, studying his face for a moment before coming to perch herself on the edge of his desk.

“I realize that you do not understand, and it is my sincerest hope that you never will. I pray that you never have to know the pain of losing the person you have built your entire life around, whose existence is so interwoven with yours that their death feels like the death of your very soul.” She paused to breathe, feeling that familiar twinge of pain in her chest. After a moment, it dissipated, and she was able to continue. “But if you had, you would understand that that kind of love is impossible to replace, and that even if it were possible, I would never choose to do so.”

Anthony scoffed. “And yet, you allow another man to court you. You are right, Mother. I do not understand.”

Violet’s eyebrows drew together, the corners of her mouth tightening just a little. “I carry your father’s love with me, always. I feel it every day–” She stopped, realizing she was telling him something he already knew, defending against some ill-conceived accusation that was an excuse for his hurt feelings and which was utterly unfair to her.

“Anthony, I have spent the last twelve years missing him, turning my grief into an identity worn to honor him, so the world would never forget the incredible man that he was. But I am not made of stone. I cannot spend my entire life as a living memorial, and it is unfair for you to expect me to do so while you get to move on, and find joy and love again.” She looked over her shoulder at the portrait of Edmund, her heart aching just a little more than it usually did these days. A quiet reverence came over her as she turned her gaze back to her son. “Over the last few years I have watched both you and Daphne, and now Colin and Francesca, find love, just as I had hoped for all of you, and it has made me realize just how alone I have felt.”

“You are not alone. We are all here with you.”

“Dearest,” she said, almost laughing, “you know that is not the loneliness I speak of. I see the way you look at Kate, like she is the essence of life itself, and I miss it. If I could have that with your father again, I would choose it. Every time, throughout eternity and long after. But, for whatever reason, that was not the choice that I was given, and I have finally realized that opening myself up to the opportunity of new love does not diminish the love I have, and will always have, for your father.”

“I do not believe you can truly love two people at the same time,” Anthony muttered defensively.

“I can,” she said with certainty, then added softly, “and I do. I am in love with Lord–with Marcus, Anthony, and whether or not you can accept it will not stop it being true.”

He looked up at her, his voice a chilled matter-of-fact, “You are to marry him, then?” 

Violet shrugged. “I do not know. He has not asked, and I do not wish him to. Not yet, anyway. But if he does, and I do accept, I wish to do so with your blessing.”

“Why do you not wish him to ask?” he asked, surprising his mother with genuine curiosity.

“There are many things to consider. One of which is the comfort of my children with the idea.” 

He tilted his head in question. “What do you mean?” 

“I will not have a man, no matter the depths of my feelings for him, cause a rift between any of us. You children are my family, and nothing is more important to me. Any love I have will always come as an addition to that, and if it cannot, then it cannot be.”

Anthony’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “You would truly turn him down if one of us did not agree?”

A slightly sad smile pulled across her lips as she reached over and put her hand on top of his. “I am your mother first and foremost. There is nothing I would not sacrifice.”

Anthony grew quiet, his eyebrows drawing together, looking contemplative as he gazed down at her hand clasped over his. When he did not speak again, Violet felt herself growing weary of the conversation. There was nothing left for her to say. The matter was solely at his feet.

She cleared her throat and squeezed his hand before standing. “You do not have to give me an answer now. The question has not even been asked. But I do hope you will consider what I have said, and that you will write to me while you are in India.” 

With one more look at him, she turned and left the room, heading for her chambers where she hoped to be able to recall whatever was left of her embrace with Marcus while trying to ignore the little nagging worry in the back of her mind that it might be the only one they would ever share.

[georgiapeach30513]

Down On My Knees, Part 1

Summary: It wasn’t your fault. That’s what your mother told you. But you were still cast aside like common trash. No longer eligible for the crown that you were raised to wear. All because of the baby growing in your belly. But it wasn’t your fault. You didn’t ask for it. The only one that understood was father Jackson. He understands more than you could ever know. And he was going to cleanse you and your name of the sins that you didn’t commit. It’s now their duty to give your life purpose again.

Pairings: Priest!Jax Teller X Reader

Rating: mature/explicit

Warnings:  dark!fic, language, mentions of non con, unwanted pregnancy, family abandonment, sin, unknown entities, 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 2.8K

Series Masterlist

The driver of the carriage extends his hand out to you, helping you into the cab, but you turn back to look at your home. No, you had been cast out. You press your hand against your stomach as your mother’s silhouette darkens a window. Seeing where your hand rests, she walks away. You can feel her disdain for your predicament. Didn’t even have the courage to tell you goodbye. You had shamed her and the family.

Your throat starts to close up as you take a haggard breath. This was it. The crown was never going to be yours anyways, but now you were losing everything. In an instant.

