#Where should I put a grand piano in my house?
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CINEMA {Chapter I}
A/n: Someone wrote a lovely comment describing y/n and harry as “ ex lovers with unconditional love that never truly go out of style trope” which is now my very favorite way to describe it, unfortunately, my careless self deleted the comment while trying to delete my own reply—because I post it without being finished (tumblr doing me dirty)— so I dedicate this to her/him/they (?), thank you for the amazing comment.
Thank you to everyone that replied to my desperate need of help to choose Y/n ‘s ex-boyfriend…
I honestly hope not to disappoint you guys with this first chapter, I just wanted to give a first glimpse of Harry and Y/n’s ‘friendship’ dynamic. Also, it’s almost Harry’s birthday!!
Cinema | Previous Part
1.Boyfriends
Harry holds the door open with one hand, as he hold a cup carrier with four coffee drinks in the other—Luis is arriving soon, and Rebekah must already be somewhere in the house with Y/n—, he doesn’t know most of the people passing by him, from the group of fifteen+ he recognizes Chrystal, Y/n lawyer—who in more than one occasion back when they’re dating, managed to get out of circulation invasive paparazzi shots of the young couple—and Monica, her publicist since 2012, Rebekah was right behind them, escorting them all to the door.
Rebekah is their age, pixie hair, New York accent, always in flowy blouses and high waist jeans, Y/n’s PA, friend and confidante.
“Good morning H, I am going to take this, thank you.” The woman took her usual order and went back inside, turning back a few steps in, “She’s in the music room.”
“Thank you Bekah.” He said closing the door behind himself and taking the opposite direction from the PA.
The music room was one of Y/n favorite places in her house, a large space with two walls made of glass overlooking the pool, with a view of the city and the park. It’s where she keeps her prized Concert Grand Piano in custom Sycamore wood adorned with a gold leaf mural of London’s skyline around the entire case of the piano, a twenty-first birthday gift by Harry—which her boyfriend at the time saw as competition and got her a 61’ Rolls Royce Silver Cloud II in an auction.
Y/n’s enviable guitar and vinyl collections occupied the two inner walls, the only sitting furniture in the room—other than the piano bench—was the Bellini U-shaped couch from the 70’s in burnt orange velvet and Gucci throw pillows. The piece de resistance was the Brionvega RR126 Y/n inherited from her grandfather.
He found her laying in the couch reading what seemed to be a script.
She looked completely fine for someone who just sold 50% of what she called ‘her first born’, Harry was honestly expected a little bit of nostalgia or melancholia from his little love.
“Got you coffee.” He put the cup in her hand and kissed the top of her head as a greeting before sitting down next to her, his own coffee in hand.
Y/n hadn’t even took her eyes out of the pages.
“How are you feeling?”The question finally made her put the script down on her lap, and sip her coffee before looking at him.
“I feel like I just sold half of my soul to the devil for $500million dollars.” She said deadpanned.
Harry looked at her with furrowed brows.
“So why sell?” He asked slightly confused.
Y/n had started Muse unpretentiously, her goal was simply to offer to the costumers something that lacked in the market: an all-inclusive, vegan, high quality and affordable priced make-up and skincare line. Muse became a beauty empire that included even daily/basic lingerie and loungewear in 69 sizes and 15 nude colors—going by Y/n’s philosophy that basic doesn’t need to be ugly, ‘nude tones’ meant different shades from beige and pretty stuff should fit everyone.
It was her passion project.
“I don’t have the hours in a day for everything I need to do, and I want to have a life, I want to be able to dedicate myself to relationships.” She said honestly. “LVMH is the same parent company that owns half of Fenty Beauty, they are the only ones that agreed to my terms, I get creative control and veto vote, the company philosophy stays the same, I am getting a female CEO of my choice, and Muse gets global distribution, we’re going to be available at Sephora, Harvey Nichols, Boots, Ulta at a even more affordable price.”
Harry nodded. She has handing over some control of her company to have more control of her life. It was almost poetic in a sense.
“And what is this about?”the 'Adore You' crooner points to the script on the youngest's lap, he knew her well enough to know when he need to change the subject.
“Robert Eggers’ new project...but first...”She stops, looking seriously at Harry, “how was it with Olivia?”
Harry and Olivia had agreed to meet that morning to discuss their relationship.
Olivia apparently felt that tempers had run out, and that everything had been left very much up in the air.
Y/n didn't even know what was going on between the two until her former director called Harry the night before while they were getting ready for dinner, and even then she had only managed to get Harry out of the fact that they had had a fight before he came to her aid.
She had a suspicion there was trouble in paradise after Harry spent the third night in a row sharing a bed with her without his girlfriend's interference.
The man sigh, close his eyes and rest his head against the back of the couch.
“Was it that bad?” Y/n watches Harry closely.
Y/n honestly didn't like Olivia, and it wasn't even because the older one was dating Harry—which she personally found unethical and unprofessional, the kind of thing that causes a stain in someone’s career, specially with the whole scandal surrounding it.
The former Angel could write an entire essay about all her reasons to dislike Olivia Wilde, but in short it would resume to Olivia was simply an amalgamation of the kind of person Y/n looked down on in the industry: ambitious personality, fake character, and acting according to convenience.
She would never mistreat the woman or say a word against her in front of Harry, but that didn't mean she approved of their romance.
And Y/n knew Olivia didn't like her either, she could see it in the older woman's catlike eyes, her years in the fashion industry made her perceptive of those kind of things.
Olivia tolerated her for Harry, and had unwillingly offered the role of Violet to her under pressure from Warner Executives who saw Y/n as yet another money grab for the film—like Harry, she had a fanbase and more Instagram followers than the entire cast put together—and which she only accepted at Florence and Harry's request.
“We talked, we agreed that after our fight it's best to take some time off from each other, I have the tour, she still has to sort it out with Jason regarding the kids, we'll keep in touch, but we'll have a more definitive conversation when this leg of the tour is over to know where we stand.” He told her everything in one breath.
“And how do you feel about that?” The woman take a sip of her coffee.
Harry sighs again, running his hands through his hair in an anxious gesture
“I honestly don't know.” He confess. “I care about Olivia…”
“But you don’t love her…”Y/n completed. “That’s tough.” She nodded. “Do you think it’s a matter of time? Like, you can come to love her?”
“Yeah, sure…”He don’t look so sure. “Olivia is cool, she’s so intelligent and eloquent…” Y/n wide her eyes a little, condescending and pretentious fit Olivia better in her opinion. “If I am honest, our relationship hasn’t been a thought in my head for three days, this kinda of says something…”
“This actually screams something.” She said against her coffee, only to get a disapproving look from Harry. “H, you mistook the excitement of the honeymoon phase for something else and you stepped heavy footed into the relationship, I mean you moved her in three months after you guys started to date, we all told you it was too soon…”
“She needed a place to stay, things with Jason were though.” Harry defended his actions.
“And why is that?” The question was rhetorical, followed by a humorless laugh. “H, I love you, but you’re too good for this world.”
Harry looks at her with his brow frown. “Why?”
“My Love, everyone knows she broke up with Jason after you guys blurred the line, Florence told me that Jason and her acted pretty couple-ish the times he took the kids to visit, and that only changed after you started to spend too much time in her trailer.” Y/n told him what her and the girls had debated so many times before in their slumber parties over copious amounts of tequila. “Even Gemma agrees, and she’s like completely against talking about peoples life.”
The man stayed silent for a moment, absorbing what he had heard.
There was only one thing he wanted to know after hearing her thoughts.
“You never said anything against the relationship before.” It wasn’t even a question
“Because I want you happy, and you seemed happy with Olivia, that’s all I care about, it doesn’t matter if I don’t like the woman,” she answers with honesty. “I would never criticize your taste in women, the same way you never criticized my bad choices in men.” She jokes to lighten the mood.
Harry chuckles, eyes closing and dimples showing.
The musician stopped criticizing Y/n’s boyfriends after the second time she got back with Abel after he got together with Selena while they’re on a break—he did wrote her na album as na apology. He kept quiet about Charlie—needy, jealous Charlie—, and bit his tongue with Jack—flirting, handsome Jack, even Harry would have to admit the younger man knew how to be charming—.
He liked Jack less than he liked Abel.
And he had despised Abel because they got together not long after their break up, and Harry was still hung up on her, regretting his decision to end their relationship. But it was too late, Abel swapped her off her foot the minute their break-up was announced, taking her on a first date in Dubai just months later, the beginning of their whirlwind, world wide romance that just ended for good in 2019.
Jack, Harry hated him because he seemed less invested in the relationship than Y/n. He showered her with flowers and gifts and pretty words, but he was always away and it was always Y/n traveling to him. His Little Lovie was a woman in love with love, she always invested herself in the relationships, and was always heartbroken when things didn’t worked out in the end.
They were interrupted by Rebekah holding a lovely flower arrangement in her hands and an apologetic expression on her face. “Y/n…”
The actress turned to where her PA stood in the doorway, the young woman rolled her expressive eyes at the peonies, ranunculus and carnations bouquet.
“Beks…” Y/n sigh. “Just put it in the guest house, will you? Please.” She asked, and the held up her hand, stopping Bekah from leaving the room. “On second thought, it would be sad to let all those beautiful flowers go to waste, see if you can get a van to transport them all to the nearest nursing home.”
The assistant nodded and was already turning to leave the room and start to making calls when this time it was Harry who stopped her.
“Call Jeff, we have a van to transport instruments that you guys can use.”The musician offers.
“Thank you, H.”The young woman said honestly, with a bit of relief showing in her face.
The former couple turned best friends watch her leave the room before going back to their conversation.
“Is he still sending you flowers?” He points to where Bekah disappeared with the flowers.
Y/n just rolls her eyes. “I feel like I can open my own flower shop.” She takes another sip of her coffee. “He’s still blowing my phone.”
“Are you going to talk to him?” Harry takes a sip of his coffee, watching her closely.
“NO!”She says categorically. “I played this back and forth game with Abel, I am not doing it again with Jack.” She sighs. “But I still have to see him at least at the VMA’s, I can’t pull back at the last minute.”
“Shit, I had completely forgot about that.” Sometimes he forgot that she was what the industry called a triple threat: she acts, she dances and she sings, she had already used her voice in three movies.
With her always dating musicians, it was actually an impressive feat that none before Jack had put her vocals on a track—Harry did, but they aren’t dating at the time he recorded her for TPWK.
No one ever thought that ‘Into Your Arms’ would blow up the way it did, it was a romantic—that in some ways reflected Y/n and Jack’s relationship at the time—song, and Tik-Tok and Instagram Reels made it a huge sensation.
“Yeah, we have to perform it on the 11th.” She honestly wished there was a shot of vodka in her coffee. “Let’s talk about nice things now, My Love.” She lifts the nearly forgotten script from her lap pushing it towards him. “I need you to do this with me."
{next part}
Taglist: @slutforcoffein ; @lilsiz ; @pandxthings ;
@ameerakane20 ; @angywritesstuff
#harry styles imagine#harry styles imagines#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles x you#harry styles x y/n#harry styles x reader#harry styles x actress!yn#harry styles x model!reader#harry styles x singer!reader
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Bella Swan Was A Rich Bitch
I’m slowly making my way through the Twilight series for the first time since 2009 and I have a lot of thoughts. Here are some:
Bella claims she grew up poor. I disagree. I think she grew up at the very least middle class for the USA, despite being raised by a single mother.
(We all know Charlie paid that child support on time.)
Firstly, she grew up in a house, which her mother seems to own, as there is no mention of a landlord or paying rent.
Renée even leaves this property unattended for months on end while she lives in another state with her husband, Phil. When Bella returns to the house at the end of Twilight, it’s empty, so Renée didn’t need to rent it out during her absence and, presumably, simply owns two different properties simultaneously.
She’s even still paying the electric and phone bills, as Bella can turn on the lights and use the phone although the house has been empty for months. (p. 476)
This house, I imagine, had more than one bathroom, as sharing a bathroom with a parent is embarrassing to Bella.
When describing Charlie’s house, Bella says, “There was only one small bathroom at the top of the stairs, which I would have to share with Charlie. I was trying not to dwell too much on that fact.” (p. 9)
She finds it foreign and off-putting to share a bathroom with someone, to the point that she keeps all her toiletries in a bag that she stores in her bedroom, and brings the bag with her to the bathroom whenever she goes. She is described doing this multiple times over the course of the book.
The book takes place c. 2005, and Bella has a computer with internet access. She accepts these as given, rather than privileges.
“The only changes Charlie had ever made were switching the crib for a bed and adding a desk as I grew. The desk now held a secondhand computer, with the phone line for the modem stapled along the floor to the nearest phone jack. This was a stipulation from my mother, so that we could stay in touch easily.” (p. 9)
The author repeatedly uses the marker “secondhand” to insinuate Bella’s relative poverty, but the mere fact she has a computer of her own, as well as home internet access, sets her apart from truly socioeconomically disadvantaged kids.
Bella participated in at least one extra-curricular activity as a child.
And a very expensive one at that: ballet. (p. 454)
Come on.
Bella and her mother have a piano.
“I suddenly remembered my childhood fantasy that, should I ever win a lottery, I would buy a grand piano for my mother. She wasn’t really good—she only played for herself on our secondhand upright—but I loved to watch her play.” (p. 351)
The author makes a point of mentioning it’s an upright piano (cheaper than a grand) and that it’s secondhand. However, unless the piano came with their house, they would have had to pay for the piano itself (often several thousand dollars for a used upright) as well as to transport it to their home (professional transportation of pianos can also cost several thousand dollars). Pianos require maintenance/tuning (usually a couple hundred dollars per tuning session), which are additional costs. Unlike a ukulele or a fife, a piano is not a cheap instrument to own or play and there are more than upfront costs.
Her mother has nice clothes, and pays to maintain them.
Bella’s mother e-mails her asking whether she knows where her pink blouse is. Bella responds, “Your blouse is at the dry cleaners—you were supposed to pick it up Friday.” (p. 34)
Dry cleaning a blouse implies that not only it is made from an expensive material (silk, chiffon, linen, suede, leather, etc.), but also that the owner has the monetary resources, time, and transportation to bring it to a dry cleaner and pay someone to clean it for them.
Bella doesn’t bother to bring most of her clothes with her when she moves to Forks.
“I had only a few bags. Most of my Arizona clothes were too permeable for Washington. My mom and I had pooled our resources to supplement my winter wardrobe, but it was still scanty. It all fit easily into the trunk of the cruiser.” (p. 5)
It seems odd to me that Bella never thought about layering her lighter clothing in Washington, particularly because this was written in the early 2000s. I think the “my mom and I had pooled our resources” line is an attempt by the author to demonstrate they don’t have money to buy her new clothes, however, when she gets to Forks, Bella has enough pocket money to consider doing some shopping on a trip to Seattle later in the book. (p. 160)
Bella, who notoriously feels guilty about everything, goes to the hospital twice in Twilight, including for several days at the end of the book, but never worries about how much it will all cost her family.
She suffered life-threatening bleeding and broken bones (leg, ribs, and skull), and was admitted for several nights. I’ve never lived in the USA but the internet tells me this is extremely expensive. She isn’t remotely worried about it.
Bella doesn’t have a job, but she has money.
She’s 17 and unemployed, so I’m not sure where it comes from. An allowance? But an allowance is only possible if parents have wealth to spare.
In all her reminiscing about Arizona, Bella doesn’t so much as recall a babysitting gig. So where do her funds come from? The only time she uses Charlie's money is to pay for groceries.
“I had more money than I was used to having, since, thanks to Charlie, I hadn’t had to pay for a car. Not that the truck didn’t cost me quite a bit in the gas department.” (p. 84)
She doesn’t get a job until New Moon, but she planned on using her own money to buy a car and fuel it without even considering applying for a job in Twilight (and we know every thought that goes through her head). Further, unlike any truly poor kid, she doesn't seem to consider walking or cycling options despite living in a small town (I assume a community the size of Forks would not have a robust public transportation system).
She eats at restaurants, considers clothing and book shopping, etc., without any care about paying for anything. She is supposed to be a conscientious girl who made sure her mother’s bills were paid, so if money were an issue, we should expect her to think about it.
TL;DR
Bella wasn’t poor. Renée wasn’t poor. Charlie wasn’t poor.
The author was certainly never poor.
#my thoughts#twilight#twilight renaissance#Charlie swan#Bella swan#Bella was a rich bitch#Carlisle Cullen is the 1%#eat the rich#renée#twilightcore#twilightcore is rich people pretending to be poor
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Wow! Finally finished watching malcolm in the middle! That was quite a show, very entertaining! I especially loved the following parts:
- When Francis inherited the ranch in the finale! I loved his and Otto's relationship throughout the show, and how he finally found the parent figures he always needed. I loved when Lois came to visit and– upon realising what an unexpectedly smart, good-natured and honest man he had become without her, she apologizes for not being the mother she should have been. And I especially loved that they didn't make their relationship miraculously perfect after that!!! The arc where Piama helps him through the realization that he will never recover a perfect childhood and the only way to move is forward? Mwah! It was sad only seeing him with the brothers in Christmas episodes, but it was good seeing Francis happy.
- When Reese got his apartment and moved out for good! Credit card debt is no joke, but after getting a thorought explanation on that and other ~adulting things Hal and Lois never got around to teaching him, it was quite a wake up call for his independence. Sure, he had to make do with a toaster oven and mini fridge for the rest of the show, but his graduation gifts more than made up for it lol. Loved how his grades started getting better gradually, and he actually chose to go to college for something he loved– cooking. I loved the implication in the finale that he kept doing odd jobs to support himself through it. Just like Francis, he was better off out of the house, and I loved that they didn't cold turkey stop him from doing pranks! The gradual realization that hospital/police/lawyers time and costs aren't really worth it? Mwah! Plus, his relationship with his brothers only stronger because they had to choose to hang out together was a sight to behold.
