Art and Ice - Ground Rules

Pairing: Eventual Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Characters: Natasha, Wanda, Pietro, Loki, Bucky, Sam Wilson, Clint Barton, a lot of the avengers cast is mentioned.

Summery: Bucky and Doodle spend some quality time together.

This might a 2 or 3 parter (it's gonna be more because cannot help myself). College AU, our boy Bucky is on the hockey team, and reader is an art major (because I love that trope and couldn't help myself)

Warnings: Not beta'd! All mistakes are my own. Friends fluff, swearing, mentions of college students being college students. Bit of friendly harmless flirting between friends. Bucky is a playboy. Flirting. Mentions of not eating or drinking for a hours (ADHD Brain)

Word Court: 2859

Likes, reblogs, and comments are appreciated! ❤️

Please do not repost, translate or otherwise copy my work elsewhere, without my express permission, thank you! Lunaroserites on tumblr and ao3

Catch up here: Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 ❤️

You didn’t see Barnes the next day, which wasn’t surprising, it was Friday night after a win so celebration extended into the start of the weekend. Saturday was much the same, you toiled away in the art room in front of a large sketch pad trying to get something together while your canvas dried. 

You also had a small piece you were working on for a gallery wall you were doing for a local gallery that was happening once the semester ended. So your plate was full and adding the insistent nagging from your brain to find Barnes, your patience was wearing thin. 

You threw the paint brush at the sink, it sailed in a smooth arche before clattering in the paint covered sink. You ran your hands over your face and groaned as you leaned forward, elbows planted in the table. Your mind is running amuck and making you lose patience. 

“Doodle,” the new brush you were holding snapped in your tense grip as you looked up, startled. Barnes was standing at the door holding a bag that smelled delicious and your stomach growled. You may have forgotten to take a break and eat. 

“Barnes,” you said, your tone tense. His eyebrow quirked up as he walked in and placed the bag down a few feet away. 

“Are you okay,” your hand kinda hurt from snapping the brush a moment ago, and your head was killing you with a raging headache. Which might be because you haven’t eaten in a while or because you were thirsty. You took a deep breath and nodded. 

“Yeah, just a little stressed,” you answered. The smell of the food in the bag makes your mouth water and your stomach twist in an uncomfortable way. “What can I do for you?” 

“You weren’t at practice all weekend. Nat said you were hauled up in the art room,” he said nonchalantly, you just stared at him. “And I figured I would stop by and check on my favourite girl,” he said confidently, and you rolled your eyes in response. Your stomach decided that moment was the best time to make its presence known and grumbled loudly. Your cheeks immediately darkened in embarrassment. 

“And she said you most likely didn’t eat,” the look on his face caught you off guard, he had a look of genuine concern etched on his features. “She knows you well,” he mused, his tongue poked between his teeth as he winked at you. You leaned back against your chair and extended your hand and gestured to the chair across from you, prompting him to sit. He took a seat across from you and smiled. “I hope you like burgers,” he said as he pulled the bag over. 

“I don’t mind them, are they from Gus’s?” You asked, he nodded. 

“I wasn’t sure what you drank so I got water,” he added, pulling a couple water bottles out of his gym bag. You smiled and chuckled a little at how thoughtful he was being. 

“Waters fine,” you accepted the bottle and cracked it open and drank half it one go. He eyed you suspiciously and you gulped down hard. “I get lost in what I’m doing and sometimes forget to eat or drink,” you mumbled under his intense gaze. 

“That’s not healthy,” he muttered, pulling out a burger and handing it to you. You accepted and opened it up, taking a bite and biting back the moan you almost let out. 

“I know, but when I’m in the zone. I just don’t realise how much time passes,” you said softly, he nodded and you two ate the food in a comfortable silence. 

“Thank you,” you said as you threw out the garbage and sat back down. 

“No problem, can’t let ya starve,” he chuckled and rubbed his chin in his hand. “What’s ya working on?” He asked and looked at the few pieces shattered behind you and a shadow box a few feet away from you. 

“Uh, a project for an art exhibit once schools out,” you answered. 

“Mind if I work on some homework? It’s quieter here than my house,” you raised an eyebrow at him, that was unexpected. “What?” he asked. 

“Nothing, don’t mind me,” you said as you looked down to work on the piece for the shadow box. Your eyes drifted up every now and then as you observed him working on what looked to be some kind of science homework. 

His eyes wandered over your frame every now and then as he took in your look of complete concentration as you worked with a small piece of clay. He couldn’t help but appreciate the dedication you had toward your craft. 

“What are you working on?” You asked after some time. 

“Science homework,” he gave you a cheeky smile. You gave him a deadpan expression. “It’s space stuff,” he answered. 

“What about space stuff?” You asked, genuine curiosity laced your tone. 

“I’m learning about stars,��� he tilted the book he was reading, it was open to a diagram of a star. 

“Oh neat!” You took a closer look at the diagrams and then looked back at him. He was rubbing his neck with a sheepish look on his face. “I did a project a couple years ago on Saturn,” you pulled your phone out and showed him a picture. 

“Wow, you did a fantastic job,” he took your phone for a moment to get a closer look at it. “Wait, that looks familiar,” he looked up at you again. “That looks like the one in the observatory.”

“That’s because it is,” you chuckled. His eyes widened a little and his smile broadened. 

“I made out with a girl right next to it,” he chuckled and your smile dropped and you busied yourself with another piece of clay. 

“That’s great,” you forced out through the firm line your mouth was now set in. 

“Why do you do that?” He asked suddenly, noticing your immediate change in demeanour. You looked up and your eyes narrowed at him. 

“Do what?” 

“That? Get all closed off when I say something you don’t like,” he asked. 

“Because I really didn’t need to know you made out with a girl next to my art piece,” you stated. “I was told if I have nothing nice to say, don’t say anything at all.” 

“I’m not a child, I can handle criticism,” he defended. 

“That’s not the point. Have you ever once sat down and just chatted with a girl without the expectation of sex afterwards?” You asked, your tone very genuine. He sat back in his chair and looked anywhere but your face. 

“No. Not in a long time,” his answer caught you guard. You were expecting some snide comment or a lie. When you looked at his face, he looked completely sincere. You took a deep breath knowing the answer to the question you were about to ask. 

“Is that why you’re here now?” You didn’t recognize the voice that asked the question. It was soft and meek, nothing like your usual cadence. He didn’t answer right away, and based on the look on his face he didn’t really know what to say or how to answer. 

“Honestly,” he took a deep breath and looked at his hands. “Probably. Maybe. I don’t know. At first definitely. The first time I spoke to you it was. But I don’t know,” his rambling gave away how honest he was being. “I still want to,” he paused, “to still sleep with you. I also want to hang out with you. And get to know you.” 

You couldn’t help the slight upturn of your lip as you released a long inhale, “thank you for being honest.” 

“I might be a prick. But at least I’m an honest one,” he tried to joke. His smile dropped when you didn’t laugh. “So where does that leave us now?” 

“I don’t know Barnes. I don’t want to sleep with you. But I don’t want you to take that as a challenge to get me to sleep with you. If you truly want to be friends, and we get to know one another with no ulterior motives, then we can do that,” you didn’t want to sugar coat it. You also didn’t have the balls to admit you had a tiny crush on him because that would go straight to his dick and this conversation would be pointless. 

“Well to start you could start calling me Bucky, Barnes is so detached,” he gave you a small smile. 

“Well that was the point,” you chuckled. “But okay, Bucky.” His smile grew larger and he pumped his fist in the air. 

“I’m still calling you Doodle though,” he said, his tone serious as he stared at you. 

“That’s fine, I guess,” you chuckled while rolling your eyes at him. 

“So how much of my piece is finished?” He asked, you couldn’t help but laugh and pointed over your shoulder to the large canvas behind you. “That’s empty.” 

“I know. I have to get some practice sketches  done first before I paint on the big canvas,” you decided to not mention the two you ruined.

“Can I see the practice sketches?” He asked hopefully. 

“Sure,” you relented and passed the sketch pad over and watched him look at it. 

“How do you do that?” He asked, passing it back a moment later. 

“Draw?” You raised an eyebrow at him. He nodded. “I just do, it takes a lot of practice and effort. I could ask the same of you, how do you skate so effortlessly?” 

He smiled for a moment before answering, “I guess it’s the same. I just get on the ice and go. The moment I lace my skates up and I hit the ice everything else just fades away, it’s just me, my stick and the puck.” 

“For me, I pick up the pen, or brush and just start somewhere and get lost in it. It’s me, the brush and the canvas,” you finished. 

“Hey,” he was serious now, that caught your attention fully as you looked at him, “I wanted to apologise for what I said the other day…”

“Bucky,” you reached out and placed your smaller hand on his gently as you cut him off, “stop, it’s okay. We both said things that weren’t very nice. For what it’s worth.” You looked into his eyes sincerely, “I’m sorry too. It’s behind us now.” 

He smiled and nodded, “okay Doodle.” 

That conversation was the catalyst to your developing and lively friendship with Bucky, when the team wasn’t travelling for the away games over the next week he would sit in the art room and do his homework while you worked on the art projects you had due. 

It was Thursday night, Bucky was just getting to the art studio after practice when he saw you hunched over your sketch pad, your hands in your hair and you were sniffling. He entered and quickly threw his gym bag down and came around the table and crouched down next to you. He placed his hand on your forearm, trying not to startle you too much. You jumped anyway since you didn’t hear him come in, you were too wrapped up in your own thoughts to notice anything else.

“Doodle,” he said softly. “Everything okay?” You shook your head and slumped into his chest, that caught him off guard, he quickly wrapped his arms around you and hugged you back as you cried into his chest. As quickly as you collapsed into him you pulled back and shook your head. 

“I’m sorry,” you blurted out and placed your head in your hands. Bucky was a little stunned at how quickly your demeanour changed. 

“It's okay,” he stood and took his usual seat across from you. “Wanna talk about it?” You let out an exaggerated sigh and sniffled loudly. 

“My art professor is a bitch,” you groaned. “And I have a bunch more projects due and she’s just awful. If I didn’t need this course to graduate I would have dropped it.” You pressed your cheek against the table and closed your eyes. 

“What did she do?” Bucky asked.

“After class she decided to tell me she doesn’t know why I bother trying, and that the school was foolish to offer, a no talent, wannabe one of the only full ride scholarships offered for the arts,” you were crying again. You had spent years honing your craft, and fought tooth and nail for the scholarship that allowed you to attend school here. 

“She’s probably just jealous,” you laughed at that, Nat had said the same thing when you texted her earlier about what happened. 

“I have an appointment with the head of the department tomorrow afternoon. This isn’t the first time she’s been awful to me,” you didn’t see his fist clench and the momentary anger flash across his face as you said that. 

“I wouldn’t listen to her Doodle,” Bucky reached across the table and patted your arm gently. “Your art is awesome, and you’re incredibly talented,” he finished. You smiled against the table and lifted your head up to send him a thankful look.

“Thanks Bucky, that means a lot,” you sighed and whipped your eyes with the back of your hand and rolled your shoulders. “I got some stuff done on your portrait,” you said, your voice still a little coarse, but you felt a lot better. His face lit and his full attention was on the covered canvas behind you. You stood and pulled the cover off and showed him, you had some of the out lining done, the positioning and scale perfect. You felt very proud of it so far. 

“Holy shit Doodle,” Bucky stood and got closer to admire the outlining. “You know, once this is done, you should get them to let you display it in the sports annex,” he had a smug tone as he said this. You chuckled and rolled your eyes. 

“Maybe if you bat your eyelashes at the department head, and ask him really nicely, he’ll let me,” you bumped your hip into his and smirked up at him. He smiled down at you and the softness in his eye made your heart skip a beat, you quickly cleared your throat and moved from him to grab a pencil. 

“I’m going to work my homework, and stay out of your way,” Bucky said softly as he moved from your side to sit down again. You smiled looking down at your feet before you started to do some more outlining. 

His eyes would shift from his homework every so often and they would rove over your body. He knew he didn’t have a shot in hell at getting you to agree to sleeping with him, you made that clear and he was really trying to make sure he kept that at the forefront of his mind when he was around you because he really did want to be friends with you.

But those leggings you wore hugged the curve of your ass so perfectly it was making it difficult. He felt his mouth dry out a little as he watched you rock from side to side as you drew on the canvas, and he involuntarily let a low whistle when you stretched up and exposed some of the soft skin of your back. 

You immediately turned and looked at him with a raised brow and squinted at him, full judgement. “Barnes,” you were warning him, he raised his hands up in surrender. 

“Not my fault you look amazing, it's a crime,” he defended himself with a cocky tone. You couldn’t stop the blush that crawled up your neck and on to your cheeks. 

“You’re insufferable,” you groaned, turning your back to him again, the blush still strong on your cheeks. He laughed loudly, before going back to his homework. You couldn’t keep the little smile off your face, you knew he used that line on countless girls, and it was probably a line he used often to get in their pants, but damn he was such a smooth talker, and he said all the right things in the right tones. You hated that you longed for his compliments. 

It was quiet for a while longer, just the sounds of pencils on paper and canvas filling the air.   

“Hey Doodle,” you hummed in response, not wanting to look away. “There is a final game just before playoffs, it's here, do you think you’ll come?” 

“I thought Nat said you guys were done with the home games now,” you still didn’t look at him, trying to make sure your scale was correct. 

“This one isn’t a regular season game, but I think you’ll really enjoy it,” he was being incredibly cryptic about whatever it is. You turned now, and raised an eyebrow at him. 

“Then what is it?” You asked as you eyed him. 

