#anisa’s nonsense
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IM DONE, I CAN NO LONGER FIGHT THESE PORN BOTS
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i hate accidents: the between
femme!reader x benedict bridgerton, femme!reader & the bridgerton family, femme!reader & penelope featherington
summary: the adventures of a working class femme who befriends a fellow writer, a boisterous family, and a bewitching second eldest son
sections: I. the beginning / II. the between / III. the ball
y/n: bipoc, she/her, afab, nonbinary femme, queer, working class, of immigrant parents
content warnings: classism, mentions of financial survival, microaggressive sexism, microaggressive gender assumption, intersectional low self-image of y/n, positive/supportive families, retelling of recurrent microaggressive homophobic experience with y/n’s family member in [II.vi], short description of almost throwing up (not related to low self-image) in [II.vii]
word count: 9.1k (of 38.8k)
story context: everything in s1 and s2 of the tv series is canon for this story except for the s2 epilogue with the bridgertons. this story takes place leading up to and into the 1815 season.
additional notes: this story is incomplete. scenes that are not written are described in chevrons <> with third person pov or are delineated by isolated ellipses. additionally, the author has only watched s2! she has not watched any of s1 aside from clips, and they have not read the books aside from quotes used in edits. they have not yet watched queen charlotte. the author kinda knows the gist of an offer from a gentleman; they are familiar with sophie beckett (and are excited to meet her/them in the tv series!).
author’s note: this is the first time the author has written fanfic in 13-15 years. :) it is her hope that they have made some progress since her pre/teens. additionally, this fanfic has been written, on and off, over the course of two years. the author sincerely hopes you find some sort of joy in it, especially the readers who maybe hope to see themself a little more specifically in the world we so love.
tagged: @omgsuperstarg @bedobeeeee @stvrdustalexx @anisas-nonsense @crazymar15 and all who have liked the story so far: the author extends her gratitude for your engagement with the first section. <3
𝄆 ⚘ ✸ II.i ✸ ⚘ 𝄇
“have i told you that you are the best model who has ever sat for me?”
it has become a common occurrence. whenever you read while in the drawing room, benedict asks if you can be his model for his hand studies. you oblige, seeing how you are already so still while reading aside from the occasional page turn, and—more so—you want to support how benedict progresses in his craft. today, you and benedict are sat at a table as hyacinth plays a solitary game of cards on the floor and kathani and anthony sit at a couch with some delicious smelling tea. you had come over to meet eloise and penelope first thing but were soon informed that the two young ladies were still at the markets with colin. that made you smile; your loud friend is, no doubt, inserting herself emotionally and physically in between your two friends in love.
you feel yourself scrunch your eyebrows at benedict’s comment.
“surely you are exaggerating.”
“hyacinth was my last model; she was horrific.”
you hear an aghast gasp and do nothing to hide the amusement in your smile.
“it is difficult to sit still!” the youngest bridgerton yells.
“hyacinth, it is not becoming of a young lady to ye— ow!”
you see somewhat in your periphery how kathani puts the hand she used to thwack her husband’s arm back on her teacup handle, smiling. benedict, in the meantime, groans and seems to be focusing even more intently on his sketch as not to make eye contact with his youngest sister.
“yes, i understand it is difficult, but you did not sit still for even eight seconds.”
you have not shifted your position in the past half hour or so as not to ruin the angle of your hand for benedict; but you need not visual confirmation to already know that hyacinth has rolled her eyes in response to her brother and returned to her game.
“well, what about the art academy?” you continue. “there must have been very good models there for you to draw.”
and very beautiful ones, at that.
“it is true, there were; but,” you see him smile as he smudges his paper, “none are comparable to you.”
you feel your cheeks light aflame and, with a cough, focus even more intently on your passage.
“then i ought to give up on my profession as a basket weaver and put in my request as a model at the art academy.”
“you do realize that you would have to pose—” you see how he pauses his drawing, looking to see where the youngest is in the room, and lowers his voice as he leans forward towards you; (you attempt not to roll your eyes), ”—nude, in order to be a model there, y/n.”
“yes, and what issue is there with that?”
you look away from your passage to benedict to make a point with your stare and are startled to see how startled benedict looks, the familiar ocean of his eyes almost entirely gone and replaced by the black of his pupils.
“nothing. there is no issue. no issue at——” he coughs, scratching the back of his ear, no doubt smudging it with charcoal, “would you like to see my progress so far?”
𝄆 ⚘ ✸ II.ii ✸ ⚘ 𝄇
< in the gardens of number five. penelope, eloise, hyacinth, and gregory are adventurers looking to save the princess benedict from the banshee y/n.
< hidden behind a hedge, y/n and benedict bicker. >
“you are a middle child on a technicality, benedict.”
“what is that supposed to mean?”
“you have seven siblings. anthony the eldest, hyacinth the youngest—and everyone in between simply a middle child? you all could not be more different from one another, and you are at the very top; you are practically an eldest child.”
“i’ll have you know that no one, myself included, sees me as such.”
“i’m familiar. an eldest sibling with a penchant for peculiar tea is not one i would describe with an overwhelming sense of duty.”
“how do you know of that?”
“kathani told me. she recounted to me her first dinner with the family and how transcendently in the most literal sense you had behaved.”
“so you two talk of me?”
you feel the tips of your ears heat, but fortunately your hair hides your embarrassment sufficiently. you roll your eyes.
“is that what you gleaned? do not think too deeply about it.”
“i shall think about it deeply and often,” he states with a twinkle in his eyes. in an attempt to ignore your fluster and flutterings, you roll your eyes again and shove him. he laughs, his nose scrunching and eyes crinkling adorably whenever he is truly delighted. despite your best efforts (you put in no effort), you smile at him. it cannot be helped when you are around benedict.
“now, make haste; hyacinth is about to cast a spell, and she needs a princess to save. may i grasp your arm?”
“grasp my what?”
“your arm! i need to pretend as if i am holding you captive, but i am not simply going to take hold of it without permission.”
“how chivalrous of you.”
“i suppose i’ve learned from a sufficient enough gentleman.”
benedict grins and offers his arm.
“i am yours for the taking.”
it is preposterous how much this man makes you want to roll your eyes. and how much you welcome it. in the moment, however, you refrain yourself and, instead, smile at him in return as you yank yourselves both out of the hedge to be seen by the others.
𝄆 ⚘ ✸ II.iii ✸ ⚘ 𝄇
< on a morning before she is off to number five, y/n realizes that her last remaining skirt still needs to be cleaned after she had spilt a bottle of ink on it. (she was devastated by losing so much writing material and money in one fell swoop.) she had been so preoccupied with work that she had forgotten to clean it.
< in a rush, she looks throughout her house for extra skirts but to no avail; the only thing she finds that she can wear is a pair of trousers from when her father was younger. she finds this suitable enough, puts them on, and runs off to bridgerton house.
< upon arriving at the drawing room wearing trousers, y/n hears a choking sound. she looks over and sees that benedict has somehow spilt tea all over himself. as the bridgerton family makes comments of curiosity and support of y/n’s current attire, benedict excuses himself, y/n hearing how he mumbles that he needs to change his clothes.
< after some time, benedict returns, but y/n notices that, aside from removing his coat, he still wears the clothes he was in. she remarks to herself: how can he have been gone for long enough but still be in the same clothes? >
𝄆 ⚘ ✸ II.iv ✸ ⚘ 𝄇
you gasp.
“wait!”
you do not wait to hear a response from your companions; you right about turn, swing open the door to number five, and run into the house, straight towards the drawing room.
“benedict!” you shout, “you must come see!”
“wha—“
you grab his hand, pulling him up from his slouched lounge.
“quickly! you must make haste!”
adrenaline and joy rushing in your veins, you lead benedict out of the drawing room and towards the entrance where, upon returning, you see giles, with a large beam on his face, holding open the door. you laugh, shooting him a quick nod and grin of your gratitude, and bring benedict outside, pass penelope and colin, pass the gates of bridgerton house, towards the road, and halt yourself and benedict in place.
you shoot your forefinger outward, pointing towards the sky, your grin ever growing.
“look!”
benedict has been looking at you incredulously, as if you’ve completely lost your mind, and perhaps you have, but you’d be damned if you got to see this and benedict hadn’t. he shifts his gaze and grin from you towards the sky, and as you had expected, as you had hoped, his expression transforms from gleeful confusion into complete awe.
“see? it is just like your palette of ideas! the oranges, the reds, the yellows, the purples, the pinks. here it all is, made by mother nature herself, and you have already managed to capture the hues in the pigments of your paints!” laughter bubbles out of you. “it is amazing! you are amazing!”
you hear a soft buzz in your ear, causing you to turn towards the familiar sound. a bumblebee swirls about your head, and it makes you giggle. you always had a fondness for the sweet creatures; how wonderous one has come to greet you at such a moment! the bee lands on your nose, as if to give you a kiss, causing you to giggle even more, before it departs and flies off into the sky.
as you stare at your departing friend, as you stare into the sorcerous colors of the sunset, as your smile feels permanent in this moment, you ask benedict,
“isn’t it beautiful?”
“yes.”
you turn to benedict, expecting to see his side profile tilted towards the sky when, instead, you connect with his ocean eyes. gazing at you.
your smile fades away as you quietly suck in air through your nose. you feel a soft caress at your hand, and looking down, you see that you are still holding hands with benedict, him gently rubbing the side of your hand with his thumb. you look back up, and with indecipherable ocean eyes and a soft smile on his lips, he still gazes at you. butterflies flutter maddeningly within you. the way he looks at you, it makes you feel scared. but you’d be damned if you allowed your fear to tear yourself away from benedict. so, instead, you smile back and gently rub the side of his hand with your thumb too.
“well!”
you and benedict reel back from one another, letting go of one another’s hands. as you feel the loss of his touch, you whip your head towards the voice and see a smirking colin, by the side of a smiling penelope, both approaching the two of you.
“while i hate to get in the way of two— friends in the midst of a conversation, i must fulfill my duties and escort miss featherington to her home.”
you roll your eyes as you promptly ignore the fire that burns on your cheeks.
“you rich people and your escortings. penelope lives across the way! she would have already been home if you would have let her, colin.”
“yes, that is true,” pipes up penelope, “but then i would have missed out on such a beautiful sight,” and instead of gesturing at the sunset as her words imply, she keeps her eyes locked on you and benedict.
menaces. i am friends with menaces.
with smugness in their smiles and delight in their eyes, penelope and colin nod their heads in farewell. as they move past, you feel a soft squeeze on the side of your arm and see penelope giving you a wink. you stare off at the couple, penelope featherington and colin bridgerton, your absolute menaces of friends who have left you and benedict stunned in spot.
benedict.
benedict!
you turn your head to face him. he must have realized at the same moment as you, for you are greeted by an equally speechless expression. feeling yourself staring into his ocean eyes a moment too long, you cough and look away.
“right, i suppose— i, going— i should be going.”