- Dewey! Usually I hate ~high stakes storylines, but getting local press coverage for his improvised piano was such a turning point in his arc that it's impossible not to love. Plus, it got him that grand piano, and everyone started seeing him in just a little bit of a better light. I loved how he turned the Busey's class around! That episode where he got Reese to put sleeping pills in the teacher's coffee every morning so he could take over the class is one of my faves, and Malcolm bringing in authorities to expose the rampant child labor and underfunding was inspired. I like that Dewey stayed an honorary part of the class, even though he transferred to the 'normal' kids so he didn't have to neglect his own education selflessly forever. I like to think he pursued a career in Special Education, helping kids like him in a way they needed to be helped. Maybe through music?!
- And finally, Malcolm. I love his turnaround by the end of the show. I love that his big finale moment was deciding to take a gap year, because what is college for if he was just gonna be miserable? I loved that he stood up to Lois's delusions of grandeur. President? Please. Just because he's smart, it doesn't meant he should aim for glory lol. He's smart enough to aim for happiness, instead. And considering he didn't know what that looked like for him yet, I'm glad he took time away from home to figure himself out, and that, after seeing two other successful cases, Lois let him. I also loved how his non-cousin from Canada helped him start his journey to self-confidence! After figuring out it wasn't his peers' approval he was trying to get, but his mom's, it was only a matter of practice before he could laugh at himself and make friends effortlessly. And it was a sight to behold.
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So, we are fairly convinced that I in fact live in a haunted house. I’ve lived here for almost 10 months now. We moved mid September in the middle of the fall - an OLD old house with big bay windows, white picket fences, french doors, large yard, private garden, porch, basement, and cheap rent. Seemed a relatively good deal at the time.
I remember the day we saw it for the first time. Or more precisely, I remember the drive home where me and my roommate had poked fun about the house probably being haunted, had joked about burning sage and whatnot. You know, joking around as you do. When I tell you, the kind of shit we put up with from day ONE.
Now, I’ll start off by saying that my house has precisely 2 bedrooms, both of which have had their moments, but I will start off with mine. Now, my bedroom is very small. A tiny little shoebox of a room that has an insanely high ceiling and very limited floor space because my house is still heated by radiators and they are freaking huge. There is one small window that doesn’t open. To the left of this window, on the adjacent wall, is a tiny Coraline esk door, the top of which sits at about waist height from the floor up.
It is iterally bolted to the wall.
I’ve never opened this door, because I’m not daft, but I moved my dresser in front of it to block its entrance and I’ve never had any problems.
Although I should clarify, I’ve never had any problems with the door. The rest of my room however…
The first day we moved in was when we had our first incident. I was in my new room, I had no bed, no shelves, but at the time possessed precisely 1 dresser and a suitcase, which I was unpacking. My roommate was sitting in the living room on the couch just outside my door, reading. I was just folding some clothes and putting them in my dresser when I heard a loud THUNK from behind me, where I promptly turned towards the source of the sound. When I turned around I found a long, white candlestick in the middle of my bedroom floor, half used, and very clearly not mine. Now, I cannot stress enough that this room had no ledges, no shelves, there was literally nowhere this thing could have fallen from. My roommate was still reading on the couch, but she had looked up at the sound too, and she was just as confused and weirded out as I was.
This was just the start.
The second incident happened on my third night there, and also coincidentally my first night alone in the house. This incident moves us to the bathroom, where I had consistently been hearing scratching in the walls late at night. Our house is old enough that is doesn’t have a fan in the bathroom, but instead has a really tiny window which you can open to vent out steam. I’d had the window open because I had showered earlier that night. It was about 12-1:00 in the morning and I had gone into the bathroom to brush my teeth and get ready for bed when I heard even more obnoxious scratching coming from inside the bathtub. I walked over to investigate, thinking maybe an animal was under the pipes or something when I heard something outside the window. The sound of digging, but not like an animal. Like the sounds of a metal shovel scooping up gravel. I’d checked the next morning and nothing looked disturbed. But this was not the last time I heard that sound. The scratching continued nightly for the next 3 months as well.
By week 3 my roommate had started having this recurring dream about her bedroom. Now her bedroom, unlike mine, is actually quite massive. It has the same high ceilings, but it has enough floor space to fit a king sized bed and full bedroom set, bookshelves, grand piano, possibly some couches and entertainment unit. It’s huge. The floor is also spongy as all hell. Every room except the bathroom and kitchen have the same floor - thin hardwood planks that had to have been over 100 years old. You could tell it was rotted underneath just by the feel, but her particular room was sunk down a full foot into the floor, and not by design. Like the supports had just kind of given out and the whole floor space had gone with it. Her room was also always infested with spiders. She hated spiders.
Her first dream reflected this fear. Her dream consisted of her lying in her bed where she recounts that the floor had started to swell. The wooden floorboards had started to expand out into a big bubble and when it popped she had gone to stare into the pit it had created. 2 large, dead, spiders had been thrown out and hit her in the chest, and she recounts that she had woken up suddenly, feeling like there was a weight against her chest. She had this same dream with different iterations of dead animals being thrown from the pit. Mice, rats, possums. Every night she woke up feeling like there had been a weight against her chest. On the final night she says she had found a man. A homeless man at the bottom of the pit, alive, amidst a sea of dead animals - there was a homeless shelter on the next street over. He asked her to let him stay. Begged and pleaded and grovelled with her to let him stay, to which she apologized profusely, saying over and over again that she was sorry but he couldn’t stay there, but she promised to help him find someplace to stay. 2 dead possums were thrown from the pit of their own accord. She once again woke up with a weight on her chest, but she never had the dream again after that.
About a month after that I was away from home. I had gone up to my cottage for the weekend, so she was by herself. I woke up one morning to 5 missed calls from my roommate panicking because the house had been making noises. She was yelling about something being in the walls. She complained about scratching sounds and really loud banging noises that sounded like knocking.
Some time in December I was woken up one night. I had woken up because I had heard voices. I remember sitting there with my eyes closed and hearing this kind of murmuring of voices from somewhere by my wall. At this point I remember feeling so exhausted that I didn’t even care. I remember squinting my eyes shut tighter and trying to ignore them because I was so tired that I just could not even bring myself to care about disembodied voices in my room. I remember feeling frozen in this sort of stasis for a while before the voices spoke again closer to my head. There were 2 female voices, the first of which I did not grasp what was said, only that the phrase spoken sounded like a question, and then the second voice replied “just one more”. Following this there were 3 swift knocks on my wall, as if someone had struck it with an open palm, and I bolted awake suddenly, startled by the sound, and yet feeling very well rested strangely.
These were isolated incidents, but there were several recurring things that happened far more frequently, like the scratching in the walls that occurred nightly like clockwork, or the knocking or banging sounds that sometimes, but not always, accompanied this. There was a night light in my bathroom that had come with the house that had no switches or buttons, that up until the 3rd week of living there we did not realize was actually motion activated because it had just been on all the time. But there were other things.
For the first 5 months, the lights in my kitchen flickered a lot. There was nothing wrong with them, they just seemed to do this whenever we were in the kitchen and had the lights on. It used to freak out any guests we had over a lot, but we had just gotten used to it. Sometime in the middle of winter it just stopped. We haven’t had any issues with the lights since.
Very occasionally I would be doing the dishes and then suddenly the basement door would pop open on its own - a door that had hinges and a latch and was also very difficult to open. It was very stiff, so you had to really heave on this thing to get it open, and yet it would just pop open on its own if we didn’t have it locked. This happened on several occasions, and you could hear when it did if you were in another room - it made this really loud, deep banging sound because it was so stiff and you had to really force it open.
There’s a unit above us as well. We live in the main floor of a house, and someone else rents upstairs, but the upper unit is actually completely separate from us. It has its own entrance around the back and there is no link between the two. They were selling both units when we moved in, but the upper one sat empty for a while - we had about 3 months of the house to ourselves before another tenant moved in. Now, I’ve never been in the upper unit, I don’t know what it looks like, but every night like clockwork a light would come on in the upper left hand window. We heard footsteps above us all the time. Something we heard very frequently was what sounded like heavy furniture being dragged across the floor - this would go on for about an hour and then stop.
It was an empty unit. Nobody lived there.
This happened several times when the new tenant moved in as well, it was just easier to excuse because there was actually someone living there now. The new tenant was a single woman that lived alone. Often we would be sitting in the living room and be hearing all manner of crashing and dragging of furniture for hours and we would go “wtf is she doing up there” only to discover she wasn’t even home.
The latest incident happened just a couple days ago. I hadn’t been home in 3 days, and so the first night I came home I had gone down into the basement to do some laundry. Now, I feel it’s important to note that this took place in the basement for several reasons, the primary one being that none of the above has ever scared me. Floating candlesticks being thrown at me from across the room? That’s fine. Doors that open on their own? Child’s play. Scratching, banging, scraping, dragging, disembodied voices in the walls? None of it has ever scared me.
The basement scares me.
Or I don’t know if scared is the right word, but it definitely makes me uneasy, and for good reason. See, if you thought the rest of the house was a bit decrepit, it doesn’t even hold a candle to the state of my basement. To get there you have to go down this VERY rickety wooden staircase that’s so steep it’s almost completely vertical. There’s holes going into the side of it, pipes that go right through the steps. As you get to the bottom there is a broken window on the left that is so dirty no amount of scrubbing could ever hope to get it clean. There’s holes and cracks in the walls filled with what looks like a dark sludge. Holes in the ceiling with all manner of hanging and severed wires draping down. Rotted insulation. Rotted wood. Spiders everywhere. Cobwebs cover literally every surface that isn’t the floor or the washing machine. Nothing down there is up to building code.
There is also 2 VERY sketchy side wings of this basement.
There is the main area right at the bottom of the stairs that has my washer and dryer, an old utility sink, and a half collapsed, half rotted set of wooden shelves that I use to store my laundry detergent. The light switch at the top of the stairs connects to this area, however the 2 separate side wings do not. It’s a bit difficult to describe, but if you go down the stairs and turn right and walk all the way to the other wall, you hit a sort of T intersection where you can go left or right and go around the wall on either side. Around the right wall is my circuit breaker that is lit with one of those old clicker light switches on strings. It’s a small space, so that side isn’t as bad. The other side however looks straight out of a horror film.
The other side has a bigger space. There’s a machine in there that takes up almost the whole room that I’m going to assume is a water softener but I’m actually not sure because the water softener I had at the house I grew up in looked nothing like this, but I don’t know what else it could possibly be. The foyer of this wing when we moved in was full of old rotted and broken shelves. There’s all manner of cobwebs everywhere - triple the amount of the main room. The wall is also wood here. I’m going to assume this was once the base of a crawl space that has since been very shoddily blocked off. It looks like they patched it with old pieces of wood fence, not even legitimate boards, also rotted because of course they are. It’s literally falling apart.
Some of the fence pieces have fully collapsed, so there is plenty of cracks and gaps, but behind it is just blackness. It’s like the mouth of some weird cave. If I looked in the gaps for too long I always got this weird lingering feeling like something was watching me. And it was cold. This room was cold unlike the rest of the house - I mean the rest of the house was cold, but nothing like this. The entire room is also dark at all times. There is 1 light switch which is on the opposite side of the room. Meaning you have to walk through this entire maze of machine, cobweb infested, freezing void wall encased room to get to the lights - a single lightbulb on a pull string that only lights up about 2 feet around it, so the majority of the room is still pitch black anyway.
We don’t go in this room.
I digress.
Anyway, I hadn’t been home in 3 days. I went down to do some laundry. 2 steps down I noticed something odd - a trail of wet footprints going down to the basement. Now, I didn’t particularly question this at first. My roommate had been home, so I figured she had simply gone down to do some laundry earlier. Nothing overly suspicious. It wasn’t until I went to go back up again that I started to question them. See as I had noted, the trail of footprints I had seen had gone all the way down the stairs, a clear impression on each step.
Down, but not up.
The main laundry area had been empty. We didn’t go into the side wings. It was then that I had the sudden realization that while I had seen my roommates car in the driveway earlier, I had in fact not seen my roommate once since I had gotten home.
I get to the top of the stairs, a little bit concerned. Afraid she was sitting somewhere in the left side wing murdered or something, I was frankly a little bit afraid to look, and was not about to investigate because this is how people die in horror movies. So I texted her. For peace of mind really, just to make sure she wasn’t, you know, dead. Just a quick “hey, you’re upstairs right?” She replied almost instantly with a yes she was just in her room. Relieved, obviously my first reaction is just “oh good, I just saw the trail of wet footprints going down to the basement and just wanted to be sure.”
Her response?
“I haven’t been down to the basement in 2 days.”
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AITA for expecting my in-laws to tell me what kind of support I can expect for my newborn?
I'm (33f) having my first baby at the end of the year, and I live in a very high cost of living area where daycare for infants will total between $27,000-$35,000 per year. Additionally, waiting lists for infant rooms are up to a year long, so we are starting our search for an affordable daycare now. I can't leave the city for my line of work, and to be honest nothing in the surrounding area is much cheaper. If anything happened to our jobs we would need to move back to search for something in our industry.
In addition to looking for a suitable daycare, we are trying to think out side the box for ways to save. Including: parents coming to take care of the baby for a month or so to kind of kick the can down the road of when daycare needs to begin, and moving into a studio or efficiency one bedroom to offset the costs by around 1k/month.
My parents are from poverty and working class backgrounds (mom (51f) has 9th grade education and is a cashier at a fast food place, dad (52m) works in distribution factory.) And my mom said she could take off around 4 weeks to help after maternity leave. This is great, it means baby will be a bit older when he has to go to daycare and we will save a little and spend time with family.
My partners (30f) parents won't commit to anything. They are both doctors who by choice work 6 months a year. They are divorced, and one of them (MIL 65f) lives alone in a 3 story house with a baby grand piano that she has never learned how to play (just trying to paint a picture here); MIL also paid for her niece to go to college. The other (FIL 65m) lives with and provides for his niece (different niece) and her 3 adult sons.
Neither of them will commit to any time or financial assistance after the baby is born. They say they will "do what they can when they can" and won't reassure us of any level of support. I told them how we would love them to stay with us for a couple months and they won't do that, even saying they won't do it if they are not working.
Of course, I've also mentioned the possibility of helping financially. I didn't specify a number, just asked them if they would consider it. When you have a new baby and no help, everything makes a difference; but I want to be able to predict things like "should I use this money for groceries, or should I put it towards daycare? Am I able to catch a break and use this for a takeout dinner or a babysitter?"
AITA for expecting a solid answer on what we can expect? AITA for expecting more involvement and interest in helping my family get off to a good start? This is our first baby and everyone's first grandchild. Why can't I get a clear answer and why isn't there more interest in helping?
Feel free to make your opinion be heard in the comments/reblogs but keep it respectful. For detailed information please read the guidelines for commenting. Violations will lead to your comment being deleted and you potentially being blocked.
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Bonjour et bienvenue, it is 7c and cloudy. I am going to a concert in town this afternoon, the Orchestré Symphonique de l’Aube, Peter and the Wolf, as well as excerpts from The Barber of Seville and Carmen.
Talking of excerpts: here is the poem for today, Who Has Seen The Wind? by Christina Rossetti
“Who has seen the wind?
Neither you nor I:
But when the trees bow down their heads,
The wind is passing by.”
This week I was asked again, why I had chosen Bar-sur-Aube to live in. The local people find it difficult to comprehend why any “étrangèrs” would choose to make their home here. I try to explain, it is the countryside, the facilities, train station, cinema, hospital, the history of the town not just with champagne making but with the growing of hemp, the seeds being used in foods, the fibres used in stationery, construction insulation and in the textile industry, with the woody part used as winter mulching. There has been a settlement here since the Iron Age and in the Middle Ages “Champagne Fairs” in mid-February and mid-April saw merchants from Flanders and Italy trading oriental spices and silks for textiles and raw materials. The half timbered three and four storey houses are perhaps an indication of the wealth in the town at that time. We still have grand old buildings, like the old Palais de Justice (pictured above) which now houses the music school. Yes, young people here are actively invited to learn to play the piano, flute, violin, etc. It may appear to be a dull and dusty town which sees tourists passing through on their way to some bigger city but this town has a lot to offer a tourist if they just “scratch the surface”. Blimey! That sounded a bit like the Sunday sermon 😉.
So let’s look at my week which didn’t get off to a good start……
My appointment with the dietician didn’t bode well from the start, her door was open, she made no attempt to come to check the waiting area and instead RANG MY PHONE!! When she heard it ring out in the waiting area she called me in, met me with that false smile (doesn’t reach the eyes) and as I handed her my food diary (for which I think I should have been awarded an A* GCSE) she glanced at it, said “you don’t eat the same breakfast everyday?” and proceeded to huff and puff over what I had written. She then produced a couple of sheets (which I appear to have mislaid) started to make notes in her file and as I was trying to explain something to her (I could see she wasn’t listening) she said “I don’t understand what you are saying and I don’t have time to listen to you!” Then she asked me for a cheque and bundled me out of the office. I have another appointment at 10:30 tomorrow, after which she can stuff her false smile and rude comments where the sun don’t shine!
I had another rendezvous with the Dentist, was I “coronated” that day…… no of course not! Looks like the crown will be placed (on my tooth) next week 🙄.