“Surprise, but I promise you’ll love it,” he sounded so earnest that you couldn’t help but believe him. 

“Okay,” I chuckled. “I’ll go,” you relented, trying to hide your genuine excitement. 

Taglist: @vicmc624, @calwitch, @learisa, @aaqua-tofana

Feel free to send me a message if you have a request or would like more, or would like to be added to the tag list ❤️

Yes! As the days are getting shorter and colder, the summer and autumn bats have now become winter bats:

New OC status unlocked, they now have names! Having fun imagining a fake children's book cover ~

It Was Wonderful

Kinktober prompt: Aftercare

Rating: Mature

Pairing: Backstage pAss!Bucky x Backstage Pass!Steve x reader

Warnings: Fluff, subdrop, comfort no hurt

Words: 1139

A/N: This is the end of my mini-kinktober. I hope you enjoyed it. Thanks for liking, extra thanks for reblogging and/or commenting, and gentle forehead kisses for everyone because I love you

Thanks for reblogging.

Kinktober Masterlist | Backstage Pass Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Ko-fi

part 2

Your eyelids flutter open slowly, and you find yourself staring up into Steve’s sky blue eyes.

He smiles at you radiantly, “Welcome back, princess.”

“Hi, Stevie.”

Your head is pillowed on his thighs, and when you roll over towards him you feel tears slip down your face. You bat at the tears with the back of your hand and laugh. Only the laugh comes out as a sob.

Steve gathers you into his arms. “Hey, hey, hey. I’m here, princess. I’ve got you. Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

“‘M not hurt, Stevie. I feel good. I’m not sure why I’m crying.”

“It happens, sweet girl,” Bucky reassures you, pushing your sweat-damp hair away from your face before dabbing at the corners of your eyes with a tissue. “Just give your body a chance to stow those extra happy chemicals, and it’ll taper off.”

You know this already. It happens to Bucky sometimes. But helping him with it and feeling it personally are two very different things.

Steve kisses your forehead. “Is it okay if I keep holding you, sweetheart?’

You wrap your arms around him. “Don’t you dare put me down,” you mumble against his neck.

He chuckles, “Yes ma’am.”

“Here. Eat some choccy,” Bucky says, crouching next to you holding a square of chocolate in front of you. “Choccy always makes me feel better after.” You try to take the chocolate from him, but he dodges your hand, and shakes his head. He holds it there until you pop your mouth open, then he slips it onto your tongue. “Good girl,” he chuckles when you hum at how delicious the sweet treat is.

“See? Look at you. Already done crying,” Steve says. He licks his thumb and swipes over the tear tracks before they can dry on your skin.

Bucky makes sure you’re done eating the little square of chocolate, then he offers you some water, making you sip it slowly. “I’ll get a towel. And a couple more blankets, and snacks,” he hums, handing the water to Steve before exiting the bunk.

Steve resituates you so he can give you more water, and another piece of chocolate.

Steve asks earnestly, “Was that too much, princess? We don’t have to do it again if you don't like it.”

“No, it was wonderful,” you rush to reassure him, while you make him eat a piece of chocolate too. “Not breathing this way,” you cover your mouth, “feels totally different from this way,” you press the webbing between your thumb and index finger against your throat. “I like it,” you nod decisively.

“Do you like it enough to do it again some other time?”

“Yes. Absolutely. But next time, can you have your phone with you?”

“What for?”

“I want you to be able to take pictures if you want to. I know you like to use them for your sketches.”

“I love you so much, sweet girl. I promise I’ll have my phone on hand next time.”

“Good,” you nod. You pop your mouth open and wait patiently until Steve slides a piece of chocolate onto your tongue. You take the bar from him, break off a square, and reciprocate by feeding him one too.

You lean your head against his chest. “You’re so warm,” a shiver shakes through you.

“Are you chilly?”

“A little.”

“You could lie down and cover up with a blanket?”

You scrunch your nose and shake your head. “It’s… ahm,” you flap your hand at the mattress, “wet.”

“Fair point. How about this instead,” he makes you sit up so he can pull one of his hoodies over your head.

You poke your head inside of the hoodie and take a big whiff of Steve’s scent. “Nice,” you say, “but not good enough.”

“What do you want, princess?”

“Lay down. On your tummy.”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Stay there,” you order. You climb onto his back and lie down. Up on his elbows, the natural curve of his back, butt, and legs conforms comfortably to your body.

Plus, it’s like being curled up on an extremely sexy electric blanket.

You wiggle, and make a happy noise. Steve laughs. “I’m happy to be of service, my queen.”

Bucky chuckles, “Is the bed not good enough?”

“She didn’t want to lay in the wet spot. And, well, since most of it’s wet,” he lifts an eyebrow and gestures to where you’re curled up on his back.

“You’re warm too,” you mumble against Steve’s shoulder blade.

“Aww. Thank you,” he says, genuinely happy to be able to offer you comfort of any kind.

“You don’t have to get off Stevie, but I need to clean you up princess,” Bucky says.

You roll over halfway, and when Bucky sits next to you, you squeeze his bearded cheeks until his mouth opens. You set a piece of chocolate on his tongue. He hums his gratitude, and starts wiping your face with the warm, wet hand towel he brought with him. Once he’s done cleaning the sweat, tears, and come off your body, he cleans Steve up the best he can without running you off.

After he gobbles up another piece of chocolate you shake in his direction, Bucky makes you roll over onto your stomach, so Steve drops his head down onto his forearm, and you roll over, Hooking your chin over his shoulder, and letting your arms flop out on either side of his chest. You ask lazily, “‘Zis good?”

“It’s perfect, baby girl,” Bucky soothes. He starts massaging your thigh muscles. Once they loosen up, he moves up to your glutes, then your back, neck, and finally your shoulders.

Bucky lifts Steve’s head up and places it in his lap. His warm fingers skritch over Steve’s scalp, until he’s practically purring.

“You did so well for us, princess, Bucky praises you affectionately. “You’re such a good girl. Thank you for trusting us to take care of you and make you feel good.”

You sigh softly, “I love you both so much.”

Steve reaches up to card his fingers through your hair and they both murmur their I love you’s. “Come lay down, Buck.” You pat the mattress next to Steve until Bucky parks himself exactly where you want him.

“That’s more like it,” you chirp. You roll off Steve’s backs and plop down in the trench between their bodies. They both roll to face you, and scoot closer until you’re pressed tightly between them.

You giggle, “Well, I don’t need this anymore.” You sit up enough to slip Steve’s hoodie off, because a few seconds between them and it’s already too hot to be wearing it. You don’t lie back down fast enough for them, so they tackle you down to the mattress and tickle you until all three of you are laughing so hard your sides hurt.

Hello lovelies, 💘HAPPY VALENTINES DAY!!💘

I'm back with more BG3 headcanons! Today's prompt is;

💕Modern AU; Ways the BG3 (romanced) companions are idyllicly sweet with Tav!💕

No spoilers! Tags are; A whole heckin lot of fluff and cuteness!

Lae'zel -

You have to be careful with what you say around Lae'zel. Made a minor comment 3 months ago that you wanted to revisit somewhere in the Sword Coast? Get packing, you guys are all booked to go. Asked Lae'zel to get you candy on the way home? She has 3 full bags. Say that comment her folks made last time you visited made you uncomfortable- you have a paragraph text apology from all of them the next day. She's not just someone who wants to spoil Tav, she fucking will. (If Tav manages to talk her out of going nuts with the pampering, she's surprisingly sentimental. You bet she keeps a rock in her pocket that reminds her of Tav)

Shadowheart -

She is so excited to post you. She doesn't like social media and tends to keep to herself, but after watching Tav post pictures of them both, she wanted to do the same. The minute she gets even the smallest romantic gesture, she's scrapbooking, she has a wall of Polaroids joined by a horde of hand made sketches, she's putting together little snack baskets and mailing them to Tav, she's about as obviously head over heels as a person can be, really. She's always got a camera aimed at Tav, even if they're just for her. (A good 90% are just for her eyes)

Wyll -

This man never plays games/gets online with both sides of the headphones in. It doesn't matter if the game is online, offline, urgent, time sensitive, dependent on his concentration- if Tav so much as makes a peep, he's out of his seat and across the room. Hells, he takes every chance he gets to go give Tav some attention. In the drift of leaving the waking world, Tav will definitely hear a little "One minute, Tav needs me" despite them not asking. Some footsteps. And then moments later, the warmth of the duvet being tucked all over their body and a gentle kiss to the cheek. Whispered "I love you"s and then a quiet. "I'm going to hop off for a few hours." So you can have some quiet.

Karlach -

She's one of those people that really makes you realise you have good taste in other people. Like, you can't think of a time you went on a walk and she didn't pick up some trash, help an elderly person across the street, immediately offer her seat to a pregnant woman. No matter how prideful Tav might be or not, there's a pride in the admiring looks other people give her. Little girls pass in the street and say "mum, I want to be like her when I grow up!" Everything she does makes Tav proud to be with her, yet somehow Tav is always the one under a spotlight to her. "Oh, me and my partner-" this. "Oh, my partner-" that. "I'm so proud of my Tav. Ugh, I am so lucky" she insists at every turn.

Gale -

He's a night owl, much to Tara's dismay. Wether that's because he can't sleep, he likes being awake in the dark hours or- his brain won't stop nattering at him for a gods damned minute, but either way. He's probably working, quietly cleaning, organising Tavs things so they don't have to worry. In quiet moments, between possibly making them breakfast because of course he's up that early- he's just kissing Tav on the forehead, gently, trying not to wake them. He needs them to sleep but there is not a moment in his day where he doesn't think: "Does Tav know I love them? Can I remind them once more? Even if its just for my peace of mind?" Because he will not rest if he has an inkling his live for Tav isn't at the forefront of their mind.

Astarion -

If you even suggest to this man that you should do matching outfits, he's excited. He always wants to take the wheel, but also wants Tav to have a foot in the idea. He will give ideas left and right, opinions up and down. He doesn't care if it's a date or not, cringe solstice photos, or just gym clothes, he's all for it. If you guys didn't have matching pyjamas already, you have them now, congrats. (If he's still a bloodsucker, he'll definitely still go out of his way to learn how to cook for Tav. Tokyo Ghoul rules though, so Tav gets to taste test a lot. Only the best for his little capri-sun) Overall he's just unashamed and excited to be with someone who very obviously wants to be his, visibly as possible.

(Bonus Halsin!)

Halsin -

This man lives for shared activity. He's quite alright on his own and can allow Tav their space, but going to get massages, haircuts/styles, wine tasting is his total vibe. Just relaxed gatherings together. Nobody lives a spa day like this man. It allows a level of intimacy that nature intends. Cleansing. Careful. Close. He will learn how to do Tavs hair and makeup if asked. Will take pleasure in being able to undress them and put them to bed at the end of a long day. Go on hikes and camping trips, walks through the woods, carving names into rocks and bringing back souvenirs to press into a book that's only getting thicker.

heartbeat prompt 28 for austin? 😍

Literally can’t tell you how sorry I am that this took me checks calendar five months to write and finish. Thank you for requesting ❤️ to see more prompts from this particular list click here. To send me a request please click here. To see my masterlist please click here. Thank you :)

plot: based on no. 28 of this post: “"I love hearing your heart racing like this for me." / you work at the SNL studios and it is December 2022. Austin has arrived to practice for the week to host the holiday show and you two are getting busy in a dressing room. Happy Holidays! 💋

Content warning: smut/mature themes, p in v (protected)

He had his head against your breast. Or at least that’s what it had felt like. You were both basking in the aftermath of one explicitly rated endeavor, in your dressing room, hidden far away from everyone else on a couch.

The two of you had been screwing around for some time - but you lived and worked out of New York City. Geographically, it hadn’t been the easiest of things to figure out. Austin was this up and coming movie star, his success with Elvis that summer had been unlike anything you’d witnessed before and it had kept him as busy as ever.

But you’d pulled some strings and Lorne Michaels said he’d be thrilled to have someone who had so much publicity going around him that summer to host the final Saturday Night Live episode of the year, and especially the holiday show! You were excited beyond belief and couldn’t wait to share the news with Austin, although it had to come from his agency first.

Once he’d landed in New York it hadn’t taken him long to get to your dressing room.

“Wait, what about your girl-“ he cut you off as he placed a hand on your arm. “We’re on a break,” he murmured. His cologne made you want to sneeze a little but you didn’t. You laid back against the couch and took him in. His sparkly blue eyes captivated you, swallowing you wholly, as if you could get sucked into them like waves on a beach carrying you far, far away. “My God, you’re beautiful,” he whispered, looking at you the same way you were admiring him.

It took mere seconds for him to lean in and press his lips to yours, the heat rising between both of you. You could tell instantaneously that he was growing beneath you, he kept attempting to grab at himself. “Baby, let me take care of you,” you whispered, moving your hands to his jeans and unzipping them carefully. Light eyelashes fluttered open as his blue eyes darkened some and settled on your face. You ran your free hand through his hair, feeling sweat at the base of his neck and scratched down his back gently. You nodded once or twice to let him know. “Go ahead,” you mouthed. Long and slender fingers peeled away your leggings and slipped off anything underneath them. Hot breath and warm lips sent shivers to your lower stomach and pelvic area as he kissed down your legs and reached your inner thighs.

“I don’t care how you have me, just take me,” you finally moaned, feeling the pressure between your own legs intensify unbelievably. “Baby girl, give me a minute to warm you up.” That damned Southern drawl had stuck around - good thing too because it’d be written into a sketch or two. “Austin Robert,” you breathed, your heart galloping along harder and harder until you weren’t sure whether you’d survive the next thing the man before you would do. “Don’t full name me, I’m trying to give you your gift.” You nearly scoffed. “Sex is my -“ you paused, your breath hitching and your heart jumping inside you.