“Into the cab, miss,” your eyes roll up to meet a nameless driver. You never even bothered to get to know them. They were just always there, and it wasn’t your duty to know. But they always referred to you as princess. Not anymore. Now it was Miss, like a commoner.

“Go on. Do you know where I’m taking you?” You shake your head no. You didn’t bother to know anyone outside the palace. You didn’t have to. What a charmed life you lived, until one night when you had lost your chaperone. It’s all it took, and you had brought shame on your entire family. They never even worried about the shame that you felt. Or the pain. The humiliation. The fear of men.

You felt him all over your body still. He is growing in your belly, and it makes you sick to think about all that he stole. Everything. Your family was turning you out. You were an unwed and used pregnant woman with nowhere to go.

“Miss, we must go. The Queen left you a pretty handsome purse. It should get you through the year,” you scoff, hopping into the carriage. Wow. A full year. Not to mention what would happen once the baby came. She could have hidden you away, or even raised the baby as her own, but instead she was leaving you to the streets.

Spoiled with no life experience. Everything was always done for you. You wouldn’t allow your tears to fall. Would not give any of them the satisfaction that you were broken all the way around. “Miss? Where to?”

“Where do the whores go?” He turns to look back at you confused. Clearly your mother had kept things more secret than you expected. But you wanted her to hurt. You want her to feel as dirty as you did. “That’s right. I have a bastard in my belly because someone…they,” you swallow deeply, unable to finish the sentence.

“I’m sorry, miss. Where to?”

“Could you not just call me princess one last time? I have nowhere to go, and a baby in my womb, and you…please. One last time.”

He has but a moment of pity. You were an adult with the mind of a baby. The royal family had many secrets, but their youngest daughter being knocked up and shunned from the family isn’t what he was expecting. You reminded him of his own daughter, and it hurts him deep inside.

“The church,” your eyes cast back up at him. Why would the church want you? You were nothing more than a used whore. “They take in girls. Father Jackson I’m sure could give you a warm bed. You’ll be expected to work. But it’s warm, and dry, and your baby can be dealt with.”

You furrow your brows, looking at him confused. Unsure what he was suggesting. The world outside the carriage starting to match the storm that was brewing inside of you. The anger and hate boiling into the fibers of your being. Starting to overtake the naivety you had grown accustomed to.

“Father Jackson knows families that would adopt a baby. Or…find you a husband that can look past…”

“What he stole from me?” Your driver stares out into the rain, knowing how unfair your predicament was, but had no way of fixing it himself. All these people in the kingdom were self righteous, unforgiving, and all of them hypocrites.

“I didn’t ask for this. And because of him, I lost everything. I had dukes and lords coming soon to ask for my hand in marriage, and now I’m a nobody.”

“You were never nobody, princess,” he pulls up to the creepy church, one you had known too well. Staring off at the alley in front of it as lightning lights it up, and you feel his hands on you. Could still smell the scent of stale cigarettes and peppermint oil. His breath on your neck, and his seed in your belly.

“Ma’am?” The driver screams, holding up a hand for you. “Wait in the church. I’ll get your things, and fetch Father Jackson,” gathering up your skirts, you run into the church as you were asked.

Slowly spinning around in the chapel before walking over to the confessional booth. Looking back at the altar, lightning creates gruesome shadows everywhere. The ornate crucifixes mocked and cursed you for stepping in here, and like a child, you run into the booth. Hiding from all the judging faces as you wait for further instructions.

Your driver stomps up to the father’s door, giving it a little knock before the door is slung wide open, “What do you want?” His icy blue eyes cast behind the driver before looking upon him.

“You look like death.”

“I can’t sleep. It’s late,” Father Jackson twists his neck at an awkward angle, and stares at nothing. Deep purple tints the skin under his eyes, and the driver wonders just how many nights the Father hadn’t slept.

“I had to get The Queen’s youngest daughter out while no one was awkke,” the Father’s eyes look back behind the driver, giving a nod to an unknown entity before he opens his door wide. “She’s with child.”

“She’s not married,” Jackson says with no emotion. He had seen you numerous times here. You stood out in the sea of people. An odd glow seemed to always surround your body. Flashes of you in his mind distracted him immensely.

“It appears that she was raped,” the Father motions the sign of the cross, whispering an odd little prayer before he looks back at the driver. “Judging by her panic attack earlier, it was nearby. I couldn’t get her attention as she stared in the alley.”

“Who would do such a thing? And so close to the church,” he clicks his tongue, and looks down at the floor, “She was always such a devout girl.”

“Yeah,” the driver groans, leaning back in his chair. “It’s a mystery. The princess, well, the young lady was cast out of her family. She has nowhere to go for her or her child.”

“And you brought her here?” Jackson squints, looking back out to the hallway, zoning out for a moment.

