#but I will be leaving that ball in his court for him to decide
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spoon - @bartylusmicrofic - words: 797
[in-universe: Sacrosanct]
The first time Barty climbs into Regulus’s bed, they’re eleven. It’s just after the winter break and Barty has long bonded. He’s decided that he and Regulus are ‘it’ for life. Meant to be.
Just like he had simply made Regulus his friend, no lead-in or courting to speak of, Barty climbs into Regulus’s bed and says, ‘I’m spending the night here.’ He says, ‘sleep is for the weak,’ because Barty has no intention of sleeping. He never does, and it’s a lonely fate. But now, he’s going to stay up all night and talk to Regulus, and maybe cuddle too. And it will be wonderful.
Barty says, ‘Next year, we’ll spend Christmas at Hogwarts. Together.’ He knows it’s not going to happen, Regulus’s parents would never allow it, but he’s allowed to dream.
And really, Barty ought to be congratulated, because he’s already sad and he’s angry and he’s determined not to cry about it.
He’ll just cuddle about it.
When Barty and Regulus are twelve, Regulus’s bed is also Barty’s bed. At this stage, Regulus has bonded too, and Barty really does congratulate himself because it was touch and go for a bit. While Barty bonds fast, Regulus takes his time, is more cautious. Surveils the area carefully because he’s skittish, almost a flight risk. Now, though, he has decided that Barty is worth his time.
Barty is chuffed.
So Regulus’s bed is now Barty’s bed, and when Barty is sad or Regulus is sad, they cuddle about it. Curl up in a little ball of comfort. Sometimes they’ll lay awake at night planning and scheming and conspiring until Regulus falls asleep. And as he does, Barty says, ‘sleep is for the weak,’ and Regulus says, ‘I suppose I’m weak then.’
And so, Barty promises to be his strength, to be strength for the both of them.
When Barty and Regulus are thirteen, Barty goes to Regulus for comfort. He lets Regulus hold him close in the silence that Regulus prefers. So close they can hear each other’s breath, feel each other’s heartbeat. He buries his face in Regulus’s hair, curled in their little ball of comfort.
And he says, ‘We’ll spend next Christmas at Hogwarts, together, we will.’
Regulus agrees, though it will never happen. He says, ‘Your father is an arsehole.’
Regulus makes promises of running away together. When they’re old enough—because, of course, they have to be practical about it—and they’ve saved and stolen and swindled enough, they’ll run away together. Live together, in a little house, in their little ball of comfort.
Barty knows this will never happen. Not with the state that the world is in. Not with the lot they’ve been served in life. But he can pretend, for a while.
And for a while, they’ll just cuddle about it.
When Barty and Regulus are fourteen, Regulus goes to Barty for comfort. Barty lays in bed with Regulus, holding him close, stroking his hair. He breathes in Regulus, a familiar, sweet and heady scent. Ghosts his fingers over Regulus’s skin, whispers, ‘Oh, darling,’ into his hair.
Whispers, ‘Who hurt you?’
Barty makes promises of pain on the person who dared to hurt his Regulus, to make his Regulus cry. He makes promises of wounds and blood or even wounds without blood, blood without wounds. He makes promises of hexes and curses, of torture of all kinds.
He holds Regulus to his chest, curls against his body, and kisses Regulus gently. They do this from time-to-time. Closed-mouth kisses, innocent kisses between friends.
But sometimes, when their lips meet, a flame is kindled in Barty’s stomach. It’s a pilot light of a flame, which leaves a funny feeling inside Barty that he does not yet understand.
When Barty and Regulus are fifteen, laying in Regulus’s bed is a different affair entirely. The kisses between them are no longer the innocent kisses of friends. They discover this one night when they’re cuddling in Regulus’s bed, which is also Barty’s bed, and Barty nips at Regulus’s lips and Regulus is simply confused.
He punches Barty in the arm.
It’s Barty’s first proper kiss, because Barty isn’t really good with people (though he is loathe to admit it). It’s Regulus’s first proper kiss, because Regulus hates people (and he is shameless about it). The kiss fuels the fire in Barty’s stomach, which grows from a pilot light into an inferno. He kisses him deeply, shivers when their tongues touch, sucks gently on his lip. He has Regulus on the bed, pinned beneath him, runs his hands through his hair.