His lips had reached your center and he began moving his tongue teasingly. It was already too much for you and it had barely begun. “Oh,” you breathed quickly, hoping you didn’t come too quickly. You could feel the arousal pooling in your lower stomach and your hand instinctively moved there until his did and moved your own aside. Austin’s fingertips rubbed gently and he could almost swear he’d been able to feel you. He sat back for a moment to wiggle off his underwear and open a condom with his teeth before sliding it over himself. “God, you’re so hot,” you breathed, reaching up to pull off his shirt. Smooth skin. Abs that you could see if you looked for them but could mostly feel with your fingertips. And strong arms. “You look so good,” you breathed again. “You do too, baby love,” he murmured before leaning back down.

He kissed and kissed everywhere he possibly could. Your face, your neck, your arms, your chest, your stomach, that damned lower stomach area that he knew would drive you absolutely wild. “Ready for me?” Austin whispered against your ear. “Yes,” you confirmed and closed your eyes, moaning softly once he’d entered. Your hips began to move rhythmically - part of you sad that he’d chosen to wear the condom in the first place, but you knew it was smart to be responsible. You wanted to feel him in every inch of you and you could now. You could feel him in your toes, your legs, your abdomen, your chest, your head. You weren’t sure how your heart hadn’t managed to escape your chest by that point but it still beat furiously inside you.

His breathing was unsteady above you and you moved a hand to his chest, smiling to yourself as you felt the unstable rhythm of his own heartbeat through his skin and if you’d had your eyes opened, you probably could’ve viewed it too. “Pace yourself,” you thought to both yourself and Austin - but you didn’t dare say it. Didn’t want him to stop. Never, ever stop. “Baby, harder,” you instructed. He viewed you as this fragile being, you knew. But you weren’t fragile. You were wild, and horny and hungry for him - you had been for weeks and you were finally getting your fill, literally. Austin bucked his hips harder against yours, stifling a moan. You pressed your hand against his chest, feeling his pulse quicken somehow after going harder. “I’m going to come,” you finally murmured and you did - your eyes rolling back some into your head. Austin had too.

Which brings you back to the beginning. You’re both on the couch, his head is resting on your chest. “I love hearing your heart racing like this for me,” he murmurs drowsily. “My heart?” You asked with the smallest of giggles. “I felt yours during it. It was the most exhilarating and amazing thing I’ve ever felt, Aus.” Your fingers threaded through his blonde hair, that had become darker with sweat. He turned his head some to press a gentle kiss to your chest once or twice. “I’m pretty sure it’s yours,” Austin confirmed, lifting his head a little to look at you and to press another soft kiss to your lips. “Does that mean there’ll be a round two?” You asked, raising an eyebrow. “Mhm,” the blonde man murmured. “Always gonna be a round two for us,” Austin agreed.

Idk how many more ideas I have left in me lol

Request - König OR Rodolfo Parra x F! Reader [fluff]

Prompt/Idea - They're always writing poems/drawing stuff but they've lost inspiration. That's until they meet the reader on base or outside of the base, and immediately they begin to write/draw about them. The reader notices them and tries to talk to them, but they freak out and walk away, just for the art piece to fall out of their book. The reader picks it up and smiles

An Artist’s Muse

König x f! reader

I loved the idea of both so I may do another for Rudy. If this gets 20 likes I’ll do a Rudy version!

Sorry I have been inactive, I didn’t have any writing juice in me…. This is a short but sweet story. I changed it up a little bit because I didn’t read the full thing and I should’ve lol. I still think this is super sweet.

Warnings: none, fluff

Scenario: when König meets his girl for the first time, he gets the sudden urge to open his sketch book to draw.

Austria was a beautiful place with scenery that rivaled even some of the best locations anywhere else in Europe or America for that matter. König believed it wholeheartedly. This was his home where he grew up with his father and mother on their farm. He loved it here, though he hated the people of his town to some degree. But here he was sitting in another local area in a small café right outside of the main street. He was away from his obligations for a few months. He needed some time to recover and some time to rest. Just to be by himself.

One of his favorite past times was art. Growing up his mother sent him to an art school where he fell in love with art. He enjoyed doing a large variety of different things ranging from acrylic to oil watercolor and sketching with pencils and pens. He was a natural talent and everyone believed that he had a knack for it. He even entered a few of his pieces into a few contests and even one a little bit of prize money here and there. One might think that he would’ve chosen a path dealing with something in art for his career but he needed some thing else to channel his aggression, while art was a good way to relax, he still needed some thing else to fuel his mind.

As he was sitting, trying to think of some thing to draw, anything would be good at this point, he heard the door chime from where he was at his table. The café wasn’t usually busy at this time of the day but there were the occasional people that would be going back-and-forth ordering drinks or grabbing a quick bite to eat before heading off to another meeting or leaving to go do some thing. He didn’t like going during the times that were a little busy. As he took a sip from his coffee, he looked up to see a girl. This made him almost choke on his hot beverage, to him she was beautiful. Her hair flowed gracefully over her shoulders and her beautiful eye sparkled as she was trying her hardest to speak to the barista in his native tongue of German. It wasn’t good he wouldn’t lie but he could see the effort that she was trying. Thankfully the barista also knew English and help the girl out order her drink. König wanted to hide and not be seen. Out of all the days an angel had to land on this one particular afternoon.

The girl sat in a table next to a window across from him. She had brought a book to read and seems to be enjoying the hard cover. Inspiration hit him hard. Carefully pulling out his sketchpad once again, he began quietly working away every once in a while taking a quick glance in her direction just enough to remember features before sketching more on the page.

She stayed only for an hour before getting up, finishing her coffee, putting it in the trash, and waving goodbye to the baristas. He wanted to go after her, to show her what he had done so far, but he knew that would be awkward for both of them. She might think that he was stocking her and the last thing he wanted was to startle her. He was now pretty grumpy about the whole thing. All he wanted to do was to give her his drawing of her and hopes of asking her if she wanted to grab coffee soon, but now his chances were ruined because he didn’t have the courage to ask. He groaned and lightly hit his head against the table. He hated his social awkwardness, he always did. He just wanted the courage to go up and ask her.

Sighing, he picked up his equipment and put them back into his bag before he to finish this coffee and left for the day. As he walked out, he wanted to see if he could spot her anywhere on the street, but it was like she vanished. There was no trace of her. Cursing to himself quietly, he made his way to his car to head back to his families homestead.

3 weeks later

It has been three weeks since König had seen her and he finally lost hope in her coming back. Once again, he was sitting at his favorite table trying to come up with some idea to sketch some thing else outside of this memory of this mysterious girl. As he was about to give up, the door opened again and the same girl came back. She was talking to the barista about how she had made a trip to the capital city with some of her friends for school before ordering herself another cup of coffee and walking to the table where she sat last as she once again opened her book and began reading. König wasted in no time sketching out the finishing touches to her.

She got up to use the restroom and left her book open to the page where she was at. Taking in all of his courage, König stood up and with the paper in his hand, carefully placed it in her book where she was reading before hastily making his way back to his table hoping that the shadows hit him well enough for her not to notice. A part of him was praying that she would find him and talk to him and another part of him dreaded the idea of being caught.

When the girl came back she saw the paper and looked over it. A small blush formed over her cheeks as she quickly scanned the room for the person that could have done this. Her eyes landed on König, Who was fidgeting with his pencil sharpener, too nervous to look up. She closed her book and walked over to him.

“Did you do this?” She asked

König looked up and nodded shyly.

“It’s very beautiful.” The girl smiled, “Thank you for making me your muse.”

“O-oh no problem! You are very b-beautiful and I wanted to capture your radiance.” König Wanted to be run over by a truck. He sounded so cliché and stupid.

The girl blushed and gave a light laugh, “Well your not too bad yourself. I’m (y/n) by the way.”

“König.” He applied alittle to quickly and abruptly, but the girl didn’t seem to take notice of this.

“Conich?” She tried to say his name on her tongue.

“König.” He made the syllables a lot more clearer for her to hear.

“Con…Kön…ing…. König?” She asked looking at him if that was how she needed to say it.

The man grinned happily “Yes! Good!” He felt like there was a million butterflies just dancing around in his stomach. It made him happy and wanting to throw up all at the same time. Was this love? He felt at once a long time ago in his youth only to have it be betrayed on him.

“Well König, it was nice meeting you, your really good at this, you made my day…. Well I will see you around.”

“W-wait!” He stood up a little too fast making the table bump against his legs and the chair creek behind him. “Ummm…. I was wondering if you would like to grab some coffee sometime… if not I understand.” He couldn’t look at her directly. And fiddled with his hands as he was trying to come up with a sentence without sounding like an idiot or a creep.

(Y/n) just smiled and nodded “sure I would love too… tomorrow same time?” She asked.

“Ja… that would be good.” He nodded vigorously.

“Ok König I will see you tomorrow.” The girl blushed and walked back over to her table to finish reading her book with the paper in her hand. König practically collapsed back into his chair, he could hear his heart beating in his rib cage harder than it had ever beated before.

He got up after a little bit of calming himself down, to leave. He waved shyly back at (y/n) and she returned the wave smiling back at him making the tall man blush even more, as he made his way to the door. Once he got back into his car, he stared blankly at the roof trying to collect some thought that was flowing through his head that came up empty. Did he really just find a girl and was able to win her over with just a silly piece of art? Surely he couldn’t be that talented in doing that the only time he ever seen that happen was through films. He prayed to whatever was listening to him, that this would be the one for him, the one person who he had been searching for.

Seeing the amnesiac MC prompts made me wonder how things would turn out if the said MC starts romancing them/shows romantic interest towards them. Like the 2nd prompt before, either do a random RO or general ROs reaction ask.

Your answered prompts are wonderful btw ❤️

Aww thanks, anon (*･ω･)

~•~•~

All this time and still I need Another minute I've been trying to retrieve A blurry moment

[...]

All of the names sketched in my head Are blurring away to the outer edge And all of these old rags that I kept Are coming with me just like I said And your lovely silhouette

– Silhouette - Devil and the Deep Blue Sea

~•~•~

Feelings are fucking weird, man.

One day you wake up to a jaded girl with pastel pink hair who you don't know, then the next you're suddenly falling neck deep in love.

What the hell.

It was on one sunny afternoon when those feelings cemented. You're in one of the local greenhouses in the Stems district with her. She asked if you wanted to come buy succulents and mini terarriums with her, and of course, you said yes. Your feelings took more control than your rational, of course. Being struck by cupid lets a lovefool like you do such foolish things.

You can't really help but glance over at her every now and then and question how she's not even sweating under her dark attire. Black turtleneck shirt, her blue amulet, dark gray shorts that reach her mid thigh, and black loafers—you're just in a regular cotton shirt and some jeans with worn out sneakers compared to her high end fit.

...

It kind of feels nostalgic.

Like you've been several times here before with her.

She picks up a small pot with a little cactus on it shaped like some prickly orange, and pauses for a moment. Her finger taps on the side of the pot as she gazes down at the cactus deep in thought.

"You okay?" You ask her after putting down a small flower-shaped succulent.

"I'm fine." Fleur replies in her ever soft tone, and looks back at you. "Just remembered something."

"Is it something good?"

"You can say that." She looks back at the cactus. "You called me a cactus before."

You grimace. "I didn't mean that as an insult, did I?"

"No, it was... sweet, actually. "Prickly as you may be, there will be those few who will love and take care of you"." Fleur adds the little cactus to her small cart full of other succulents. "You were always the poetic kind."

"More like dramatic" You snort and start following her down to an aisle full of pots. Fleur simply hums, which gently ends the small conversation. You slow down in your pace as look at the pots; some ceramic, others plastic, minimalist to intricately designed. Though one has caught your eye.

It's a beige ceramic pot, with the words: "You make me bloom" on it. This is clearly one meant for lovers, judging by the cheesy pun. Your face heats up at the thought of giving it to Fleur as a gift somewhere in the future, and you quickly avert your gaze from it.

For a moment you pondered on confessing your feelings that way. It would make things less awkward and less word fumbling for you, plus it's a usable thing which gives the pot a double purpose.

You look back at the pot, considering the thought.

That's a good plan, right?

"Something caught your eye?" You jump in surprise upon hearing Fleur, and you're met with her dark brown gaze.

"Uh, yeah." You quickly reply, trying to gather your composure as you clear your throat. "Just a pot I thought was cool."

Before you knew it your hands were already moving to pick up the pot, and showing it to Fleur. "It's this one." You say, voice small and cheeks heating up even more as you realized what you've just done. You refuse to even look at her reaction.

She looks down at the pot, a simple "oh" leaving her.

Then there was a pregnant pause.

You can't help but squirm a bit in place as the pause turns a bit awkward. Fleur doesn't seem fazed, however, she does look back at you.

"It's funny," she starts, arms crossing on top of her midriff, "because you've confessed your feelings to me just like this before."

Wait, what.

You look at her, eyes widening. "What."

She hums in confirmation, looking back at you with an unfazed expression, "Same greenhouse, same aisle, though the pot read "Be my clover" instead."

You stare at her dumbfounded. Were you that predictable? Has she always known about your feelings? If so, how long has she—

"You're not as subtle with your expressions as you think you are," Fleur states, as if hearing your thoughts.

Your face eventually forms into a small frown. "Well, damn, you could've told me that I was that easy to read, Fleur."