“She could be of use. There’s rooms here. Look at it as charity. It’s like the Lord was leading her right into your arms,” Jackson’s crystal eyes look up at the driver, a cocky little grin on his face.

“Thank you, Opie. Take her things down the hall. Let me go see what I can do for the…Angel,” Opie grabs up your things, walking directly to the last room on the left while Jackson descends into the chapel.

Looking around the area, before hearing a broken whimper. Taking a deep breath, he walks into the booth. “Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned.”

“You don’t have to do this tonight,” but he wanted you to. He needs to hear where your mind is at, and how further to proceed.

“I’ve had impure thoughts of murder.”

“Murdering your assailant?” You shake your head no, twiddling your fingers in your lap. “Why not?”

“I’m free. I’m scared, but I’m free. My mother wanted me to marry an ogre of a man,” he gulps, moving closer to you. You weren’t overly angry at your attacker. It piqued his interest more than it should. “I heard stories about him. He was cruel.”

“He didn’t touch you?” You turn your head slowly, meeting Jackson’s icy blue eyes through the veil. Licking the briny taste that your tears had created on your lips.

“He spends his money on people, and tortures them for fun.”

“Ahh,” Jackson hums. “You were betrothed to August Marks. There’s no proof of what he’s doing.”

“Why would there be? He’s of noble blood, and everyone turns away. My mother was going to make a show of men asking for my hand in marriage, but I think he was willing to pay the most. I would have been dead, and it would have been slow. Evil men rule the world, Father. I thought you knew that.”

“Evil men also took your life away from you?” It is an odd statement that is more of a question, and you don’t know how to answer it. It was evil, but did it save your life?

“But I won’t die. And all I think about now is killing my mother. She hated me. Always did. I was her only daughter. I think she was jealous,” you didn’t she was, you knew. She told you multiple times that you were the child that stole her beauty. Her hips never slimmed again. Her hair had started to turn gray, and the first wrinkle, it was all because of you.

“You shouldn’t say things like that about the Queen. That’s enough to have you killed.”

“Would you tell on me, Father? Isn’t this a private confessional? Can I not freely tell you about my thoughts and sins? About how I want my mother to be covered in blood? Or how I feel him inside everyday?” Jackson clears his throat, and turns to look at you through the lattice. “The baby is moving.”

“I thought you were being inappropriate,” he clears his throat as his hands drag over his thighs. Stopping to dig his fingers in. Squeezing the muscles on his legs until he winces.

“You thought I was talking about his cock?” Jackson coughs, and whispers a prayer in a language you didn’t quite understand. “I felt that for weeks. My body wasn’t prepared for that, and then it was.”

“You liked it?”

“It’s sin,” you deadpan. Hearing a ringing in your ears, you close your eyes. Going back to that night, and all the emotions that still haunted your every thought. “There’s something wrong with me.”

“There’s something wrong with the world. We’re here to cleanse it. Not everything is black and white. There’s always that gray area where most of us linger. We don’t understand our thoughts, or the way our bodies choose to feel. But we have control over our minds,” and he is struggling to keep control of his mind. Bruises would paint his legs at this rate, but it was the only thing keeping him sane.

“What if we don’t?” A flash of lightning illuminates both of your faces, and for the first time since your arrival, Jackson feels fear. “What if we don’t have control of our minds?”

“You mean someone else is controlling it?” You give him a shrug, unable to explain it. Or maybe it was your mind’s way of explaining your body’s reaction to his fingers gripping onto your hips, and his panting breath in your ear as he tells you that you’re taking him like a good girl.

“I think that’s all for tonight, Princess,” you didn’t have that title anymore, and he was still bestowing it upon you. Looking into your lap as Jackson’s eyes flash towards you. “I’ve prepared you a room. You’ll be expected to earn your keep.”

“And what does that entail, Father?”

“When we are not in this booth, and there’s not one around, call me Jax,” you whisper the name, and a warmth flows through you. It felt natural, and warm to say it. “We’ll discuss your…payment.”

“Will I be required to be on my knees…” Jax can’t read you. Your face is flat without emotion, but your tongue is as sharp as the blade he kept under his pillow.

“Excuse me?”

“In prayer? I’m with child, pretty soon I won’t be able to get up by myself. During church, I won’t be able to be in the chapel, my family will see me, and I’m growing their shame. No one will miss — us.”

Jax takes a deep before opening his door, and stepping over to open yours. “You and I will have private lessons. You will be required to get on your knees — in prayer, and I will be there to assist you up. We…” he looks up at the altar, and then to the floor.

You are giving him all kinds of temptation, and this living situation was going to go one of two ways, and he was not in the right mind to think straight. Sleep deprivation was making him think and feel all kinds of things. Things he shouldn’t be envisioning at all. “We…”

Lightning strobes into the entire chapel, all the while a booming clap of thunder rattles the windows. “I gotta get out of here,” he squeaks, grabbing your hand, and pulling you out of the sanctuary.