Barty discovers that day that beds aren’t just for sleeping, or even for laying awake in for hours on end.
Sleeping in a bed with Regulus is never quite the same after that.
#harry potter#fanfiction#microfics#barty crouch jr#regulus black#bartylus#mybartylusmicrofics#not writing all the way to twenty this time cos microfic and also I don't wanna be sad
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after everything, I forgive him, I still care about him, I wish him well.. maybe it’s naive, but idc, it’s what feels right for me personally
#a few weeks ago I messaged him to tell him that I still care and always will#I’ve left it at that and refuse to chase him any further#he knows that if he ever needs a friend in me that I’m here#despite what happened.. I won’t ever close the door on someone who once meant the world to me#and like the relationship was a good relationship.. it got rocky towards the end#the relationship wasn’t perfect but what relationship ever is??#but like.. there was a lot I learned from the relationship and there was a lot he opened my eyes to possibility wise#it upsets me that he lied but I don’t hate him#I may never know his reason for doing what he did at the end and that’s fine#but I’m not going to cling on to that and let it pollute my heart#relationships (romantic or otherwise) are messy and sometimes we step on each others toes#I hope me and him can reconnect one day and have a friendship again#but I will be leaving that ball in his court for him to decide
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the “pick me, choose me, love me” callback where she said “i am not going to beg you to love me” was 10/10 chefs kiss no notes perfection. but then he calls you bc he can’t make it to the airport and tells you he’s in love with you and he’s loved you every single day and you just…🥴 pretend you can’t hear him?! bye lame ass have fun in boston
#i am all FOR women empowerment and not needing a man and being there and present for your children. like. that isnt the argument here#but she pulled him across state lines so they could be together and then like uhhh the next day she decides she’s leaving for boston#look. all i’m saying is give the guy like A MOMENT to breathe and catch up to where you are before you just ditch him without letting him#say what he needs to say#fucked up way to leave and that’s all i’m saying#ACTUALLY IM NOT DONE#she said ‘you didn’t say it back. i said i love you and you didn’t say it back’ and backed him into a corner when he’s still settling in#seattle. so the ball is in his court right he’s got the ball. so he goes and says fine ok i got the ball and I LOVE YOU BACK HELLO.#and she’s just ‘did someone fart in here idk what that noise is ok bye ttyl’#HE PASSED THE BALL AND SHE JUST *stares at the birds*#🤦🏼♀️🤦🏼♀️🤦🏼♀️🤦🏼♀️🤦🏼♀️🤦🏼♀️🤦🏼♀️🤦🏼♀️🤦🏼♀️🤦🏼♀️🤦🏼♀️🤦🏼♀️#i’m mad#greys anatomy#greys spoilers
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Tantrum
Summary- Art’s girlfriend sucks at tennis. He helps her feel better.
Warnings- MDNI 18+ NSFW. Female reader. Stanford era Art. Exhibitionism. Body worship. Cunnilingus. Wee bit of fingering. P in V sex. Riding. The fluffiest giggliest sex you've ever seen. Me not knowing a damn thing about tennis.
Author's Note- Hi idk if you noticed but i have Challengers brain rot rn specifically for Art Donaldson :// As a theatre kid I simply had no choice it was always gonna be him. Read the full fic on AO3.
When Art had looked up at her with big pleading eyes, all but begging her to allow him to teach her the basics of tennis, she was in no position to refuse. It had been sweet, how badly he wanted to share his passion with her, the kisses he had peppered across her neck and chest in order to entice her into it, and she couldn’t so much as imagine denying him. Forget the fact that she had never held a racket in her life, that her strengths had always been rooted in academia rather than athletics. If allowing him to teach her would make him happy, she would do it.
Though not without complaint.
She lets out a frustrated grunt as the ball hits the net- again- before turning her head up to glare at Art when he barely manages to stifle his laugh. He smothers it immediately when he catches sight of her glower, hand coming up to rub at his mouth as if he can physically wipe away his smile and she feels her teeth grind together.