She simply shrugs. "I rather let you figure it out on your own." Fleur glances away for a moment. "Though I did think that your confession is still a bit... adorable, despite seeing it already before."

You see the faintest hint of red dust her cheeks.

“do you want your good luck kisses” with benedict playing pall mall

Anon: Yay for another Benedict Prompt! Thanks Anon

Good Luck

Summary: The infamous Bridgerton pall mall was aways a site to watch, your in-laws always making a spectacle out of it.

"Come now, before we talk too much and we loose daylight!"

You were perched in your seat, under the shade of the makeshift tents out on the lawns of Aubrey Hall, the cooling wind made you feel a bit better as you were watching the family standing together, getting ready to play another round of pall mall. You decided to sit out this next round, feeling rather flushed from being out in the sun for a bit too long and needed a break from the rousing game. You knew hot to play, in fact you were quite recent.

But playing went the the Bridgertons was a whole other league.

Courting Benedict Bridgeton was a wonderful feet, the impish and lively second eldest child always kept you on your toes and makes your courting dates fun. He was always happy and a go getter, never letting a single smile falter or a bad idea stay for too long. You loved his creative mind and how he thirsted and craved to be a better artist, never settling for anything less. But with you, he seemed so free and more open to having his imagination run wild. The way he ran dead by you in what he wanted to sketch and pain, it made you agree with anything he says. Not only because they were great ideas, but he was just too handsome for you to say no to.

When he asked to court you, it was so east to say yes.

"Come on, who shall pick first?" Daphne asked with her hands on her hips. She was there with her siblings, along with Anthony's wife Kate who would never turn on multiple rounds of the game. You were next to Daphne's husband, The Duke of Hastings, while he was tending to his son on his lap.

"Don't worry, Augie. When you learn to play, it won't be from your mother's side of the family," Simon said in amusement as the pair of your were watching the Bridgerton siblings lightly bicker with one another. You giggled, looking at Simon with his young son in his lap. "What an uncivilized lot they are, are they not?" You asked jokingly.

"Hhmm, a brutish lot no doubt," He replied, though he paused as he looked at his wife with a soft smile on his face, "But they are quite the family," He looked over at you with a raised eyebrow as you were working on your stitching, "Do you think Benedict will propose anytime soon, making you a official Bridgerton?"

"And what, I pray tell, is bringing this topic on, Duke?" You coyly asked back, seeing him cock a grin and shrug.

"Just merely making observation, seeing how you two are rather close and very much in love," Simon explained as you grinned and almost blush slightly, "It's quite lovely to see,"

"I never thought I would see the Duke of Hastings having such a tender heart," You joked, keeping your eye on your needlework. You did think about it thought, if Benedict would propose to you. There was no reason for him to stray for you since he was always devoted to you. He was never one to be a player or going from girl to girl, not in the present. Maybe back when he was younger and he felt more like a bachelor, but he's matured since then.

Once he courted you, it was always you on his mind and in his actions. He treated you so well and made sure your needs were met before his own needs. Seeing his face light up as you walked in the room or when you danced with him on his arm at a ball or two, it made you truly believe in true love.

One of the first times you were introduced to his family was when they were playing pall mall at their home at Aubrey Hall. Benedict thought it would be the best time to show you off to his brothers and sisters, which later was your watching them be competitive with one another and arguing about who cheated and who won. You were amused to say the least, loving to see how close they were as siblings. Even with Anthony going nose to nose with Colin, and Eloise slamming the ball extra hard just to take the point from Daphne.

You instantly loved them.

You saw Benedict then walking over to you, his mallet in hand and a massive grin on his face as he cocked his head at you with a twinkle in his eye. You placed your stitching in your lap as he cocked his head over at Simon, "Is he being a bore to you?"

"Not at all," You hummed, though Simon rolled his eyes as he held his son, "Are you about to play?"

"There's still time to join if you wish to," Benedict reminded you, "Your aim is right on target with Anthony's, if I do say so myself."

"Sadly, my darling Benedict, I must decline and simply watch from the cool shade. Such a chore really," you teased, seeing him squint his face a you slightly, "Do you want your good luck kisses?”

"Well, yes if that shall suffice," He replied back smoothly, leaning down to press a soothing kiss against your cool lips. You loved kissing him, whether it was gentle in the open air amongst the lawns, or the deeply and intimately in the secluded hallway and out of site.

Kissing Benedict felt like flying, or winning at pall mall.

"Benedict, let's play! And don't scar our nephew with your kissing!!" Eloise hollered from the lawn, Benedict pulling away and rolling his eyes in the process while Simona laughed from the remark.

"I shall win for you, m'lady," He said in a cocky tone, you giggling as he kissed your hand once more before he walked away and back to his siblings. You watched with a dreamy look in your eyes, feeling your heart swell from not just watching Benedict and see how happy he was, but simply feeling the love he had for you within you and through you.

If only you knew the ring he had stored in his jacket pocket, waiting for him to use when he would propose to you later that night after dinner.

The End.

Kim the unexpected matchmaker

AO3 / FFN

Pairing - Adrinette

Prompt - ‘Favourite Colour’

Summary -

Just as their classmates were about to launch their next barrel of questions, they were interrupted by Kim slamming the desk repeatedly with his hand, wanting their attention back on him and giving the flustered Marinette a single moment to breathe. The devilish, almost evil look he suddenly wore practically had Marinette's adrenaline jump-start instantaneously as she realised what he was going to say next.

"Kim! No!" She jumped over her desk (in a manner that had many of her friends flabbergasted with awe), her stance threatening to come over to him and teach him a lesson if he were to open his big, stupid mouth.

Sadly for her, monkeys like to play with bugs.

"Kim, yes!" Before he was grabbed by the tiny yet seriously strong girl, he quickly yelled out the rest of his sentence. "Marinette loves green because of Adrien's eyes!" She was unfortunately way too slow in muffling his mouth with her hand, her entire face reddening as the majority of the class watched her with smug, smug, cat-like smiles.

~(x)~ . . . "Pink this, pink that, ugh! Don't you like any other colour, something more regal and obviously so much more better?" One very annoyed and extremely pompous Chloé Bourgeois huffed loudly, hands dramatically gesturing towards the god-forsaken, practically neon yellow jeans she decided to wear for the day, beady blues directing a nasty glare at her sleepy enemy. Much to her ire, the girl she was glowering at simply took one glance at the blinding clothing article, made a comically disgusted expression and went back to mindlessly sketching out designs in her notebook, taking a sip of coffee from her travel mug in the process. "I saw that, Marinette Dupain-Cheng! But what should have I expected from a ridiculously stupid peasant with ridiculously no taste? Only the most elite would appreciate REAL fashion! Hmmph!" The mayor's daughter's words were left on deaf ears, half of the class immersed in their own individual conversations whilst the other half yawned and rolled their eyes at her umpteenth attempt at riling up the clearly unbothered class president. Marinette stared forlornly at the empty seat ahead of hers, pondering on why the love of her life was quite late to the extra hour of studying she booked for the whole class in the morning, prepping them for the exams later in the afternoon. She let out a pitiful sigh, her blatant pining a source of amusement for Nino and Alya whilst simultaneously being a source of nuisance to the chattering Lila (who was babbling about some random lie as usual) and a growling Chloé (who didn't appreciate being ignored for the millionth time). "As a matter of fact," Marinette finally replied after finishing off one of her brilliant sketches, peering into the distance with her chin resting on her spare hand. "I really do like other colours too." She then cheekily grinned at the rich blonde who raised a brow and eyed the jeans that looked like a neon street sign. "After all, they all look so good on me therefore I don't have to keep relying on one colour all the time~" Perhaps it was the lack of sleep and energy within her that caused her to stir a little trouble this time around and take a jab, the sound of the spoilt brat's infuriated squawks like music to her ears. "But that aside, there is one colour that's very close to pushing off pink from my pedestal," "Oooh? Really? Is it black~?" The mischievous and eager smirk on Alya's face and the waggle of her perfect eyebrows had the designer roll her eyes endearingly, using a finger to push away her best friend's face with jest. Alya barely budged, continuing to wear the Cheshire grin without an ounce of shame. "Just because Chat Noir is my favourite hero and that I love making merchandise of him and drawing designs inspired by him doesn't mean black is one of my favourite colours," The raised brow that Alya gave Marinette after hearing her answer had the shorter of the duo take a little step back. "...Bu-uuuut, it is in my top five and it always makes me feel warm and cosy...probably my third favourite colour..." "Is it blue? Because you rock that colour," Nino queried, receiving a 'Nope~!' from Marinette. "What about red? I honestly feel like it suits you way more than pink," His opinion almost had her heart stop to a halt, reaching too close to her alter ego which has to remain a secret at all costs. Shaking her head again, Marinette took a huge gulp of her coffee. "Well~" The sickly sweet and well-exaggerated saccharine voice from the back suddenly quipped, equivalent to nails tearing through a chalkboard to Marinette's ears. "What about tangerine? Or rusty peach? Or even apricot?" The taunting smile that rested on Lila's perfectly painted lips made the devil on Marinette's left shoulder scream with murder in her mind. "Any shade of orange is an absolute favourite of mine and it's just so in today. And since we're both experienced in the design industry, it wouldn't be a surprise if you're just as fond of the colour as I am, no~?" Hah. As if Marinette was going to take the bait. After all, everyone knew she often avoids orange like the plague when it comes to her creations, usually. And if she were to express her distaste for the colour right here right now, the lying wannabe fox would turn it around and somehow villainise the caffeinated girl against the class. Again. "Certainly, orange is very in these days," Marinette began, slowly turning around so that she could face the smirking brunette at the back of her seat. "Especially since Rena Rouge's debut!" An impish smile rested on her rosy lips when Lila's calm demeanour faltered for a split second. "Rena made the colour look so good~! Her beautiful skin contrasts the sharp shade of orange- and the way her movements in battle make her look like fire??? Ugh, I am obsessed!" It took Marinette everything not to look at Alya, knowing fully well that her best friend now wore sparkling hazels and that her butt was wiggling with anticipation to grab her in a huge hug (which she hoped she wouldn't act upon because a) secret identities and b) as far as Alya is concerned, only Ladybug and Chat Noir knew she's Rena Rouge). "I guess I like orange more than I thought...but it isn't in my top five, let alone the colour that's ready to take pink's place. Plus, I rarely wear it because it's so hard finding a shade that actually goes well with both my complexion and hair without it standing out too much." Marinette then tugged on the pretty, handcrafted blouse she wore today, a smile still playing on her lips as the olive-eyed girl silently seethed with fury and sheer hate. "The colour closest to orange that goes really nicely with me is peach pink~! Maybe you should try out this colour one day, Lila. After all, orange is your favourite colour regardless of the shade, right?" Lila didn't get a chance to open her mouth again as Kim suddenly slid towards Marinette's desk with a silly monkey-like expression plastered on his face, the athletic boy leaning into the tiny girl's space and snickering. For some reason, it also caused a little bloom of dread to grow within her tiny frame... . "I know what colour it is~" If he had a tail, it would have been wagging in excitement and glee, especially with the way his grey eyes glittered with amusement. He was met with a challenging look from Marinette, beckoning him to proceed. Taking an extremely dramatic step back and clearing his throat into one fist obnoxiously, standing behind Madame. Bustier's desk with the rest of the class now curiously attentive, he proceeded with his answer. . "It's GREEN!!!" . Everyone whipped their heads towards Marinette, their inquisitive faces wondering if the class himbo was actually right for once. And with the way she wordlessly gaped and sputtered over her coffee...it looked like Kim hit the jackpot. "That's strange. Of all colours, green?" "Well, green IS a mix of blue and YELLOW so that option isn't TOO bad-" "But that colour is SO last season! This highly established artist once told me that-" "It is an interesting colour but I hardly see you wear it so why-" "Mec~! Don't tell me that it's actually Carapace who's your favourite hero, hmmm~????" Just as their classmates were about to launch their next barrel of questions, they were interrupted by Kim slamming the desk repeatedly with his hand, wanting their attention back on him and giving the flustered Marinette a single moment to breathe. The devilish, almost evil look he suddenly wore practically had Marinette's adrenaline jump-start instantaneously as she realised what he was going to say next. "Kim! No!" She jumped over her desk (in a manner that had many of her friends flabbergasted with awe), her stance threatening to come over to him and teach him a lesson if he were to open his big, stupid mouth. Sadly for her, monkeys like to play with bugs. "Kim, yes!" Before he was grabbed by the tiny yet seriously strong girl, he quickly yelled out the rest of his sentence. "Marinette loves green because of Adrien's eyes!" She was unfortunately way too slow in muffling his mouth with her hand, her entire face reddening as the majority of the class watched her with smug, smug, cat-like smiles. "It's! It's! It's not JUST because of THAT!" Marinette tried to babble her way out but her brain cells were completely scattered and her hands clenched themselves against her chest. "I mean yes! Sure, Adrien has the most beautiful eyes I've ever seen! But that's not just why I love green! Even Chat Noir has gorgeous green eyes too! They both have such pretty green eyes!" She was met with endeared giggles and awes and coos from her friends, the designer becoming even more overwhelmed and embarrassed on the spot. "Gu-uuuuuuuys!?" "Hehehehe~" Kim's cheeky cackles earned him a hard smack on his shoulder from Dupain-Cheng, making him squeal like a five-year-old and rub the offended bicep with a pitiful pout. "You! This is all your fault!" "Pfft, me!? I didn't tell you to like green because of Adrien's eyes. That's all on you!" "But!" Marinette began to pout this time around, Rose's high-pitched coos in the background becoming louder as she relished the free entertainment. "It's not my fault either! He has the most gorgeous eyes I've ever seen! The way they go bright and sparkly like glitter when the sun shines on his face! The different shades of green and gold within that make them look like emeralds! The way they make you go all fuzzy and happy when he looks at you! The way they capture you under a spell when he's talking to you!" She then jabbed a finger at Kim's chest, face beyond red and baby blues slightly watery with discomposure. "It's! Not! My! Fault!" . . . "...You...you like my eyes that much?" The sudden yet familiar and sweetly soft voice from the classroom door had Marinette freeze on the spot, as if she was just struck by lightning (and she totally wished she was so that she could turn into a pile of ashes and be blown away by the wind). Turning around, all the colour drained from her complexion as she immediately faced one, rosy-cheeked and very bashful-looking Adrien Agreste. Marinette instinctively jumped back a few steps, even shielding herself behind Kim's larger body as the blond teen ventured closer. "H-H-How much of that did you near- I mean! Hear!?" She was like a tiny kitten hiding behind its big brother and all it did was melt Adrien's pounding heart anew. Warmth and adoration flooded his features as he padded even closer, hoping that she would come out of her temporary hiding space. "All of it~" The little 'Eeep!' he received as a response only made his urges to hold her close expand by a million times, the feline within quite displeased that she was clinging onto Kim rather than him. Perhaps a little bit more than displeased because it took Adrien everything to fight off the growl that wanted to leap out of his throat. "Duuuuuude. He's not gonna bite. Stop being a wuss and go to him." Kim teased, receiving a punch this time around on the shoulder from the feisty heroine in disguise, the athlete mustering everything to keep the pained wails escaping his mouth as his arm throbbed with intensity. 'At this rate, she's gonna break my arm. My job here is done~' Skipping away from the protesting Marinette, Kim pulled a childishly immature face at her. Thankfully, before she could annihilate him for it, Adrien caught her attention once more with a gentle caress on her cheek with the tips of his fingers. . "Marinette, you have no idea how happy you made me," He beamed with joy, big, beautiful green eyes peering down on her slender frame as Adrien gave in to one of his many desires. One hand lovingly cupped her nervous face whilst the other brought one of her petite hands to his chest. "I never gave much thought about my own eyes before...even getting sick of seeing them with those silly pictures of me everywhere..." He averted those treasured eyes away from her for a split second, the redness within his own cheeks becoming more and more prominent. "But hearing you talk about them like that? And even becoming one of your most favourite colours? Someone amazing and talented and wonderful as you? I'm so happy, I can't stop smiling!" The pure elation and unadulterated delight that radiated from his blissful frame melted away every single one of Marinette's anxieties and worries, alleviating her heart to the point where she felt like she was floating on cloud nine. "I-I-I hope you continue to smile like that...I'm glad you're happy," Marinette wasn't able to face him any longer, peering down and fiddling with the hem of her blouse with her free hand as her cheeks ached with how widely she was smiling. However, Adrien had other ideas, his fingers tenderly trailing from her face to her chin, lifting it so that their gazes could meet. The intimacy made her lightheaded beyond words. "It's funny...because my favourite colour is blue," He leaned in, a subtle yet wild (and strangely familiar) smirk now playing on his mouth and those beloved emerald greens now glimmering with a mischief that would rival all the cats in the world. "The exact same shade as your beautiful eyes~" . "NOW KISS!" The bleat of Kim's request (desperate suggestion) had the duo snap out of their rose-tinted bubble, both Adrien's and Marinette's cheeks now bright pink with the realisation that they had an audience all along! (And barely noting a very demonic looking Chloé being restrained by Alix, Sabrina and Max from going berserk whilst a furious Lila Rossi angrily razed through her own notes like a paper shredder). "Kim! Why you little-" Marinette's threat was swiftly cut off by the press of soft, soft, illegally softness, her bottom lip captured by satin and silk and the heat of Adrien's burning hands clasped behind her neck. He pulled away quickly before she could act (and kiss him back like no tomorrow), the soft sound of their lips parting like an echo to her extremely flushed ears. Adrien had his eyes adorably averted to the side, a fist pressed against his mouth, hiding his lower face as he too bloomed with more colour. "Maybe...just maybe, he had the right idea after all, hmm?" He murmured into his heated skin and then faced the wonderful girl that he's been smitten with from day one- "You owe me a thousand chocolate croissants for hooking you up with the boy you've been in love with since forever~!" "KIIIIIIIIIIM!!?!?!?" . . . ~(x)~