His feet shuffle quickly, and you struggle to keep up. Not stopping until he stops in front of your room. “My room is the first on the left,” he was too close to you, but no longer in a room of judging eyes. There wasn’t paintings of all the saints condemning Jax for his sins. Here it was just the two of you.

“We can’t continue to live in sin. Goodnight, Princess,” without even looking Jax moves quickly to his room, and slams the door while the hallway stretches out long before you. The candles create an eerie red warmth, but it chills you to your bones.

Your baby kicks you hard, and you grunt, holding onto your stomach. Unsure if you just keep drifting deeper and deeper into a life altering path, or if you were indeed on the righteous path to a better life. Things were off here. But what other choice did you have? Who would want you? Even though the priest was odd, he took you in.

Jax was fully aware of your condition, and didn’t care about the talk that was bound to happen. Sacrificing for you and your unborn child, and uncaring of what could come of housing you. Something was worth the sacrifice. But was it you or your child?

A chill creeps through your spine, and you look out the window at the end of the hall. The perfect view to your personal hell? Awakening? Enlightenment? You aren’t sure how to describe that night. But there, lighting up with the crooked streaks of the storm was that alley where someone greedily took from you.

The place that changed your life forever. Jax’s bedroom being at the end of the hall, he could have a window there, too. A perfect view of what should be a crime. It was right there. Framed perfectly for people to see. A sinful act that led you straight here. Right under this roof. And right next to the priest who could have seen it all. He could know who did it to you.

Sighing, you press your hand against your little bump, and walk into your room. Much less grand than your old one, but it was yours. And now you are in a different prison.

Jax takes a long drag of his cigarette as he looks out his window. Unable to see anything until the storm lit up the night sky, and he could see everything. Rubbing the back of his head, he stares at the loose brick that no one had bothered to discard, or even put back on the building. A brick that you had lodged out yourself, and used as a weapon, but he still finished. You had eventually quit fighting, and accepted your fate.

He wonders if you knew all that it was going to bring you. Had you not become pregnant, people could have lied about what had happened. But you would never be the same. He extinguishes his cigarette, and grabs up a bottle of oil. Dabbing it behind his ears, and on his forehead. Saying a silent prayer that the minty scent would help his head to quit hurting. And relax enough for sleep to overtake him. And hopefully no dreams. No memories. And no prophecies.

He just wanted to sleep. He wanted his own demons to leave him alone. A few hours of peaceful rest that wasn’t the hoards of nightmarish ghouls telling him what to do. Just a moment of peace. His time was running out. Soon he wouldn’t know peace again.

He lays back on the bed, slowly closing his eyes, “Forgive me Father, for I have sinned.”

He knew. And he wanted Jax to keep on sinning. Jax knew it deep inside his blackened soul. He had to keep on sinning. One down. Six more to go…

Next

Masterlist

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[dreamwritesimagines]

Garden of Secrets [4] - Venus Flytrap

A.N: Thank you so much for your amazing feedback and support my loves!❤ I hope you’ll like this chapter as well, and please don’t forget to tell me what you think, thank you! ❤

Thanks so much to @theskytraveler​ for helping me with the chapter!

Summary: It’s important to keep one’s promises.

Warnings: Regency era society and social rules, some gender specific language and terms, slow burn.

Word Count: 4300

Series Masterlist

You didn’t have a lot of things that you could call your own while growing up. Almost everything you wore had passed down to you from your sister whom you also shared a room with, so anything that only belonged to you was very precious to you.

So you had made yourself a flower garden.

It hadn’t been easy. In fact at first, you had worked in that small corner of the garden -as far away from your house as possible- from morning until the night fell, until your sister would call you back home for dinner. Eventually, you had managed to save up a little to buy a book on different types of flowers, and in the following days you hadn’t stopped reading it until you memorized it line by line, the various drawings of flowers on yellow pages embedded into your mind.

So needless to say, you couldn’t wait until you would see this flower exhibition.

“Can we leave now?”

“My dearest, the exhibition will open at 1 o’clock,” your aunt said with a laugh. “It’s not even the time yet, I assure you we won’t be late.”

“Maybe they’ll open it earlier?” you asked and she tilted her head.

“We will leave soon, I promise,” she said, her focus still on the paper she was writing on. “Just wait until I finish this letter.”

You slumped back down on the armchair and drummed your fingertips on the cushion.

“Are you sure you don’t want to see the exhibition with me?”

“No thank you dear,” she said. “Me and Teddy will sit by the pastry shop while waiting for you, you know how much he likes those chocolate cakes there.”

You suppressed a smile and as if on cue, Teddy ran into the room in full speed to fling himself at you.