“You can’t laugh. You’re the one who wanted me to do this so you’re not allowed to make fun of me,” she complains, her voice half petulance half hurt and immediately his face morphs into something more apologetic.
“I’m sorry baby.” He makes his way closer but she simply rolls her eyes, turning her nose up when he reaches out to her. He takes it in stride. “I’m not laughing at you, you’re doing very well. It’s just funny to see you so frustrated.”
It’s her turn to laugh, though it is little more than a humourless bark. “I am not doing very well. I suck.”
He makes a sympathetic noise as he attempts to reach for her again. She allows it begrudgingly, resisting the urge to roll her eyes as his hands close around her elbows, face dropping into her neck to press a kiss there. She thinks that he’s about to praise her further, try to coax her back into committing herself to the game, but he stays silent, continuing to lavish her with silent kisses.
She’s happy for the odd hour they decided to come here, the tennis court completely devoid of any other life. It’s a colder night than it should be for mid spring, the floodlights and moon the only two things to provide them with any light, and she’s grateful finals have chased everyone else away. She’s glad to have this time alone with him, despite her frustration. To feel like they are the only two people in the world.
“You’re just hitting the ball too hard,” he explains, face still half buried in her throat. “And you aren’t even attempting to aim. Putting everything you have behind the hit doesn’t make it a good one if you don’t know where you’re sending it. There’s more to tennis than just force, you have to be smart about it.”
She scoffs, reaching up to press her palm against his forehead and shove him away, ignoring the shit eating grin that’s made itself known on his face. “Just go over there and hit the damn ball. Before I leave you here by yourself.”
The grin doesn’t fade, his amusement more than clear, but he does as she asks, returning to his side of the court. She lets out another aggravated sigh as she returns to the position he had told her to wait in, knees bent as she waits for him to serve, realizing more and more that she prefers to watch him play tennis rather than do it with him. She finds far more joy watching him from the stands as he chases after the ball, sweat dripping from his curls and grunts echoing in her ears. Here, where she is the one chasing the ball like a damn dog and failing to send it sailing over the net when she does manage to catch it, there is no time to admire Art in his element.
She almost feels bad for her poor attitude, wishing she was less competitive so that she could simply enjoy this quality time with him, but every failure does nothing but enrage her further, sending her spiralling further into frustration.
Read the rest here :)
#art Donaldson x reader#art donaldson x female reader#art Donaldson smut#art Donaldson Fic#art Donaldson imagine#art Donaldson fanfiction#art Donaldson#challengers x reader#challengers smut#challengers fic#challengers fanfiction#challengers#challengers x you#art Donaldson x you#Mike faist smut#challengers film#challengers movie#challengers 2024
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𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 | art donaldson
summary ― .ﾟ ˖ in which you and art can't seem to keep your hands to yourself after your first victorious win in weeks.
warnings ― .ﾟ ˖ MINORS DNI ! ( 18+ ) | language, graphic smut, unprotected sex (please stay safe y'all), art references to being turned on by watching reader play tennis, power dynamics?, switch!reader, switch!art, semi-public!sex, praise kink, hair pulling, oral (fem!receiving), obsessive!art (he is literally obsessed with the reader omg), p in v sex, art and reader almost get caught lmao, lmk if i missed anything!
word count ― .ﾟ ˖ 3.1k +
pairing ― .ﾟ ˖ standford!art donaldson x fem!stanford!reader
PART 2 OF LOOSEN UP!
author’s note ― .ﾟ ˖ if you haven't read part one, please do so before reading this! also i am a firm believer in art giving you aftercare after sex, no matter where it is in case you couldn't tell ;) i kinda rushed the ending sorry i just wanted to get it out in time :/ hope you enjoy!
publishing date ― .ﾟ ˖ may 17th, 2024 | © HEARTSHAPEDMISERY
A breathy groan escaped your lips as your racket smacked the tennis ball across the net, your final attempt at winning points in the match. You intensively watched your opponent—some hot-shot blonde from North Carolina—as she darted to hit the ball back to you. Your breath hitched as you saw her ankle roll from the impact, making her legs give out beneath her and ultimately miss the ball.