“of course— yes, that is— right, yes, very good—— not! you going! you going is not— not good! i— we— are more than glad to let you stay!— not let you, but! but have you stay with—— us! stay with us!—”
“benedict,” feeling the instinct to touch his hand again, you hesitate and, instead, touch the side of his arm. you offer him a smile to his (adorably) flustered state. “i understand what you are trying to convey.”
he huffs out a breath and smiles warily in return, and it is truly absurd how beautiful he is when his suave falls away. when he takes off the façade he performs to the world and is just himself. not a bridgerton, not a second eldest son, not a gentleman. just—
benedict.
the one you—— care for.
the one you care for.
the one i care for.
“thank you, y/n,” you hear him say, “for sharing this with me.”
“of course. you were first to come to mind when i saw it.”
“shall i— shall i escort you home?”
you snort, inadvertently breaking whatever odd energy has grown between the two of you, and he grins in response.
“goodness, no. i am fully capable of walking there myself. besides, it is too far from here, unlike miss featherington,” you intonate the last of your words with mockery. you will battle colin bridgerton one day.
“i enjoy a long walk. and with such a beautiful sight, it would be much more a blessing than a burden.”
“daylight is fastly fading; the sunset will not last another eight minutes.”
“yes, the sunset. because that is what i was referring to,” he says as he stares at you with a lopsided grin.
rolling your eyes, and feeling the violent flutterings in your stomach, you shove benedict by his shoulder, which causes him to laugh and throw his hand up in mock surrender.
“good evening, benedict,” you finalize as you walk away, a smile quickly forming on your lips once out of his sight.
“good evening, y/n,” and you hear the smile in his voice.
𝄆 ⚘ ✸ II.v ✸ ⚘ 𝄇
“it is here!”
you had just begun to cross your writing when you look up and see kathani enter the drawing room, paper in hand.
“what’s here?” you inquire. the viscountess smiles.
“perhaps you should be the first to see,” and she hands you the sheet.
taking it into your hands, you are immediately struck by the ornate illustrations of flowers and foliage ornamenting the borders—they are printed on! rather than hand drawn. you run your fingers against the paper to test your observation. you’ve only seen such a feat in the books you’ve borrowed from the bridgertons, so it impresses you (though perhaps it shouldn’t surprise me, you remark to yourself) that kathani has found a press to accomplish this feat for her printing.
you then take in the lettering and read,
a ball in titania’s garden court
“come, now a roundel and a fairy song.”
the company of
is requested at bridgerton house, number 5 in grosvenor square, on thursday evening, jul. 6, 1815 at 9 o’clock p. m.
“you helped inspire the theme,” kathani remarks. you look up from the paper to her; her eyes are intently on you.
“me? how so?”
“with our reading of his work, and our conversations with eloise and penelope, he was naturally on my mind when planning for the ball.”
you beam.
“how wondrous! your first ball in the city, and you are bringing the fairies to it,” you turn to the others. “you must tell me how it goes! i’d be delighted to hear what the dresses were like, with the theme and all, and if any larks ensued.”
you note to yourself how penelope will likely know of all of the latter far better than any of the bridgertons, but it would be intriguing, nevertheless, to hear their perspectives. you turn to the viscountess once more, “it is a brilliant idea, kathani. i’m honored to have had some part in it.”
you see her open her mouth in response—
“oh good!”
—when you hear anthony’s voice at the entrance of the drawing room.
“you’ve accepted! that is wonderful news.”
you furrow your eyebrows as he approaches.
“accepted?”
“the invitation. to the ball.”
“what?”
anthony looks around the room to his family and then back to you.
“i— am beginning to think that is not what you were responding to.”
“how quick of you, brother,” deadpans colin.
“i have just entered!”
“and have proceeded to make a fool of yourself,” eloise counters.
“it’s appropriate for the theme, really,” colin turns to kathani. “sister, perhaps you might change the dress to costumes? anthony would make an excellent bottom to your titania.”
“i am—” you start, “still lost.”
kathani gently nods her head to the paper in your hand. you look down again. previously neglecting it for the printed words and illustrations, you now read what is clearly in the viscountess’s handwriting between ‘the company of’ and ‘is requested’:
miss y/n y/l/n.
“this is an invitation. for me.”
you look up from the invitation and are greeted by kathani, and the rest of the bridgerton family at number five, expectantly staring at you.
“but—— but—”
“now, i understand that this might be quite overwhelming,” begins kathani, “but after speaking with the family, we all agreed that it would be most wondrous if you were to attend the ball. we would make certain that you felt prepared, beforehand, with lessons in dance and etiquette, hence why i’ve prepared the invitations earlier than customary.”
“not! to assume that you are not already competent in these,” adds colin. “you certainly have more grace than eloise— ow!” and he rubs the part of his arm eloise just smacked.
“but if it would appease your mind,” violet interjects, “and help with your concurrence, then we would be more than elated to offer them, and to do them with you.”
“your attire would be paid for,” anthony states simply, “and we would pay the business of your employment their missed earnings for the days in which you will be preparing for the ball and resting from the event’s happenings. and, if you shall allow it, we would support you and your family from your abstained days of wages.”
“balls are dreadful,” asserts eloise, “but!” she continues swiftly, and exasperatedly, upon seeing her family’s reaction, “with your presence, this one would certainly be more bearable. pleasant!, even.”
“we,” hyacinth gestures to herself and gregory, “cannot attend the ball, but we will help you in any way we can before then!”
“and we will be there on the morning and afternoon of, if you would like!” gregory exclaims.
kathani was wrong.
this is not quite overwhelming. this is overwhelmingly overwhelming.
you do not even know where to begin in processing all of the information with which you have just been bombarded. the wages, the etiquette, the paying, the attire, the dancing, the days off, the ball itself.
but what strikes you most of all—
“you all… agreed? of wanting me at the ball?”
you look around the drawing room. your friends’ countenances are illuminated with beams. all, but one. you turn to him. he was the only one not to have stated his case in the family’s proposal.
before you can start to ruminate on the implications of such, he offers you a smile. small, but enough for those stupid, stupefying butterflies to flutter within.
“we did,” benedict says. “we do.”
you exhale.
“then,” though weary from the turn of this day, you offer a small smile in return, to benedict, to the family, “then yes. i shall go to the ball.”
hyacinth and gregory nearly knock you over in the chair you’re sat in by the sheer power of their hugs. violet, clapping her hands, laughs with delight at the sight. eloise exclaims something about penelope finding out. anthony states he shall begin the ledger. colin, for whatever reason, starts talking about the cakes that will be there. kathani remarks that there is much to do and that she, and all of the family, will be there every step of the way.
and benedict smiles. still small. still enough. with those damned ocean eyes.
i shall never understand the absurdity that is this family.
and how delighted you are by that. how grateful you are for them.
𝄆 ⚘ ✸ II.vi ✸ ⚘ 𝄇
“your rehearsal partners will be myself and gregory,” states the viscount.
you try to withhold your sigh. you have been dreading this day since kathani first told you of it. you are utterly delighted to be a student under the tutelage of the viscountess; you are utterly petrified of being a dance student.
“and why do benedict and i not have the privilege to dance with y/n?”
it also does not quell your petrification that the entirety of number five has decided to be present for your lessons.
“because, colin, you two are unmarried men; i am a married one; and gregory is a child.”
“i have just entered my adolescent years!”
“precisely,” anthony grins, “a child.”
“kathani and hyacinth can be potential partners,” you suggest, diverging as not to join hyacinth in her laughter at gregory’s disgruntlement. despite the anxiety that somehow both swells and knots within you, you are resolute on being intentional and present during your lessons. “the former is married, and the latter is a child.”
anthony opens his mouth to respond but suddenly closes it shut. he blinks.
“why have you not considered eloise?”
“because she is unmarried. i am assuming that you do not want me to partner with colin or benedict, for fear of some sort of— romantic attraction forming. so i’ve applied the same logic to eloise.”
there is a small silence. you can see how anthony (and perhaps the rest of the room, you sense) is busily processing within his mind (and theirs) what you have said to him.
kathani pats her husband twice on his back and smiles at you.
“that is an excellent idea, y/n. we will rotate your partners amongst myself, anthony, gregory, and hyacinth. let us begin.”
and so you do, and it is quite horrendous. or rather, you are quite horrendous.
kathani is, unsurprisingly, a marvelous teacher, but not even she as a guide can prevent you from stepping on her, anthony’s, hyacinth’s, and gregory’s feet. you apologize profusely each time you do so, and so you apologize frequently and often, but each of your partners still smile at you without a drop of deceit or regret in their expressions despite their winces. they encourage you in all their particular ways. kathani gently knocks the foot you stepped on her to where it ought to be placed. anthony pacifies that you are doing well. hyacinth recounts how she had struggled as you when she first began her lessons. gregory assures that you are not nearly as heavy-footed as eloise.
even those who aren’t your partners encourage you. eloise confirms gregory’s statement, not once peeking into the book she holds in her hands. colin claps his hands to help you keep the tempo of the steps. violet, at the pianoforte, enthuses how much progress you are making with each passing dance. penelope, who joined the drawing room part way through a rather disastrous cotillion with anthony, begins to clap her hands excitedly upon seeing you.
the only bridgeton you haven’t heard from the entirety of your lessons is benedict. while rehearsing a sequence in a quadrille with hyacinth, you notice the vacant spot next to eloise where he once sat. you try to feign to yourself that your following misstep is due to your ineptitude in rhythm and nothing else. certainly not the lack of presence of a particular someone.
after you curtsy and kathani bows upon finishing a scotch reel, she beams at you.
“i believe that is enough lessons for today.”
you sigh with every bit of your lungs, your attempt at perfectly squared shoulders immediately slumping in relief. the family chortles in response and gives you a pleasant round of applause. you feel your cheeks go flush with embarrassment, completely unbelieving that your horrific display of dancing deserves any sort of praise, but the sentiment warms your heart.
“i would like to pardon myself, if that is all right,” you request towards kathani, “for a moment, is all.”
“yes, of course,” and she takes your hand. “and we do mean it, y/n. you have done well today. you should be proud.”
before you can respond to her, she gives a gentle squeeze of your hand and turns to walk towards anthony. blinking, you shake your head out of your thoughts. the bridgertons and penelope seem to respect your want of excusing yourself as they grin or nod their heads in your direction but make no move towards you. you take a moment more to look at the family and then turn to leave the drawing room. you cannot help the smile that blooms on your face as you cross the entrance—
when a hand catches your wrist and pulls you further away from the drawing room. you are about to scream when you see benedict, with furrowed eyebrows and pleading ocean eyes, swiftly put his forefinger to his pursed lips.
“fuckin’— benedict!” you whisper-yell, attempting to honor benedict’s unspoken request for your silence. “are you mad? and why are you out here? have you been here this entire time?”
“may i speak with you? in private?”
the urgency in his whisper stupefies you, any frustration felt within fading away.
“of course you may.”
he slides his hand down from your wrist to take your hand—
“follow me.”
—and, with haste, leads you down the corridor and up a set of stairs.
“are you certain this is all right? the last time we had spoken alone together, you were scolded by your brother.”