First date with Arthur, caught staring with Dano Riddler? Please and thank you and take your time! ❤️❤️❤️

what a polite lil bb ily you are so welcome 💚

thank u for the prompt!!

reply under here, minors DNI!! 🔞 cw for nsfw stuff

💐 - what would the first date be

with arthur morgan, i feel like your first date isn't actually a planned date as such. maybe he needed to into town for something so you offered to go with him, and he realised it was the perfect opportunity to show off his softer side to you without having to be vulnerable and ask you out formally. so you'll go into town and do your business, and he'll offer to buy you lunch and a drink at the saloon. he'll show you how to play poker and insist that you sit on his lap so he can see your cards and whisper in your ear what you should do next. you'll score kinda big and he'll yell "that's my girl" before whisking you up and heading out to the general store to buy the best whisky with your winnings. but as you start your horse back to camp, he pulls you both the other way and suggests a detour. there's a meadow on top of a hill just by emerald ranch, the wildflowers are varied and so different to what you've seen before, and he knows you like that sort of thing, and while you sit making a little necklace out of the flowers, you can see him sketching you out the corner of his eye. he'll pick a few flowers and put them in your hair, behind your ear, and tell you he's going to kiss you. there's time for you to say no, but you don't, and you melt into his big strong arms while he holds you up and against him.

👀 - caught staring

i realised this one wasn't specific so i've done both sides of this special lil incel spying you and you spying him lol so he's definitely a gawker, and i don't even think he realises it's so obvious most of the time? like he's over there, slack jawed, practically drooling and thinks he's being smooth as hell. you'll be mid conversation with him and notice that his eyes are no longer with you, he's staring at whatever part of you is most prominent or exposed in that particular moment. and when you point it out to him that he's not being very subtle, it only serves to make him more turned on. like his face is beet red, but it's questionable how he has any blood left to flood his cheeks y'know?? if he catches you though, he's glaring, trying to intimidate you because his first instincts are that you're making fun of him, or tricking him, my god he's self-deprecating, self-hating and self-conscious BUT if you smiled at him and he noticed you looked embarrassed he'd lose himself, no words, no thoughts, he's instantly and pathetically in love and planning how he's going to propose, what the colour scheme of your wedding will be, what you're gonna name your pet rats, how often you can see him in arkham for conjugal visits HE'S A MESS

WIP Folder Titles

Thanks @femme--de--lettres for the tag!

Rules: post the names of all the files in your WIP folder regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them and then post a little snippet of it or tell them something about it! And then tag as many people as you have wips. (You can make your own post or reblog this one!)  I have deemed that this isn’t just for writing either. Sketch titles? Comics? Dnd campaigns? If you have an unfinished project, it counts!!

Cruel Summer 2022

Drizzle Fest 2022 (which I can’t talk about since it’s an anon fest)

Of All the Fish in the Sea

All My Nights Taste Like Gold

Everyday that I’m With You (and it’s sequel)

‘Tis the Season

A Holiday in Hogsmeade

What’s Inside

The Art of Love and Baking

LLAL Sequel

Beauty an the Beast AU

Sleeping Beauty AU

Rapunzel AU

Deamus Cafe

Single Dad/Teacher

Fremione Barcade Hookup

Musician

Soulmates

Coworkers

Fire alarm neighbors

Peter Pan AU

Adult summer camp

New Girl AU

Tattoo Parlor/Coffee Shop and Flower Shop AU

Librarian/YouTuber

Healer Fremione

Little Mermaid AU (are you sensing a theme?)

Brooklyn 99 AU

Sirius is a Hufflepuff

Marauders Sweeney Todd

Prince at the Olympics

Phone-Sex AU (with @anemonenemerosa​)

As you can see, I have more ideas than time (this list isn’t even considering my WIP folder for my original writing), and yet I spend almost all day writing a kiss prompt that went from a cute little ficlet about a spin the bottle kiss to a 5K word smutty get together fic that is vaguely Christmasy which you can probably expect to drop sometime in the next few hours once I’ve run it through Grammarly (no beta, because I can’t be bothered to stop the hyper-focus train long enough to get one)

Aaaand I can’t think of 32 people to tag, so if you see this: tag you’re it. And please tag me if you post something.

I don't know if I'm just a lesbian but I have to let you know I adore how you draw women. I love how you guys depict girls and some top notch depictions you guys have done off of the top of my head are Maria Gorey, Toph, Maki, Mikasa, Annie, and Canary.

I know this is not profound or anything I just like how you create content with women that is interesting and not objectifying. That might sound like a low bar but I swear I'm coming from a good place English isn't my first language I hope this comes across well 🙏

Thank you for sharing your art. Sharing the things you love and that are made with love are so special. Even when I do not know the show or anime I find great value in your art and ideas and I am grateful you both take the time to share them 🙏

Have a peaceful day. And I know you still get asks about Snk but I wish you both an early one-year-free of Snk anniversary coming up next month.

Anon!! Thank you so much for your kind words, I’m extremely happy you enjoy our content with girls! And you mentioned so many names from such a variety of titles; I completely forgot that we had a Canary sketch posted here somewhere haha. I should draw her again sometime!

I cannot express how special your message is and how much it means to us. I get what you’re saying, and I swear we discuss this with Katsu almost every time I sit down to draw girls. I’m very happy that you see this and that it makes you happy too :”)

I don’t know how to say it without sounding arrogant, but we genuinely try our best to do our favourite female characters justice: to explore different scenarios with them, to give them comfy outfits, etc. Especially when the title has fun female characters for once, we better appreciate it lol I literally feel blessed whenever we watch/read SnK or JJK because the girls over there are gorgeous and have complex personalities and relationships with each other.

Katsu actually gives me prompt lists specifically for the girlies sometimes, but unfortunately I haven’t finished any of these… I really hope to do it one day though, they’re really good, and I feel like we can create a lot of unique things with them. Edgy, scary, funny, all kinds of things that we usually do with our boy ships.

Also! It’s so cute of you to congratulate us on our SnK-free anniversary haha, thank you so much! 💖  I can’t believe it’s been a year already. The more I think about it, the more I realise that it was a right decision for us to take a break, so I really appreciate you (everyone in here, actually) supporting us.

Thank you again for this wonderful message and please have a great day too 💕💕💕

Personal Work: Targonite

✿ Prompt: Jayce Talis is hopelessly in love with Aya Ashina, to an extent where he fails to be a normal, functioning, human being. ✿

♡ champion focus: arcane! jayce ♡ tws: none! ♡ Self-indulgent, OC insert

It’s undeniable that Jayce Talis has always had a thing for strong women. And Aya Ashina? Well, she definitely was growing to be one of them. 

While she wasn’t exactly Piltovan- like his mother had hoped- there was something about her that drew Jayce in like a magnet. Perhaps it was her magical prowess? Her undeniable beauty? The way her horns flustered the same shade as her face when she was embarrassed?

While these inventions would benefit the people of Piltover, part of the reason Jayce even conjured up such obscure things was because of her. Because of Aya. The stories she told of her homeland- her favorite animal, how travel often took ages because Ionia was so far behind technologically. 

While these inventions would benefit the people of Piltover, part of the reason Jayce even conjured up such obscure things was because of her. Because of Aya. The stories she told of her homeland- her favorite animal, how travel often took ages because Ionia was so far behind technologically. 

While these inventions would benefit the people of Piltover, part of the reason Jayce even conjured up such obscure things was because of her. Because of Aya. The stories she told of her homeland- her favorite animal, how travel often took ages because Ionia was so far behind technologically. 

He wanted nothing more than to impress her.

“Will you please stop drooling over there and help me power this up??” Viktor asked, hand on the crank as he waited for the golden boy, who was carefully sketching his dream girl on one of the pages. Raising his head after he was snapped out of his daydreams, Jayce closed the journal, making strides over to Viktor. 

Opening up the hexchest to pull out two gemstones. He tossed one in the air, catching it effortlessly.

“Do ya think we can show Aya??” Jayce asked. 

Viktor rolled his eyes as he snatched the other gemstone, equipping it in the hexbear’s tummy. Shaking his head, Viktor eyed Jayce from the side, “We agreed we wouldn’t have any girls in the lab, especially to do something as silly as what- impress one? It’s too dangerous.”

Sighing, Jayce sheepishly started rubbing at the back of his neck. 

He may have… Accidentally invited her to the lab anyways??

“But Viktor, you don’t understand-“ “Oh I understand plenty.” Viktor retorted, “It’s her eyes. Her smile. The way she laughs. Her hair. The way she parts her hair... I swear you talk about her more than you do our actual work.” 

Confused and flustered as can be, Jayce waved his free hand. “I-It’s not like that!” Viktor, however, kept his undivided attention on the hexbear. Could it be anymore obvious that he spoke of Aya constantly??

“Okay, maybe it is like that… A little…” Jayce defeatedly spoke, Viktor shrugging as to prove his point.

Viktor continued to tinker with the bear, Jayce grinning like an idiot as he pulled a chair over, sitting down and working with the hex-skates, turning his back to the door. He was directly parallel to Viktor now. 