“Whoa, hello there!” you said as you wrapped your arms around him to give him a hug. “We were just talking about you, are you ready?”

He nodded fervently and turned around in your arms to look at your aunt.

“Hello auntie! I finished all the work Mr. Langdon gave me!”

“Good job Teddy!” your aunt said, making you smile wide as you looked down at Teddy.

“Even French?”

“Even French!”

You gasped. “That’s wonderful Teddy!” you said. “Do you want to come see the flowers with me?”

He thought for a moment, an exaggerated solemn look crossing his face.

“I will if you want me to,” he said. “But first the pastry shop?”

“Told you,” your aunt said with a laugh as she sprinkled sand on the paper, then blew on it and carefully placed the paper into the envelope. “Very well, I’m ready. Let’s go.”

By the time you got to the street where the exhibition and the pastry shop was on, you were almost trembling in anticipation. You barely listened to what your aunt was saying before you made your way to where the exhibition was held, your maid following you while your aunt and Teddy went to the pastry shop across the street. You quickly paid for your ticket, then stepped inside, the view making you hold your breath.

Oh you weren’t going to leave this place until you were sure you saw every single flower in detail.

The exhibition had the same layout of a museum, and all the flowers were divided into categories. Since you were one of the earliest guests, there were only a couple of people which would make it so much easier for you to spend as much time as you wanted with every flower, and a giddy giggle climbed up your chest which you quickly hid by clearing your throat and making your way to the nearest flower.

By the time you got to see most of the flowers in room, two hours had already passed and it was slowly getting crowded. Even if you could feel the gaze of some lords -who were probably there to chaperone their sisters- on you, you paid no mind to them, you were way too focused on the lovely sights in front of you to even turn your glances.

That was, until you heard a very familiar voice.

“What a coincidence to find you here Miss Y/N.”

You closed your eyes for a moment, heaved a sigh and opened them again before turning to look up at him. Benedict was smiling at you in a very proud manner, as if he was delighted to in fact find you there. Your heart skipped a beat but you pulled your brows into a frown, shooting him a glare which didn’t seem to discourage him at all.

“Is it?”

“Hm?”

“Is it a coincidence?”

He shrugged his shoulders. “Seems like it.”

“It has nothing to do with the fact that you told me about this exhibition and knew very well I’d be here?”

“I suddenly found myself very much interested in flowers,” he said, his mischievous smile still playing on his lips. “And felt the need to see some.”

“Name one flower here.”

He looked around and pointed at the door with his thumb. “That’s a rose.”

“That’s also not a part of the exhibition, they just put it there for decoration.”

“Still counts.”

You heaved another dramatic sigh and walked past him to look at the next flower, hoping that he would get the message but of course he did not as he followed you.

“This one looks pretty.”

“It’s also very deadly,” you murmured, leaning in to inspect the petals better and Benedict tilted his head.

“Really?”

You nodded, deep in thought.

“Yeah, all parts of it,” you said. “But especially the rhizomes; the thickened roots. It’s called Flame Lily, it’s pretty and not that difficult to grow, it can even grow in sand dunes, but it’s very dangerous and people have to be very careful with it in their garden because it’s fatal to anyone who digests it. It’s also—” you stopped immediately when you caught yourself rambling and turned your head to see Benedict watching you with a soft smile and you narrowed your eyes, straightening your back and crossing your arms.

“You can read, can’t you?” you snapped and nodded in the direction of the small name plate with the information under it. “It’s all there.”

“I think that was the longest time you’ve talked to me so far.”

“Don’t get used to it.”

He almost resembled a hopeful puppy. “Tell me more.”

“I’m not the flower almanac,” you replied in a haste, trying to cover up the awkwardness that was taking over you for giving him an impromptu lesson in flowers and skipped to the next flower, with him following you suit.

“What does this one do?”

“It doesn’t do anything— alright, you know what?” you turned to glare at him. “You’re disrespecting the lady you’re courting right now. I don’t know about your arrangement nor do I care, but keep me out of this—”

“What?” he asked, his brows furrowed in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“I want no part in it,” you said and he shook his head fervently.

“No not that, what lady?”

“The lady you’re courting.”

He blinked a couple of times. “…Who am I courting?”

“Charlotte Harlowe.”

“Charlotte?” he repeated. “We’re not—Jesus Christ, this again? Who did you hear that from?”

“What does it matter?” you asked and he ran a hand over his face, a look of exhaustion crossing his eyes as if this was the hundredth time he was explaining that to someone.

“Charlie is a close friend of mine.”

You scoffed a laugh and shot him a mocking glance. “Sure. Very close I’m guessing.”

“No she really is a friend. We could never see each other that way, there’s no courtship between us, nor could there ever be.”

“And you were what, talking about art when you were in that room alone back in your house?”

“That’s exactly what we were doing.”