It was the AGM for the groups that meet at the “ancien collège”, of which the knitting group is a part. I had hardly put my toe inside the room before I was surrounded (well it seemed like that) by people using my name, wanting to ask me something, the 92 year old member of our group was waving to me and pointing to the chair next to hers. Anyway it turned out that (they weren’t after my autograph) they were keen to know if I would take over the role of key holder, subs collector, etc., as our previous “leader” had resigned. It was also proposed that the meeting be changed from a Wednesday to a Friday (not really convenient for me as that is my day with the refugee ladies) but as the group was down to just three members and a Friday would provide an additional two the proposal was voted in. The 92 year old lady, the doyenne of the group, has “all her buttons on”, and she will be assisting me with the running of the group. There was galette des rois and champagne afterwards, I had a small glass of champagne and had to refuse another helping of both.
My young friend, Pauline, messaged me from Eire, she had arrived in Dublin and is spending time looking around the city before she starts work on Tuesday. She was so excited about being there and I hope that the six month internship works out well for her.
I cannot decide if I am becoming a boring old **** as I have been thinking of what I will plant up in my garden this year. I have been and bought beetroot seeds (I really enjoyed the beets last year), I bought sweet pepper seeds (will try them again) although I didn’t have a lot of success before. Of course there will be broad beans (need them planting very soon) and peas as well as the salad leaves I grew last year (they were lovely) I will buy two “beef steak” tomato plants as I preferred them to the cherry tomatoes. I have bought the bee and butterfly mixed seeds again as the flowers do provide lots of colour in the garden. I also planted up the snowdrops Anie had brought for me and cleared the few weeds from the raised bed where the hyacinth, tête à tête, tulips and iris are producing lots of greenery. Oh I could go on but I don’t want to bore you!
I have also been thinking about a couple of breaks away, my friends in Strasbourg want me to go and see them there and I fancy a little break somewhere else. I had been looking at a coach holiday but I am not sure if I want to be away as long as the tours I have seen. I do prefer to go somewhere on the train, where I can go to see what I want to see, the only difference is that with the tour I would be with a group of people (which can be a good or bad thing). Oh decisions, decisions!
I am also keen to do my walking everyday (another thing the dietician asked about but wasn’t interested), I have noticed though that “all roads lead to the bar”, well it provides me with a seat, coffee and the newspaper before I walk back home. I really think that I should take a right turn when leaving my estate, that will take me to the river which I love to see. The only problem is there is nowhere convenient for me to sit and watch the world go by. Oh well we all have to make choices in life 😂.
I have been doing a little bit of knitting again, I really don’t think that I will be knitting anything for myself again, it is too heavy, but it is easy to knit small items. One of the new ladies coming up the knitting group was telling me that she does Tunisian crochet, now I have googled that and I think I could do it and that it wouldn’t be too heavy etc so I am going to order a pack of crochet hooks and give it a go.
I rang my cousin in Essex, he had been to the opticians and it wasn’t good news, he will lose his vision, how soon no-one knows. It is rather sad as he lives alone and has always enjoyed pottering around in his garden and greenhouse. Well keep doing what you enjoy for as long as you can, I say.
I think I should get a move on, as I need my hair washing and I have to decide what I will wear to go to the concert this afternoon.
Oh yes, it is a month today since I had this “foreign body” planted in my circumflex artery. I must admit it has made a difference and long may it continue to do so.
Have a good week until next week!
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#interior design#home decor#home & lifestyle#design#home design#lifestyle#home#bar#home bar#interior decor#interiorstyling#decor#alcohol#house
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The Purest Laugh (A weird fever dream)
So… I had a dream last night, a really weird one, but one that was pretty interesting and worth remembering.
It follows a little blonde haired girl (with the same style as Song of the Sea. In fact, everyone in the dream, not including the vampire, had this art style) who is learning piano and is staying at a vampire's place for some reason (who is apparently a musician himself claiming that, "he can only stand music played by gifted fingers" when he notices the blonde trying to play his grand piano in his cramped living room).
The girl seeks to find her lost friend (a black girl with an afro) exchanging letters to have more information on where to find her. She's obviously been traveling a lot just to find her.
Then the king, his wife, and his daughter come to the vampire's house. For what reason? I don't know… maybe to collect taxes or something.
A bird flies through the living room window as the royals are talking with the vampire, giving the girl a letter that is placed in its beak. After reading it, she laughed pleasantly (more like singing, if I remember correctly her laugh was more like a song), and the royals immediately turned their heads.
The king approaches the girl, a wide welcoming smile on his face. He demands her to give her laugh to him in exchange for living in the palace.
The girl politely rejects, saying she needs to find her friend before anything. The king immediately gets defensive, his wife joining in with his hostility.
Now the next part is probably the only reason as to why I remember the dream so well, because the pain was so real that I can still feel it.
The king draws out his sword and digs it into her stomach (or near her breast area) as his wife speaks.
"You may find your friend but you only have so long to do so. If you find her in the required time then you will be free from the deadline and your laugh will not be wanted. But if not, you will marry my eldest son and your laugh will be ours."
Her blue eyes widened in horror. Without other choice she agrees, being kicked out of the village to find her friend as soon as possible. Though she has to lie on the ground for a while as the pain from the king's blade is still present and every breath makes her feel the stabbing all over again.
And I know that for a fact because I could FEEL IT. Like dude I can STILL feel it! I'm surprised I didn't jolt awake due to the insane amount of pain I felt. Like that was the closest thing to actually being stabbed oh my GOD IT HURT-
But for a dream the story was very well put together. And the girl wasn't traveling alone, she had two other friends who were girls, though they didn't/couldn't join her on her quest.
Maybe I should write a book based on this because oh lordy. I don't know why my brain manifested Cartoon Saloon imagery but hey I ain't complaining.
#i don't know why i had a dream abt this#not miraculous ladybug#not ml#dream#fever dream#i dont know how to tag this lol#i just thought it was worth writing down cause i didn't wanna forget it#but there is A LOT more to this dream that i didn't even cover#like is was sooo weird#tell me if youd at least wanna see a short bite sized reading of this
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Halloween 2022 - Day 23 - The Changeling (1980)
No small talk in this seance. “Hi Joseph, how’s the afterlife? Was your pet hamster waiting for you?” No, just straight in with the HOW DID YOU DIE, JOSEPH?!
Well, if it isn’t another visit from a blog alumni, this time in the shape of George C. Scott. He’s appeared previously in Firestarter and The Exorcist III. Plus there was his version of A Christmas Carol that went undocumented, maybe I should revisit that so he can be one of the few to appear in both Halloween and Christms marathons. I assume it’s few, I can’t think who would be on that list off the top of my head, Macalay Culkin springs to mind immediately after looking at The Good Son the other year.
It’s a shame I’ve already looked at Exorcist III actually, it would have made for some great ‘SCISSOR ME DADDY ASS!’ references. That’s going to sound alarmingly strange to anyone who doesn’t know the context so let’s move swiftly on.
The Changeling is a haunted house/ghost type movie that abruptly takes a sharp pivot in a true crime direction about two thirds of the way through. Things start out horrifcly enough with Scott’s character John Russell witnessing his wife and child being absolutely steamrolled by a truck in a traffic accident. One second they’re just casually waiting for some roadside assistance and the next they’re willingly laying down right in the path of an out of control vehicle. This, children, is why you always stand well away from your parked car when you’ve broken down. But seriously, they see this truck coming and could easily just run to the side out of it’s way but instead they just lay down directly in front of it. There’s only one word for that; idiocy.
John can only look on helplessly from a nearby phone box. I love how the title just flashes up straight away, it’s like the same timing as the credits starting for Curb Your Enthusiasm just at the sweet spot of comedic timing. Heck, this would make for a very dark round of ‘Meme Your Enthusiasm’.
Turns out John is a very talented composer and in the wake of this tragedy, moves to Seattle to take up a lecturing job whilst working on new compositions. It’s here that he’s able to rent an old house through the local historical society who deem it perfect to him due to its large music room complete with grand piano. But strange things start to happen like random banging noises that are a little too odd to put down to just the house settling for the night.
Or a bath just running itself which leads to a startling vision of a young boy being drowned and a hidden room in the house where he was seemingly locked away, complete with a tiny wheelchair. After that Guy Pierce version of A Christmas Carol I think I’ve had quite my fill of watching crippled children drowning, thank you very much. I love how John just ‘nopes’ out of there by reversing out of the room like Homer Simpson through his hedges, going out of the door and right down the corridor in a way that he seems to back into the camera itself and effectively fade the scene to black.
Through the means of a seance, we come to learn that this boy was called Joseph Carmichael and this is where the whole turn into true crime comes in with a rather convoluted plot-line involving the state senator, Joseph Carmichael. See, his family owned the house and the young boy stood to inherit quite a fortune once he turned 21. Only, given his frail state, his father couldn’t let that go to chance so decided to quietly bump him off himself whilst drafting in a replacement who he would ship off to Europe for 15 years before bringing him back miraculously cured of all his ailments.
So the movie turns into this attempt to put the spirit of the real Joseph Carmichael to rest whilst the suspicious senator starts doing some digging of his own on John when he’s tipped off to these people suddenly sniffing around the house and the old family archives. John clearly needs some pointers on his investigate skills because his big play is basically lung wildly at the senator screaming conspiracy theory level claims about children who have been dead for the best part of 70 years and impostors. Quite frankly, he’s luckily the senators security detail didn’t shoot him on sight.
This one is okay, George C. Scott brings a certain gravitas to the role and it’s a refreshing change on the back of something like The Amityville Horror to not had this outwardly aggressive spirit in the house. It’s more like it’s reaching out in the hopes that someone may be able to avenge it’s death. Not that it doesn’t have it’s moments of aggression, seemingly getting pissed off towards the end at what seems to be fruitless attempts at trying to solve the mystery or exerting it’s powers on those who are wanting to intervene on the senators behalf.
If anything I am more intruiged by this director, Peter Medak, and some of his other work like a TV adaptation of The Hunchback of Notre Dame starring Richard Harris and Salma Hayek, and a movie called Zorro, The Gay Blade. What on Earth is Zorro, The Gay Blade? This was 1981 so it’s not as if it’s some old timey use of the word like in The Flintstones. Is this some weird exploitation thing?
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Ranboo: Do you want me to just reading random- Do you want me to just- I'm gonna just start texting you
Tubbo: Yeah, just start texting me random input on the space
Ranboo: *texts Tubbo*
Tubbo: "Microwave explode"? Yo, thank you. "This is awesome"? Ok, stop texting me now. You didn't even respond to my message I sent you this morning
Ranboo: That's 'cause I was asleep!
Tubbo: Yeah, but like.. *sigh* Maybe I should just go live on instagram
Ranboo: Eughhh!
Tubbo: What? Is that cringe?
Ranboo: Yes
Tubbo: Maybe I should just go live on TikTok
Ranboo: Ahhh! Ahhh!
Tubbo: Is that cringier? Is that- *laughs*
Ranboo: *laughs* You go "Is that cringe" to Instagram and your next one is TikTok
Tubbo: *laughs*
Ranboo: I can make fun of it 'cause that's where I was born
Tubbo: Pffft!
Ranboo: I was born there/on TikTok [?]
Tubbo: Do you ever look at someone and wonder what's going inside their head?
Ranboo: I was- I was born on TikTok [?]
Tubbo: *starts playing the piano* You gotta remember your roots
Tubbo: I want my grand piano back, electric piano is cringe
Ranboo: *coughs* [unintelligible]
Tubbo: He just- He just decides "Oh I'm going to spit my germs around the room"
Ranboo: Yep!
Tubbo: *giggles* Wow, wow. You're a bad- I suppose you're anti-vax as well while we're at it
Ranboo: I am literally- I am literally vaccinated
Tubbo: I'm not allowed to be vaccinated, leave me alone!
Ranboo: That's just a major L for you then
Tubbo: Ahhhh
Ranboo: You're/Keep on getting coughed on!
Tubbo: *starts to play the piano intensely*
Ranboo: That's what happens when you're not vaccinated, people will come up to you and cough
Tubbo: That is a terrible sentence. I despise everything about that sentence
Ranboo: *laughs*
Tubbo: *plays The Owl House theme song, then switches to City of Stars*
Ranboo: Ughhh
Tubbo: So..
Ranboo: Oh my gosh!
Tubbo: What?
Ranboo: I just found more food to order
Tubbo: Nooo! Oh my god, if I get one more Amazon box arrive at my door and it's like a 25 large sized bars of Rice Krispies treats or fucking those shitty cheese squares that you haven't even eaten I'm gonna lose it
Ranboo: It's ding dongs
Tubbo: What the fuck is a ding dong?! That sounds like slang for a dick! You're literally eating dick!
Ranboo: *laughs* I am not! Jesus Christ
Tubbo: Why!
Ranboo: That is so far from what it is
Tubbo: What is it with all this fucking BS American food! Twinkies? Oh yeah, let me just-
Ranboo: I didn't get those actually. I don't know where those came from
Tubbo: Where did the Twinkies come from!?
Ranboo: I'm gonna be entirely honest..
Tubbo: Where the fuck did they come from!?
Ranboo: ..I have no idea where those came from. I did not order- That is not what I ordered
Tubbo: Look, you've got your-you've got your Cheez-It's and your Twinkies and your fucking ding dongs. I'm gonna f- I'm gonna blow some shit up
Ranboo: Sorry, I'll make sure to order a plain cheese pizza the next time
Tubbo: Honestly, that would be so much- I'm actually- I've been really healthy. So far I've had a fruit pop for breakfast
Ranboo: That's good. I had.. *silence*
Tubbo: You haven't had breakfast yet
Ranboo: I haven't- I haven't eaten yet
Tubbo: You haven't eaten yet today, and your first meal of the day will be Taco Bell
Ranboo: No, it won't!
Tubbo: Will it not? Oh
Ranboo: Why do you think- Taco Bell doesn't even deliver here!
Tubbo: *sighs* Fair enough
Ranboo: Why would it- Why- Mkay..
Tubbo: American
Ranboo: I know that the algorithm on Amazon works too well because it was [unintelligible]
Tubbo: *starts playing City of Stars again* Oh no
Tubbo: City of staaars.. *laughs* That song- It kind of annoys me, I'll be honest
Ranboo: I'm looking at- I'm looking at the, um.. I'm looking at your- the Tubbo space hashtag and someone just sent this, like, chart of, like, eye colour but it is, like, the most low res thing that I have ever seen
Tubbo: But I don't know- I think my eyes change colour depending on what I'm wearing, I'll be honest. Is that weird? Because everyone on twitter asks me "Ah yes what is your eye colour" and I'm like "Uhh how the fuck am I supposed to know" and then
Ranboo: My eye colour is [?]
Tubbo: Then I went through a bunch of like- I went through a bunch of, uh.. like, old photos of me and they just change colour depending on how sunny it is, what I'm wearing.. like.. Yeah, so, I don't know
Ranboo: *laughs*
Tubbo: What?
Ranboo: Nothing
Tubbo: What?
Ranboo: *loudly typing* It's time to listen
Tubbo: Time to listen to what?
Ranboo: To my music, I'm just gonna listen to my music
Tubbo: You're not gonna listen to me? Listen to me. Stop dancing. Knock that off. Yo, keep your clothes on! Woah, why are you so- *laughs* sorry
Ranboo: Why do you do this!
Tubbo: 'Cause it's funny, 'cause there's no video
Ranboo: Why do you- why do you do this
Tubbo: and.. and there's no video
Ranboo: What did I- What did I ever do? Nothing
Tubbo: *laughs*
Tubbo: *reads something about chip shops?*
Tubbo: Why do people keep sending me, like, soviet bunnies as well? I don't wanna see bunnies from soviet Russia. What's with the soviet Russia bunnies?
Tubbo: Thoughts on him? Bill Cypher? Pretty fun loving lad- Why did you just mention me and write "awesome"?
Ranboo: I didn't- No, it's a response to a tweet
Tubbo: Oh
Tubbo: *sees Michael fan art* "Oink! Hello father" Oh, I see
Ranboo: Just buff Michael
Tubbo: Buff- *laughs* He went to prison from lack of parent supervision and he came out buff, oh no! Oh no! *laughs*
Ranboo: What do you mean lack of parent supervision? I'm gonna go brush my teeth
Tubbo: Oh ok.. Bye
[Video cuts directly to when Ranboo comes back]
Tubbo: Hello. You seem hollow. Your mother is here? Wait, I shouldn't have read that out. You just texted me that so I didn't read it- Ok, well.. She's here guys!
Ranboo: Ahhh! Why!
Tubbo: She's here!
Ranboo: There's a reason-
Tubbo: She's here! *laughs* Just thought I'd let you know! *laughs* She's raring to go! That's awfully exciting..
[Video cuts again to the next beeduo clip]
Tubbo: Guys, I want to- How does one get the- What is the max people that have been in a single space, like, ever?
Ranboo: I own the number two spot for that!
Tubbo: Do you? How many was it?
Ranboo: Yeah. It was during MCC, it was 36k I think
Tubbo: 36- guys, can we get 38k please?
Ranboo: *fakes being angry* Can't you let me have anything!? *laughs*
Tubbo: Wh- Ok, Mr. 100k subs, Jesus
Ranboo: I don't- I got that once
Tubbo: Twice
Ranboo: It was six times actually..
Tubbo: SIX TIMES!? Oh my god, ok..
Ranboo: Alright... Goodbye space people!
Tubbo: Bye!
Ranboo: Goodbye!
Tubbo: Bye! Leave
Ranboo: I'm leaving the U.K. actually
Tubbo: He's not
Ranboo: *laughs* I'm not.. Wouldn't that be just terrible?
Tubbo: You just said bye and left..
Ranboo: The whole time everyone thought that I was going in, like, October but then I actually just straight up just leave..
Tubbo: You wanna go home?
Ranboo: ..in the middle of August
Tubbo: You can just leave.. get out!
Ranboo: Ok..
Tubbo: Pffft
Ranboo: Bye!