“I can’t help it… Her laugh sounds like a thousand angels singing! If there was a way I could listen to it all day, I would… Say, do ya think I could draw up a portable recording machine so I could capture it the next time I see her? ...Don’t answer that! I’m sure I could figure out the mechanics for one, however…” Placing goggles over his eyes, he began to work with the wiring, hopeful that he can get the blades to be remote-powered.

The Zaunite raised an eyebrow, watching as the door slightly opened, said girl about to speak and greet the duo. Confused as can be, Viktor put a finger up to speak as well, but Jayce was beating them to it.

“And her hair… She always complains about how she hates it, but I think it’s wonderful. They’re like… Lush, obsidian curls. And her eyes-“

Viktor had a shit eating grin on his face, Aya slowly creeping in with a blush covering her own. Her clawed fingers found way to her hair, picking up a clump to look at it. Was he… Talking about her??

“Yes yes, going into more detail about her eyes…” The devious inventor egged on his partner, Jayce chuckling more as he welded wires together.

“Her eyes look like they’re made from... Targonite.”

He sighed, “A soft pink that just… Shimmers in the dark. One could compare them to… sapphires or spinels, but I think they’re Targonite. Magical, unique… Rare.” 

Lips lilting upwards, Jayce removed his goggles, turning his head, only to jump back, a noise of surprise following when Aya was there, almost as red as he was.

Aya pushed her hair back, sheepishly rubbing her arm as Jayce held a hand to his heart. Heavily inhaling, he finally was able to get a ghostly string of words out: “Wh-What the hell, Aya?! Don’t you know to knock? I coulda hurt you!!”


However, it didn’t stop Aya from giggling, a hand dragging on his shoulder:

“So… You think my eyes look like Targonite??”

I wonder what it’s like to be loved by you // Benedict Bridgerton

Summary: You’ve loved him for as long as you can remember. Is this the season where he finally realises?

A/N: I LOVE BENEDICT. I love him so much. What do I have to do to get a Benedict? Title is from Shawn Mendes - Wonder. I had so much fun writing this fic, I can’t wait to write more for the Bridgerton fandom! I truly hope you all like it, let me know what you think please?

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x Fem!Reader

Warnings: swearing, mentions of food and drink, fluff, pining, mutual pining, dancing, balls, obliviousness, friends to lovers, she/her pronouns, a lot of history - I am a historian after all and this is the regency era.

Word count: 4.8k

Lady Danbury never spared any expense on the balls she held every season. She knew full well that many a match could be made that night so there was not only pressure from the ton, but also a responsibility that this ball must outdo all others thrown before – by herself and other matriarchs in society.

A feat she always managed to achieve, the elder thinks to herself as she watches your eyes widen upon entering the ornately decorated room. Looking you up and down, she approves of your outfit – a dark blue dress punctuated with silver jewellery, hair twisted into an updo with only a few strands hanging loose to frame your face. From her spot across the ballroom, Lady Danbury wonders how you hadn’t married yet.

As the band strikes up, Lady Danbury walks into the fray, greeting her guests with a smile. All the while, she keeps a trained eye on you, wondering who on earth had captured your heart but had not noticed.

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

No matter how hard he tried, the charcoal would not wash from his fingers. Having scrubbed and scrubbed at his hands, Benedict could only offer you a smile of apology as you not only noted his lateness but the state of his hands.

“It’s very fortunate that you are a talented artist,” You comment with a teasing smile.

Benedict reaches for your hand, dropping a kiss to the back of it before answering. “I class myself as very fortunate to have a friend like you who understands how easy it is to get lost in a sketch or a painting.”

You roll your eyes, careful not to let anyone else but Benedict see your act of impropriety. He smirks, unable to help himself.

“You’re a shameful flatterer, Benedict.”

“Some might even call me a ‘rake’,” He replies, his tone teasing.

“I shall save that for when you’ve really annoyed me.”

He laughs; a loud chuckle that draws the attention of those closest to you. Most notably, Benedict’s mother, Violet Bridgerton and Lady Danbury.

Benedict clears his throat; cheeks flushed not only from the attention but from the knowledge that his mother would soon be making her way over to him. He adored his mother; was grateful for her every day, but he could happily admit he could live without the meddling in his love life. He grabs your gloved hand once more; kissing the back of it in parting before asking, “Save me a dance on your card?”

“Always,” You answer, watching his back as he stalks away. Benedict narrowly avoids being collared by his mother, an act to which you find yourself smiling at.

With thoughts of Benedict in mind, you wander around the outskirts of the ballroom, your dark blue skirts swishing pleasantly under foot. You pause only to grab a lemonade from the table, sipping happily at the cold drink.

You catch sight of the brunette that had stolen your heart dancing with Penelope Featherington and though you know there is no romance there, your heart is unable to stop the hurt that lashes through it. Schooling your face into a mask of polite delight, you force yourself to turn away from the sight of the man you had so readily given your heart to dancing with someone else.

“How long have you been in love with my brother?” A raspy voice asks from behind you.

Your lemonade splashes slightly as you turn to face your interrogator. “Eloise!” You laugh, smiling too wide to be comfortable, “Whatever do you mean?”

Eloise’s shrewd blue eyes narrow slightly as she takes in your dismissal. She waves her hand in the general direction of Benedict though you knew exactly where he was – could feel his location thrumming in your veins.

“Don’t play coy, (Y/N). It doesn’t become you. Now, how long have you been in love with Benedict?”

That was the question, wasn’t it? How long had you loved Benedict? Thinking back on it, you’re sure that you’ve always loved him. Your family had been good friends with the Bridgerton family for as long as you could remember. Your mother was always having tea with Violet and you were always thrust upon the eight siblings without much worry. Your friendship with Benedict had started in earnest when you had complimented his art skills, bringing up how you liked to draw too. From there, a close friendship was forged.

By your twentieth year on this earth, you realised that your feelings for the second Bridgerton were no longer platonic… that you craved something more. Falling for Benedict Bridgerton felt inevitable almost; that your heart was destined to be his whether he knew it or not.

Sighing heavily, you see no point in lying to the second eldest Bridgerton girl. “For as long as I can remember,” You admit, rushing to add on, “But he doesn’t know so please don’t tell him!”

Eloise’s eyes widen at your confession, not only shocked that you readily admitted your feelings for her elder brother, but for how long you have harboured them. “Is that why you have not yet married?” She demands, “Because you loved him?”

Biting your lip, you nod. “It wouldn’t be fair to my husband. Their wife in love with another man – it doesn’t exactly set stable foundations for a long, prosperous marriage and…”

“And…” Eloise prompts, her innate curiosity getting the better of her. If her mother could hear her now, she would surely receive a scolding.

You ball your hands into fists before letting them drop to your sides; letting them hang there like the constant hope you have for Benedict.

“And I still hope he’ll notice I’m here. That I have been here all along,” You voice cracks on the admission causing a pang of upset to flash through Eloise. She’d reach out to comfort you, but it would only draw attention from the many mothers circling and no doubt, Lady Whistledown.

“(Y/N)…” Eloise begins but you hold a single hand up to stop her before she starts. With a strained smile, you reassure her. “It’s fine, Eloise. I accept it with every season that passes that it is unlikely he shall ever return my feelings.”

“Then he is a fool,” Eloise states plaining, sending a glare in the direction of her beloved brother. She had no qualms admitting that Benedict was indeed her favourite sibling, but he had his moments where he vexed her beyond belief.

“Who is a fool?” A voice questions to the right of you. Benedict.

Freezing in place, you cast a helpless look at Eloise, begging her silently to take control of this situation. Eloise smiles and nods imperceptibly. She turns towards her brother, hooking her arm through yours as she declares, “The men that have not offered their hand to (Y/N) yet. They’re all fools, aren’t they dear brother.”

Benedict casts his gaze towards you; his eyes scanning your face for what, he does not know. “Fools,” He agrees quietly though he is heard perfectly over the music. “Would you care to dance?” He asks, wanting you to himself for a little while. As much as he loved his younger sister, she was a keen observer, and he wasn’t ready for her to figure out his feelings just yet. Not when he hadn’t admitted them to you.

Nodding your head, you take his outstretched hand, bidding goodbye to Eloise for now. The brunette shakes her head as the both of you walk away. Oblivious, she thinks to herself, completely oblivious.

As the music strikes up once more, it becomes obvious that the next dance is a waltz, requiring the closeness of your partner. It was only years ago that this dance had scandalised the ton for its closeness – now, it was required at every ball, many married couples savouring the intimacy.

Benedict’s hand settles on the small of your back as his other grips your hand. Your hand rests comfortably on his shoulder as he begins to lead you through the steps you have known since your youth.

Music around you fades as do the other couples. The only two people in the room are Benedict and yourself. The feel of his hand on your back and the look in his eyes; it’s enough to have you accept your fate then and there. It’s enough for you to admit that you have been ruined for any and all men; finding yourself in love with the man who holds you so tenderly and has always held you in high regard. Is this it? You ask yourself, is this what it feels like to be loved by him? To feel like the only one in the world. If it is, you’ll take it with open hands.

Your eyes do not leave his as Benedict leads you through the rises and falls of the dance. His hand remains a steady presence on your lower back; the feeling just enough to distract you from the crowd now watching you and instead, leading you to wonder what his hands would feel like elsewhere on your body.

As the music falls into another song; this one more upbeat, Benedict drops his hands, letting you free. He hadn’t wanted to; had wanted to pull you from the ballroom, to confess the feelings that have haunted him for years and to ask you to be his for better or for worse.

But he doesn’t. Instead, he bows and smiles, reaches for your hand to kiss it and then lets himself breathe as he turns and walks away.

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

Dear Reader,

Though there is much to report from Lady Danbury’s ball last night – the fashion, the food, the décor – This Author wants to focus on one moment in particular.

Now, Dear Reader, whilst you may wonder the importance of such a moment, remember that it is one’s job to observe all. That is why I want to bring attention to Mr. Benedict Bridgerton who found himself extremely popular last night, dancing with many eligible women and delighting them with his talents.

However, Dear Reader, this is not the moment I want to focus on.

No. Instead, I want to bring attention to the heart most likely suffering in silence as Mr. Bridgerton continues to charm the ton.

As you all know, I am not one to beat around the proverbial bush and hide identities, but for the sake of the woman who has found herself in love with the second eldest Bridgerton for as long she can remember, I shall endeavour to keep her name a secret.

Know, however, that This Author’s sympathies lie with you.

To love another unrequitedly is a dear shame.

----------

The gossip sheet is scrunched to a ball in your hands. It’s all you can do to keep the tears from falling down your face. As if you didn’t know your love was unrequited; as if you didn’t know you had all but doomed yourself to being a spinster as you wait for a man who did not know you loved him.

Lady Whistledown knew your secret, and your identity. As a result, the whole ton knew your secret but whatever morals the author possesses, she had not revealed your identity.

Summoning the carriage, you ask to be taken to Bridgerton House where you can speak to Eloise in confidence and ask for her advice on what she might do. Deep down, you had to know whether Benedict had read the paper too.

It doesn’t take long for Eloise to find you in the tea room; a cup of tea in your hands but readily ignored as you chew on the inside of your cheek. Her brown hair tied up in her usual bun, her eyes hold the pity you didn’t want to see or hear as of this moment.

“I didn’t know she was listening, I swear,” Eloise promises, sitting by your side and reaching for your hand.

“I know,” You comfort, “You would never tell a soul.”

“At least she didn’t reveal your identity,” Eloise chirps, trying to find a silver lining.

“Yet she has revealed my secret to the entirety of London society,” You sigh. Removing your hand from Eloise’s, you press your palm to your forehead, feeling overwhelmingly tired and desperate for the day to be over already. “Does he know?”

Eloise chews on her bottom lip, deciding whether to answer you. “He has read it,” She admits,  but rushes to add, “He doesn’t know it’s you! He doesn’t have a clue really. He’s angrier at himself for not noticing anything was amiss.”

“I don’t know what to do,” You whisper, feeling helpless.

“For now,” Eloise states, “We do nothing.”

---------

Your heels sink into the soft carpet as you wander down the stairs, pausing only to check you have everything. Your mind remains elsewhere as you check your bag out of habit, the conversation with Eloise, the latest gossip sheet, your feelings for Benedict. They circle around your mind, leaving you dizzy in their wake as you try to make sense of them all, try to find your next step in and amongst the mess.

“(Y/N),” Benedict greets, hurrying down the final few stairs, pleasantly surprised, “What are you doing here? I didn’t know you were visiting.”

“I came to drop in on Eloise. I wanted to thank her for last night; she was an ear when I needed someone to listen.”

“Is it anything I can help with?” He asks, voice taking on a concerned note as he reaches out for you.

You shake your head, squeezing his hand in return. “For now, everything is okay.”

Benedict clears his throat. “I’m glad to hear it, but please come to me next time. I want to help if I can.”

“I will,” You promise, your eyes now scanning over his fine clothes. “Where are you off to?”

“An art exhibition at Somerset House. They’re showing some Holbein’s from the Royal collection.”

“Holbein’s?” You ask, shocked at the name falling from Benedict’s mouth.

He nods, just as excited. It was a rare thing indeed to have Holbein’s on display; they were usually kept in whatever royal residence they found themselves in; hidden away from the public eye. Art was the very foundation of your friendship; having seen so many of his sketches as a young boy and watching them develop into surer lines and confident strokes. Benedict was an exceptionally talented artist – something he would say about yourself. Benedict was the only person to see such work; the watercolours in your sketchpad leaving him breathless as you bring life to the inanimate.

“Would you like to join me?” He asks before he can talk himself out of it. He had barely seen you all season; you had closed in yourself, as if accepting a fate that you did not want. Benedict would do what he could to ensure your happiness for a little bit longer.