“i am more than willing to take that risk with you,” benedict says sincerely, with a smile, but it is strained. it is a subtlety, but with knowing him for as long as you have now, it is something you have noticed in his expressions.
“are you all right, benedict?”
he promptly ignores your question. it is unlike benedict, to ignore one of your inquiries. to retort with a snarky quip, yes; to make a particularly theatrical countenance, yes; to respond with uncertainty, yes. but never outright, deliberate evasion. it makes your heart swell even more with worry.
you and benedict arrive at a set of grand doors. turning the gilded knob, he opens the door and, in true gentlemanly fashion, holds it for you to pass. such etiquette would have caused you to roll your eyes, but with benedict’s current distress, you will yourself to refrain.
just as you enter the room, benedict enters too, turns around, and carefully closes the door shut. he reaches into his pocket and, after some shuffling about, retrieves a key. you hear a click of the door, and before you can comment on the absolute peculiarity of this situation thus far, benedict whips himself around and faces you.
“do you have attraction to both sexes?”
“i— what?”
“do you have attraction to both sexes?” he repeats with impatience.
“to all persons,” you correct with equal impatience. “and yes, i do.”
benedict blinks at your response but shakes his head out of his thoughts.
“and how long, how long have you known? of your attractions?”
“‘of my attractions’?”
“i am asking a question, y/n!”
“you are being strange, benedict!”
“i am!—” and he turns away from you, running his hands through his hair, sucking in air through his nostrils. he turns back to you and it startles you—how frustrated his countenance is, and how vulnerable his ocean eyes are.
“i am merely trying to ask a question. i am trying to understand. please, y/n,” benedict begs. “please.”
“i— all right,” you try to soothe. “i, i don’t know how long i have known. i suppose, since i was a child? or, perhaps, truly in my adolescent years, when i found myself gazing at those with names like emily and andrew and how i—” you swallow, suddenly feeling exposed, “how i held my breath around them, whenever they were close, when— whenever they were near.”
“and do you still feel that way?”
“pardon?”
“do you still feel that way? around people? for people?”
just for the one.
“i, i do.”
after staring at you a moment more, benedict turns away again, and you quickly exhale a breath—when you’re stricken with a sudden fear.
“does this change your opinion of me?”
benedict turns back to you, frustration still in his features but confusion slowly seeping into them.
“when i—” am i crying? “when i told my sister how i felt for a girl in our neighborhood, she did not—” you try to shake your head of the fog that starts to fill your mind at remembering, “did not look at me for weeks, and when she did, i felt like, like—— like a monster.”
his face falls.
“no,” benedict states, fastly approaching you, “no, no, no, y/n.”
“i am sorry,” you choke out as he places his hands on the sides of your arms.
“why are you apologizing?” benedict whispers, applying pressure to where he holds you steady. you had not realized you’ve been shaking.
“you had asked me questions, these questions of importance to you, and i— i have made it about myself— i am so sorry, benedict.”
“you have nothing to apologize for.”
you shut your eyes close, feeling your face contort in the way it does when everything simply becomes too much for you to bear.
“you were, and are, so much more courageous than me.”
benedict’s gentle voice and strange statement rouse you to open your eyes.
“i do not understand?”
“you have told another person about your attractions to both— to all persons. i…”
he goes quiet, unable to finish his thought aloud. you scrunch your eyebrows in confusion, but staring into his ocean eyes a moment more—vulnerable, scared, hurting—it dawns on you.
oh.
benedict.
your heart blooms as you shake your head.
“it is not about courage, benedict, i do not think. with my sister, it was about trust. i thought i could trust her with my feelings, with— well, with me. and she had proved me wrong.”
“and you have proved me right.”
“why are you speaking so vaguely today?” you manage to jest.
benedict rolls his eyes, a small smile resting on his lips.
“and you have proved me right in that i could trust you. and i do, y/n. i trust you with— with me.”
perhaps you should have thought better of it, but your emotions move faster than your logic, and your emotions call you to reach out your hand and cup benedict’s cheek as you see tears line his ocean eyes.
“as i trust you with me.”
you do not mean to do it; perhaps it’s the intimacy of your conversation, perhaps it’s the proximity of standing so close, perhaps it’s the way you can feel his bated breath mix with yours, but your eyes flicker down at benedict’s parted lips and, swallowing, you look back into his piercing, indecipherable ocean eyes and breathe,
“benedict—”
when a loud sequence of knocks thud at the locked door.
“oh god!” and you take off, running away from benedict and looking about the room when your eyes fall upon a wardrobe.
“what are you doing!” benedict whisper-shouts at you as you hasten towards your destination.
“i am trying to prevent you from being in trouble again with a certain eldest brother, and you ought to be doing the same!”
you open the door to the wardrobe, hop into it, and, grabbing the door’s edge, look at benedict and the adorable shock on his face.
“answer the door as i hide in here!” before he can babble out a response, you whisper-yell, “go!” and promptly, quietly, shut the wardrobe.
before long, you muffedly hear the clicking of the door and it being opened. there is a bit of quiet until gregory’s voice asks—
“what happened to your hair?”
“what of it?”
“it is a mess. it has not been that messy since—”
“nevermind my hair! what is it that you need?”
“have you seen y/n?”
“what? why would i know of y/n’s whereabouts?”
“do not play foolish, brother.”
“i am not playing foolish!”
“you two are always together! you and y/n are like eloise and penelope, anthony and kate, colin and food— you never see one without the other, and she hasn’t been seen since her lessons.”
“i have not seen her; does that answer your inquiry?”
“why are you so on guard! ugh, never you mind. hyacinth and i will look for her on our own, with no thanks to you.”
before benedict can retort, you hear footsteps walking away from him and down the corridor. there is another moment of quiet before you hear the shutting of the door and the turning of the key. you slowly open the wardrobe, and when you see a disgruntled benedict and benedict only, you hop out and walk towards him, unable to contain the growing smile on your face.
“you shouldn’t be so harsh on gregory. he was, after all, merely asking a question.”
“you’re taking his side?”
“of course i am. he, along with hyacinth, are my favorite bridgertons.”
“and where do i fall on this list of yours?”
“eighth,” you reply easily, and benedict’s jaw drops, “but that’s merely on a technicality— i have yet to met daphne and francesca.”
“what have i done to be thought of so little in your regard!” benedict’s expression is aghast, but you see the ghost of a smile on his lips (that you certainly do not stare at for another moment too long).
“do not mistake your low ranking in how i care for you,” you tease but then soften, unable to keep up the lark over your truth. “i care for you, benedict. for all of you. precisely as you are and what you feel and who you—” you swallow, “whoever you love.”
the jest and play fade away from his expression. benedict simply stares at you, ocean eyes once again indecipherable. before he can say anything, you step into his space and tidy his hair.
“you ruined your coif earlier,” you whisper.
“what fortune i have for someone to care for me so.”
his smile is so sweet, his voice so sincere, his ocean eyes so gentle. it is too much, it is so much.
“if you weren’t such a mischief maker,” you diverge, “you wouldn’t need such fortune.”
that makes him scoff, and you grin, quietly glad a new emotion begins to overtake your overwhelming one.
“wise words coming from a mischief maker herself.”
“a mischief maker who knows how to handle her trouble,” you respond pointedly. “speaking of which, i must be going,” and you turn from benedict and head towards the windows.
“and where are you going?” you hear the befuddled amusement in his inquiry as he follows you. you unlatch a window.
“i must leave by way of window and make it appear as if i have been out in the gardens this entire time,” you carefully open the window and peer outside. no one in sight. pleased, you turn around and are greeted by an adorably perplexed benedict. “how else will we deceive the family into believing that we were not alone together? particularly after gregory inquired after me and found you here. it would not help our situation if we left the same room, even if at staggered times.”
“this is not the first time you have escaped home,” he declares matter-of-factly.
“of course it’s not.”
“yet another thing we have in common.”
you snort but then cover your mouth. you turn around and peer out the window, hoping, willing that no one has heard you. no one in sight still. you sigh in relief and turn back to a grinning benedict.
“you are compromising my meticulous plans.”
“then you ought to be going. i shan’t compromise you any further.”
you roll your eyes deeply, ignoring the double entendre (and the flush you feel creeping across your face), but soften.
“will you be all right? are you all right?”
benedict inhales deeply and exhales equally so.
“i—— have much to think over. of myself. to myself. but, it is a comfort to know that i am not alone in this. in this experience, the feelings themselves, as well as in the navigation of them,” the corners of benedict’s mouth tug into a gentle but most radiant smile, his ocean eyes incandescent with joy. “thank you, y/n.”
the butterflies flutter violently within.
“i, i have done nothing.”
“you have done more than you know.”
unable to withstand the intensity of his gaze, you turn back to the open window and steady your hands onto the sides of the frame, leveraging your weight against the ledge to lift yourself up.
“be that as it may,” you assert perhaps too forcefully, “i truly must be going now.”
you carefully but easily shift your body over the ledge and place your boot against the exterior side of bridgerton house to start your descent. you should just go—leave and neglect the violence of feelings within you. but you do not. instead, you look up and are greeted by the sight of benedict at the window, hands also steadied on the ledge, body leaning towards the outside and downwards, beaming at you, the afternoon sun casting light upon his now even more beautiful countenance.
shit.
you will yourself to focus.
“if you need or wish to speak again on this, you will let me know, yes?”
he still smiles but you see the subtlety of his ocean eyes transforming, from delight to… something else. you don’t know what, benedict’s ocean eyes ever indecipherable in moments such as this, and it does nothing to quiet the flutterings within.
“i shall. and hopefully in a manner that does not require your escape.”
“oh, this is nothing.”
“of course it’s not.”
you smile broadly, a particular burst of fondness and play and courage overcoming you—
“farewell, princess.”
and you begin your descent down bridgerton house.
𝄆 ⚘ ✸ II.vii ✸ ⚘ 𝄇
< kathani and y/n make a day of getting y/n a dress for the bridgerton ball. they meet first at bridgerton house early in the morning, before the rest of the family is awake. they break fast together, and kathani teaches y/n how to make masala chai. y/n remarks that how kathani speaks of indian drink and food reminds y/n of how her parents talk about their drink and food from their home country.
< the conversation then grows into talking about how much the ocean intrigues y/n because of how her parents have talked about it, especially in their stories of emigrating to england by ship. the mystery, beauty, comfort, fear, and joy of the ocean all in one entity.
< the conversation then shifts to kathani and y/n talking about the scrappiness of making do with what resources you have access to. it makes y/n recount a memory with her mama when she had offered to give up buying ink, quills, and paper to support the family once her elder sister had married and left their family home. >
“it is a hobby, mama, it—”
“it is important, she says pointedly. “it is your passion.” and she smiles. “we have managed once with just my and papa’s wages, we shall manage now. you need not worry, my child.”