“Well I…I don’t care,” you said, ignoring the small spark of hope shooting through your system and throwing your shoulders back. “Just keep me out of it—”

“I’m not courting anyone right now,” he cut you off as if it was imperative that you knew it and you raised your brows.

“One could assume your ways of trying to find love is not working,” you taunted. “I’m sure you are finding something though, so not a complete loss I suppose.”

That seemed to have rendered him speechless for a moment and you used that to your advantage, walking closer to the last flower in the exhibit; Venus Flytrap.

“I think I gave you the wrong impression when um, when we bumped into each other at Madame Delacroix’s shop and what you read about me on Whistledown, but I can assure you—” he was cut off when you held your breath. “What?”

“Stop talking and don’t move,” you said, your eyes fixed on the small fly buzzing over the Venus Flytrap before it landed on the open flower.

“Is that…?”

“Yeah,” you said, still holding your breath like if you breathed too loud it would somehow scare the fly away. “If that fly stays there long enough, it will close.”

Benedict tilted his head and you nibbled on your lip, counting down in your head until the trap closed, making you exhale in disbelief. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Benedict’s focus shifting to you but you were almost too dazed to even snap at him, and you leaned in closer to see the closed flower better, excitement rushing through you.

“Is it your favorite flower?” Benedict asked and you pulled back slightly, then turned to look at him.

“Venus Flytrap?” you asked. “No. Why?”

“I’ve heard some lords—never mind,” he said, making your frown deepen.

“What?”

“I’ve heard some lords call you that.”

“Venus Flytrap?” you asked and rolled your eyes. “How original of them.”

“So what is your favorite flower then?” he insisted. “Roses?”

“Sure,” you deadpanned. “Limitless options to choose from in the nature and I chose roses as my favorite.”

Benedict smiled slightly. “Tulips.”

“Not even close.”

“Orchids.”

“Now you’re just insulting me.”

“Dahlias.”

You arched a brow. “You know what a dahlia is?”

“I wasn’t raised in a barn,” he said, a proud grin lighting up his face again. “Is it dahlias?”

You shook your head. “My favorite isn’t that commonly found,” you said. “It’s not here, or in any florist in London.”

“What is it then?”

“Middlemist Red.”

He thought for a moment. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen that one.”

“Makes two of us.”

He looked quite confused now. “Your favorite flower is a flower you haven’t seen before?”

“I’ve seen sketches of it,” you said. “It’s the most beautiful flower in the world. I don’t have to see it in person to know it’s my favorite, it simply is.”

“You like the idea of a flower?”

“You like the idea of love,” you said without missing a beat, “At least mine exists somewhere.”

That playful light started glimmering in his eyes again. “So does mine.”

“So you hope.”

“So I know.”

You let out a hum, then shrugged your shoulders.

“Well, I wouldn’t have the time to rest if I started correcting every man’s illusions with the truth,” you pointed out and looked around the room, then nodded at your maid. “That being said, I should take my leave now.”

“I was just about to walk outside as well,” Benedict said quickly and you shook your head, then stepped out of the building with him, your maid right behind you. “No really, do you believe in anything?”

“Other than the absolute truth?”

“One could claim there is no such a thing as absolute truth.”

“Oh I can assure you that there is,” you said. “Some of us just don’t have the luxury of entertaining such pointless ideas, unlike what your artistic circle of friends made you believe.”

He opened his mouth to argue with that thought for sure, but before he had a chance to say anything, a familiar, cheerful voice reached you.

“Y/N!”

You instantly turned your head to see Teddy running to you in full speed and he flung himself to you, making you suppress a smile before you knelt down to look at him better. He had traces of chocolate all over his cheeks and you wiped at them, tilting your head.

“Did you fall into the chocolate cauldron?”

“I ate two slices of chocolate cake!” he held up two fingers and you gasped.

“Did you?” you asked. “Two slices?”

“Yes!” he said, nodding hard enough to give himself a head spin. “And we got those—those small chocolates as well, those round ones!”

You couldn’t help the smile warming your face. “Which round ones?”

“You know! The ones I brought you the last time! You invented that drink which—which we put chocolates in milk, it was your idea!”

A small giggle escaped from your lips and wiped at his cheek again as you saw your aunt making her way to you. Her eyes averted from you to Benedict and your heart skipped a beat, you had almost forgotten he was right there. As soon as you straightened your back again, you saw him watching you with a smile which made you pull yourself together and you pursed your lips again, narrowing your eyes at him.

“What?”

“Nothing,” he said quickly, shaking his head as if he was trying to snap out of some sort of a daze and turned to your brother. “Hello there. I’m Benedict, what’s your name?”

Teddy came closer to you, half hiding behind your skirt. He had his moments of shyness around strangers but he was slowly starting to overcome that lately and he stole a look at you before turning to Benedict.