“Unchaperoned?”

A faint blush rises on Benedict’s cheeks as he realises what he has asked of you. “I shall ask Eloise to accompany us,” He suggests, turning to face the direction in which you had just come, “Did she mention any plans to you?”

You shake your head to which Benedict leases a sigh of relief. “I’ll go ask her now. I’m sure she won’t mind… much.”

Laughing quietly, you wait patiently in the entryway of Bridgerton House. The house in London so often felt like a second home to you; spending so much of childhood summers here when your mother would take tea with the Bridgerton matriarch. As you grew into your teens, you would begin to visit the house with just your maid, calling on the family for social niceties. The friendship with Benedict and Eloise only solidified your standing in the close family unit.

Eloise’s voice brings you back to the present. She walks down the stairs, accompanied by her brother. Taking one look at you, waiting patiently for the both of them, Eloise gets a mischievous look in her eye. It isn’t a look that leaves you in comfort, but rather leaves you wondering just what she has planned for the art exhibition.  

“Eloise has so graciously accepted to join us,” Benedict announces, sounding rather pleased with himself.

Eloise smiles: a smile that sets Benedict’s nerves on edge. He would owe her for this, that much he knew. “I would be more than happy to accompany you, brother.”

Benedict resists the urge to groan; he’s in deep shit for this.

“Thank you, Eloise,” You murmur with a smile. Something in Eloise softens at your tone as if she would be unable to deny you this time with Benedict when it was their mother’s mission to see him married off this very season.

“Of course,” Eloise allows, glancing between you and Benedict – noting the longing in both sets of eyes. She shakes her head, gesturing to the door and where the carriages waits just beyond it. “Shall we?”

--------

“He wasn’t a handsome monarch, was he?” Eloise murmurs quietly, staring up at the grand portrait of the fearsome king who preferred executing his wives rather than loving them.

The walls of Somerset House have become dedicated to the eyes of the past. Past monarchs and relatives decorate the walls; their eyes following each attendant, as if curious to see how society is progressing less than three hundred years after the death of the artist.

Benedict chuckles; the very sound raising goosebumps across your skin. You barely repress the shiver the sound elicits. Trying your best to listen as the siblings argue about the reign of this particular monarch – the pros and the cons to what he did for the very country he ruled over for decades.

“Oh!” Eloise gasps, interrupting the argument and loosening her grip on your arm, she waves frantically at Penelope Featherington. “Would you mind terribly if I go say hello?”

“Not at all,” You laugh.

“You’re sure you’ll be okay with Benedict?”

The man in question scoffs, rolling his eyes at his little sister. “Off with you,” He dismisses, “I’ll escort (Y/N) – someone who actually appreciates the art.”

Eloise laughs as she turns away, but you do not miss the wink she sends in your direction. It hits you all at once; her mischievous look before you all left the house. She had concocted this plan in her head; accepting to accompany you as a rouse to get you and Benedict alone.

You didn’t know whether to appreciate her genius or hide her favourite book.

Jumping at the sound of someone clearing their throat, you focus your attention on Benedict. He watches you with an amused look, and it’s then that you realise that he has stood beside you waiting with his arm out for a minute or so whilst you glared after his younger sister. Taking his arm, you rid yourself of any thoughts of violence against Eloise. Instead, focusing on the man beside you.

“How are you?” You ask, hand resting gently on Benedict’s forearm.

“Do you mean in general or after today’s publication?”

“Both, I suppose.”

“In general, I am quite well. I have a wonderful lady on my arm, and I am in the presence of excellent art work. However, after today’s publication, I must admit I am rather angry.”

“Oh?” You sound, trying hard not to let his words affect you so much but they rattle around your mind on repeat, committing themselves where they will last for an eternity.

“I’ve never been the focus of the gossip paper and now after one ball, I am. I don’t think I like the attention.”

“I don’t believe that for one second, Benedict Bridgerton.”

He pauses, smiling widely down at you. His eyes light up with the smile and your heart begins to pound at the sight of it. “Alright, I do like the attention,” He concedes, “But what I don’t like are the looks I’m getting from all mothers.”

“Why?”

“They all look like I’m about to break their daughter’s heart.”

“I’m sure you’re just imagining things,” You reassure, tightening your grip on his arm.

“I don’t think I am,” He states, nodding politely at Lady Whitelaw who in turn glares at the younger man. He turns his gaze to you as if to say, see?

You turn your face away from him, trying your best to hide the smile and laugh that threatens to break free. “You’re laughing at me, aren’t you?” Benedict guesses, a smile in his own voice.

“I’m not,” You promise, schooling your face into a mask of indifference, focusing on the closest sketch to you. A graphite sketch of Anne Boleyn; marking her beauty only years before her death.

“You are,” Benedict argues, standing beside you, admiring the same sketch. Throwing him a knowing smile, you turn your attentions to rest of the exhibition, unable to hide your awe at just what is being shown to the public.

The art is incredible; your watercolours barely compare to what is being shown in Somerset House. He would disagree in a heartbeat, but Benedict could come close to producing something of this calibre. He had shown his portraits of his mother and brothers; Anthony making the perfect candidate for a painting.

You come to a natural stop in front of a portrait of a young women. A young queen, in fact. This particular queen had never got to reign in the manner that she was capable, dying after giving birth the king’s heir. His one true love, the king had called her after he death.

“She’s beautiful,” You whisper, admiring not only the artistry but also the focus on the painting.

Benedict watches you admiring the portrait painted so carefully by Holbein. Though the portrait is indeed beautiful, Benedict finds himself agreeing that they do not hold a candle to you. As he watches you lift a single hand, trying to dampen the urge to run your fingers over the brush strokes, he thinks to himself that there would be no artist on this earth that would be so talented to capture your beauty.

His breath comes faster; his heart rate increases. He recognises the symptoms; he’s only experienced such signs before. He had been eighteen then; barely a man but man enough to accept that he had fallen in love with his best friend. Years later, here he was, experiencing such feelings once more. Once more, he wonders what it would be like to be loved by you. He cannot help but hope that the mystery woman in the society papers is you.

-------

Dear Reader,

It seems that Mr. Benedict Bridgerton reads my paper!

He was overheard at the Somerset House Holbein exhibition, complaining to Miss (Y/N) (Y/L/N) about my last column in which I criticised his treatment of the lady in love with him.

All I have to say on the matter is this:

Mr. Bridgerton, for every complaint you offer, you break her heart further. Stop now before you do irreparable damage.

-----

“What does she mean ‘break her heart further’? I’ve been trying to figure out who it is so I can put a stop to it!”

“It doesn’t matter whether you know who it is, Benedict,” You argue, placing your teacup on the table, “But rather the fact that you unknowingly hurt whoever it is that is in love with you.”

“Do my feelings not matter?” He demands, throwing the damned paper onto the table. Benedict runs a hand through his hair, sighing in frustration. “I’m sorry,” He apologises, “I should not have taken that tone with you. You’ve done nothing wrong.”

“You’re forgiven,” You laugh, “I’ve heard you say a lot worse.”

He smiles though it doesn’t reach his eyes. Leaning forward on your chair, you wring your hands together, working up the nerve. “What feelings haven’t they taken into account?”

“Lady Whistledown,” He spits the name with derision, “Hasn’t taken into account that I may not have noticed someone in love with me because I am in love with someone myself.”

It’s as if the chair is pulled out from under you; your stomach dips and flips as the world crashes around you and Benedict is none the wiser. He’s none the wiser to the palpable shift that has taken place. Instead, he’s sat down across from, looking utterly defeated.

“Does she know?” You ask after a moment of silence, using the time to pull yourself back together, to compile it all and put it away for later.

Benedict shakes his head; eyes sad as he watches you. “Why haven’t you told her?” You ask, unable to stop the questions now they’re on the tip of your tongue.

“I suppose for the same reason she hasn’t told me. Fear maybe?”

“Fear of what? I’ve never known you to be afraid of anything.”

“Fear of rejection. Fear of humiliation. Fear of ruining a friendship,” He lists off, counting the reasons on his fingers, holding them up for you to see.

“Have you thought about telling her?”

“All the time,” He answers honestly, and you wonder whether the crack your heart makes was audible to the whole of the ton.

“Do you plan on telling them?”

“Eventually.”

You take a deep breath, staring at the teacup instead of him, readying yourself to offer up your broken heart. To confess that the two most recent society papers have been about you; have shown your heart to the whole of London.

“It’s me,” You confess quietly, voice no louder than a whisper but he hears you all the same.

Benedict’s head whips towards you. Had this been another situation, it would have been funny, but the look on his face… “What?” He whispers, shocked.

“It’s me,” You announce; louder this time, ready to lay your heart out on the floor for him to break entirely. “It’s me, Benedict. Lady Whistledown must have overheard Eloise and myself talking at Lady Danbury’s ball the other night. She had caught me watching you dance and asked me outright. I couldn’t deny it. I’ve been in love with you for years, Benedict. For as long as I can remember.”

“For as long as you can remember?”

You nod, wringing your hands together once more. “I didn’t realise until I turned twenty, just what my feelings meant. I think I’ve always been in love with you, Benedict.”

Benedict remains silent; eyes wide, hands slack as they rest on his thighs. He looks like he doesn't believe the very words leaving your mouth; as if he is unworthy of the love you offer him so willingly. 

“Say something, please,” You plead, “I know it isn’t proper for the woman to announce her feelings for the man, but I couldn’t keep it a secret any longer. Not when it is the focus for Lady Whistledown to sell more copies of her paper.”

“I didn’t know,” He whispers after a prolonged silence.

“You weren’t to know. You don’t have to feel the same, Benedict.”

“I do as it happens.”

“What?”

“I do feel the same,” Benedict clarifies, standing from his chair, “I’ve loved you since I was eighteen.”

You sniffle slightly; emotional from hearing the words you have longed to hear for years. The words that have haunted your dreams; had you rushing from sleep, so you didn’t let yourself believe an alternate reality.

“You do?”

Benedict nods, “I do. I love you very much.”

“I love you too,” You reply, standing from your chair, reaching for him – not wanting anymore space between the two of you.

He dips his head, pausing mere millimetres away from your lips. The question burns in his eyes; desperate to know whether he can kiss you after so long waiting. Your nod is barely imperceptible but it’s nod, nonetheless.

Slowly, almost wanting to savour every moment, Benedict presses his lips to yours. Reaching up, you haul him closer, wanting to feel every inch of him pressed against you after having waited so long, after having dreamed of this moment for too long.

He tastes like tea and his hands bring to life the butterflies in your stomach as they wander the path of your back, settling on your lower back, dipping you slightly. Benedict groans softly at the feel of you lined up against him. If he had known heaven was this close, he would not have waited this long.

Benedict breaks the kiss; not out of need of air, but to stop himself from taking this too far when you feel like heaven pressed against him. You smile widely, kissing his jaw lovingly before starting to laugh lightly. Benedict’s hands on your waist tighten possessively as he joins you in laughter.

Briefly, he wonders whether this is what it feels like to be loved by you.

********

Bridgerton Taglist: @heloisedaphnebrightmore​ @dreaming-about-fanfictions​ @now-its-time-for-a-breakdown​

Rebuilding Family

Summary: Y/N and Spencer were college sweethearts at Cal-Tech but once Spencer got accepted to the FBI Academy, he ended things deciding it was not fair to make Y/N wait for him. When they meet again years later, he discovers something unexpected.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

A/N: i hit 200 followers!! as celebration, i put out a list of 40 prompts and you can send me an ask with up to three and i will write a one-shot including them! i have already received one request and i’m already in the process of writing it but i would love to write more!

Masterlist

Chapter 23

You inhaled sharply as you sat up in the hospital bed. Spencer looked at you, concerned.

“The doctor gave you the option to stay here for one more night. Are you sure you want to be discharged today?” Spencer asked.

“I need to go home. It’s so boring here. I’ll heal quicker at home, I promise,” you whined.

“Scientifically, that’s not possible but fine. Don’t think for a second that I’m going against the doctor’s orders though. Bed rest for a week,” Spencer brushed the stray hairs off your face and placed a gentle kiss on your forehead.

“You’re no fun,” you pouted as he helped you into the wheelchair.

“I think Jo and Penelope have a little surprise for you waiting at home that will cheer you up,” Spencer smiled.

-

Spencer insisted on carrying you bridal-style through the front door because you couldn’t walk up the steps.

“We’re not officially married yet,” you teased.

“Oh hush, I’d keep you in my arms forever if I could,” he pulled you closer to his chest.

You snuggled into his cardigan that smelled like an old bookstore, “I guess I wouldn’t mind that either.”

Spencer slowly put you down and opened the door to your bedroom. Technically, it was you and Spencer’s shared bedroom now because he hardly ever used his bedroom now other than as storage for his things. Most of his clothes had already migrated to your closet and one of your bedside tables now had piles of books, a journal with chicken scratch, and his reading glasses atop it.

Inside, you saw Jo and Penelope holding heart balloons that said “Get Well Soon!” and a big teddy bear.

“Awww, thank you, my lovelies,” you smiled.

“I brought the mini fridge from my office so you are fully stocked with waters, juice, ice cream, fruit, whatever your little heart desires,” Penelope chirped.

“Thank you, Pen. You didn’t have to do that. I feel bad now. Where are you going to put your lunch?”

“Nonsense, my dear! There’s a fridge in the break room I can use. Don’t worry about me,” she assured you.

“And I made you drawings, Mommy,” Jo gestured to the walls of the room covered in colorful crayon sketches of animals, dinosaurs, trees, and people.