< eventually, kathani and y/n finish their breakfast. they leave bridgerton house and hop into a bridgerton carriage to go to the modiste. it is the first time y/n is in a carriage and it is a surreal, lovely experience. it feels like a fairytale. >
–
< after arrival at the modiste and introductions, kathani decides to roam the markets of the neighborhood as madame delacroix tends to y/n in the back of the shop. >
“madame delacroix—”
“clients call me madame delacroix,” she interrupts. you feel shame flood your body. of course. you are not a client. you are a charity case. at the whims of this wealthy family that has bestowed their pity on you. how else would you be in such a position, in such a shop, before such a talented artist revered by the upper echelons of london. you’re a fool, you wish to run away, you must go when you hear what madame delacroix says next—and she’s smiling.
“friends, however, call me genevieve,” she remarks with a wink.
…
“now, y/n, how would you feel about me being,” genevieve flourishes her hand in the air, “experimental with your dress?”
a combination of fear and excitement perk up within you.
“how do you mean?”
“the ton are quite—” she seems to fight hard not to roll her eyes but admits defeat to a sigh, “—conservative in their fashion—”
“you mean dreadfully dull?” you chime in. genevieve laughs warmly.
“exactly, my dear,” she grins. “you, however, are anything but. i see the french silhouettes more fitting to your character, to your personality, to your spark.”
you feel overwhelmed by the kindness of words that flow easily from the mouth of your new friend. you have not known each other for more than ten minutes, and she seems to see something within you. it makes you feel self-conscious, undeserving, and incredibly proud.
“i would be honored to be graced with the true magnificence of your artistry, genevieve.”
your friend’s eyes shine with joy, and you cannot help but feel utterly delighted that you were the one to ignite such happiness within her.
“my dear, the ton will be green with envy at the sight of you. with your natural beauty and with my vision, you shall be an unstoppable force.”
you furrow your eyebrows at “natural beauty.” you open your mouth to comment—
“is there any person you are looking to,” she hums, looking for the right word while looking for her measuring tape, “impress?”
“no,” you lie. “i would not know anyone aside from the bridgertons and penelope.”
“ah, yes. miss penelope,” the modiste says with much fondness in her heart. “she is quite brilliant, is she not?”
you beam. “she truly is.”
“though,” genevieve ponders, wrapping the tape around your waist, “she is rather besotted with the third eldest bridgerton.”
“oh, yes, it is very appar— wait. why do you say that?”
genevieve shrugs, but you give it more thought.
“are you implying that i have affections for penelope?”
you love penelope. she has come to be one of your closest friends, and my god she is beautiful inside and out—but you have never felt an inkling for her beyond platonic love.
“i imply nothing—i’ve just said she’s besotted with the third eldest, did i not?” genevieve plays coy with a smile. “and the viscount, he is very in love with the viscountess.”
“are you now implying that i have affections for anthony?”
you feel your entire body shudder. the idea of having any sort of love for the eldest bridgerton beyond one that is platonic makes you want to— the very thought—
you put one hand to your mouth and the other to your stomach. genevieve laughs, delighted by this game she’s inflicting upon you and entirely unperturbed by your potential sick in her shop.
“so,” she continues on, “with mister colin and lady kate and their beaus eliminated, unless you are of the temptress kind—”
“no!”
“then,” laughs genevieve, “that leaves three—”
“what do you mean ‘three’!”
“y/n, please, you are a terrible liar. you have affections for one of your friends, that is clear.”
“i do not!” you lie again. she tilts her chin down, looking at you pointedly.
“as i was saying, that leaves three. there is miss francesca, miss eloise, and mister benedict.”
you feel yourself take in a small breath through your nostrils as you hear his name, and you pray that genevieve does not notice.
“aha!” she declares. your prayer has failed. there is no god. “ah, yes, mister benedict bridgerton. the second eldest.”
you hold back a groan, not wanting to give your friend evidence to her (very much correct) claim, so instead you lift your head towards the ceiling. when you snap it back down to look at her, you are startled by how her delighted expression from a mere moment ago has molded into an expression you cannot figure out.
“y/n, you must know,” she states, with so much sincerity in her tone. you are entirely confused by this shift in genevieve, and your confusion only intensifies when she gently takes your hand into both of hers.
“benedict and i... we had been acquainted— intimately, at one point.”
oh.
“oh,” you respond pathetically.
the words should not affect you. they should not affect you. they should— not— affect you.
but—
you huff out a laugh.
“genevieve, why are you sharing this? it’s all ri—”
“i share this with you,” she replies in earnest, “because while intimate, and yes, even passionate—” you try not to wince, “—it was brief and, most of all, not of depth,” she sighs. “but i can only speak for myself, can i?”
you swallow, hoping it will cure your dry throat, and with a smile say, “he is very lucky to have won your affections.”
“my dear.”
genevieve removes one of her hands from yours and brings it to the side of your face, softly wiping away a tear on your cheek. you hadn’t noticed you had started crying. you close your eyes, weak by and ashamed at the frailty of your heart, as you lean into the comfort of your friend’s hand.
after a few moments, you feel her hand leave your cheek and feel your chin held between her thumb and forefinger, lifting up your head. you open your eyes.
“anything i felt for him, i feel for him no more, y/n. he is lucky to have your affections,” genevieve declares. “and if benedict is an intelligent man, he must feel the same for you.”
you laugh.
“benedict is a beautiful person who attracts beautiful people. i am not a beautiful person.”
it is peculiar, how genevieve’s eyes flood with hurt as if you have offended her. what did you say that has hurt her so? you were only speaking of yourself. before you can think further on it, the modiste steels her expression, fire suddenly blazing her eyes.
“well! then i must prove to you what you fail to see, my dear! i dare you not to feel beautiful in the dress i make for you. and if you doubt your beauty,” she peers at you, “will you doubt my artistry?”
you laugh, this time sincerely, radiating gratitude for your new friend.
“it would be foolish to doubt your artistry.”
genevieve beams.
“exactly.”
𝄆 ⚘ ✸ II.viii ✸ ⚘ 𝄇
you kick your feet off again, swinging yourself back and surging forward as you look up at the stars. you try not to make too much noise. you know it’s not proper to ambledly hang about your host’s back garden at night as they all slumber. you feel as though you are taking advantage of the bridgertons’ kindness in allowing a pauper like you to stay the night at their home, in allowing you any time to stay at their home since making their acquaintance, in allowing—— you sigh again. you could not sleep. restlessness has entirely consumed you, and you had decided that some fresh air and some childlike fun would be exactly what you needed to calm your nerves. while the cool air and the beauty of the night have been a welcomed reprieve, your heart still pounds and your mind still races with anxiety over the ball tomorrow night.
“couldn’t sleep?”
you slam the heels of your boots into the ground as you hear the familiar voice, doing everything in your power to ignore the flutters of butterflies in your stomach upon hearing it, and fall over onto your knees, planting your hands into the dirt so as not to completely and embarrassingly plant your face there instead. you hear the body of the voice rushing towards you, offering his hand in your periphery. you look up as benedict’s soft ocean eyes stare into you. feeling your cheeks flood with warmth, you take your dirtied palm into his, promptly ignore the lightning that shoots out from the touch to the rest of your body, and lift yourself up with benedict’s gentlemanly assistance. you murmur your thanks as you dust off, in vain, the dirt on your nightdress.
“i did not mean to startle you.”
“well, you have very clearly failed at that,” you remark.
after one last whoosh about your knees to clear off the excess dirt, you look up at benedict and are startled by the utter sincerity of his concerned look. he looks as if he is about to say something, as if he is about to apologize, when you offer him a smile.
“i’m teasing you, benedict.”
he blinks once before breaking out into a smile, a smile that forcefully summons the butterflies within you to flutter about once again, and laughs. you cannot help but smile and laugh with him.
“may i have the honor of sitting with you, miss y/l/n?”
you roll your eyes.
“it is your home after all, you need not my permission.”
“am i to ignore the privacy a lady wishes to have?”
“a lady’s privacy, i am sure, is something you wish to have for yourself,” you retort, alluding to your lack of such a title.
he swallows.
“that is something i cannot deny.”
something shifts in the air as benedict stares at you. you feel yourself holding your breath and, in an attempt to shift away the energy from whatever this— this is (and how much it thrills and terrifies you), you playfully curtsy as you gesture to the swing next to the one that you had occupied.
“i would be delighted by your company, mr. bridgerton.”
the overwhelming gentleness of benedict’s expression transforms into an amused smile, and he follows along with an exaggerated bow of his head. you take a seat at your swing as he takes his seat at the other on your left.
“i couldn’t,” you say in reply to his first question. before he can ask why, you hastily jump into your inquiry. “and why are you up?”
“i was sketching. i had an idea for a painting and wished to lay out the preliminary work before it escaped me,” he sighs heavily, turning to look out to the rest of the garden. you feel the loss of his gaze. “i was frustrated with the results and thought some fresh air would do me some good.”
“what is the idea for your painting?”
he hesitates.
“a portrait,” he seems to admit carefully. feeling how benedict wishes not to be pressed further, you simply hum an affirmation in response.
“i am certain that your sketch is not nearly as horrendous as you think it is.”
“i appreciate your kindness, but it entirely lacked their spark.”
“you seem quite fond of this person,” you huff with a bit of a laugh, jealousy starting to pool in the pit of your stomach.
benedict smiles.
“i am.”
and he turns to look at you.
you swallow, averting your gaze from soft intense ocean eyes, and kick your feet off the ground to begin a gentle swing.
“you should continue with the portrait,” you rattle on in a hasty attempt at diversion. “not only are you blessed with natural talent but you are also fueled with such a passionate determination to ever improve your skill because that is how much you love your craft. an undying devotion to something for which you so deeply care. it is admirable and extremely apparent in all that you do.”
“and what of you?”
“and what of me?”
“of your passions?”
you scoff.
“my passions?”
“your writing.”
you halt your swing and whip your head to benedict. he is grinning with stupid satisfaction, and you would find a way to wipe it off his stupid (beautiful) face if you were not so aghast by the situation.
“how do you know of that?”
“well, whenever you are not reading or conversing with eloise, penelope, and kate; or playing make-believe with my youngest siblings; or squabbling with colin and anthony, you are busily writing in a folded quarto. or, rather, crossing in a folded quarto. crossing twice, if you can manage. you are quite the prolific writer.”
you gape at him, and he continues to grin.
“eloise also told me.”
“she told you!” you shriek.
“indeed. it is, after all, how you met penelope, apparently. and penelope is how you met eloise. and eloise is how we— how you met the rest of us.”
you slump in your swing.
“i feel betrayed.”
benedict laughs heartily, and you shoot him a glare. he holds his hands up in mock surrender.
“she was merely sharing a fact.”
“she is merely a traitor.”
benedict laughs once again, and you summon all the strength within you not to choke it out from his lungs.
“you seem not to handle perception of yourself very well, y/n.”
“when you are me, it is easy not to be perceived,” you mumble, still reeling from the traitorous nature of your loudmouthed friend.
there is a small silence.
“i do not think that is true.”
you turn to him, once again surprised by the gentleness of his sincerity.
“i see you,” benedict declares in a quiet but steadfast voice. his ocean eyes, indecipherable once more, gaze into you.
you feel yourself hold your breath, unable to stop the truth from ringing out in your heart, mind, body, and soul.
i love you.
you shoot up from your swing.