The air was knocked out of your lungs as the ball bounced out of the court. The game was yours.
"Game, (L/N)," the announcer sounds over the PA system, cheers erupting from the stands. Your eyes searched for Art, before seeing him standing on the sideline clapping his hands proudly with a smile.
Ever since his visit to your apartment, the two of you had been inseparable. Your preceding professional relationship had blossomed into a personal one within the blink of an eye, and your once light-hearted repartee had become rather flirty and intense.
He couldn't seem to keep his hands off of you, and you couldn't seem to ignore how much you loved it. Whether it be at his place, in the locker rooms, or even on the fucking tennis court (it was late at night and dark, and of course, art had been adamant to make sure everyone had gone home before he proposed the idea.)
You were addicted to each other. Drunk on each other's touch, and you never wanted to get sober.
"You did great out there. Congratulations," his lush voice cuts into the sporadic ringing in your ears when you finally make your way over to him, your chest still buzzing after your win as the two of you walk off the court.
Your heart was beating out of your chest, and not just because Art's hand didn't leave the small of your back until you were out of everyone's view and walked down the somewhat empty hallway of the athletic center.
"You think so?" you pondered lightly, still trying to catch your breath as you caught his eye. You recognized the look on his face; it was one you had grown to know all too well. The way his lips parted slightly, and his eyes seemed to darken as they drank in your elated state.
It was a look of lust.
"Oh, I know so," he corrected you, his voice low. His arm snaked around your waist as the two of you came to a stop outside the women's bathroom, your chest flush against his as he pulled you into him.
"I couldn't take my eyes off of you," he admitted. "The way you lose yourself when you're out on that court, it's mesmerizing."
His gaze trailed from your face to your chest to your ass, drinking in your appearance. He had always loved the skirt you had decided to wear for today's match; just a simple, white tennis skirt that seemed to be just a little bit shorter than the rest and hugged you in all the right places.
"Oh yeah?" you tested, a small smirk tugging at your lips. A giggle escaped your lips as his hand ran down your hip before settling on your ass, giving it a good squeeze as he leaned into you.
"Yeah," he whispered against your lips, before pulling you in for a hungry kiss by the back of your neck with his free hand. You let out an excited moan from the back of your throat the second you felt his tongue slip into your mouth, completely enveloping himself in you.
"Fuck, you're killing me, sweetheart," he muttered to you once he finally pulled away, grasping your arm and pulling you into the women's bathroom behind him. Thankfully, there was nobody in there, or else it would've made for a very awkward conversation.
"You wanna do this now? Here?" you ask unsteadily as the two of you stumble over to the sink, looking around at the highly impractical place he had chosen to hook up with you.
"You did so well today," he told you sweetly. "You deserve a reward, baby."
The spot between your legs dampened at his words, your thighs rubbing together as he pushed you up against the sink with his hips, searching for any sort of relief.
"Yeah?" your worries washed away. You decided to have a little fun with this.
"You wanna be my trophy, baby?" you played lightly, running your hands through his hair. A slight gasp escaped your throat as you felt his erection press against your thigh, a dazed grin on his face.
"Always," he growled in your ear, his nose nuzzling the soft skin of your neck as he left sloppy open-mouthed kisses along the side of your jaw.
Carefully, his hands ran up and under the hem of your skirt, caressing the softness of your thighs before he hooked his fingers on your panties and tugged them down in one swift movement. A smirk cracked across his face as he tucked them into the back pocket of his shorts, the pale lace hanging out messily.
A surge of excitement ran through your veins as your eyes fell on the unlocked bathroom door. Anyone could walk in on the two of you and see just how well your tennis coach really treats you.
The mere thought itself drove you wild.
Quickly, he set you up on the sink and nudged your knees apart, giving him the perfect view of your soaked core as he sunk to his knees to be level with your lower half.
His eyes poured into yours as he pulled your legs over his shoulders, grasping your thighs firmly to keep them in place. The mere sight of him before you made a shaky whimper blow past your lips, your fingers moving to brush the stray strands of hair that hung over his light eyes.