Tubbo: Bye!
[Video cuts again to the next beeduo clip]
Ranboo: I'm back from the U.S.!
Tubbo: Oh, what did you forget?
Ranboo: My- my beloved locket
Tubbo: *mocks American Accent* and the AirPods *laughs*
Ranboo: Yes
Tubbo: Have you told them what you've called your AirPods? The name of them?
Ranboo: Oh yeah, no, it's because basically, right, if you put a slash and then an asterisk at the end of a word it will bleep it out, so, right, me of course being young I thought that was the funniest thing to have that. So whenever Siri said my name she would just go like "You [beep]" so I thought that was funny. So it's like beeping noise, yeah
Tubbo: Oh, I see. So is that why mine do that as well?
Ranboo: I guess so, yeah
Tubbo: Yeah
Ranboo: Yeah.. yeah..
Tubbo: I see.. So..
Ranboo: I'm gonna go now
Tubbo: Bye, again!
Ranboo: Bye! Back to the U.S. I go!
Tubbo: There's no "E" in Tubbo.. Just throwing it out there..
#beeduo#bee duo meetup#meetup#meet up#beeduo meetup#ranboo#tubbo#tubso#ranboosaysstuff#ranboo mcyt#ranboolive#tubbo underscore#tubbo mcyt#tubbo stream#ranboo and tubbo#uk#uk trip#ranboo uk#ranboo tubbo uk#uk meetup#mcyt#dsmp#dream smp#minecraft smp#tubbolive#bee duo#ranboo my beloved#tubbo my beloved#ranboo stream#beeduo my beloved
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𝘼𝙐𝘾𝙏𝙄𝙊𝙉 | 𝙠𝙖𝙧𝙡 𝙟𝙖𝙘𝙤𝙗𝙨 𝙨𝙢𝙪𝙩
i wanted to use this picture so badly but I knew it would ruin the mood.
∘ request(s):
"ayo? they’re not sleeping with anyone else??? does that mean???? raw??? w edgy karl????????
"ooooo i’m lacking in edgy karl content😩 for the next one could you do one where maybe the reader is being a brat and karl puts them in their place? if that makes sense?"
"Ever since I read your edgy Karl x reader I been getting massive brainrot where reader is just questioning their relationship and Karl is just dismissive about it. It feels great to get that off my chest. 😭"
∘ pairing: edgy!Karl Jacobs x fm!reader
∘ warnings: nsfw (18+ minors dni), smut, prostitution (sort of), drinking, Todd the frat boy, crude/suggestive language, degradation, asphyxiation, spitting, angst
∘ word count: ~5k
∘ links: 𐐪 ao3 𐑂 𐐪 previous part 𐑂 𐐪 submit an edgy!karl edit 𐑂
∘ song recommendation: Come Here by Dominic Fike
a/n: y'all really drive this series oml. thank you to all your requests! should I do song recs on these or is that dumb? happy reading :)
♡ ᵍᵉⁿᵉ
You adjusted your dress, attempting to not look as unkempt as you felt. Your hair had luckily survived the bus ride to Karl’s, yet your clothing was wrinkled from being smashed against various girls with the same destination in mind. You scoffed to yourself as you leaned against the side of the house, tugging your heel into a more comfortable position as one of the women in the group knocked on the large door.
It felt like there was always some random party blaring out of the windows, so you were surprised to be mixed into an excited group of girls waiting to be invited in by one of the Brothers. The only time when you’d been over to visit Karl and there wasn’t some kind of celebration of a random event was directly before spring break.
A nameless member dressed in a tux answered the door and you bit back a laugh as he welcomed everyone into the foyer. As you scanned the crowd for Karl, you noticed the number of older people lounging about in formal attire. You furrowed your brows slightly, knowing that Todd was probably behind whatever cultist bullshit was about to happen.
You wracked your brain trying to remember if Karl had mentioned anything about the importance tonight, but knowing the two of you, he’d probably begun to tell you only for him to get distracted.
A familiar laugh drew your attention to one corner of the living room where a man who looked dangerously like Karl playfully shrugged out of the grasp of another frat member. His nails were bare and he lacked any piercings, his hair even tamed so it fell just right over his forehead. You couldn’t deny the way your mind ran absolutely feral at the view of him, as if you’d stepped into some strange alternate universe where Karl was actually Carl.
As someone else struck up the conversation in his group, he turned to look over the crowd, chewing on his bottom lip in thought. His eyes brightened as he spotted you in the mix of the group. Whoever had let you into the house handed you and the rest of the people a brochure, something you then realized most of the room was holding.
You snorted slightly as you read, “46th ANNUAL MEMBER AUCTION,” printed boldly across the front page in elegant script. Your stomach twisted slightly at the discovery. You flipped open the pamphlet, seeing a list of numbers and the names of corresponding Brothers.
Karl was 23.
“I didn’t even sign up, honestly,” a voice called in your ear as Karl leaned over your shoulder, peering at the page in your hands. His cologne was more expensive than he usually wore, made obvious by the way it complemented his natural scent with a fuller smell.
You turned slightly, nearly leaning into his warm breath above you as you moved to look at him. “Come on, let them pimp you out,” you joked, your finger underlining one of the details on the back. “It’s for the frat Karl,” you mocked, making him roll his eyes playfully. “You look awfully pretty to not have signed up,” you chided, a small amount of jealousy tugging in your chest.
He ran his tongue across his teeth, his eyes dancing with mischief as he looked down at you. “Do you want me to?”
You shrugged. “You know how loyal I am to this frat. I think it’s only right,” you continued to josh, eliciting a low chuckle from him. The smell of his whiskey hung beautifully on him. You’d be damned not to acknowledge what a catch he was.
He pulled his hand from his pocket and settled it on the small of your back, the two of you mumbling to each other as you headed towards the kitchen so he could pour you a drink. As he explained the process of the auction, your nerves started to change drastically. Luckily, your exterior kept this from Karl because you weren’t even sure yourself why you could be feeling so strongly about the event. “... Really, only the married guys get out of it without being heckled all night. It’s… I don’t know. It’s pretty lame.”
“So basically, it’s an event where the guys objectify themselves in the name of the frat." You jested, your eyes glued on his pinky ring, the only symbol of the Karl you knew. "Have you done this before?”
Karl shook his head. “I wasn’t old enough, thank God.” He leaned against the counter beside you, his back to the circulating groups of people so he was only looking at you. As he slouched, he matched your height.
You reached forward, taking the unbuttoned collar of his white shirt between your finger pads. “I’m trying to decide if I’m scared or aroused by this version of you,” you tittered, wanting so badly to feel his teeth against your skin. He smirked at you. “It’s like Wonderbread you. Like you’d have to sign a contract with me before you gave me a hug,” you teased further, making the smug look on his face twist into a laugh.
He leaned closer to you, his hand brushing to lay against the curve of your hip. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. I can still rip you in half.”
You took a sip of the Brandy in your glass to hide the moan wanting to rip through your throat at the closeness of him. His lips brushed against your skin before pressing a kiss behind your ear subtly. You nudged him away from you reluctantly as Todd strolled into the kitchen, arms raised slightly as if he’d been searching the high heavens for Karl.
He moved to stand between the two of you, reaching for a decanter of a liquid you couldn’t place. Karl crossed his arms and rolled his eyes. “Karl, I have been looking everywhere for you.” He reached into his pocket, pulling out a small pin with Karl’s number on it and nudging it towards him on the counter. “You know, it’s kind of fun that partners can’t bid because-” he paused before wrapping an arm around you and pulling you against his side. You let out a laugh, resting your hand against his chest as Karl’s eyes darkened at the two of you. “-Your lovebug can have me tonight then, huh?” He mocked, smirking.
“Well, technically, I’m not his partner…” you added, pretending to touch Todd flirtatiously.
Todd’s arms pulled you closer. “You know what I mean, Princess.” You snickered, pushing him off of you as he moved to lean against the sink behind you. “Come on, Karl. I’m practically handing you the opportunity to hook up with MILFs, random TAs, and sorority girls,” he begged, making Karl pinch the bridge of his nose.
“That does sound intriguing,” you chimed, making Karl giggle mildly.
Todd’s eyes lit up with a sarcasticness as if you were actually promoting the idea. “You can go instead if you want to, babygirl,” he offered, tilting his head in an action to resemble a car salesman.
You looked to Karl with raised eyebrows and he shook his head in disbelief at the stupidity of whatever banter you and Todd were striking up. “That would be fun! Please, illegally pimp me out instead. I want to be solicited-”
Todd’s hand reached out to clamp over your mouth. “Okay stop.” He straightened his tie and the pin on his lapel in the shape of a number 12. You quietly wondered who were in the top places and what they were doing to be in those spots. “Karl, you’re a legacy dick. Most of those women out there probably hooked up with your family members and are back for more of that sweet sweet Jacobs-”
Karl cut him off gruffly. “-I’ll do it if you don’t finish that sentence and never bring that to my attention again.” Todd pretended to zip his lips before pointing to the pin and walking off. You took the pin in your hands, trying to ignore the shakiness of your fingers as you pinned it onto his jacket. “You know his name is actually Mark, right? He pretended to be a Romney for his first two years here.”
You snorted. “Don’t feed me that information right now.” You wet your lips, feeling his eyes on you as you brushed your hands down his lapels. “You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to… I was just joking.” You chewed the inside of your cheek. “Like, we can leave if you want,” you offered softly.
Karl chuckled, moving his hands up to rest over yours. “Someone’ll pay fifty bucks to take me to some dodgy hotel for ten minutes. It’ll be okay,” he assured. “Maybe I'll have fun, who knows.” He drew you closer once again. You swore you could get drunk off the intoxicating allure of his breath. “I don’t have to if you don’t want me to.”
You furrowed your brows, suddenly worried about having that conversation with him. “If you’re okay with it, I am,” you answered quietly, sending him a small shrug.
He popped a piece of gum in his mouth, shrugging back at you.
Everyone began to gather around the grand piano in one corner of the living room. You could suddenly feel the heat of the massive fireplace against your bare legs as Karl rested an arm against the wall above you, leaning over you slightly. “How much would you bid on me, if you could?” He whispered as Todd explained some rules to the bidders.
You looked up at him reaching up to play with his lot number. You hummed slightly in mock thought. “Maybe a packet of ramen, a Speedway rewards card, and…” you trailed off before digging into your purse and grabbing a handful of quarters, “five dollars in linty coins?” You joked, sending him an innocent smile.
He bit back a laugh. “I feel like you’re the only one that knows my true value,” he quipped sarcastically.
As the auction began to kick off, men were being bought for various currencies, from picnics in the park to gala dates and etcetera. The tension in your shoulders began to cool as there were fewer ambiguous payments. The women and men that paid sums of money were the ones that worried you the most. Karl’s hand slithered up your back until he reached the back of your neck, pressing his fingers into your skin almost possessively.
You focused on the crowd, trying to notice any peering eyes cutting into Karl, but no one seemed to have the slightest clue. Karl’s fingers worked at a knot in your neck, making you want to moan at his touch. You hated being this close to him and unable to mark him as your own. He pulled you closer, pressing his lips to the skin on your shoulder that wasn’t covered by your dress. “Relax,” he whispered, heat raking through your body at the sound of his voice.
Finally, his number came up. Before the auctioneer could finish introducing him, a handful of sorority girls sparked up with heavy numbers in the air. Your eyes widened and you could feel Karl stiffen behind you at their urgency. As their bids began to grow and add zeros, your heart began to beat in your ears.
“$5000.” Your mouth grew dry as the number halted the noise in the room. Bewilderedly, you searched the room until your eyes landed on a woman in her early-50s. You couldn’t help your mouth slightly fall open. “I’d like to bid $5000,” she repeated. You downed the rest of your Brandy, letting the alcohol sting your throat and warm your stomach. As Karl’s turn closed, your mind went blank. What did I expect to happen? You scorned.
After about an hour, the bidding was over. You plastered on a smile after everyone exited the room, standing before Karl and spending the time you had left letting your mind race with emotion. “What’s wrong?” Karl asked, nudging your arm with his elbow.
You swatted him off. “You excited to spend time with your new mommy?” You chided, making him raise his eyebrows. Your voice came out a bit more condescending than you’d intended.
Something dark flitted across his expression. “Definitely.” He pressed closer to your ear again. “I bet she cums on the slow stroke,” he leered, making you inch away from him. He giggled slightly at his own joke, before noticing your quietness. “What?”
“Nothing,” you mumbled, unable to explain just how you were feeling about the situation. It was as if reality had seeped into your bones at what had happened.
Karl ran his fingers against his bottom lip as he looked at you, the skin flushing a deeper red. You’d seen the color too many times to count, but it was usually due to stimulation from you. “Don’t be like that. What’s going on?” You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms softly. This seemed to only further allure him. “If you’re gonna act like a brat, I’ll start treating you like a brat,” he whispered, perking your attention. You let your eyes wander back to the ground. He took your chin in his hand, forcing you to look at him. His calm expression added arousal to your swimming cauldron of feelings.
You pulled out of his grasp. You bit your tongue, grasping at your thoughts and searching for what you wanted to tell him. His grey irises swirled with some kind of worry and what you could only describe as fondness. Instead, you chickened out. “Just use protection, okay?” You faltered.
His features remained quiet as if in thought. In one swift movement, his hand brushed against your jaw, pressing his lips against yours. Your whole body relaxed into his touch, your eyes closing to relish in the feeling of silent loyalty to you. As his tongue brushed against your lips, it was as if he was stating just what you meant to him. If you weren’t in the right mind, you’d moan a gracious pledge of your mutual devotion into his mouth.
He pulled away shortly, leaving you flushed and winded as he reached his thumb up to swipe away the smearing of your lipstick. “I’m in your fuckin’ pocket, remember?” He acquiesced almost emotionlessly, before dropping his hands and letting you stumble. You had to will your body not to grin at what he’d said as the woman who bid on him approached the two of you.
She shook hands with both of you talking about the thrill of the event and how she’s gone for the last couple of years. “Ma’am, he’s a virgin. Please be careful,” you noted as Karl helped her into her coat. Karl’s eyes shot daggers into you, biting back a laugh of his.
The woman giggled with her whole chest. “Oh, darling. That won’t be an issue,” she gasped as she caught her breath. You covered your mouth with your hand to hide your smile as you made eye contact with an ill-looking Karl.
You opted to head back to your apartment, eyeing the clock each time you get an odd feeling in the pit of your stomach. Your roommate had gone out for the night, leaving you to stew in your own thoughts. As two hours passed, you were beginning to feel phantom notifications from your phone, your heart skipping with faltering hope.
As if your prayers had finally been answered, a brief knock at your door sent you jumping over the back of the couch and tugging on a hoodie before you threw open the door. Karl stood leaning against the frame and cracking his knuckles. He eyed you curiously as he noticed your urgency. His shirt was barely buttoned and untucked, hair ruffled and curling here and there. As you let him into your apartment, your mouth grew dry with anticipation. Karl slumped onto your couch, kicking his feet up on your coffee table and raising an eyebrow at you.
You wet your lips, sitting on the arm of a chair near his side of the couch. “How was it?” You asked. “Did you learn anything?”
He scoffed, humor dancing behind his eyes. “You will never guess where I was.” You furrowed your brows at him as if it wasn’t obvious. To this he shook his head, sitting up to lean his elbows on his knees, reaching forward to pull you into the empty spot beside him. “So, that woman owns an art studio downtown and she holds classes for whoever. The nail polish girl in my art class is like the right-hand man to that woman and she caught wind of the auction,” he paused to loosen a few more of his buttons. “The woman has always gone to the auction, but the girl knew I was participating this year and recommended me.”
“Okay, so… You were in an art class all night?” You probed, making him grin smugly at you.
He ran his fingers through his hair. “Not exactly.”
You snorted, leaning into the cushions and turning towards him. “They weren’t drawing you nude were they?” You joked sarcastically, the mental image proving to be almost unthinkable. His eyes shifted to his lap as he chuckled and you punched his arm. “You’re kidding!”
He shook his head, biting back a grin. “I had old dudes staring at my dick for two hours straight and trying to recreate it in charcoal.” You covered your mouth with your hand, waiting for him to reveal that he was joking. “They liked my cheekbones,” he taunted.
You huffed in disbelief. “Oh my fucking God.” Your mind was utterly blank. “So, you didn’t sleep with anyone?”
He smiled at you. “Nope. You’re still my only one.” Your cheeks flushed at this. “That being said, you were so incredibly immature earlier,” he chided, making your eyebrow perk with discontent.
“Excuse me,” you nearly hissed.
His eyes navigated your body. “Jealous little brat, honestly,” he scoffed. “Make it up to me.” You stared at him blankly, as if unable to comprehend his words. He moved his arms to rest on the back of the couch, letting his legs spread a bit further. You watched him intently as his jaw tensed, looking slightly intimidating as he eyed you. His calm expression started you, gears turning behind his eyes. “Did I stutter?” He nipped.
You climbed onto his lap, letting his hands slip beneath your hoodie as he gripped your hips, pulling you down to grind against his leg. Heat spread across your body at the friction, realizing now just how needy you’d been for most of the night. Funny how you didn’t even think of taking care of yourself without Karl there.
He tugged your collar to the side, pressing his lips against the sensitive skin of your neck, his warm breath a stark contrast to the cool temperature of the room. You felt his teeth glide over the valleys of your collarbones as if threatening to mark you as the brat you were. His brat.
His fingers dug into your skin, his knee bouncing slightly as he pushed you to increase your speed. You moaned against his shoulder, reaching the hand that wasn’t planted securely on his arm towards his belt. The clasp was almost second nature for you, considering the various places and positions you’d been in and wrestling with it.