“i must be going, it is quite late—”
“y/n, wait—”
“thank you, benedict,” you say sincerely, turning to him. “i— i really enjoyed our conversation, as brief as it was.”
he blinks and offers you a small smile. i must control myself, you reprimand as you feel the butterflies viciously flutter within.
“as did i.”
“good night,” you whisper. with all the self-control you can muster, you turn away from benedict and hasten towards bridgerton house.
“good night, y/n,” you vaguely hear him say from the swings that brought you together. you attempt to tune out the wistfulness that you hear, that you imagine you hear in his voice.
#bridgerton#benedict bridgerton#benedict bridgerton fanfiction#benedict bridgerton x reader#benedict bridgerton x you#benedict bridgerton x y/n#benedict bridgerton imagine#benedict bridgerton fluff#benedict bridgerton angst#bridgerton x reader#bridgerton x you#bridgerton x y/n#penelope featherington#kate sharma#anthony bridgerton#colin bridgerton#eloise bridgerton#gregory bridgerton#hyacinth bridgerton#violet bridgerton
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WIP Whenever!
Hello! I was tagged by the amazing @elfinismsarts, @archangelsunited and @ladytanithia!! Thank you friends!
I am tagging the most esteemed @paraparadigm, @changelingsandothernonsense, @thana-topsy, @thequeenofthewinter, @dirty-bosmer, @viss-and-pinegar, @greyborn2, @saltymaplesyrup, @kookaburra1701, @gilgamish, @polypolymorph and @rhiannon1199!! If I didn't tag you, consider yourself tagged and tag me back!
Below the cut for small slices of three projects!
First up, a small piece of my upcoming Ondolemar fic, Recurse.
“S-sorry,” Varlais complained. He was flat on his back, staring up into the ceiling where the lamp, if that’s what it was, flared. He sat up gingerly and leaned heavily on Ondolemar’s shoulder. The bad one, of course. He sighed and rolled his eyes.
“Why in Aetherius do you insist on touching anything in this Godsforsaken place? Considering everything was looted, you’d think there’d be a reason these things were still here, perfectly organized,” Ondolemar said. He checked the thing one last time. There was still nothing of note, no obvious secret, no etchings or engravings – nothing. Dwemeri magic would remain a mystery, its creators gone on the winds like ash over Morrowind – or worse. “Here. You’ve won a prize for your incompetency.” He handed the cube to Varlais. “We need to keep moving. If anything is sneaking around in here, they’d have heard that absolute racket you had no problem making.”
“I said I was sorry.”
Next Up, Untitled Sequel to Little Dragon.
Teldryn looked up from the book he was reading aloud – Kolb & the Dragon – for perhaps the hundredth time this month. It amused Anisa, even though he half-wondered if she couldn’t by now read it herself. In her place where she had been sat the last he checked, muddy footprints trailed out instead. Two sets. Which meant Anisa and her mudcrab were wandering back and forth between the backyard and her room. He sighed and set the book on the arm of his chair. So much for keeping the nonsense to a minimum.
“Hl’aka?” Teldryn called. There was a burbling of several languages that echoed across the house in response. Then, of course, the chitinous chittering of Cara, always throwing his two Septims in. He stepped gingerly around the mess they’d created and popped into the little room Nyenna had fashioned for her long ago.
This, too, was in shambles. The mudcrab was wearing the blanket Nyenna had quilted herself like an overlarge cape as Anisa tossed her things around the room, searching for something Teldryn couldn’t discern. She muttered to Cara in Bosmeris and wandered past him, the mudcrab clattering by, nearly knocking Teldryn over. He didn’t seem concerned. The blanket, not at all secured, dragged out behind Cara, through the mess, until it fell off, covering the footprints like a poorly placed rug. Teldryn shook his head and sighed again.
If it wasn’t one thing, it was another. He glanced out of the side door. There was a fenced in yard with a small pond Athis had built once Cara had more than tripled in size and could no longer scuttle about in the fish tank. They were safe, making mud pies and generally being children. He caught himself. Cara was a mudcrab, not a child. Or perhaps Anisa was also a mudcrab. He grinned and started picking up after the two of them, keeping an eye as he moved through the house following the path of destruction.
*Chara is Gaelic Bosmeris for "Friend" and also Anisa's mudcrab's name lol.
And last up, a piece of Chapter 29 of The World on Our Shoulders.
Teldryn nodded. He’d noticed as much. “Watch out for him and send for me if it ends up anything like last time, when Ildari…well, you remember.”
“I remember,” Talvas said, voice drifting off as he grimaced. Teldryn took the tea and made to turn around, but Talvas cleared his throat. “Remind me…why do we still put up with all of this?”
Teldryn wasn’t sure if he’d said it to himself or if it was a valid question. Or more like a bout of existential dread.
“Because we know how bad it can be if we don’t stay.”
He didn’t mean to sound ominous, but it was true. Talvas had no idea the depth of exactly what Teldryn was implying. He was barely a decade older than Nyenna. He’d been so young when Ildari had…passed. He’d not seen the worst of that, either.
Talvas paused. “It’s not really our responsibility, though, is it?”
Teldryn thought back to something Varona had said, right before the heart stone experiment.
“That man is going to kill himself one day, and take the rest of us with him.”
Even she was too young to know how true the statement was. That pursuit of power untempered by other purpose was perhaps more dangerous than anything else. But he was better than that. Teldryn knew it. He’d seen the difference.
“It doesn’t have to be in order for something to be worth doing. Plus, you’re Telvanni. There really isn’t a better teacher if you intend to make a name for yourself,” Teldryn said, partially deflecting. He warmed Neloth’s tea again with a weak Flames spell. Talvas sighed.
“If there’s anything left of me to make a name of,” he said, voice wistful.
#MareenaWrites#The World on Our Shoulders#Nyenna#Teldryn#Teldryn Sero#Talvas#Neloth#Ondolemar#Varlais#Linare Varlais#Skyrim#Skyrim fic#elder scrolls#tes#tesblr#writblr#fanficblr#writeblr#WIP Whenever#WIP Whatever#WIP Wednesday
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Imagine Felix falling for a bookworm-MC. However, Felix is being all difficult and in denial and stuff.
"I'm NOT in love with MC!!!"
"Me, in love with MC??? HA!"
"You must have hit your head, you are talking nonsense..."
"Hey look- a bird!!!" *disappears*
MC loves books. Felix loans MC as many of his books as they want to read. But it doesn't stop their desire to have books of their own in Astraea. Their room at the Starsworn's castle (anyone wanna help a girl out and remind me of the name of this place?) is practically empty. But MC has no money... so no they have no way to buy any books.
Afew weeks later, MC ends up winning some sort of bet with Sage, and wins some money from him. They beg Felix to take them to the market.
"Please, Felix! This money is burning a hole in my pocket!"
"MC, your pocket is not on fire."
Felix finally agrees and plans a day at the market so MC can get whatever they want. Anisa and Sage decide to tag along, and the group arrives at the market. It's a beautiful day, and they soon come upon several stalls selling books. Felix takes his eyes off of MC for two seconds to admire a beautiful cover at a nearby stall.
MC is now gone.
Way to go, Felix. You took your eyes off of the bookworm.
After (not frantically) searching for MC for what feels like forever, Felix is beginning to get worried. Anisa assures him that everything is okay and the trio continue to search. Felix can't stop worrying, however, he was broken from his thoughts when he smacked right into a moving stack of books.
Wait, what?"
Oh, it's MC... carrying 20 books.
MC is just happy to have found their friends and begins a ramble about all of the book they've found. They haven't stopped talking about their hoard for several minutes and Felix is wondering how they're still carrying that many books and how aren't their arms falling off yet?
But Felix feels something deep inside of him.
He's watching MC closely, taking in every word they say. They've got a huge smile on their face, they are absolutely beaming. Their eyes are practically twinkling. And if the books weren't so heavy, one would imagine that they'd be jumping up and down, excitedly.
Anisa doesn't miss the way Felix staring at MC. However, Sage is the one to snicker and make a teasing comment.
"Felix, I saw a jeweler around the corner there. You gonna go pick out a ring, or what?"
Felix doesn't even respond to Sage's comment (though for a split second he actually considers the ring) and turns his focus back onto MC, who hasn't even stopped to take a breath. They've now placed their stack of books on the ground next to them and proceed to go through each book and talk about the synopsis and plot line and that's when Felix realizes he's in huge trouble.
And also that he's very much in love with MC.
*my very first imagine/headcanon EVER and may just very well be my only.
*written at 2:18am after two panic attacks so forgive how rushed it is, please. And any grammar mistakes.
*heavily inspired by my 5'7 weak, noodle armed self literally carrying a stack of 17 books through the bookstore this weekend because I refused to get a basket. getting a basket means I can carry more books and I was already over budget. yes, my arms still hurt very badly. and yes, it was worth it. 100% believe this kind of behavior would cause Felix to propose to me.
#felix escellun#felix iskandar escellun#fictif felix#last legacy#last legacy felix#last legacy fictif
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Rime a Stepdad (ft.MC)
Did not proofread. Wanted to do this one for a while. This fic is all over the place. On Spring break. Shitshow all the way. Relish daddy rime!
Daddy Varela!? Deer stud became a papi??!! DILF??!akdjkksjjjsks…. What? How? Him? 😳 Well he knows the "How" part. And besides his bed manners surpassed your expectations. Ahem. Anyhow, you said something? Oh…ah….you're not pregnant. You have a kid/kids but from a previous relationship. Yep. That makes more sense.
Congratulations, you look horrendous in white anyway. The jig is up MC. "R-Rime!!" Kidding. Am I?.... *flock his white tinted nose*
Establishing your relationship with rime can be three scenarios. First can be straight-up enemies but one day he sees you with anisa talking in the courtyard on her shift. She giggles hair poofed at whatever nonsense you said to make her show her fangs. He gets a bit closer overhearing your two's chatter. "I can't imagine how you do it, MC?" "I make do as I go along. It's challenging but I love them to the moon and back!" Wrinkling his nose at your lady's talk he peaks from behind the wall to see a picture on your….box thing. Rectangle tool. Earth garbage. (Of course, you're in the photo but another/others appears next to you with a smile) "Being a single parent is brutal. I just hope I can get home to them again before they notice I'm gone. They just turned….!" "Aw!" Walking off you leave rime to be dumbfounded at the brutal truth he wished he hadn't heard. His whole goal is to wipe your existence from the planet. Now his scarred chest flares up aching with every breath he inhales through his flared nostrils. Jaw tight and back hitting the pillars his muscles constrict on themselves like a coiled serpent. Skin heated at the tips of his fingers he curses his mortality for tugging at his melted heart strings. "Damn it all!!" He despise you. Even so, his new goal is getting you home quickly to be rid of your ugly mug.
Second and third stage is beneficial adversaries to tough love friends to potential lovers.