“I’m Teddy.”

“Nice to meet you Teddy,” Benedict said, extending his hand and Teddy eyed him for a moment before shaking his hand.

“Nice to meet you too.”

“Mr. Bridgerton, what a coincidence!” your aunt said and Benedict bowed, the perfect picture of dignity and charm.

“Lady Thorne,” he said. “What an honor to see you again.”

You rolled your eyes but thankfully your aunt didn’t see that.

“Are you here to see the exhibition as well?” your aunt asked and Benedict nodded.

“Yes I was,” he said. “Though I’m quite ignorant on flowers, Miss Y/N has been the most helpful tutor to me today.”

You made a face at him, making him suppress a smirk as your aunt pressed a hand over her chest.

“Aw such a delightful encounter then!”

“Debatable,” you muttered under your breath and Teddy looked up at you.

“Hm?”

“Nothing Teddy.”

“And I was so taken by all this newfound knowledge that I forgot to ask,” Benedict said. “Miss Y/N, are you by any chance coming to the Brewer Ball tonight?”

“Why?” you asked tersely and your aunt cleared her throat.

“Yes we are, Mr. Bridgerton.”

“Any chance you could spare me a dance then?” he asked, making your aunt gasp and you gritted your teeth, glaring at him.

Oh he was doing this on purpose.

He knew your aunt would love it, and that you couldn’t say no right in front of her. Even though the idea was tempting, you clicked your tongue and heaved a sigh.

“…Sure,” you said after a couple of seconds and he smiled at you sweetly.

“Wonderful,” he said. “I should take my leave I think. Lady Thorne.”

“Mr. Bridgerton.”

“See you later Teddy.”

Teddy only waved at him and Benedict took a step, but stopped when he heard your voice.

“Mr. Bridgerton?”

He turned around immediately. “Miss Y/N?”

You let a mocking smirk pull at your lips.

“Do give Madame Delacroix my best,” you said. “When you go to um…pick up your sister’s gowns from her shop.”

He stared at you, his mouth slightly open in amusement and you curtsied, then turned your back to him to smile at your aunt who looked very happy, your implication lost to her as you knew it would be.

“So,” you said “Are we going home now?”

                                           *

It wasn’t that you had been excited for a dance with him.

It wasn’t as if your heart was pacing in your chest when you had stepped into the ballroom, or that your eyes searched the crowd in hopes of finding him.

It wasn’t like any of that because if it were, then that would have meant that bitter taste at the back of your throat was disappointment. Even though Daphne, Anthony, Colin and Lady Bridgerton were in the ballroom, there was no sign of Benedict.

Whatever. It was good riddance, and even if your aunt was quite upset at him not showing up after asking you to spare him a dance, you had convinced her that you did not care.

Which you did not.

Almost two hours into the ball, your dance card was full and as much as you hated it, dancing with various lords somehow provided you a distraction from the anger boiling at the pit of your stomach. It was just flat out rude to not come to the ball after this afternoon’s exchange, but it served as a reminder that you should not even have spared him a thought, no matter what he said.

Instead, you were going to just focus on this extremely pointless and boring conversation you had been somehow pulled into after your sixth dance.

“No I haven’t been to one yet I’m afraid,” you said, making Lord Brumley raise his brows.

“You’ve never been to a horse race, my lady?”

“No.”

“You’re jesting surely?”

You shook your head. “I just haven’t find the occasion I think.”

“Oh I love horse races!” he said as if you had asked him. “You must allow me to accompany you to one this season my lady.”

“Are they that entertaining?”

“Extremely!” he said. “It’s right up there for me with fencing.”

“You like fencing as well,” you muttered, looking around as subtly as you could. “I see. Are you any good at it?”

“I’m very good at it,” he said with a tinge of pride in his tone, but none of the playfulness Benedict always possessed. “Back at school -I mean of course it’s been years now, but I was the best one among my friends…”

The rest of his sentence disappeared into the rest of the chatter in the ballroom as you saw Benedict walk into the ballroom, looking somehow out of breath. You could feel your heart skipping a beat as you noticed how handsome he looked, but you bit on your tongue, trying to focus.

It was rude at best and just plain arrogant at worst to just ask you for a dance and then deciding to skip the ball, as if you were one of those ladies desperate for his attention. The anger was making it hard to listen to anyone but your own thoughts, yet you forced yourself to turn your gaze to Lord Brumley who was very much interested in telling you how he had beaten his best friend in a fencing match, but soon enough he was cut off by another voice, a very, very familiar one.

“Miss Y/N.”

You gritted your teeth and turned to look at him in complete silence, arching a brow. He swallowed thickly and cleared his throat.

“May I have a word?”

“I’m in the middle of a conversation,” you said flatly as you turned to Lord Brumley who nodded at him.