As you slipped your hand into his pants, he groaned, bucking against your touch as if he'd been hungry for you all night. He rested his hand in the crook of your neck, roughly bringing your lips to his own. Instead of kissing you immediately, his lips brushed against yours, the smell of his breath dancing against your skin and forcing you to want him more as your hips moved to make up for the lack of his taste on your tongue.
Your hand gripped him through his boxers, earning a muffled grunt of pleasure from Karl. His eyes threatened to roll as you began to palm him, his breathing deep and needy. Curses hissed through his teeth, the sound further adding to how turned on you were. "Give me your mouth," he moaned, a demand you were more than happy to fulfill as you slipped onto your knees in front of him. Karl's hand gathered your hair as you tugged his boxers down. Your fingers traced the hem of his dress pants that ran against the inside of his thigh before attending to his arousal once again.
Then something clicked into your mind. "I've been thinking about what Todd said," you began, Karl's reaction dulling as you began to pump your hand around his dick. "About me sleeping with him," you continued, your voice dripping with a venomous innocence.
Karl twitched in your hand, his grip on your hair tightening. You moaned slightly as his eyes hardened. "Tread lightly, pet," he nearly growled. The gruffness of his voice sending goosebumps down your back. "You're on thin fucking ice already."
You looked up at him with doe eyes, crowding his lap. "I wonder if he's bigger than you," you commented.
You seemed to find the last straw rather quickly as Karl grabbed your arms, pulling you up and throwing you on the couch beneath him. "Fucking bitch," he snapped, ripping your underpants down your legs. "And here I was about to make this about you," he chuckled darkly, leaning on his knee to slip his jacket off his shoulders and discard his button-up shirt.
He grabbed your thighs, pulling you towards him before he ground his hips against yours roughly, clashing his lips against yours. He tugged on your hair tightly, tongue pressing into your mouth.
His lips left yours, pulling your hoodie over your head and throwing it across the room before digging his teeth into your chest. You moaned at his efforts, basking in the roughness of his actions. Karl pushed himself into you without warning, and without hesitation, he began to snap his hips into yours. Your thighs tightened around his waist, attempting to adjust to his speed before he hooked one of your legs in the crook of his elbow, pushing it towards your chest.
His hand moved to wrap around your neck possessively, his eyes burning into yours with a mix of lust and glimmers of the sadistic side of him that loved to see you tremble beneath his touch as he restricted your breathing, only for you to gasp for air when he allowed. "Fucking brat," he barked, pounding into you faster. "Bring him up again and I'll make your life miserable," he groaned, spitting into your mouth to illustrate his point.
You let him take his anger out on you as you fought not to grin at the pure sparks of pleasure pulsing through your veins at the view of him completely dominating you. Your eyes fluttered shut, teeth sinking into your bottom lip in an attempt not to cum from the intense stimulation, your fingers digging into the softness of the couch beneath you as you searched for something to anchor yourself.
Karl leaned back slightly, dragging a hand through his hair as he slowed his hips, his eyes glued to yours, the new angle driving him deeper into you. The view of him above you like this oddly reminded you of when the two of you went to parties and spent the night grinding against each other in the massive crowds of your peers to an unidentifiable song.
Any idiot could tell Karl could fuck by the way he danced.
Karl pressed his hips firmly against yours, bucking into you relentlessly once again, pulling your hands above your head and holding your wrists in his fist. He kissed you harshly once again, swallowing your attempts to catch your breath and dragging his teeth across your lips again.
You felt unable to control your orgasm as it raced through you, your moans echoing into Karl's mouth as your body tensed. Karl used your orgasm to ride out the rest of his own pleasure, smirking slightly at your disheveled appearance.
As the air settled, the two of you straighten up the living room, making sure to find each article of clothing so your roommate wouldn't comment. Karl sat back down on the couch, reaching an arm out for you. You raised an eyebrow at him hesitantly, with a small smirk playing on your lips.
He huffed jokingly. "Come on, I can't fuck your brains out and not hug you at least for a bit," he joshed, gesturing for you to join him.
You let out a small laugh. The man with multiple piercings, tattoos, and a glare that can insight nightmares, was always the first to ask to cuddle. You tucked into the spot beneath his arm, letting his grasp tighten around you as you wrapped a blanket around the both of you.
His heartbeat thumped against your ear, making you want to slip into a deep sleep. "I think we should set Todd up with Nail Polish Girl," you joked, breaking into the comfortable silence between the two of you. You glanced up at Karl as you said this, hoping to gauge his reaction as you silently apologized for what you'd said earlier in the name of getting him riled up.
He chuckled shortly. "We should probably straighten ourselves out before we meddle in other people's relationships," he mocked. It'd come out as a light-hearted statement, but it tugged heavily at your nerves.
You pushed yourself to sit up and look at him, suddenly anxious. "What do you mean? We're fine, right?"
Karl smirked. "Well yeah, but sooner or later we're going to have to figure out what we're doing." He wet his lips. "I mean, how much longer are we supposed to just mindlessly hook up."
"We're not mindlessly hooking up. We're friends too," you reasoned, your voice uneven as you attempted to inject humor in your statements, hoping to mask your hesitation.
He rolled his eyes slightly. "Yeah, but don't you want more? Like who do you say I am when your friends ask?" He raised his eyebrows, shortly waiting for a response before continuing. "A booty call, right? Am I supposed to be a booty call forever?"
You were taken aback slightly. His tone wasn't provocative, but that didn't stop your heart from racing. "What are you saying?"
He shrugged. "What does it sound like I'm saying?" He sat up a bit more to angle towards you. "I don't mean now, but eventually I'd like this to mean a bit more."
You stood up from the couch, nearly tripping over the coffee table as you reached for a pair of discarded sweatpants and slipped them on. "This is a lot to think about," you mumbled, unable to make eye contact with him. Your mind raced with the different outcomes of what he was talking about. Also, all of them involved the two of you going stale and him finding comfort in other people. "I mean… what we have now is good. Isn't it?"
Karl stood too, raising his hands slightly as if he were consoling a cornered animal. "I didn't mean to freak you out. I thought we were on the same page?" You rubbed the back of your neck nervously, looking for words. "I- uh. I'm sorry." His hands fisted at his sides awkwardly, his sleeves rolled to his elbows. Sirens wailed from outside your windows, the street becoming the only noise in your apartment as he awaited your next move. "I'm actually… gonna head out. I'll uh… I'll text you later," he stated, grabbing his jacket, gauging your reaction.
Your tongue felt like sandpaper as you chewed the inside of your cheek. "No, uh… I think I need some time…" you trailed, your eyes flashing to his. "... To think…"
He nodded slightly, taking one last look at you before slipping out your front door, the lock clicking shut behind him.
Tag List:
@mrwinemaker @madsbbg @idiotinnit @xxtakechancesxx @chxrrymilkshake @westyywifee @kiritokunuwu
#this was so hard to write#edgy!karl#edgy!karl jacobs#mcyt smut#mcyt x y/n#karl jacobs x you#karl jacobs my beloved#karl jacobs angst#karl jacobs x reader#karl jacobs imagine#karl jacobs fanfic#college au#college au karl jacobs#karl jacobs smut#karl jacobs x y/n
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REPUTATION - Chapter 1
Pairing: Din Djarin x fem!reader
Words: 3615
Rating: T
Warnings: slowest of burns, gender swapped characters, TOUCHING HANDS, no us of y/n
Summary: After scandal damages your reputation, you are finished with society. But a mysterious bachelor by the name of Mr. Djarin has a reputation of his own. And you are determined to keep yourself from getting mixed up with him.
A/N: So after THAT LOOK I know we are all working on our Darcy fics. I feel very intimidated to give it a go when so many talented writers are going to be doing it better but I really haven’t been able to think about anything else.
Also please forgive any historical inaccuracies. I hate those even when they’re on purpose so let’s just agree to ignore them.
And thanks @pascalslittlebrat for taking a look at this and listening to all of my feelings.
MASTERLIST
You used to enjoy going to balls. You used to feel excitement when you got dressed in a fine white gown, your hair set elegantly with little silk flowers. Your heart would race when you would arrive and see all of the gentlemen in their finery. And dancing. There was a time when you could stay on your feet all night, drinking in the attention of all the eligible bachelors.
Those days were long gone. Now you felt a rock in the pit of your stomach the entire time. You counted the moments until you could leave. You couldn’t even bother to put on a pleasant expression, spending entire evenings sullen and taciturn. But at least this was the last ball you had to drag yourself to this season.
You had been forced to spend yet another season in town. This time you had the company of your younger cousin Julia, though her older sister Emma was a difficult chaperone. And tonight you were being hosted by Captain Charles Dune and his wife Lady Georgiana Karga. They threw wonderful parties– at least you had enjoyed them when you enjoyed those things. It was a masquerade ball which meant Julia had picked out a dainty little mask for you to wear. You couldn’t be bothered to choose one yourself but Julia had an eye for this sort of thing. And you liked the creamy white bow that she tied into your hair.
Julia was looking forward to tonight. She was very popular despite being related to you, containing all of the traits a man would want in a wife– good looks, excellent conversational skills, and a talent at the piano forte. She had a number of young men constantly calling on her and her dance card was practically full before she had even gotten into the carriage.
“You look so pretty!” she insisted, though she was probably admiring the work she had done to make you presentable.
Emma was looking forward to being finished with you. She had been married for three years and fancied herself an authority on the subject. She spent much of her time lecturing you on the proper way to comport yourself. Tonight she was just trying to get you to quit sulking.
“Would you at least try to be sociable?” Emma requested with a frown.
“I don’t much see the point,” you huffed. “Do you really believe I’ll get a proposal at the last ball of the season?”
“Lady Georgiana has invited an old friend of the captain’s,” Emma encouraged. “Mr. Djarin. She says he’s quite admirable.”
You rolled your eyes. You both knew you were headed for spinsterhood. Emma had lost her mind if she thought that she was going to pawn you off on some aged, paunchy bachelor.
The ball went exactly as you had expected. You watched Julia dance and laugh. You stood by as Emma talked animatedly when she wasn’t giving you sharp looks. Though there were gentlemen without partners, no one asked you to dance aside from Captain Dune and a few of the unlucky young men he could press into service.
Even now at the end of the season, where so many engagements had been made, you could still feel the eyes on you, the whispers behind hands. It was as if they thought the masks covered their looks of derision. You knew what they were saying, why they snickered and turned away.
It was all because of your broken engagement to Mr. Vanth. There was no returning from a situation like that. You had been cast aside and all of the ton could enjoy surmising the reasons. Your reputation was in shambles.
But it wasn’t the fact that he had gone and married some heiress not two months after he’d given you up that made it all so painful. What had really destroyed you was the fact that you’d let yourself love him. He wasn’t the best choice though he was handsome and had enough income to keep you comfortable. But you had given your heart to him and he had crushed it. And you looked like an utter fool for it.
For some reason, tonight it all stung. You’d learned to drown out the comments and ignore the sideways glances. But here you were, closing yet another season, as single as the day you’d come out. You’d begged your poor mother to let you stay at home in the country so that you wouldn’t have to suffer these indignities. It was pathetic that you had even shown up in London. But she had insisted, had assured you that you were still desirable, still attractive and spirited.
You certainly didn’t feel that way now. You snatched up a glass of wine from a nearby valet and drank it down in nearly a single gulp. It did little to soothe your nerves.
You needed air. You took another glass and sped towards the garden. The noise and music floated out here but the fresh air was cool and the garden looked quite empty, the vacant pathways lit by torches.
You’d once been so much fun. You’d laughed and smiled. You’d had no worries about your future. Now, not only were you a laughing stock but you would be lucky if you could rely on your cousin’s generosity for the rest of your days lest you end up in the poor house.
Tears were welling up in your eyes. You tore the mask off of your face to wipe them away. With your vision clouded and in the dim of the garden, you didn’t see the man that was standing in the shadows until you’d run right into his back.
You’d hit him with enough force to knock you back a few paces but he hardly flinched. He was tall and broad shouldered and he turned to look at you with curiosity. He was alone, thank heavens. He wore a black tailcoat and under that a waist coat that looked like silver and shined like silk. You didn’t recognize him but, of course, he was wearing a mask like all of the other guests. His was rendered in the same silver fabric with a slim slit for his eyes. A scalloped piece of fabric fell from the bottom of the mask down to his chin so you couldn’t see anything of his face other than his dark eyes.
Once you’d regained your balance you began to stutter an apology.
“Forgive me, sir,” you stammered. “I must mind my step.”
The stranger didn’t say anything, he just continued to look you up and down, the torch light reflected in his eyes. His hair was a mess of dark curls. His stature was imposing and incredibly still. You were so shaken that you suddenly realized how you looked, your face stained with tears and eyes glassy. You felt your cheeks burn with even more embarrassment.
Just as you opened your mouth to give some explanation, a voice came from behind you.
“Djarin! There you are!” Captain Dune called out, as jovial as ever.
You did your best to wipe the tears from your cheeks while the masked man turned his attention away.
Captain Dune sauntered down the path with his wife on his elbow. He was a dark haired, stocky man who still looked quite dashing in his dress uniform. He had been a hero of the Nile and served with your father before his ship had been lost. His round face was adorned with a black mask.
“Ah! I see you’ve met the young lady I told you about,” Dune said.
Lady Georgiana’s bright eyes looked between the two of you from under her leather mask. She was a beautiful woman with dark skin and a wide smile. She had always been kind to you even after the disastrous affair with Mr. Vanth.
“My dear, allow me to introduce Mr. Djarin,” Lady Georgiana said. “He is a very good friend.”
Mr. Djarin gave a tight bow when she introduced you but barely murmured a, “How do you do?”
“What are you doing hiding out here, Djarin? The dancing is inside!” Dune teased.
Mr. Djarin gave a chuckle but he didn’t sound amused.
“Why don’t you ask this young lady for a dance? I’m sure she would lower herself to stand up with you,” the captain continued with a wink.
“I’d better not. Please, you’ll have to excuse me. I should retire,” Mr. Djarin said, his voice deep and raspy.
Your eyes fell to the ground and you swallowed hard. You hoped in the darkness of the garden, Lady Georgiana didn’t catch your upset. Clearly Captain Dune had told him everything about you. Why else would this man be so impolite?
“Oh come now. It’s early, yet,” the captain protested.
“Forgive me. It was a pleasure to make your acquaintance,” he bowed and took his leave.
“My dear,” Lady Georgiana tried, “you’ll have to forgive Mr. Djarin. He has lived alone for so long that he sometimes forgets his manners.”
You gave her a smile, clenching your jaw so that you would not cry.
“I just had a splendid idea!” Lady Georgiana exclaimed, clapping her hands together. “You should come stay with us at Nevarro Hall. We leave next week. It would be great fun. I do find that part of the country so diverting.”
“You are too kind but I couldn’t impose,” you said politely. You had a feeling this offer only came because Georgiana felt responsible for her friend’s slight.
“Nonsense! You’re quite right that is a grand idea!” the captain agreed.
It was agreed that Lady Georgiana would write to your mother to inform her of the invitation. You knew she wouldn’t disagree considering how kind the Dunes were and how generous an invitation it was. Once the matter was settled, Captain Dune insisted you return to the party and you reluctantly slunk back inside.
Julia was with a gaggle of some friends when you returned to the ballroom. There was some excitement going on between them.
“Did you see him, Lucy?” one of the girls asked.
“I was introduced,” Lucy squealed. “It is a shame he was not here earlier in the season.”
You realized they were talking about Mr. Djarin and you felt yourself frowning.
“You’re not happy with Mr. Calican?” Julia laughed. Lucy had accepted his proposal just yesterday.
“No, of course!” she scoffed.
“What was he like?” Julia asked.
“I’ve heard he has a fine estate,” Lucy said.
“Oh, he was terribly handsome,” the first girl craned her neck to try and spot Mr. Djarin.
You wanted to laugh. You had also been introduced to Mr. Djarin but there was no way of knowing how handsome he was beneath that mask. You might have even ventured to tell them that but Emma joined the group looking disgruntled.
“I have learned some most unsettling news about Mr. Djarin,” she said. “He is traveling with a child who is in his care.”
“What about that offends you so?” Julia rolled her eyes.
“That is just it, Julia. I am told that this young boy is not merely Mr. Djarin’s ward. He is, in fact, his natural child.” This last part she said in a scandalized whisper.
This raised quite a few eyebrows but you furrowed your own.
“You are told?” You responded. “By whom?”
You knew the rumors that had circulated about yourself and had grown to absolutely despise and distrust gossip.
“I have it on good authority,” Emma said, which meant that some busybody had told her.
You shook your head. You hated that you felt the need to defend Mr. Djarin after he’d been so rude to you. If he had a child out of wedlock, one that he paraded around shamelessly, then what right did he have to rebuff you? You reminded yourself that this was merely hearsay. And no one deserved to be slandered like that.
But when you saw the way the other girls eyed you, you remembered yourself. If you protested too much, it would only speak to your own reputation. So you let them prattle on and as soon as you could slip away, you did, and spent the rest of the evening counting the minutes until you could leave and fall into bed.
After such an excruciating time in town, you were happy to be going anywhere else and, selfishly, you were glad that you didn’t need to spend a long carriage ride hearing Julia go on and on about how much she would miss being in town.
Nevarro Hall was situated on a gorgeous estate in a quiet part of the countryside. Lady Georgiana had given you a well appointed room with a view of the grounds. There was a beautiful garden with a fountain in the middle and, beyond that, a manicured lawn. You could see down to the lake and, past that, the tall trees. You spent a week walking the grounds with Lady Georgiana.
You loved to draw and you could set yourself in some corner of the garden and sketch the flowers for hours on end. It was such a wonderful change from the constant noise and hustle of town– the endless parties and calls, Emma herding you around like a prized cow. When the weather was fair, Lady Georgiana would have tea set outside and she and the captain would ask for a tour through your sketchbook and kindly remark on your talents.