Will ask questions and concerns. You tell him things here and there. Like their favorite hobbies or likes and dislikes. Nervous. Super nervous of their impression of him. Especially if you told them the backstory of how you met. Man needs a drink. When he does meet them for the first time is surprised at their enthusiasm. Your kin flaunt to him for his features. And his height. Climb him. Babies squealing for him to hold them. Kids will ask HIM questions on his magic. Teens just shrug and nod at him chiming in when he talks to them. Instant connection. Man is relieved.
Personally, his family history is tainted. In hindsight, he's the type to be difficult with children altogether. In time he bends the knee for them to rain terror on their enemies. Which he becomes their dark knight.
If you adopted he isn't surprised of your kindness and love. It's the idea of you not being able to conceive that makes him want to hug you close murmuring reassurance that you are a great parent no matter how burnt out you are.
If they're your own he admires the strength you have to carry a person/ person's for nine months. Unless they were born early or late. Then he sometimes rubs your stomach scar if you got a c-section to kiss your cheek with a sly grin. "Hello, indestructible!"
From newborns to toddlers, he is out of bound to this paternal instinct thing. Definitely not a clue what to do in this situation. In time he asked you in the roundabout way of your kin. "MC! They keep reaching for my antlers make them stop!" "They are just curious rime." Huff's and complains but over time gets used to their touch. Small hands and toes. Diaper changing makes him ill. Disappers for a minute to warm the bottle up and hears the baby/babies cry and immediately returns to hear them stop. Walks out again to hear them scream their lungs out. "Give me a break! I'm just a man!"
I have a feeling for kids age 3-10 he plays fetch with them and MC tells him to actually engage in playtime. "Their not dogs. Skips rocks with them or tell them to play outside." "How was I suppose to know that they can handle advance topics at their age." (Child/children tug his skirt) ".....What now?" *holds up the stick* "AGAIN!!" Looks to MC with a raised eyebrow. "Hhmm, see they know the basic hands on activity." "Your ridiculous." "I'm a genius."
Teenagers vs rime. He let's them sneak out the tower sometimes. When he scolds them he secretly buys praises their mischief, cleverness with sweets. Vibe all day long. Outfits on point. And insults on blast. If caught by guards he pretends not to know them until they are kicked out or banned. "You got caught….HOW!!?" "Look on the bright side." "...Bright side?" "MC loves me/us more than you so forgiveness is key." Chases them around a merchants table as they laugh at his attempts to catch them. They make silly faces at him all day long till MC and Felix comes along to scold them. 🤪😝😗🥴. Rime finally tackling them and tickling them to the point of tears escaping them. "Yield or suffer!" *cough* gasp *sputter* "n-n-n…never!!"
When the children fall sick he is by their bedside checking their fever and cooing silly stories to them. Reads to them with illusions. Cooks rarely but does it when they ask for his meals.
Plays hide and seek with them with sage and tulsi till they lose them. Then he'll breaks lose as all three panic and tell at each other.
Elowen just swishes her tail at the fools looking under the mess halls table with giggling troublemakers. "Spin three times and quack like a duck. Then slap yourself. The kids might appear." "Listen feline we are NOT doing that." "Fine get yelled at by MC"..." What was the first thing you said again Ellie" "Tulsi!!" "What!"
Buys them endless clothes and jewels. Gets their ears pierced.
One day they go up to him and ask if they can call him "dad" he runs into a door. Talks with MC for hours and hours till he goes up to them and approves. Ruffles their hair. Prefers to be called dad, pa, father, and so on.
Drops them off to their biological guardian (your ex) to keep that bond. God knows his relationship with his parents are none existent. If you are a widow will celebrate the anniversary with the kids to remember the happy times. Just wants you and them to be happy.
Doesn't diminish their relationships platonically or romantic. Respects their own choices and gives them honest advice. Never lies to them.
One day you all hang out and he notices you've all fell asleep and couldn't be happier how is life turned out. Grateful. Loved. And adored. He is in heaven.
#fictif#last legacy#rime solano varela#rime varela#fictif rime#last legacy rime#gender neutral s/o#found family
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Ways Collage AU! LL characters react to...
LI: What- I don't even like MC like that you guys should already know this.
Or
MC: guys I don't think LI likes me that way lol chill
Felix: ah, denial. Like it or not, you're giving me writing material I will die for. By all means, keep this up and give me my best-selling novel.
Anisa, while studying: Objection, bullshit. Lack of evidence. Your face turns red every time MC does something remotely cute.
Sage: B R O. HOW- YALL SEE THIS BULLSHIT LMAOOO ok look, I know it can be embarrassing to admit a crush, really. But come on now we all suffer from seeing you at this point dude.
Rime: damn. It's so sad there isn't a medicine that helps you get over THIS delusion... Get over it honey. Go. Confess or I will do it myself bc ew you're giving puppy eyes :|
Elowen: Get well soon. Bc this is one of the most batshit nonsense I've heard from you. Bye and have fun figuring it out.
Tulsi: i- ok. Not my circus not my monkeys. Anyways, you want me to make you two a thing just call k?
Lucan: oh. Oh it's BAD LMAO just let me know when you figure it out alright? *sits down and watches from sidelines*
Balsam:.... *sigh* *goes to the kitchen* *grabs popcorn and comes back* so where did it all start?
Saaros: mhm sure. Yep. Totally that.
#last legacy#fictif#fictif last legacy#fictif games#elowen de bhaldraithe#elowen last legacy#last legacy elowen#sage lesath#last legacy sage#fictif elowen#fictif rime#fictif felix#fictif anisa#fictif tulsi#fictif lucan#fictif saaros#fitctif sage#tulsi ain#felix iskandar escellun#anisa anka#rime solano varela#rime fictif#lucan de bhaldraithe
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Barista’s Adventures in Wonderland
Chapter 3: Cat Girls Are Ruining My Tea Party
Word Count: 1,405
The Barista finds the Holy Knight but it is not what they expected
Pt 1, Pt2,
SUPRISE SHAWTIES sorry for taking such a long time I promise I'm still writing I've just been busy ;u; I am also a little rusty on my writing so please forgive, next chapter we meet a certain dramatic queen
---
More dirt, more trees, more seemingly endless paths that I trudge down.
"Sage gives out horrible directions, I wouldn't be surprised if I passed this Holy Knight already," I mutter to myself. I know this may be a dream but I make a note to never take directions from cat men again. I stop in my tracks to try and gather my bearings, leaning against a tree I try to recall just how many turns and loops I took. My foot then slips on the dirt and I begin to roll down a drop in the path. I don't even have time to scream before I am meeting a hard wooden surface. Various glass items surrounding me crash onto the ground and I hear multiple gasps around me. I let out a groan and run my hand across my face. I will definitely feel this tomorrow, in the morning? When I wake up? I'm not sure all I know is that hurt. Suddenly the sound of boots on wood approaches me. I look up squinting, still recovering from my tumble. I see the silhouette of a person, fire in their hand, and something pointing directly at my face.
"I knew you were coming for me assassin, however, that was the most pathetic approach I've ever seen!" they say to me. The flame in their hand grows bigger and my heart begins to pound.
"I-I'm sorry, but I'm not an assassin," I squint my eyes harder trying to make out any features of this person threatening me.
"Well you sure aren't dressed like one," a smoother voice to my left speaks up. I look over to see a woman. "Now now Anisa, you're scaring this poor soul, I doubt they could even hurt a fly," she says. "Anisa" pauses for a second and lets her flame emitting from her palm die out.
"Yes I guess you are correct, my apologies," she reaches a gloved hand out to me which I grab. When I finally meet Anisa's face I flush. She has some of the brightest green eyes I've ever seen, and her smile is so warm and inviting despite her threatening me a second ago. A large colorful bow sits on her half updo, it is covered in frills and lace. I am brought to my feet and realize the object Anisa was pointing at me was a baguette? Not the strangest thing I've seen here though.
Taking in my surroundings I realize Anisa and I are standing on a table and various tea sets surround us, Although most of it is broken due to my entrance.
"Ah, I'm sorry for ruining your... tea party?" I apologize weakly. Anisa descends off the table, still holding my hand and helping me down.
"My, Anisa, don't go catching too many hearts," the woman from before says. Now that I have gathered myself I can fully take in the woman's features, she has cat like ears, similar to the man Sage I met earlier, they flick when her stunning eyes meet mine, a smirk plastered on her lips, her dyed curls seem to shine in the light and I have to stop myself from gawking.
"Speak for yourself," I hear Anisa mutter. She releases my hand and takes a step back to bow to me. "My name is Anisa, I am the Holy Knight around here, and she is-"
"Ayanna, but you can just call me any time," she says with a wink.
I flush for what feels like the millionth time.
"Oh uh, nice to meet you my name is-"
"Stop going around flirting with everyone that comes round! Besides we have no room," Anisa walks over and onto the other side of the table and plants herself on a stool making the whole table shake.
"Oh please, I wasn't flirting, just being polite and there's nothing wrong with them staying for a bit," Ayanna then turns to me "Would you like some wine dear?" I hesitate my answer when I remember my last encounter with wine. But I am once again interrupted by the two women in front of me.
"They do not need any wine! And as I told you we have no room," Anisa crosses her arms and faces away from Ayanna. I look down the long table and see plenty of empty chairs, none with place cards as well so Anisa's concept of them having "no room" confuses me.
"Well maybe if they answer this riddle they might sit with us?" Ayanna purrs. Anisa shoots me a toothy smile, I swear for a second they glint in the light.
"Well, dear Traveler,"
"Uh- Barista," I correct.
"Yes Barista, tell me, why is a cat like a teacup?" at the mention of the word cat, a black and white fluffy mass rises from one of the chairs and hops onto the table. A cat with no tail and large green eyes sits between Ayanna and Anisa and stares at me. I hold in a chuckle as her tongue sticks out.
"Well, they're similar because... uh because," I've never been good at riddles but this one doesn't even make the slightest bit of sense. I think for a second but my train of thought is interrupted by my stomach growling.
Right the dinner, I'm here for directions, not tea and nonsensical riddles. I turn towards the women who stare at me with idle curiosity, and some sort of hunger that unnerves and excites me.
"I actually can't stay, I just need to be pointed in the direction of the queen's dinner party?" Ayanna and Anisa both glance at each other in surprise, I swear for a second the tail-less cat also looks at me in shock. Anisa rises from her chair and walks over to the table so she can meet me on the other side. She grabs hold of my hands.
"Oh you can't go to that dinner, the queen has been quite crossed lately, he may rip out your soul just for looking at him funny,"
"M-my soul?" I almost laugh in disbelief. Ayanna stands causing her chair to squeak.
"No you've got it all wrong, it's not the queen who's been upset, it's the king, the queen is more of a. . . a figurehead I guess you could say," Ayanna gestures nonchalantly.
"King? all this time I've only been hearing about this queen, so they're married?" I question. Anisa lets out a snort.
"Oh no! It's more of an unfortunate partnership, like a business deal," gripping my hands tighter Anisa looks off in the distance, a tinge of pain behind her eyes. "The king shouldn't even be alive, I killed him myself," she mutters. I feel my heart skip a beat. Did she just say that? Ayanna tuts as she listens to us.