“Hello Benedict.”

“Thomas.”

Oh great, they knew each other.

“Well I’m sorry to say this but the lady is quite interested in our conversation,” Lord Brumley said with a grin. “And I even got a very faint smile from her during our dance.”

You tried your hardest to keep yourself from rolling your eyes.

“Accidents happen I suppose,” you muttered, making Lord Brumley chuckle.

“Don’t you have someone else you should dance with?” Benedict asked him tersely and you took a deep breath.

“Excuse me Lord Brumley, it seems that I must destroy yet another man’s hopes,” you told him, making him laugh and bow his head.

“Of course, my lady.”

You walked away from him, with Benedict following you.

“Y/N—”

“I’m sure there’s supposed to be an honorific in there somewhere,” you said, your voice ice cold as you walked to the window just so that you could make sure you wouldn’t look at him. Benedict took a deep breath.

“I know I’m late,” he said. “I…please accept my apologies, I did not mean to.”

“I don’t care about your intention or your presence,” you said, grabbing a drink from the tray to sip it nonchalantly, as if your heart wasn’t beating in your throat. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Daphne looking at you two but you forced yourself to keep your gaze on the night sky, stars glimmering.

“No I was going to come here much sooner, with my family actually but—”

“I don’t know why you’re so insistent on always giving me all these explanations, it’s not as if I ask for any of them,” you cut him off. “That being said, whoever it is that’s holding your leash, Miss Harlowe or Madame Delacroix or someone else, they really ought to shorten it.”

He shook his head.

“I know what it looks like but I can assure you,” he said. “I meant what I said about dancing with you, I still want to dance with you—”

“Oh you still want to dance with me?” you asked, a disdainful chuckle escaping from your lips as you finally turned to look at him. “Well I’m honored, Mr. Bridgerton. Truly, I am.”

He paused for a moment, as if trying to find the right words.

“I was painting,” he ended up saying and you raised your brows, shrugging your shoulders.

“Alright, great. You can go back to that now.”

“No you don’t understand,” he said hastily. “I haven’t been able to paint for…for months now, lacking inspiration for so long and it was absolute torture but when I returned home today, I could finally start again. I lost the track of time until it was finished.”

Your heart made a leap in your chest. That feeling was quite familiar, you had lost the track of time while tending to your garden more times than you could count, and yet his explanation did nothing to soothe the pang of anger inside of you.

“I didn’t even hear my family leave,” he added. “It was almost a haze, even.”

“Sounds fun,” you said, your voice completely flat. “Must be nice to have that luxury to be left alone when you want to.”

“Would you dance with me for the last—”

“No,” you cut him off. “I promised the last dance to someone else, and even if I didn’t, I still wouldn’t dance with you.”

That look in his eyes was so sad that you felt your stomach turn but you forced yourself to keep your expression completely still.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I’d like to make amends if you’d let me, it was never my intention to break your heart.”

You stared at him, that bitterness spreading through your system as an amused chuckle left your lips.

“See, this is the issue with you artists, your endless imagination,” you said. “I don’t have a heart. Don’t disappoint yourself or me any further by assuming otherwise.”

He paused only for a second before he shook his head.

“I don’t think that’s true.”

You scrunched up your nose and tilted the glass towards his direction to point at him. “Right, because you know me so well.”

“I think you want people to think you have no heart,” he pointed out. “And don’t get me wrong, you’re very good at convincing most of them. But I don’t think that’s the case.”

Your jaw clenched, that spark of fury shooting through your system as soon as the feeling of defenselessness crashed down on you. It was somehow way too familiar and you could feel your throat tightening but you managed to appear completely calm, tilting your head to the side.

“Quite the creative theory,” you commented and lowered your voice so that no one else in the ballroom could hear you but him.

“Did you come up with it while looking for inspiration between some lady’s legs?”

He pulled back slightly as if your words took him by surprise, and granted you would have never formed that sentence if it were any other lord, if it were any other person, especially now that you were in public but anger was pulsing through you too fast to let you even think about the consequences of your implications.

It was unbecoming of a lady, nor was it acceptable in any way but you couldn’t bring yourself to care, not when you were this furious at him, his assumptions and his actions tonight.

“Miss Y/N, I believe your next dance is with me?” Lord Johnson’s voice reached your ears and both you and Benedict turned your heads, snapping out of the haze.

“…Yes,” you said. “Of course, Lord Johnson.”

Benedict’s jaw clenched but he bowed his head at you. “My lady.”

“My lord,” you said and it was only when Lord Johnson took a step back that you took a step forward to Benedict so that he could hear your low voice even through the chatter of the ballroom.

“You don’t know me,” you nearly growled. “And you never will.”

And then, you dropped a curtsy and placed your hand in Lord Johnson’s, and let him lead you to the dance floor.

Chapter 5