“Perhaps you will create a likeness of the captain, my dear,” Lady Georgiana suggested. “If he will sit still enough for you.”
The captain laughed at that remark as the valet presented him with a letter.
“Very good! It seems Djarin will be joining us tomorrow! His business in town is finished,” he said.
You tried to hide your displeasure. You had no interest in sitting through dinners and excruciating evenings with Mr. Djarin. But you had little choice in the matter. And the captain and Lady Karga had been such generous hosts, you wouldn’t insult them by cutting your visit short.
You decided that you would be as polite as necessary but keep away from him as much as possible. This was wise, you told yourself, because your reputation couldn’t suffer any more difficulties. There were plenty of people that would jump at the chance to make even a passing association with Mr. Djarin into a scandal. But, of course, there was still a part of you that smarted at the way he had dismissed you in your very first encounter. You couldn’t be prevailed upon to be pleasant to a man that was so insulting. And so you would not.
Luckily, the first two days, it was easy to avoid Mr. Djarin entirely. The captain had taken him out riding or shooting or some such activity men enjoyed and they had dined out. Lady Georgiana had become a dear companion to you but she had begun to spend far too much time hinting at how much she liked the new guest. You would merely nod and smile and let your mind wander when she started to tell you how agreeable Mr. Djarin was or how he had been such a kind friend to her father.
On the third day, you had complained of a headache so you could excuse yourself from breakfast. After you had the tea and toast that Lady Georgiana had sent up to your room, you insisted a walk would be good for you and you set out across the grounds with your sketchbook.
You decided the stables were a good place to be left alone. It wasn’t like anyone would be looking for you there and, save the horses, there was nobody there. You found a little wooden chair and sat down to draw the horses and tack.
There was a beautiful black mare with white whiskers around her snout that you were sketching when you heard a noise. It was a funny little squeal. You thought you had imagined it until you heard it again. It had come from the empty horse stall at the very end and when you set down your sketchbook to investigate, you found a little boy sitting in the hay.
“Hello,” you said to him.
He smiled up at you. He looked incredibly sweet with chubby little cheeks. His ears seemed too big for his head and his eyes, too, were big and round. He wore a little brown suit with a delicate ruffle around the neck that was now covered in mud and hay.
“What are you doing in here?” you asked him, though he seemed too small to answer.
He babbled at you and held out something in his hand.
“What’s that?”
The child leaned forward, stretching towards you, and dropped it into your hand. It was a little silver ball that jingled like it had a bell within.
“Thank you,” you chuckled.
You shook it and it made a tinkling sound. He clapped his pudgy hands together, then planted them on the ground, and carefully got to his feet. He continued to yammer on as he tottered towards you, falling on his behind once, but determined to reach you on his own.
“Grogu!” You heard a voice from the path outside that you recognized. “Grogu!”
The boy scampered out of the stable and right up to the boot of Mr. Djarin.
“Where have you been, lad? They’re turning the whole house over looking for you,” he said.
He scooped the little boy up, holding his whole body in the crook of his arm, a wide hand grasping the boy’s calf. Grogu put a dirty hand up to Mr. Djarin’s chin and he laughed softly.
Now that you had the benefit of seeing him without a mask, you realized Mr. Djarin was, indeed, quite handsome. He had full lips and a prominent nose. His skin was a shade of gold that complimented his dark eyes. His starched collar met a square jaw that was dotted with stubble. In the sunlight, you could see that his soft curls and thick sideburns were threaded with grey hairs. The smile that spread over his features was so warm, you wished you could capture it in your sketchbook.
This was the infamous child, then. You saw little resemblance between Mr. Djarin and the lad but he held him so tenderly, it made you wonder if the rumors hadn’t been true.
That’s what you were pondering when the boy turned his attention back to you, pointing with a plump little finger. Mr. Djarin’s whole body stiffened when he saw you, his eyes turning sharp.
“Good morning,” you said with a curtsy.
His jaw clenched and he nodded.
“He was playing,” you tried, tilting your head back towards the stable.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“I was drawing the horses,” you explained.
His head tilted just slightly.
“Is that his name? Grogu?” You asked when Mr. Djarin failed to speak.
“Yes,” he said.
You smiled. “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Grogu.”
You put out your hand and the lad wrapped his fingers around one of yours.
“Ebba!” he cried.
You laughed. When you glanced at Mr. Djarin he was looking at you with an expression you could only describe as fear. Your smile faltered.
“I take it your business was concluded. In a satisfactory manner, I hope?” you inquired politely.
His brow furrowed momentarily and he opened his mouth and then set Grogu down at his feet.
“Yes. I-” he cleared his throat. “Please, you must forgive me for my behavior at the masquerade. Lady Georgiana said that I offended you. That was not my intention.”
You felt heat in your cheeks once again, embarrassment mixed with anger. You couldn’t believe he had to be told that he had acted like an ass. “Not to worry, sir. My pride has already been damaged so thoroughly, what is but one more slight?”
The look that crossed his face was absolute horror. You would have apologized for speaking so plainly but you frankly didn’t care. What right did he have to judge you? To apologize like you were so pitiful when here he was with his love child. You knew what men like Mr. Djarin were like and you’d learned to keep a wide berth.
“I- I should tell them that I’ve found him,” Mr. Djarin said. “Good day.”
He turned to go back up the path.
“Wait!” you called.
You blushed when you realized how impolite it sounded. Mr. Djarin turned carefully but said nothing. You approached him, painfully aware of the way he stared at you. It was difficult to meet his eye. You swallowed and held out the child’s ball to him. Mr. Djarin put out his hand and you placed it in his palm. As you did, your fingertips brushed his hand and you shivered. His skin felt rough and his palm was so large compared to your own. Your breath caught and, for some reason, you wished he would close his fingers around yours. You quickly withdrew your hand.
The boy reached out for the ball with a coo.
“Much obliged,” Mr Djarin managed. He was still looking at you with intense concentration.
Your chest felt tight.
“I’ll let them know at the house,” you stuttered and after a quick curtsy you were rushing back up the path.
--- Chapter 2
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Midnight Dances
Benedict Bridgerton x Fem!Reader
Summary: Upon your first week settling into your estate as a newlywed couple, you share a moment alone.
Word Count: 3.4k
Warnings: brief mention of alcohol, fluff, kissing
(aesthetic made by the lovely @heloisedaphnebrightmore )
It has been three days since your arrival at your new estate across England, and still, you have yet to see the entirety of its beauty. It was extraordinarily perfect in every way one could imagine, and impossibly grand for two newlyweds who spent most of their time in each other’s presence. In just three days time, you felt as though maybe you’d only seen just half of your newfound home, and you were determined to change that.
You huff out a quiet sigh as you stare up at the ceiling once more, not a single bit of fatigue as you lay awake. The same could not be said about Benedict as he lay tangled with you, soft snores puffing into your skin lightly. Nothing could get you to sleep; not the warmth of his skin on yours, not the late hour of the night, not the breeze seeping in through the open window, bringing with it the scent of flowers and fresh air. Any and all efforts to be swept into a blissful sleep were rapidly proving to be futile as the minutes passed.
With an exasperated sigh, you untangle yourself from him as carefully as you can manage, a smile gracing your lips as you watch his face nuzzle into the pillow. You slip on your night robe with a fond shake of your head, tying it closed before heading towards the door. You offer one last glance at your lover, at the grand details of your bedroom and the way the curtains fluttered under the breeze blowing against them. You slip out of the room and pull the door closed quietly, making your leave down the hall.
Your footsteps go unheard on the navy colored rug, not a single tassel out of place as they lined the entirety of the hall. Warm lighting illuminated the space in a dim glow, just enough to navigate but not enough to wake those trying to sleep. You were quite sure everyone in the vicinity had been asleep, everyone in the town even, everyone except for you.
The windows you pass by overlooked the gardens, perhaps the most brilliant and extravagant you’ve had the pleasure of seeing. It was hard to believe that it was yours. Finely manicured bushes were assembled in a meticulous pattern, almost maze like. And there were as many flowers as one could possibly imagine and then some, each different in color and type, each just as beautiful as the last. The blossoming trees were what had enchanted you the most, with the way their petals rain down in a flurry of pale pinks with just the slightest gust of wind.
You descended the marble staircase, your hand sliding down the smooth and cool stone railing as you made your way down the curving steps. It felt impossible to look at any one thing at a time, for everything was too glamorous and too wondrous to do so. Even down to the candles melted at varying heights as they sit in their rightful candelabras, ready to be lit again.
Shortly you arrive at the first landing, the familiar skylight coming into view as you continue walking down the stairs. The arched glass structure tucked amongst the lavish detailings on the ceiling lit up the first floor with a natural glow, the stars glimmering just beyond it. You found you liked it better at night than in the light of day.
You pass through familiar halls, ones you’ve frequented most often since arriving there but a few days ago. You passed familiar rooms such as the library, too grand and full of books for your own excited good. You passed the kitchen, still smelling of honey and cinnamon from that night’s dessert. It was the kind of scent that carried with it warmth and the feeling of being truly at home, regardless of the fact that this estate was still very new to you and most likely would be for a little while as you adjust.
With what seemed like a daunting amount of wandering through gorgeous hallways, each just as vacant as the last, you finally reach unfamiliar territory. Maybe you’d already been there, things tended to look quite similar when you were lost. The sound of ticking clocks had been apparent just about anywhere you’d been and anywhere you will go, as was the consistent artwork adorning every other wall in small glimpses of other worlds in depictions of nature. The only noticeable difference was the navy rugs had since changed to a soft lilac, fluffy golden tassels lining the perimeter.
With a few more steps, your brow raises at the sight of the unfamiliar double doors standing tall before you, adorned with intricately carved woodwork as gold sparkled on its surface. You have yet to see what was on the other side at all, and now you were taking full advantage of the opportunity to with your newfound time.
Upon pushing open the doors, you’re met with a sight so grand and enthralling you hadn’t quite expected to be presented with such beauty. Perhaps the most wondrous ballroom was contained within your very own home. It’s cream-colored walls were lined with carved framework at every edge and every corner, a metallic bronze detailing every curve and bit of linework lacing along its perimeters. Several paintings lined them, each encased in a carved and complex frame to house each nature scene captured within them. The far end of the large room held rather tall windows, nearly floor to ceiling, the very tops arched with a matching set of mirrors to adorn the walls between the glass structures. Not a single smudge was to be found.
Ruffles of silky cream curtains frame each window, pooling on the polished wood floors. Through those very windows, the moonlight had been streaming in so brightly it illuminated the room much like any candelabra could. It’s moonbeams reflected off the several chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, the myriad of crystals that dangle from each one casting little flecks of light on the floor and over your skin. The ceilings were made up of several sunken ovals, the same bronze detailing encircling each one. The murals inside had made you feel as though you were standing underneath the sky itself, and it was so meticulously painted you hadn’t known how many hours it must have taken. Surely far too many to wrap your head around. The ceiling in its entirety was so impossibly detailed and intricate you could give yourself a headache thinking of the effort put into creating it. It was delightfully busy.
Your eyes fall on a grand piano sat in the corner next, sleek and pristine with its ivory keys on display and waiting to be played. And the silky upholstered seats spaced out throughout the room. It was spacious, so vast you felt as though it could house all of England if they’d been invited. Though selfishly, a part of you wanted to keep this all to yourself.
“So, this is where you’ve run off to?”
You spin on your heel, a smile pulling at your lips once you see Benedict standing in the doorway. His arms crossed over his chest, the buttons of his shirt only half done and his sleeves rolled up to his elbows in a haphazard attempt to look decent as he roamed the halls in search of you. His hair was a mess, however, dipping over his forehead as the corner of his mouth quirked up in a lopsided grin. A grin that never fails to uncage butterflies in your stomach. You were unaware of just how long you’d been gone.
You smile, twirling once in the grand room as your nightdress flutters at the action. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”
“I quite like it,” he says with a shrug, pushing himself off the doorframe to make his way over to you. “Though I do believe that some things in this room are far more beautiful than others.”
You turn to face him fully, a blush staining your cheeks that had fortunately gone unseen in the lighting. His smile widened as he raised a brow at you, a laugh falling past his lips when you rolled your eyes.
“What? I was referring to the chandeliers, of course,” He quips with mischief, his eyes crinkling with his grin as you swat at his arm lightly. Your attempts to evade his grasp were futile as he grabs your hand, turning you to face him again as his lips press to your cheek. “I am only kidding, my love.”
“You really are terrible sometimes, you know that, don’t you?” You ask, a lightness in your tone as he drops a kiss to your neck.
“As a matter of fact, I do,” He says, his hands squeezing your own. “Though I suppose it’s better than being terrible all the time, is it not?”
You roll your eyes once more as you turn away from him in an effort to conceal your smile at his antics, walking over to one of the large windows. Just outside was a different angle of the garden, a view aiming straight down a long pathway of perfectly imperfect trees. Fluffy hydrangeas appeared just under the stone window ledges in varying hues of pinks and purples, vines climbing up the far wall of the building.
It hadn’t been long before you felt his arms snake around you, his chin resting on your shoulder.
“We must take a walk through the garden tomorrow,” you state, your heart fluttering at the feeling of his lips on the exposed skin of your shoulder. You could barely remember what you had planned to say next, until you’d forgotten altogether. “Are you listening?”
“Certainly, we must,” he responds with a soft laugh, pressing his lips to your cheek again. “And should it rain?”
“Then we shall take an umbrella,” you say as if your answer was entirely obvious as you slip from his arms with a delighted grin and a tap of your finger to his nose. You left him to look after you with parted lips and a shake of his head. He was awestruck to say the very least.
You wander about the room again with a bounce in your step, running the tips of your fingers along the soft curtains. Upon closer inspection, you discover the detailed linework you had seen moments before were in fact sculpted and carved vines and flowers spidering up the walls. Such a beauty nearly made you swoon at the very sight of it. Everything just kept getting better and better the more you gazed at it.
“What could be the need of a ballroom this grand?” You ask with a laugh, your eyes falling on Benedict.
“Perhaps to dance in,” he says with a shrug, an amusement in his features. You huff out a sigh though you can’t seem to fight your smile this time.
“You know what I meant. Of course it is made for dancing. ”
“Would you be so kind as to have this dance with me, then?” He asks, a teasing tone still weaving around his words as he offers you his hand.
“If I must,” you huff lightheartedly.
His nose scrunches at your counter and he promptly pulls you close, eliciting a squeal to echo into the room at the sudden action. His hand envelopes your own and his arm encircles your waist in the rightful position of a slow dance. Though this time, it was much less formal with the absence of watchful eyes and the need to execute every move with a flawless ease. For you were quite sure bare feet and slippers, night robes and half-tucked in, half-unbuttoned dress shirts were not of appropriate attire for such things.
No music was needed to find your own rhythm, no music was ever needed when the two of you were in your own world.
“I apologize…for waking you,” you say after a few moments, meeting his gaze once more.
“I was barely asleep, not with all your tossing and turning,” He says as you sway.
“Your snoring tells me otherwise.”
A look of faux surprise and offense crosses his face as he twirls you, wrapping his arm around you once more, “I do no such thing!”
An incredulous scoff leaves your lips as he tugs you close, your brows knit together and he continues to act as though he had entirely no idea what you had been talking about.
“I suppose I’m just hearing things then,” you state, far from being earnest as he nods along, “Perhaps it may have even been me.”
“Perhaps it might’ve,” he repeats in playful agreement, halting your frown from deepening as his lips press to yours in what surely would not be the last of many kisses that evening.
You sigh softly as your lighthearted bickering falls silent in favor of enjoying each other’s presence, enjoying the very fact that this was your home. This was your life now and you couldn’t think of anything better than that. He was ever so tender when he kissed you, when his fingers grazed up your side each time you fell out of rhythm. He claims it was just to hear you laugh, and rightfully so, but it was also in a playful payback for your sleepy dancing skills or lack thereof.
He was patient regardless, for the technicalities of the dance were not of much importance, they never were. Not even in a formal setting did he care if it was done perfectly. He cared about the fact that the most wonderful person in the world had been in his arms, and he loved you for all that you are and all that you will be. He hadn’t even needed a fancy ballroom to want to dance with you, hadn’t needed a large estate to be happy with you. He was perfectly content dancing with you in the field of flowers he’d spotted just two days before, and he made a mental note to take you there the following day.
For a while it was silent between the two of you, save for the occasional giggle when his fingers brushed over your skin. Or the patter of your slippers on the hardwood floors. Or his boisterous laughter he cannot contain when your lips ghost over that very sensitive spot just under his jaw, the fading scent of his cologne still lingering on his skin.
He twirls you before drawing you back into his arms, not without you stumbling into him, of course. It was as if your own two feet had been out to get you, and the undeniable grin on his face was telling enough that he’d been up to no good. Not after that.
“Remember that one dinner with my family?” You sigh in mild exasperation as you groan and look away from him at his words, fighting your smile nonetheless. “You had been so nervous you’d sent a spoonful of peas all over the floor. And—if I recall correctly, you proceeded to knock your wine onto my lap.”
“Am I to assume that you shall never let me live that down, Benedict?” You ask with a squint, your arms wrapping around his neck.
“Yes, you would assume correctly, Y/n.”
“It is only your fault, you have a dreadful habit of making me flustered after all,” you defend with furrowed brows and pursed lips.
“I very well see that,” he says, the corner of his mouth quirking up in a smirk.
You bite the inside of your cheek to stave off your grin, he did not deserve that satisfaction. Instead, you lean on your toes and press your lips on his, effectively kissing away the teasing smile he once had in favor of basking in the feeling of the warmth of your lips brushing over his own. In the feeling of your fingers tangling in the hair at the nape of his neck once more. His arms tighten their hold around you out of instinct, a soft hum escaping him.