"Anisa, dramatic as always, just because you are a knight does not mean you need to save the whole world," she swirls her glass of wine before taking a sip. Anisa drops my hands and turns towards her.
"I am merely fixing the mistakes of the past, mother,"
"Anisa, don't you dare-"
"Oh look seems like we're out of tea," Anisa quips, she then grabs the tailless cat and a teapot and walks off into the forest, Ayanna follows behind, and a string of arguments slews out from them as they walk.
Feeling awkward, I rub my arms and wince when a stinging on my forearm catches me. I look and realize I must have cut myself when I landed on that table. Hissing I use my hand to apply pressure to stop the bleeding. I freeze when my hand starts to glow.
"Why does this keep happening?" The light grows brighter and I shut my eyes so I am not blinded. When the light dissipates I look at my arm and see the cut is now gone, not believing it I look at my hand where I cut myself earlier and see that it is gone as well.
"Hey, that's convenient,"
I stand in silence for a minute, trying to ponder the strangest tea party I have ever attended and the strange healing magic I just performed. Was that even magic? Or am I just an amazing lucid dreamer. I look back at the spot where I fell and snag a cookie before following a path that trails off in the opposite direction of the strange women I just met
#fictif#last legacy#fictif last legacy#last legacy fictif#fictif felix#fictif anisa#fictif sage#fictif ayanna#fictif fanfic#fictif fic#fanfiction#crow writes
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Anisa's laugh in the background while recording Ian's nonsense
Reblog if you agree
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TUMBLR PUT THE HOME BUTTON BACK TO ITS RIGHTFUL PLACE
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LEWIS PULLMAN IS THE DRUMMER FOR ATTA BOY
Atta Boy became my comfort band after I moved away from home (2016) and knowing he’s part of a band that means so much to me. Makes me love him even more ❤︎
#lewis pullman#atta boy#music#indie music#out of sorts#freddy reish#eden brolin#Jason hiller#top gun bob#dashel Thompson#anisa’s nonsense#drummer girl
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Where is your PFP from?! I love it!
Oh my goodness <3 thank you. It’s from the Beetlejuice cartoon
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I HATE TAKING MELATONIN, IT MAKES ME SLEEPY AS FUCKEN DAY
anyways, i hope y’all have amazing day💜
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Something Familiar
For @polypolymorph! Now featuring at least 400% more eyestalks.
More Athis/Nyenna/Teldryn AU where Athis is a Dragonborn.
Thank you to @paraparadigm, @changelingsandothernonsense, @thequeenofthewinter and @thana-topsy for your endless support of these shenanigans. Without ya'll, who knows if I'd even have this series to work on? (:
Something Familiar
“But all the magic I have known
I've had to make myself.” ― Shel Silverstein
Teldryn looked up from the book he was reading aloud – Kolb & the Dragon – for perhaps the hundredth time this month. It amused Anisa, even though he half-wondered if she couldn’t by now read it herself. In the place where she had been sat the last he checked, muddy footprints trailed out instead. Two sets. Which meant Anisa and her mudcrab were wandering back and forth between the backyard and her room. He sighed and set the book on the arm of his chair. So much for keeping the nonsense to a minimum.
“Hl’aka?” Teldryn called. There was a burbling of several languages that echoed across the house in response. Then, of course, the chitinous chittering of Cara, always throwing his two Septims in. He stepped gingerly around the mess they’d created and popped into the little room Athis had fashioned for her long ago.
This, too, was in shambles. The mudcrab – half now as tall as his keeper – was wearing the blanket Nyenna had quilted like an overlarge cape as Anisa tossed her things around the room, searching for something Teldryn couldn’t discern. She muttered to Cara in Bosmeris and wandered out; the mudcrab clattered by, nearly knocking Teldryn over. He didn’t seem concerned. He almost never did, these days. The blanket, not at all secured, dragged out through the mess, until it fell off Cara’s carapace, covering the footprints like a poorly placed rug. Teldryn shook his head and sighed again.
If it wasn’t one thing, it was another. He glanced out of the side door. There was a fenced in yard with a small pond Athis had built once Cara had more than tripled in size and could no longer scuttle about in the fish tank. They were safe, making mud pies and generally being children. He caught himself. Cara was a mudcrab, not a child. Or perhaps Anisa believed herself to be a mudcrab, considering the behavior of late. He grinned and started picking up after the two of them, keeping an eye out as he moved through the house following the path of destruction. -> Read the rest on AO3.
#MareenaWrites#The World on Our Shoulders#AU#Where Athis is the LDB#Athis#Teldryn#Teldryn Sero#Anisa#Nyenna#mudcrabs#🦀#tes#tesblr#skyrim#skyrim fic#elder scrolls#fanficblr#writblr#writeblr
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Felix x MC (pt. 2)
Being homesick was a bitch when it hit hard. Today was one of those days you just felt numb. Was it depression? Were you just simply lazy? Did anyone miss you as much as you missed them? Laying on your stomach on top of the yellow couch was comfortable to take a nap with Stella daily. In regards, the lessons taught to you was tiring you out. Mumbling to yourself to think of something to do for the next couple of hours before dinner was a bust. Felix on the other hand was preparing a special surprise for you to cheer you up. It was his fault for your current situation. Yes. Instead, he had gathered a few things to set up a lunch "meet-up" to encourage a way to express his gratitude to have an excellent student. (Not because he wanted to make you smile or laugh. Or even take notes for future plans. No, don't be silly.) Finally, all was set. Now for everything to go as planned. Hopefully. "Mc, I would like to endure you with something if it would please you," he says confidently with a skip in his step. Perking up at his enthusiasm you quirk a brow at him. He waves his hand to follow and you get up dragging your feet up a flight of stairs in Fanthom. At the top of one of the towers you pause, "Is this a prank on the other side of this door?" He chokes. "Nonsense. I'm not sage or anisa. And if, I did prank you this would be to noticeable even for you, my dear. He opens the door while you smile to yourself at his praise. The set up of fruits, olives, several cheeses, and biskets clouded your vision. While the curtains tied back had let the suns rays cascade the dusty room to shine upon the pot of tea steaming hot. Excited you plop down on the chair he pulled out for you. Marveling at the effort he put into this for you had made your eyes watered a bit. He smirks at his victory, "Don't hold back for my sake. Dig in!" Eating to your heart's content the sweet and sour taste of each juicy fruit sets your taste buds afloat on releasing endorphins. "Thank you! This is the sweetest thing you could have done for me. I mean it." His breath catches at your lit up features beaming at him but he sips his tea. "Your welcome. Please, this was easy." He continues to munch on some salty green olives to the point you stand up to walk over to his hunched over figure. Holding out a hand you swiftly request, "May I have this dance, my emo prince." For a second, he almost faints. Wiping his hands on his striped pants he joins you to prance around the room like a messy pair you two are. "You have not a clue of the waltz do you?", sighing at your feet on top of his. You chuckle at his annoyed look and rub your nose to his. "Nope." He can't help but laugh along with you. "Then, I shall teach you. Try not to step on my toes, dove," leading you step-by-step he instructs with a clever smile. Holding his silver gaze you jest, "Wouldn't dream of it!"
#Fictif#Last legacy#last legacy felix#felix iskandar escellun#Felix x MC#gender neutral reader#friends to lovers
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I posted 2,372 times in 2022
26 posts created (1%)
2,346 posts reblogged (99%)
Blogs I reblogged the most:
@poisonouswritings
@funnytwittertweets
@beetle-swarm
@jtownraindancer
@italoniponic
I tagged 154 of my posts in 2022
#twisted wonderland - 9 posts
#im dying - 4 posts
#last legacy - 3 posts
#i'm dying - 3 posts
#oh good lord i am loving this - 3 posts
#last legacy felix - 3 posts
#i love this - 2 posts
#*this - 2 posts
#oh good lord i love this - 2 posts
#youtube - 2 posts
Longest Tag: 138 characters
#i love how none of the brothers questioned your sobriety in their version but in this one you got dia and sim asking if you're drunk again
My Top Posts in 2022:
#5
Imagine Felix falling for a bookworm-MC. However, Felix is being all difficult and in denial and stuff.
"I'm NOT in love with MC!!!"
"Me, in love with MC??? HA!"
"You must have hit your head, you are talking nonsense..."
"Hey look- a bird!!!" *disappears*
MC loves books. Felix loans MC as many of his books as they want to read. But it doesn't stop their desire to have books of their own in Astraea. Their room at the Starsworn's castle (anyone wanna help a girl out and remind me of the name of this place?) is practically empty. But MC has no money... so no they have no way to buy any books.
Afew weeks later, MC ends up winning some sort of bet with Sage, and wins some money from him. They beg Felix to take them to the market.
"Please, Felix! This money is burning a hole in my pocket!"
"MC, your pocket is not on fire."
Felix finally agrees and plans a day at the market so MC can get whatever they want. Anisa and Sage decide to tag along, and the group arrives at the market. It's a beautiful day, and they soon come upon several stalls selling books. Felix takes his eyes off of MC for two seconds to admire a beautiful cover at a nearby stall.
MC is now gone.
Way to go, Felix. You took your eyes off of the bookworm.
After (not frantically) searching for MC for what feels like forever, Felix is beginning to get worried. Anisa assures him that everything is okay and the trio continue to search. Felix can't stop worrying, however, he was broken from his thoughts when he smacked right into a moving stack of books.
Wait, what?"
Oh, it's MC... carrying 20 books.
MC is just happy to have found their friends and begins a ramble about all of the book they've found. They haven't stopped talking about their hoard for several minutes and Felix is wondering how they're still carrying that many books and how aren't their arms falling off yet?
But Felix feels something deep inside of him.
He's watching MC closely, taking in every word they say. They've got a huge smile on their face, they are absolutely beaming. Their eyes are practically twinkling. And if the books weren't so heavy, one would imagine that they'd be jumping up and down, excitedly.
Anisa doesn't miss the way Felix staring at MC. However, Sage is the one to snicker and make a teasing comment.
"Felix, I saw a jeweler around the corner there. You gonna go pick out a ring, or what?"
Felix doesn't even respond to Sage's comment (though for a split second he actually considers the ring) and turns his focus back onto MC, who hasn't even stopped to take a breath. They've now placed their stack of books on the ground next to them and proceed to go through each book and talk about the synopsis and plot line and that's when Felix realizes he's in huge trouble.
And also that he's very much in love with MC.
*my very first imagine/headcanon EVER and may just very well be my only.
*written at 2:18am after two panic attacks so forgive how rushed it is, please. And any grammar mistakes.
*heavily inspired by my 5'7 weak, noodle armed self literally carrying a stack of 17 books through the bookstore this weekend because I refused to get a basket. getting a basket means I can carry more books and I was already over budget. yes, my arms still hurt very badly. and yes, it was worth it. 100% believe this kind of behavior would cause Felix to propose to me.