“Oh my god, these are so gorgeous, Jo! They are definitely going to help me get better, thank you.”

Jo hopped up on the bed to give you a hug.

“You’re welcome, Mommy,” she said as you planted a kiss on her head.

“Alright, I’m going to head out. Let me know if there’s anything I or anyone else at the BAU can do, literally anything, you just name it,” Penelope stated.

“Bye, Pen. Thank you so much,” you waved.

“Do you want soup? Spring rolls? Tea? What can I do for you, love?” Spencer eagerly asked.

“Could you please see if we have the ingredients for a cake for a special little 7 year-old?” you grinned.

“One cake, coming right up,” Spencer nodded, “Jo, do you want to help or stay with Mommy?”

“Stay with Mommy,” Jo grabbed the TV remote and curled into your side.

“Can you handle it?” you asked hesitantly, knowing baking wasn’t really Spencer’s forte.

“I will try my best,” he smiled, “And if not, I will go to the store.”

-

An hour later, Spencer opened the bedroom door, holding a chocolate cake with purple candles. He looked absolutely adorable, he was wearing your sunflower apron and he had flour residue on his nose.

“As promised,” he smiled, setting the cake down.

Jo was practically drooling as the cake was set in front of her.

“Hold on, I need to get plates and forks!” Spencer rushed out of the room and down the stairs.

“You better hurry. Jo looks like she is ready to just start eating it with her hands,” you laughed.

-

A week later, you woke up super early and jumped out of bed, dancing around a little in Spencer’s sweater, your PJ shorts, and fuzzy socks.

“Bed rest is over!” you cheered quietly to yourself, going downstairs to make banana bread.

Spencer came down fifteen minutes later as you were dancing around the kitchen to your music and whisking the batter.

“Bed rest is over,” you beamed as he came up behind you, tucking his chin into your neck and squeezing you softly, leaving a kiss as he pulled away.

“I love you,” he grinned.

“And I love you too...Spence, I was thinking…” you turned to face him after you put the pan in the oven.

“About what?” he asked, leaning against the kitchen counter with his mug of coffee.

“I don’t want to wait any longer. Can we please get married already?” you asked.

“Like now now?” he smiled softly.

“Like as soon as we can but still having a small ceremony so our friends and family don’t kill us for eloping,” you placed your hands on his chest.

“JJ and Will had their wedding in Rossi’s backyard,” Spencer suggested.

“Penelope did say if we needed anything, just ask,” you grinned.

Spencer already had his phone out of his pocket before you could say anything else. He dialed Rossi and put it on speaker.

“Reid, to what do I owe this pleasure on a lovely Tuesday morning,” Rossi spoke through the phone.

“Hey, Rossi. Y/N and I kind of have a big favor to ask,” Spencer began.

“Name it.”

-

Everything was a whirlwind after that. You decided Saturday evening would be best for the wedding so you and Spencer had exactly five days to coordinate your wedding.

Luckily, the team took care of most of the planning like the caterer and the set-up of Rossi’s backyard but you and Spencer’s opinions were still needed for everything from which flowers you wanted in your bouquet to what flavor of cake.

You and Spencer sat in bed one night criss-cross across from each other and you each had a little journal and pen in your hand. You both wrote your vows over the next hour. Spencer would occasionally look up at you, stare for a minute, silently smiling, and then continue jotting something down.

Spencer pushed up his glasses on the bridge of his nose and leaned over your journal.

“No peeking!” you rolled on your back, flailing your legs so he couldn’t get to your journal.

“Ugh fine, I surrender,” he laughed, grabbing on to your legs to stop your movements, “I guess I can wait 3 more days.”

He leaned down to kiss you.

“3 more days,” you repeated with a dreamy smile.

-

You and Jo met the BAU ladies at a boutique to get dresses for everyone. You had decided on a dusty blue for the bridesmaid dress color but you let them choose which style they wanted so everyone was matching but still got to decide which dress they liked best.

Jo was essentially given free rein in the children’s section of the store and chose a pale pink dress with a bow on the back that would serve as her flower girl dress.

After all that was settled, everyone gathered on the couch near the fitting room to watch you try on dresses, you had been saying from the start that you just wanted something simple. All the options in the store were overwhelming to you but the girls insisted you at least try on a little of everything to get a feel for it.

You came out in a huge poofy wedding dress courtesy of Penelope.

Jo burst out in giggles, “Mommy looks like a cupcake.”

“I think anything overly poofy is ruled out. I want to be able to pee without the help of 3 bridesmaids,” you walked back into the fitting room.

Next was a gown with lots of detailed beading and lace and a long train.

“I think it’s too much,” you sighed, “Plus, I don’t want to trip on this train while walking down the aisle,” you returned to the stall.

You walked out of the dressing room once more and everyone gasped.

“Oh my god,” Penelope was fanning her face to dry the fast-forming tears.

“Y/N, I don’t want to speak for you but I think this is the one,” JJ smiled.

The dress you were wearing was a white satin gown. It was a maxi dress with spaghetti straps and it hugged your hips but was loose around your legs so it was still comfortable.

“It’s perfect,” you smiled softly, looking in the mirror.

Jo hopped off of Emily’s lap and joined you on the little stage, still in her flower girl dress, doing a little twirl. You started to cry from all the happiness and pent-up excitement you were feeling.

-

“Hey, how’d it go?” Spencer asked when you got home.

You rounded the corner to the couch where he was laying.

“That good?” he asked.

“What?” you furrowed your brow, looking at him in confusion because you hadn’t said anything yet.

“You have remnants of mascara on your cheeks indicating that you were crying and that means you must have found the perfect dress because Jo is over there grinning like a fool,” Spencer smiled.

“You know you’re a retired profiler, right?” you teased.

“Mommy looked so pretty, Daddy! You wouldn’t even believe it!” Jo exclaimed.

“Oh, I believe it, Princess,” Spencer lifted Jo up on to his lap, “I know it’s against the rules for me to see Mommy’s dress but can you do a fashion show for me with yours?”

Jo nodded enthusiastically, running up to her room with the bag in her hand.

“Ready!” she called out a few minutes later.

“Now introducing your royal highness, Princess Josephine Y/L/N-Reid,” Spencer announced as Jo walked down the stairs, doing a fancy royal wave.

A/N: i absolutely can not wait to write the wedding chapter

Missing Sketchbook, Please Return to Artist (Neil Perry x fem!reader)

requested by @i-am-lost-and-need-a-map

Welton was pretty quiet once classes were done for the day, at least it was quiet in the school where the classrooms were as all the boys were either studying or goofing off with their friends outside.

  The dead poets trailed after Neil as he went down the empty and quiet halls in search of Mr. Keating. They rounded the corner and Neil knocked on Mr. Keating’s classroom door. They didn’t get a response, but the door wasn’t full closed, and it swung open at the force of Neil’s knocking.

  Neil poked his head through the opening of the door. “Mr. Keating?”

No response.

  “Mr. Keating?” Neil called again, slowly opening the door farther and stepping inside the classroom.

  “I don’t think he’s here, Neil,” Meeks said.

  Neil walked into the classroom, through to Keating’s office. The door was shut, and Neil rapped on it, which elicited no response. He tried the handle, only to find it locked.

  “What do you have to talk to Mr. Keating about so urgently anyway?” Cameron asked and sat down at one of the desks.

  Neil shrugged. “Nothing.” He wandered back down the aisle between the desks, heading for the door when he spotted a book flopped open on the floor of the classroom, nearly hidden from sight. He bent down to retrieve the book, flattening the pages back to their original state.

  “What’s that?” Todd asked.

  Neil shrugged. “I just found it on the floor. It looks as though someone dropped it without noticing.” He flipped open the cover in search of a name. Instead of a name he found intricate and beautiful sketches of himself and his friend on the first page. Curiosity getting the better of him, Neil flipped the pages of the book, inspecting the several sketches of him and his friend, but mostly him he noticed.

  “Woah,” those a really good,” Meeks commented, poking his head around Neil’s shoulder to look.

  Neil placed the book on top of a desk, and they crowded around it as he flipped through the pages.

“That’s kind of creepy,” Pitts stated. “Whose sketchbook, is it?”

“I don’t know,” Neil said. “There’s no name in here. It just says ‘if lost please return to artist’.”

“What’s written next to the pictures?” Charlie asked.

  Neil inspected the swoopy lines next to a picture of Todd. “It’s poetry.”

“Original?” Knox asked.

  He shook his head. “No, this one’s Shakespeare. I guess it’s just whomever drew these felt fit the pictures.”

Knox flipped the page of the sketchbook to a page covered in sketches of Neil wearing his glasses, lines of poetry were scrawled between the photos. He leaned in further to read them. “These are all love poems.” He looked at Neil and smiled. “Looks like you’ve got a secret admirer.”

  Before Neil could respond they heard voices in the hall.

  “We should go,” Cameron said.

  The boys agreed and shut the sketchbook. Neil felt only a minor burst of a conscience to leave the sketchbook in the room where they found but as Pitts called that the hall was clear, and they sprinted out of Mr. Keating’s classroom he tucked it under his arm and shut the door behind him.

After dinner, the dead poets crowded into Neil and Todd’s room where they saw the sketchbook sitting on Neil’s bed.

  “You took it?” Cameron exclaimed. “Now they’re going to know that someone was in there.”

“Relax Cameron,” Charlie said. “A. no one will know it was us and B. it was on the floor, whoever forgot it probably doesn’t even know where they left it.”

Neil opened the book again to a page with a picture of himself drawn beautifully in the centre and surrounded by flowers and lines of romantic poetry. “Don’t you want to know who drew all of these?”

“You only want to know because whomever it is, is completely head over heels in love with you,” Charlie stated and flopped onto Todd’s bed.

  “I want to give it back to them,” Neil corrected.

  “Sure,” Meeks said and gave Neil and wink.

  “I’m sure they’re looking for it,” he argued. “If it were mine, I would want it back.”

For a week it was nothing but teasing as Neil searched desperately for the owner of the sketchbook. Neil had tried matching the handwriting with no avail, and then he began checking the art classes, he even asked Knox to ask Chris if she knew anyone who could draw well. She couldn’t come up with anyone that she knew had as good of skills os the one sin the sketchbook.

  “Still carrying it around I see,” Charlie said as Neil walked into the study room where the rest of them were procrastinating their math homework as Cameron slowly became more and more frustrated that they couldn’t understand this one problem.

  “Maybe you should just put it back where you found it,” Todd suggested. “Wouldn’t this person be looking everywhere they’d been recently to find their sketchbook?”

“Probably,” Pitts said.

  Neil sat down at their table and placed the sketchbook on top of it. “Maybe I should put it back.”

“But?” Charlie prompted.

  “But these drawings are really good, and I just want to meet whoever drew them,” Neil said.

  “Well, while you’re deciding on what to do, can you take a look at this question?” Cameron slid the textbook towards Neil.

  Neil glanced down at the problem before shaking his head and reaching for the sketchbook again. “I’m going to go put this back. Maybe if Mr. Keating is there, he knows whose it is.”

“Won’t he just then know we were snooping around his classroom without him there?” Cameron asked.

  “Mr. Keating probably won’t care,” Meeks stated. “And I figured the question out.”

Cameron’s attention was immediately diverted to math as Meeks showed him the solution.

  “Do you want me to go with you?” Todd asked.

  Neil shook his head. “I’ll be back soon anyway. Mr. Keating probably won’t even be there, and I’ll just put it on his desk.”

Neil left the room and wandered down the near empty corridors of Welton until he reached Mr. Keating’s classroom. The door was once again unlocked, and Neil stepped inside. It was dark in the room except for the fading sunlight streaming through the windows.

  Neil called out for Mr. Keating but received no response. Just as he suspected Mr. Keating wasn’t there. He walked up to the front of the classroom and placed the sketchbook on the desk just as the door of Mr. Keating’s office opened. He looked up and saw a girl standing in the open doorway.

  She glanced down at his hand that was still holding the corner of her sketchbook. “You found it,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

  “This is yours?”

She nodded.

  Neil picked the book back up and held it out to her. She grabbed the book hurriedly and tucked it up against her chest.

  “You’re really talented,” Neil said.

  “Thanks,” she muttered.

  “Can I ask when you drew all of those? Those ones of my friends and I?” She blinked widely at him. “I sometimes sit on the lawn by the trees where you never notice me and draw you guys as you study outside. I hope you don’t mind. I just find it’s best to work with real—”

“It’s fine,” Neil interrupted her rambling. “I really like them.”

They fell into a bout of silence as they stared at each other.

  “The poems,” Neil started. “Are they a reflection of your feelings or are they just things you like?”

“Both,” she replied.

  “What’s your name?”

“Y/N.”

“I’m Neil.” He held out his hand for her to shake it.

  She shook his hand, her fingers cold against his warm ones.

“How come you’re here inside Welton?”

“Mr. Keating is my uncle,” she answered.

  “Oh, so that’s why we found your sketchbook in here,” he said.

  “I have to go,” y/n said. “They don’t want me spending a lot of time in here.” She walked past Neil, towards the door to the classroom.

  “Wait.” Neil ran after her, meeting her at the door where she had stopped for him. “Can I see you again?”

She nodded, her lips slowly creeping into a shy smile. 

  “This weekend?” he asked.

  She nodded again. “I’ll leave the address with my uncle.”

Neil nodded, face hot, and watched as y/n turned and left the classroom. He let out a sharp breath of air as he left the classroom, shutting the door behind him. Only three more days until he saw her again. He barely knew her, but after studying the pages of her sketchbook for a week, he felt he did and he was looking forward to seeing her again.