“Perhaps I should bring it up more often if this is how you choose to quiet me,” he suggests against you, stealing another kiss.
“Or perhaps you shouldn’t.”
You pull away from him much to his dismay, and he finds himself chasing your lips for more. You laugh softly, your hand settling on his cheek as his once teasing smirk turns to that of a fond smile. The crystal reflections of the chandeliers above glimmer down over you, the moonlight illuminating the loving gaze that had been focused on you and only you. He couldn’t help but to capture your lips once more, for now that he had the opportunity to do so just as much as so he pleases he finds he can’t get enough.
Your hand falls from his face as your giggle brushes against his lips, his embrace sending you stumbling back a step or two.
“We’re supposed to be dancing, are we not?” You ask, breaking from his hold and spinning away from him, leaving him to smile after you in a lovestruck daze as you twirl in the glow moonlight.
He stood back to watch you for a moment, the way you seemed to beam more beautifully than any natural wonder ever could. The way you captured his attention far more than the lavish ballroom you currently resided in. Of all the luxuries he’s seen, of all the dashing estates and elegantly decorated soirée’s he’s been in attendance of in his life, there could be no greater beauty than you. There could be nothing in the world that is more enamoring, more effortlessly alluring.
He never knew the profound effects of love until it came along and grabbed hold of his heart, the feeling lancing through him with a wholehearted certainty that it was real and it was all-consuming. He knew love, of course. The Bridgerton family was large and filled with an unwavering warmth and welcoming one could surely wish for. He knew unconditional familial love amongst numerous siblings no matter the bickering that was bound to take place, serious or not. But this—this was different.
This kind of love was wonderfully and delightfully dizzying as it crashed down upon him in waves, immeasurably intoxicating with every fleeting moment that passed him by.
“Are you going to stare at me for the entirety of the night?”
Your teasing voice had stolen his attention once more, his attention that had been so distracted focused on you. It was then that he grabbed you by the waist and lifted you off your feet, suddenly spinning with you in playful retaliation for noting his gawking and telling him all about such a thing. Your laughter rang out into the glorious space while his lips pressed a flurry of kisses up your neck, your hands settling on his shoulders as his breath danced across your flushed skin.
To marry your best friend, whom you truly love endlessly is but a wonder indeed, a fate many dream of but very few experience. It is a feeling most incomparable to all else.
He set you back on your feet but his kisses never cease, his lips brushing along the underside of your jaw with his laughter left to linger against your skin. They travel upwards to press tenderly across your blush stained cheeks, to the very tip of your nose, and perhaps most giddily and passionately to your already kiss swollen lips.
He doesn’t know how he manages to stop; perhaps it’s your constant yet soft laughter breaking the two of you apart, or perhaps it’s his desire to see the way your eyes sparkle in the glowing light. Or the way your face is illuminated so beautifully that it has him fighting the urge to grab his sketchbook, but he does not want to leave you not even for a second. Perhaps it’s both and it’s almost entirely too much for him to handle all in one moment.
“Why ever are you looking at me like that?” You ask, amusement in your tone.
“Because,” He says with a breathless laugh, “because I love you. I burn for you.”
A fond smile pulls at your lips immediately as you look at him, and it is impossible to ignore the warmth blossoming in your chest, lancing through you. It is impossible to ignore the insurmountable love coursing through every part of your being as you gaze into the eyes of your lover.
“I love you, Benedict,” you murmur, “I burn for you.”
He finds his smile unable to be contained as his forehead drops to rest on yours, noses brushing. His hand once again finds yours, his arm encircling your waist, and you sway. In the ridiculously large ballroom, to a melody unheard by anyone else. You sway and twirl and laugh in a slow dance all your own, a midnight dance.
—
Tags: @dreaming-about-fanfictions @valwritesx
#benedict bridgerton#benedict bridgerton x reader#benedict bridgerton fluff#benedict bridgerton oneshot#benedict bridgerton x you#benedict bridgerton fic#benedict bridgerton fanfiction#bridgerton#bridgerton fic#bridgerton fanfiction
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I love your dark Jake Jensen and I have a request for him, so the team gets in contact with reader for supplies for a mission an Jensen feels a spark between them so he makes every excuse to talk to reader to the point the team teased but helps him out with his grand scheme to get with reader but they don't know how far he'd go to make reader his ☺️💕 thanks
I love a good dark!jake fic!! I have changed the specifics a litttllle bit so i hope this is alright :)
Warnings: implied noncon/dubcon, some creepy behaviour, mention of stalking, drugging, mention of breeding kink
Summary: 5 days; that’s how long it takes him to become fixated on you.
Wc: 2k
You’re My Delusion
They could have gone to any supplier. Fate would have it that Aisha wanted you, and only you.
The melodious tune of a piano ringtone chimed in your bag. You ask the other daycare teacher to take over for you and picked up the phone: Unknown Number. You watched the phone ring until the line went dead and resumed your day.
It may have been an ‘unknown number’, but your subconscious unequivocally knew who it was. Grumbling at the thought of being contacted again, you twisted the handle to your condo. Of course, you didn’t bat an eye when there was an envelope on your countertop, one that you didn’t put there; Aisha knew that you knew the phone would ring again, and if you didn’t answer, she would pay you a visit.
When Unknown Number flashed across your screen for the second time that day, you considered letting it go to voicemail again, but picked up anyway.
“Aisha.”
“Y/N.”
“If you’re gonna ask me for an assist-”
Aisha cut you off. “I know you don’t do missions anymore. We need a safe house that’s off the books.”
“Who’s we?”
“They’re all men.” As if on cue, you heard someone guffaw in the background. “It’s making me lose my goddamn mind,” she elucidated.
“You know I don’t really do this stuff anymore,” you huffed, “But I’m making an exception this one time. For you.” You could hear Aisha let out a squeal of happiness, and realized how bad it must be if she uncharacteristically showed excitement.
//
While cleaning up your old warehouse-turned-safehouse, Aisha’s words echoed in the back of your head. “Some of them are a little... bulky. Let them sleep on the floor.” You tried to protest, asking her, what’s the point of a safehouse if they aren’t resting well, but she dismissed the question. “Trust me. They’re nothing more than cavemen.”
It was 4 AM; foot tapping impatiently and sipping on the third coffee of the night, you smacked your forehead in frustration. It was way past bedtime. After living alongside Aisha for years, anyone would appreciate nights that consist of 8 hours of sleep.
You could certainly appreciate it. Being a daycare teacher, living in a civilian condominium and not engaging in government work was something you couldn’t take for granted. Not after all the shit you’ve seen.
3 brusque knocks sounded on the metal door to your right. Your head snapped to the source, waiting for Aisha to call out the code word.
“LOSERS!” a voice hollered from the other side. You trudged to the door, trying to shake off the dizziness that came with standing up too fast.
Opening the door with caution, you had only blinked a few times before a body pulled you into a tight embrace.
“You’re never this excited to see me. That bad, huh,” you sneered.
“You have no idea.” Aisha pulled out of the hug and turned to face the men who had lined up nearby.
“So… who’s this?” The guy with dirty blonde hair, nerd glasses and a horrible sense of fashion piped up. His whole appearance was an oxymoron to his build - muscles protruded out of the bright pink shirt that hugged him like a second skin. On the other hand, you couldn’t imagine him as anything more than a harmless golden retriever.
“Don’t ask as if you don’t know Jensen,” Aisha groused. You could practically hear her roll her eyes.
“What’s your name, darling?” another guy spoke. He exuded the energy of a leader; you looked him straight in the eyes and gave him your name.
The golden retriever repeated your name as if to try out the taste of it on his tongue. You gave him a lopsided, close-mouthed smile and asked Aisha for her teammates’ names.
“You don’t need to learn their names.” She stalked off, unwilling to be a part of the conversation any longer.
The guy you had assumed was the leader sighed at her attitude before introducing himself as ‘Clay’. He pointed at each person and gave you their titles.
“Okay so you’re Clay, that’s Cougar, Roque,” you skipped over Jake, “and Pooch.”
“Me?” Jake softly inquired.
The rest of the team began picking up their things and walking away, but not before Pooch nudged Jensen with his shoulder and winked. The puppy-like man flushed in response and rubbed the nape of his neck.
“What about you?” you asked once you were alone.
“You didn’t say my name.”
“I know it’s Jake… but can I call you ‘daddy’ instead?”
He froze up, looking at you like a deer caught in headlights.
“Relax Jakey,” you put a hand on his chest, “I’m only teasing.” You winked and strutted away, snickering to yourself at how he looked like he was about to pass out.
The entire team was trying to egg you and Jensen on. Well, not the entire team.
Aisha and Roque couldn’t care less, and Cougar did nothing more than smirk at your playful banter.
Often, Jensen would start a conversation that would escalate quickly, your witty dialogue interrupting his rationale. You thought it was adorable how he didn’t know how to respond; a guy like him could have fantastic game, but he was too much of a sweetheart, not the mention, way too awkward.
One particular night, you let down your guard, just enough to actually get to know him.
“You seem like a really supportive uncle,” you commented at his excitement for his niece’s next soccer game.
“Oh, it’s nothing. I wish my parents would have done this for me.”
“Done what?”
“You know… Tell me they’re proud of me.”
“Well Jake... I think you should know, that I’m proud of you for everything you’re doing for the country.”
Jake looked up at you, sporting the signature look of the uncertainty of how to respond. It didn’t take a genius to be able to tell that he wasn’t used to being praised.
“Thank you. That means a lot more than you know,” he quietly responded.
The rest of the night was spent in a solemn, yet understanding silence, one that both of you were oddly comfortable with.
Unfortunately, that would also be the last time you saw him.
Or so you think.
The mission went sour, and for the first time since retirement, you wished you had assisted. Maybe if you assisted, the mission wouldn’t have gone south. Maybe if you assisted... you would have been able to say goodbye.
Without even realizing it, Jake had burrowed a little hole into your heart. You hoped life could go on with the little leak in your pump. Regardless, there is no time for sulking; after all, no amount of reminiscing would change the way things happened.
It had been months after Aisha and the team went back into hiding but you were faring well. Life as you knew it had continued without a trace of the burly, soft man-baby. You almost forgot about the ordeal, up until that day. Perhaps it was fate that had you switch the TV on at that time. You would never know.
A team of rogue CIA agents, presumed to be dead, have now infiltrated a crime branch operating within the US government. They have been pardoned from their status as “Enemies of State” but can no longer work for the CIA taskforce, as their identities have been indefinitely compromised.
You blinked at the screen, watching Aisha’s name and picture appear. Subsequently, there was Clay, Pooch, Jensen, Cougar and Roque. You were happy for them.
Pooch could go back home to his wife. It was hard to imagine what it must have been like for the missus; pregnant and alone. Though you didn’t know Pooch that well, you knew he was a good partner and husband.
Your thoughts were interrupted by the sound of your front door shutting and clicking in place. Your hand frantically pressed the ‘volume up’ button on the TV as you hurled for the handgun under your pillow.
Sliding to the wall beside the door, you cautiously peered into the dark hallway and made out a large figure. You huffed quietly before appearing in the doorframe with your gun pointing straight at the mystery guy. At this point, you had a good idea of who it was, but you wanted to mess with him anyway. “Hands up, and not another step forward.”
He tried to speak, but you cut him off.
“Don’t. speak,” you punctuated each word. Reaching for the light switch, you flipped on the hallway light. The dim light revealed your golden retriever standing there with his eyes wide open in fear.
“Don’t shoot?” he said, like a question.
You grinned and tucked the gun into your waistband.
“What are you doing here?”
“Thought I should come see you.”
“You could have knocked, like a normal person.”
He shrugged sheepishly.
“How do you know where I live?” you questioned. To that, he fiddled with his fingers and looked down.
“Only Aisha knows this place. And I know she would have never told you.” You intently stared at him while leaning into the nearest wall and folding your arms.
Jake didn’t want to tell you that he had been stalking you. Every spare moment he had during the remainder of the mission was spent tracking you. After a few weeks, it felt as though you had moved on. It pained him, to say the least.
“I- uhm,” he looked up at you and took a step forward, “Hey, I just-...” He stopped when you reached for your handgun again, now wary of his intentions.
He put his hands back up.
“I wanted to ask you out properly.”
“What do you mean ‘properly’? We were never going out, to begin with.”
Before you understood the spur of movement, Jake lunged for you and plucked the handgun out of your pyjama’s waistband, throwing it over the railing of your staircase. You tried to kick him, but he pricked you without giving you a moment to react.
“What did you give me?” You clutched your neck in the spot he sunk the needle.
“I was really hoping I wouldn’t have to do that,” he exhaled. He tried to hold you, but you weakly pushed him off, still trying to recover from the shock of his betrayal.
“Takes 5 minutes to really work,” he scratched his neck.
Then there was the fight. You gave it your all but with no weapon or leverage, you were going up against 200 pounds of pure muscle who was hell-bent on restraining you for some reason.
2 minutes into the fight, you began to really feel the effects of whatever he gave you.
He point-blank caught a punch that you tried to drill into his sternum. You look up at him incredulously, unable to still believe that he was trying to take you down right now.
At last, he snapped.
“Listen to me,” he grasped both your hands.
You momentarily struggled, but your shoulders slumped and you gave up on trying to free your wrists.
“How could you move on without me?” he asked, attempting to look you in your eyes. You wouldn’t meet them.
“Jake, you are delusional! I barely had a crush on you for 5 days,” you cried, letting the wetness spread over your cheeks freely. At this point, it was clear, what he was here for.
“You should know, those 5 days were some of the best in my 29 years of living. I want that for the rest of my life.”
“Why couldn’t you have done this like a normal person?” You finally met his eyes with an excess of tears blurring your vision.
“You keep saying that,” he began, letting go of your arms and wiping your tears, “but you know that you and I are not normal.” Jake leaned down to kiss your forehead.
Your legs were beginning to buckle, but Jake caught you, throwing you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. He strode into your bedroom as if he had been there a thousand times, put you down on the bed gently, and brushed the hair out of your face.
Here we have Sergeant Linwood ‘Pooch’ and his wife reuniting. It is the first time he has seen her since his last mission, before disappearing. It is also the first time he will be seeing his child. Definitely, an emotion reun-
Your captor turned off the TV and turned to smile at you.
“Wouldn’t that be nice?” he asked, but seemed as if he were talking to himself.
You couldn’t respond, all your muscles now refusing to attend to your demands. Instead, more tears streaked down your face.
“A baby,” he whispered, “Yes, that would be nice.”
Masterlist
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The Inventor Part 2
Kaz Brekker x reader
Description: A killer is on the loose, eliminating Kaz's informants. In a desperate attempt, Kaz meets a certain inventor that has his mind racing, trying to figure out the complex puzzle she is.
Hope you like it, let me know what you think.
Kaz
A corpse? That's what she wanted? Did she think that he just kept all the bodies of his deceased workers in his room? How the hell was he supposed to get his hands on the corpse of one of his poisoned informants?
One day after meeting the young inventor, Kaz had sent Inej to gather answers to the Y/LN Manor. And just as promised, the girl had already identified most of the compounds, but due to "careless and messy manipulation", clearly referring to Kaz's pouch, she had been unable to determine a specific substance that acted as a catalyst. Inej returned to the Slat with Y/N's message asking for a meeting and a request Kaz wasn't exactly expecting.
According to Y/N, it was of the utmost importance for her to examine the body if she hoped to pinpoint the missing compound not to mention it provided a perfect opportunity for Kaz to tell her about how the poison had captured his attention.
Inej had returned later than usual, smiling and carrying a small brown bag that wafted a sweet and delicious scent. When Kaz had raised his eyebrows in question, Inej had told him Y/N had given her some recently baked cookies. He grunted in response and kept working, but his mind kept drifting back to the cookie bag and what that small act meant.
Inej was cautious but he also knew that she always searched for kindness in people. That snack could have been simply just a gift but Kaz wouldn't have made it this far if he considered all people as kind-hearted. Y/N was a stranger, a rich stranger from the highest of ranks of society who probably didn't care if Barrel rats like him lived or not. Y/N hadn't asked for a favor nor did she need money, she just wanted to know, that unsettled Kaz more than he liked to admit.
He had spent the day gathering information about her, her personal life, hobbies, and all the rumors he could find. He had found absolutely nothing that could give him an insight into the girl's intentions, he had finished empty-handed with the information he already knew: she was the only daughter of one of the richest men in Ketterdam, the perfect personification of a wealthy royal daughter, an innocent and pious little thing that went to Church with her family. Kaz scoffed at that, the defying look she gave her at their secret rendezvous accompanied with her enthusiasm for carving a corpse open proved she was far from innocent.
No, until he had more facts he wouldn't let his guard down. And yet, a small part of him yearned for her actions to be good-intentioned. Stop, hope is a dangerous thing. He had already made the mistake of hoping when he was nine and look where it got him.
Kaz returned his gaze to the papers in front of him, huffing in annoyance, he started writing down orders to get a corpse for Y/N.
_______________
Y/N : One day after the meeting
Y/N was quietly sitting at her vanity, a soft smile adorned her face, gaze completely lost on her new device when Inej, soundlessly crept inside her bedroom.
After Kaz Brekker had left the shop near the Church of Barter, she no longer felt the giddy spark she had when she left her manor. She couldn't blame Mr. Zhang for telling Mr. Brekker about their association, he was an old jumpy man who wished no trouble upon no one. She had left all the concoctions that Mr. Zhang had order, but she didn't show him her latest joy, she no longer felt as excited.