53 notes - Posted May 3, 2022
#4
I'm rewatching Encanto, and my favorite song is Waiting On a Miracle. I'm also playing Twisted Wonderland while watching, and I thought of something...
youtube
MC/Yuu singing this song to themselves (like Mirabel is doing) after a big, magical ceremony. Seeing all of their friends- even Grim -in their ceremonial robes, casting spells and being praised for their unique magic. MC finally has a breaking point, not understanding *why* they were brought to Twisted Wonderland and Night Raven College, why they don't have magic and their struggle with it.
58 notes - Posted July 5, 2022
#3
Okay, I had the DUMBEST dream, but it was also kind of funny. Granted, I don't remember a whole lot of the dream and my dreams get weird, so things may not make sense. I'll try to leave out most of the non-TWST related stuff.
My dream closely followed the plot of the Ghost Bride story, with a few variances such as;
I was in place of the MC (I know because at one point I was referred to as the Ramshackle Prefect and Grim stayed with me). However you could totally read some parts of this and replace "I" with yourself/your OC like a first-person POV if you want to laugh (or cringe)
None of the boys came even close to successfully wooing Eliza... not even MR. FREAKIN' DARCY who appeared to tell Eliza how she bewitched him body and soul 💀
Puffy never showed up and won Eliza's heart (or lack thereof?)
The ceremony had actual guests outside of the ghost court, and a lot of the guests were other students who were there for entertainment
Crowley simply gave up at some point and he and the other faculty members attended the wedding (aka Idia's funeral)
Jamil, Kalim, and Malleus were frozen because they stepped in to try and help- if I recall, they never showed up for Ghost Bride because Jamil couldn't risk Kalim's safety and Malleus couldn't cause a controversy?
I'll begin where the chaos started.
So I (Yuu), Grim, and Ortho were the only ones who hadn't been frozen by Eliza out of the students who were actively trying to help. We were reaching the point of desperation- Grim however made a comment that we reached desperation when we decided to send in ACE. 💀
The three of us were trying to figure out what to do, and Ortho made another threat about simply blowing up the school (damn Ortho, chill) and I said something along the lines of, "calm down kid. I know you're scared to lose your family member but you are being really dramatic right now" And that's when I solved the problem. Like... "kid... family member... THAT'S IT! I know what to do!"
I made Grim and Ortho follow me, and we ran to the Cinema Club's room and got a few things. There was a whole bunch of junk but I remember a ring, a baby blanket and bonnet, and a pillow. I changed out of my uniform into casual clothes and shoved the pillow in my shirt to resemble a pregnant lady... Ortho put on some childish clothes- think propeller hat and a dinosaur shirt. I put on the ring, shoved Grim into the bonnet and swaddled him, and we then rushed back to the "wedding".
We ran right past the ghost guards and anytime they tried to stop us I just yelled "UNLESS YOU WANT TO PAY IDIA'S CHILD SUPPORT I SUGGEST YOU GET OUT OF MY WAY" and the ghosts just faded away each time, saying "I'm so sorry ma'am". 💀
We burst through the doors and before anyone had a chance to react I yelled "IDIA HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO ME?!"
I was sobbing and had mascara running down my cheeks, so at some point I must've applied a ton of it...
Eliza was not amused... she was very irritated and asked "who are you?!" and yelled that I was interrupting her wedding. I replied "I'm not here for you! I'll deal with you in a moment you homewrecker" and marched closer to Idia with Ortho holding my hand and Grim being cradled in my other arm. I yelled at Idia through my (fake) sobs, "WE HAVE TWO BEAUTIFUL CHILDREN A BLESSING ON THE WAY AND A LIFE TOGETHER HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO ME?!"
I distinctly remember Ruggie being the one to yell "WHAT THE F***?" at my proclamation
Idia was so freakin' stunned he couldn't form coherent sentences. And when Ortho looked at Eliza and said "why are you taking my daddy away from us" Idia just started bawling.
Eliza gasped and looked between Idia and the three of us, and she said "you have kids?!"
I held up my hand with the ring and said "AND A WIFE."
"B-but he isn't wearing a wedding band!"
"That's because he never wears it! He's ashamed of us."
I don't remember all of the dialog around this part, but I said something about Idia trying to claim that the kids weren't his, before pointing at Ortho and going "YOU CANNOT TELL ME THAT THIS CHILD DOESN'T LOOK LIKE HIM. "
Cue Idia mumbling "well *that* thing definitely isn't mine" in reference to Grim, who chose that moment to start WAILING. I gelled back something along the lines of "Deuce and I only had an emotional affair"
To which Deuce choked upon hearing.
Eliza started crying and apologizing to me, stating that she couldn't possibly take love away from someone else. If anyone has ever seen The Corspe Bride, it was very reminiscent of Emily's ending lines.
I replied back with "it isn't your fault... he goes after anything that's willing to give him the time of day. I'd let you have him if he didn't owe me money for the kids, but you don't want to end up with a cheater like I did."
Cater shouted "YOU DESERVE BETTER GIRL!"
I somehow convinced Eliza to leave Night Raven College and she unfroze everyone before doing so. After she and her court left, the room stayed silent for a few minutes because everyone was busy trying to process what the hell just happened. Floyd was the first to break the silence, absolutely dying laughing and trying to congratulate Idia on his marriage and children. Some of the other students were snickering too. Some were just plain in shock.
Idia just kind of crumpled to the floor. I took the pillow out from underneath my shirt and threw it at him, laughing and stating "I'm never doing that ever again, so you need to be careful not to attract anymore ghosts, okay?"
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60 notes - Posted September 18, 2022
#2
This is only my second attempt at writing an imagine/headcanons.
Also, I can concur with what I see a lot of people complaining about: writing on mobile, sucks.
***Spoilers mainly for Felix's route, just for Rime's part of the post. Small spoilers though, nothing crazy.
Life is great. The LoS has been defeated and Astraea is safe. MC has decided to stay in Astraea to be with their LI of choice and not return to earth. They've officially been in Astraea for over a year. Life is good.
Until MC gets amnesia. Either from an accidental spell or a blow to the head. They've lost all of their memories of Astraea, their adventures, and their loved ones. The last thing they remember is the convention before they were ripped from away from earth, and even then the details are foggy.
Felix is a total wreck. He and MC were practically inseparable. If you saw Felix somewhere, MC was probably just a few feet away, and vice versa. They were never apart, and they liked it that way. So for Felix, to go from always having MC at his side to them being strangers... it was very hard for him.
It was almost like the whole Rime situation again, just in a different manner. It takes a toll on his mental health.
Felix works nonstop, searching for a spell to recover MC's memories, and even begs his father for help. But to no avail, MC's memories are gone. They don't even remember their first time meeting Felix.
Felix soon accepts that his only option is to take care of MC and let their relationship come again naturally. They were rather close, after all. It will happen... it has to.
But Felix cannot silence the nagging thought in the back of his head, his insecurities telling him "it was a miracle that they fell for you the first time..."
Felix doesn't try to force the memories, nor does he let them affect the current dynamic between him and MC. But one day they were in the study, reading together on the couch, and MC drifted off to sleep on Felix's shoulder. It took everything in him not cry, because they used to do that all the time. The faint familiarity of it hurt Felix, because it only reminded him of the memories lost.
Despite the trauma and turmoil Felix had to face regarding MC's amnesiac state, he never gave up on them. Not once. And every tear, every sleepless night, every struggle was worth it when MC shyly took hold of Felix's hand during a walk. In that moment, he knew everything was going to be okay.
Anisa tries to put on a brave face. Of course on the inside she feels like her heart has been torn out. She and MC were about as a close as two people can get, they were friends, and then partners. Now they're strangers- at least, they are to MC.
After being advised to not try and force memories back, Anisa does her best to keep things as casual as possible. But it's so hard for her to not take MC's hand when they're walking through the town. And she catches herself staring off at MC with a lovesick expression more often than she'd care to admit.
Despite the internal struggles, Anisa is probably the one who would handle the situation the best. Don't get me wrong, she struggles immensely, and there are definitely tears. But she keeps a positive attitude, knowing that MC is still the same person that fell in love with her, and she still loves them immensely.
Her mother does her best to help. And by that, I mean she subtly tries to play matchmaker in an attempt to set MC and Anisa up (again). It's quite comedic, MC walking into a definitely not romantic dinner with candles and a violinist and flowers and Anisa standing there like "I didn't do this I swear."
It was hard for Anisa to open up to MC the first time, she's got demons she feels like she needs to hide. But she feels relief when she remembers that MC never judged her before, so they wouldn't judge her now.
It takes time, but they grow to be quite close again. Anisa's patience pays off the day MC turns to her and says, "I think I'm in love with you."
Sage takes it the the worst, no doubt there. He stayed closed off for years, fighting to keep every little skeleton in his closet hidden. Never opening up, never revealing his secrets or speaking of his past. MC fought so hard to gain Sage's trust, to get him to let them in. And all for nothing... they're gone now.
Sage is fully aware it's still the MC he fell for. It's them... but it's also not.
He will never forget the pain he felt when he went to embrace MC that horrid day and they looked at him with a confused expression before asking who he was.
He spent the next few days under the impression this was just a cruel, cruel joke being played on him. After he realized it wasn't a joke, he convinced himself it was a nightmare. A horrible nightmare.
He avoids MC. It hurts far too much. Sage makes an excuse to leave the room every time they come in, and he stays out on missions for longer periods of time.
Tulsa, Anisa, Felix, even Rime all have to keep Sage from drinking himself to death.
Sage comes to his senses one day when MC grabs his wrist to stop him from leaving the room, asking "why do you hate me so much?"
After that, Sage sticks around and basically becomes MC's bodyguard. He doesn't leave their side and becomes very protective over them. He doesn't try and force memories back, but unlike Anisa and Felix he does spend a lot of time telling MC about the time they spent together with him- just leaving out any romantic aspects (and also overhyping himself in the stories).
He finally works up the courage to ask MC out one night. "Like on an actual date?... you, Sage, wanna go out with me???"
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132 notes - Posted May 3, 2022
My #1 post of 2022
Professor Laveton is basically Akari and Rei's dad. Sorry, I don't make the rules. imagine him being like, "hmm... I wonder where the kids are."
Cue Akari dropping 100ft after diving out of Braviary's basket thing. Cue the Professor screaming. Akari calls Braviary again once she's a few feet away from the ground. Just barely saving herself from, you know, dying. Professor Laventon is white as a ghost and on the verge of a heart attack. He glances over to Akari's Typhlosion, who is standing next to him, and it looks incredibly proud of it's human.
Not giving poor Laventon any time to recover, Rei runs past the camp, and he's getting chased by an Alpha Parasect and a bunch of Paras. His starter pokemon is nowhere to be found, having fled, leaving it's trainer to his fate. Because Parasect and Paras are scary.
Imagine Professor Laventon's horror. Imagine Professor Laventon's face as he cries out "MY BABIES! THEY'RE GONNA DIE!" before passing out.
He has to be carried back to Jubilife City. Cyllene doesn't speak to him for a week. But she does however, ground Rei and Akari for two weeks.
320 notes - Posted February 20, 2022
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