This new invention she had come up with consisted of a music box. But it was no ordinary music box, far from it. Y/N had noticed how most of the music boxes got damaged with time when the metal rusted and the music no longer sounded like a melody but more like a haunted house. So, instead of depending on metal to play music, why not use water vapor. Yes, she had spent four days perfecting the pressure at which each piston released the water so it was a perfect copy of one of the melodies in the Komedie Brute. Four days making sure that the amount of heat the flame distributed was enough to transform the water into vapor but not so fast it was gone before the song ended. And now, here it was, a vapor-based music box with a decorative firebird in the center that literally caught fire, warming the water below.
Mind too caught up on the mechanics of her own work, that, when the Wraith materialized from the shadows behind her, Y/N sent a rain of screws and nuts toppling down the floor when Inej's hand landed on her shoulder.
Wide-eyed, Y/N turned around to face the apparition in her room. The Suli girl raised her hands, to show she intended no harm and in a kind voice spoke:
"I'm not here to hurt you. Kaz Brekker sent me to check up on your progress."
With a sigh of relief, Y/N straightened relaxed her posture. "Why, of course, should have assumed Mr. Brekker would send someone. Please, take a seat. " with a small smile, she gestured to a plush burgundy armchair.
"As promised, I have successfully identified most of the compounds. However, I fear identifying the catalyst agent won't be possible unless I conduct a thorough autopsy on the unfortunate victim. The needle I was given was in an atrocious condition, too many foreign compounds had already interacted with it." Y/N answered, finishing with a hopeful tone.
Inej nodded her head and responded, "I'll let Kaz know, thank you Marchioness Y/LN." Inej turned around, making a bee-line for the window.
"You must not be thinking of going out in this beastly weather. Please, stay until this horrendous downpour ceases." Y/N quickly called back, wrapping her silk shawl around her petite frame, as if the thought of stepping outside was enough to send a chill running down her spine.
Inej hesitated, directing a fleeting glance at the crying sky outside, she resumed to her previous seat.
"Would you like a piece of Cinamon-coated Pavlova? I guarantee you won't regret it, the caramelized peaches are sinfully appetizing!" and before the Suli girl could respond, Y/N was rushing out of her room, the dainty patter of her heels clicking down the stairs.
Her room was exactly what Inej had expected: luxurious and overly grand. But there was something about it that Inej couldn't quite place, her room was tidy to the extreme, all the expensive perfume bottles lined up, gaps between that appeared as if they had been measured with a ruler. Nothing in her room showed a preference or indication of what she truly liked, at first sight, the room would have seemed like the perfect fairytale but now, upon close observation, the room looked generic, hollow, and cold. The spy wondered if all the riches were worth living into a life as impersonal as hers.
Y/N returned, carrying a tray full of fancy desserts Inej couldn't even pronounce.
"The baker proclaims himself a master of crème brûlées. I prefer his fruit-stuffed truffles, though. Mouthwatering" Y/N commented, gingerly placing the tray on her small mahogany table.
Y/N waited for Inej to take a bite out of the coffee tiramisu, after the Suli girl let a soft hum of appreciation, Y/N smiled and questioned: "I hope I'm not being too invasive, but how did you manage to climb all the way to my window? There are no nooks where you could have possibly held onto, you must have an incredible balance to perform such a feat."
And that's how Inej told her about her life as an acrobat, proudly sharing brief glimpses to her past, seeing no harm in the girl next to her. Y/N was more than happy when Inej started talking, she was glad the bronzed-skinned girl didn't treat her with timid whispers afraid of offending her royal title. It felt nice to have a normal conversation, being able to share honest opinions instead fake smiles and condescending words at galas, afraid that if the wrong statement slipped they'll become the next party gossip.
____________________
The morning after, Inej returned bearing Mr. Brekker's message agreeing to a nightly meeting where she'll be able to examine the corpse.
Saying that Y/N was thrilled, was an understatement, apart from a chance to put her brain to good use, it gave her the perfect opportunity to try a device she had specifically designed for creating an alibi while she was sneaking outside at unlikely hours.
Y/N hated piano. Don't get her wrong, it wasn't the instrument, it was the music, her music. Because for an unknown reason, her fingers seemed to have a mind of their own whenever she tried to. She admired the focus and dedication of musicians, she really did, but her mind easily got distracted thinking about her latest reading material instead of focusing on the notes. So, she had created a system capable of pushing the tiles as if her own fingers played the music. She knew it was wrong to fool her parents in such a way but it gave her a perfect cover to go in secret missions her parents would never approve of.
Proper ladies don't get excited over knowledge, much less probe in repulsive matters such as corpses. Look at you, Y/N, what would future suitors think if they discover you all cheerful over someone´s murder? The scandal! Zia Francesca's reprimanding voice resonated inside Y/N´s head. But she could care less about what the whole Ketterdam thought about her, science was her passion, and she would abandon it until the day she died.
Already outside, a navy blue scarf wrapped around her head to shield her delicate features against unwanted attention, Y/N waited for Inej at their chosen meeting point.
The sly girl slipped into view, with a grace greater than the one of a feline, leaving the shadows as if she and the night were one. With a brief nod, Y/N followed the girl into the awaiting hands of darkness. Leading her towards the Barrel, a place where monsters lurked behind every corner impatiently waiting to pounce any minute. Nonetheless, Y/N felt ecstatic, warm excitement pulsing through her veins, a river waiting in anticipation to break the thin modest facade she kept up to let her curiosity resurface in search of enigmas to solve.
When they arrived at a place named "The Crow Club", Inej went to get Kaz and some "others" and told her to wait. Y/N observed the lively atmosphere, seeing customers from different countries around the world when her eyes landed on a familiar head with wild red curls.
"Mr. Van Eck?" Y/N questioned in disbelief, the boy perked up at the sound of his last name, locking eyes with the hooded girl.
Never would she have imagined finding Wylan Van Eck down in the Barrel. She was shocked, Wylan supposedly should be in a music school outside of Ketterdam. Both belonging to affluent families, Y/N had met Wylan Van Eck at several parties. She hadn't gotten to know him very well, but she liked the quiet boy who shared the same look of misfortune Y/N had every time they were thrown into a classy social event. When his father had announced he was leaving to study abroad, Y/N was happy for him although she would miss being silently miserable together. But it appeared Wylan had been doing something far from studying, now sitting next to a tall Zemeni boy with his arm slung around his shoulder.
"Marchioness Y/N, I never imagined...W-What brings you here?" replied round-eyed Wylan, confusion, and astonishment written all over his features.
But before Y/N could respond, steps and the tapping of a cane interrupted their little meeting, Inej small silhouette trailing behind Mr. Brekker.
"So, you know Wylan?" he interrogated in that characteristic rasp, coffee eyes scrutinizing Y/N's form.
"Yes, Mr. Van Eck used to come to our social gatherings."
Wylan just nodded shyly while his long-limbed companion kept drowning shot like they were water.
Dirtyhands humphed in acknowledgment "Nice, know that we are all together let's go to...Jesper, I don't pay you to drink the bar dry. Get your ass down here and let's get moving so our dear inventor can examine the body, shall we?
"Wait, she is the contact you talked about?" the Zemeni, Jesper, questioned. Eyes going from Kaz Brekker to Y/N, as if this was some kind of joke.
"Wylan called her Marchioness? You asked for a royal's help?" Jesper asked, an incredulous mocking smile on his face. "Who are you and what have you done with Kaz?"
Mr. Brekker scowled at him and without another word turned around not even waiting for them to follow.
"Well, nice to meet you, my lady. The name's Jesper Fahey," he said, bowing down and kissing her hand, sending her a mischievous wink.
"Very nice to make your acquaintance, Mr. Fahey. And please, there's no need for formalities, just call me Y/N." she comforted, as they finally reached the others. Glancing at the rest while finishing her last statement, prompting the rest to call her by her first name.
________
Kaz
Y/N radiated waves of elation, her whole face lighting up at the thought of an adventure, a star amid the tumultuous dark waters of Ketterdam helping him find his way to the shore.
Kaz wore an amused expression at Y/N's amused gaze roaming the dirty streets of the Barrel, a new unknown world full of carnage and sins. She isn't fit for the Barrel thought Kaz, her eyes dancing in amusement at every little detail that caught her interest despite her efforts to put on a serious face and regal posture. She probably saw wonderous adventures while Kaz saw the Barrel for what it really was: a ravenous, savage beast waiting to swallow the weakest whole and drain the lives of the ones who survived its ghastly bites. And somehow the concept that she didn't belong in this world, his world, made Kaz's heart wrenched a little.
During their walk, Kaz shared the details about the latest killer on the loose and his dead informants, all the while, Y/N remained quiet, evaluating every one of his words.
When they arrived at an abandoned building, a single man was stationed outside, leaning on the tainted wall with a tired look in his eyes. Kaz nodded at the guard who gave him a set of keys and trotted out of sight. Kaz guided them inside, careful no prying eyes had followed them. Kaz turned on the lights, briefly disconcerting his companions, and pointed to a table with a big bulk covered by a dirty cloth.
"As you requested, the unfortunate victim" announced Kaz as Y/N placed a small suitcase she'd brought with her forensic equipment and tenderly pried the cloth covering the thing that once had been alive.
Y/N didn't bat an eyelash when she saw the corpse's face, not even when Jesper started gagging or when Inej turned around and started quietly mumbling prayers to her saints. Kaz focused on her face, the calm inquisitive look of a scientist, he had expected a gasp at least. Kaz was impressed by her cool analytical demeanor when a simple glimpse of the man was enough to send Kaz back to the ocean, rotting flesh beneath his fingertips. Kaz shuddered at the thought, forcing down the vomit rising in his throat.
"If you need an assistant, Jesper is willing to help" Kaz stated, stabilizing his voice so it wouldn't show his true feelings.
"What?! Me? Umm..no...I...Helping isn't a Jesper talent." Mr. Fahey said, a fearful look in his eyes, face white as a sheet. Kaz hoped he didn't look as terrified as him.
Y/N stopped her scan, looked up at the two boys, and with a small smile spoke: "I appreciate it, but there's no need. I'm certain I can handle it on my own."
Quickly discarding her coat and scarf, pushing back the sleeves of her rouge-colored blouse, and pulling long laboratory gloves over her hands along with a white apron over her head, she set up to work.
Kaz stared at her features, as she transformed into an eager forensic, light illuminating her face, falling in the right places giving her an otherwordly glow. Rebellious strands of hair framing her forehead, a pink hue staining her cheeks indicating her joyous state. The sight before him would have put any masterpiece to shame, Kaz wondered how she could stare at a corpse and find glee in such a morbid image. But Kaz liked it, the brilliant gleam her eyes portrayed, her childish joy at the promise of adventure.
The spell was broken when she started pulling out scalpels, syringes, and other items Dirtyhands couldn't bother to learn the name of. Pulling the flesh taught beneath her fingers, Y/N made a Y incision, skin splaying open.
Cold lifeless hands gripped Kaz's throat. his brother's icy whispers brushing his skin. He turned his head away and as if perceiving his discomfort, Y/N's bewitching doe eyes stared back at him.
"You can wait outside if you prefer to, I'll notify you when I'm done." her gentle voice reached and Kaz couldn't have been more grateful.
With a sharp shake of his head, Kaz limped towards the exit, Jesper, and Inej quickly following his movements.
--------
After Y/N finished, she eagerly started explaining her findings, a prideful gleam emanating from her.
"Well, Mr. Brekker I must admit this case is a peculiar one. The simplest ones always prove to be the most challenging."
"Here I thought that after years of fancy tea reunions you'd know the meaning of a vast number of words. I'll be sure to buy you a thesaurus." mocked Kaz, a wolfish smirk creeping onto his face.
The inventor frowned at his comment, racing her chin higher, and started her rant, thoughts racing to prove her point.
"Oh no, Mr. Brekker do not confuse simple and easy. Simple is straightforward, plain facts to the observer. Ordinary details are hard to pinpoint, effortlessly found everywhere, which makes it harder to find unique characteristics that could serve as means of identification since their nature is so elementary." Y/N spoke swiftly, pacing around the room, eyes never faltering from Kaz's.
"And that's exactly what happened in this case. As I had mentioned, my extraction wasn't entirely successful, for an essential reactant was missing. However, it wasn't the only reason why I insisted on examining the body, no, a very simple and ordinary substance appeared when I separated the poison: Helianthus annuus or more commonly known as sunflowers." Y/N paused glancing at their surprised faces, clearly pleased with their reactions, she continued, the corners of her lips tugging upwards.
"You can imagine my surprise when I found sunflower pollen as the main component of the poisonous agent. I ran several more tests and the result remains the same, our killer is using these lovely flowers as a weapon. Now, back to the catalyst, the easy part of the equation. This component isn't as fastidious as the previous one, why, you may ask. Well, its vast majority consists of average materials but a small percentage of it contains alloys that are only produced in Ketterdam, that combined with the peculiar way they were fused, suggests a Grisha alkemi made this solution." Y/N concluded, grabbing a piece of paper and hastily writing before she handed it to Kaz.
"There are no signs of struggle, meaning either they knew the attacker or they were taken by surprise. A swift prick to the femoral artery, a clear pathway for the poison to reach the bloodstream, infecting the body within seconds."
"It shouldn't be very hard to find the alkemi. They aren't very popular and most of them are indentured. Here is the list of all the reactants, the specifics, and where I believe you might find them. " finished the girl, looking at the trio expectantly.
"If you don't mind, I have taken a sample to examine more carefully at my house. I'll try to find any details I might have overlooked."
Briskly reading the list, Kaz frowned and then pocketed the small scrap of paper. "First thing tomorrow morning, ask around for an alkemi who might have bought these materials. "
Kaz turned to look at his fellow crows, content with their nods of approval, grabbed his cane, and sauntered towards the door. Her chemistry knowledge was astounding, a marvelous domain of anatomy, and an even more gifted engineer from what he had heard. Hers was an indeed beautiful mind, not that he would ever tell her.
"Mr. Brekker?" her light voice shattered through the gloomy night. Kaz craned his neck, gaping back at her in question.
"Is there perhaps a place where I might be able to tidy myself up?" Y/N questioned, Kaz finally looking at her messy red-stained apron and her exposed arms displaying strokes of red all over them.
Kaz hesitated for a moment, unsure if he should bring the girl back to their home. "You can use the restroom back at the Slat." The girl had risked her reputation sneaking out on ill-advised affairs to help them, it was the least he could do.
"Thank you" Y/N replied as she carefully peeled her apron, attentive at not brushing her arms against her blouse.
___________
Once she had freshened up, Y/N stumbled upon the young Van Eck talking with a couple. The green-eyed girl was about Y/N's age, a generously carved complexion, holding the hand of a tall Fjerdan.
Y/N inclined her head as a form of salute, "I never pegged you for the rebellious type, Mr. Van Eck. I never thought you hated music lessons that much to run away." she told him in a joking tone.
"And I never thought you were the type to sneak out at ungodly hours just to play detective. " Wylan replied, a grin beginning to form on his face.
"Well, I suppose everyone has secrets."
"You must be Y/N, Inej told me you were the help Kaz so desperetly needed. I'm Nina, he's Matthias and well you already know Wylan."
"It's a pleasure to meet you." Inej had briefly mentioned them, she knew now that Nina loved food, maybe next time she'll bring those exquisite truffles she had so eagerly talked about. If there is a next time Y/N reminded herself, she desperately hoped so, but now that her work was done she wasn't so sure Kaz Brekker would ever seek her again.
"Well, you have saved me the introductions." Kaz sarcastically glowered at the green-eyed girl, Nina kept talking as if she hadn't heard him.
It was one thing for Kaz to admire her intelligence, it did not mean he trusted her, though. Pieces were still missing to the intricate puzzle she was and until that changed Kaz did not like the way she rapidly befriended his crows, her intentions were still blurry to Kaz, and even though he would never admit it he cared deeply about their well-being.
"You should stay a little longer, we could go for waffles as a way of thank you." prompted Nina.
"Your offer is very tempting, but I'm afraid I'll have to pass. I should be returning home." Y/N declined, grinning at Nina, blissful someone had invited her for waffles.
Kaz stared at her and wondered how many times someone had done something similar, not to thank her but rather to use her, so that such a simple gesture put her in a joyful state.
"Scared of what your parents may do if they found out the truth?" Kaz quipped once his crows had left the two of them alone. A teasing tone masking true concern.
"Terrified. Someone may notice I've been playing the same four songs for the last couple of hours, always missing the same notes every time and they might get ideas of checking up on me," she confessed, mischief coating her features.
"Good night, Mr. Brekker. I'm happy I could be of assistance. Please, let me know if you find your killer or if my experience is needed again."
Kaz just bowed, signaling for his Wraith to get Y/N back to her manor in one piece.
Both girls disappeared into the night, leaving Kaz pondering what the hell she had meant with playing the piano.
___________
Y/N
Almost two weeks had passed, no signs of Kaz and no visits from the Wraith, well not that she was aware of. Y/N caught herself glaring at no point in particular, she readjusted her expression and plastered a well-practiced look of keen interest, trying to focus on Lady Stathos' rant about the attractiveness of the Viscount of Chagny.
Y/N politely excused herself, with no intention of making a fool of herself if Lady Stathos posed a question related to her gossip.
Too busy drowning in her own sorrow, knowing that Kaz had probably captured the culprit and was happily celebrating his success and no longer needing Y/N's help, that she stumbled forward, barely catching herself when someone bumped her from behind.
When Y/N turned back around, searching for that someone, she was met with a sight she had only seen once in an abandoned warehouse late at night. One that made her mind scream: Helianthus annuus.
Mercher Dupont's eyes were deranged, veins gruesomely popping and blood spilling from his lips, before toppling in the middle of the dance floor, taking his final breath.
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