"So, so pretty," you whispered, his eyes fluttering shut as his lips met your soft skin.
He pressed wet kisses along the inside of your thighs, slowly making his way to where he wanted you most. You shuddered deeply when you felt his tongue finally lay flat against your wet core, his nose budding against your clit as he delved into you as if you were his last meal.
"Oh my g-god," you whined, digging your heel into the muscle of his back, his grip on your thigh tight enough to leave a mark. He held you in place as you squirmed around at his touch. You simply couldn't keep still as his lips sucked at your wetness, his tongue lapping at you mercilessly.
A groan reverberated in his chest when your legs tightened around his head, your ankles interlocking and pulling him closer to you.
"Please," you whimpered, the vibrations of his low moans stimulating your core. Your eyes peered down as his hand moved to the crotch of his shorts, palming the erection he had gotten from the sweet taste of you.
It no doubt sent you over the edge, a moan falling from your lips as you watched him pleasure himself. You couldn't take it anymore; you needed to feel him.
"Art," you breathed, pulling him away from your core. His head lulled back lazily, his pretty eyes meeting yours as a dazed smirk bloomed across his lips. His chin was glistening with your slick. "Please fuck me."
He didn't hesitate to stand to his feet, his lips smashing against yours exasperatingly. Despite how much he loved pleasuring you with his tongue, you didn't need to tell him twice.
You could taste yourself on his tongue as he slipped it into your mouth, moaning against your lips. His behavior was obsessive, grabbing you by your waist and pulling you as close to him as possible as his clothed hard-on rutted against your bare core.
"See you what you do to me?" he whispered to you with a sigh, bringing your hand to the front of his shorts to feel him. You couldn't help but moan, taking it upon yourself to dip your fingers into his waistband and grasping him.
"It's a good thing I know how to control myself when you're the court," he laughed lightly. "Otherwise we'd have a real problem."
You nodded as you gently pumped him, excited at the thought of Art getting a boner while he watched you play. "Yeah? Do you like watching me play, Coach?"
He groaned into your neck at the nickname as you continued to jack him off, his balls stiff and his tip reddened. You were being such a tease and he hated it.
"I like watching you win," he suddenly pulled you off the counter and spun you around, bending your body over the sink.
"And you're a winner, right baby?" lips brushed against your ear as he caged you between his body and the counter. You could feel his dick pressed against your ass, eager to feel you.
"Yes," you whined, white-knuckling the counter as you could feel him moving around behind you, running his tip along your wet slit.
"Yes, what?" he was having fun with you now.
"Yes, Coach," you groaned, meeting his gaze in the mirror. His eyes were dark, and you could've sworn you saw a mischievous smirk flash across his face before he pushed himself into you swiftly.
His hips stuttered at the sound of the moan that fell from your lips, his grip on your hips tightening mercilessly.
You whimpered pathetically as he bottomed out inside of you, his pelvis bone flushed with the round of your ass. You stretched around him sweetly, watching his face contort in the mirror with pleasure.
"God, you're so tight," he breathed out, but his tone was almost desperate. His hips slowly began to move, which you were thankful for. The sweet burn of his cock sliding in and out of you was something you had only dreamed of, especially after the night at your apartment.
His free hand moved from its spot on your hip and reached around you to squeeze your right breast, his large and veiny hand cupping it perfectly. You couldn't help but moan at the dense feeling as it heightened your pleasure, your core clenching around him subconsciously.
"Feels so good," you mumbled as his hand moved from your chest to your hair, his slender fingers combing through it before giving it a harsh tug, the force pulling your back to his chest roughly.
"That's it, baby," he groaned in your ear, not letting up on his rhythmic thrusts up into you. "You can take it."
He watched you through the mirror as your eyes rolled back, his grip on your hair still tight enough to hold you in place against his chest. He took the opportunity to attack your neck with kisses, trailing from the spot right beneath your jaw down to your exposed collarbone.
His lips sent you into a frenzy, the sensation making the familiar coil in your stomach tighten as it mixed with the pleasure between your legs. You wouldn't last much longer at this rate, and Art could feel you coming undone with each thrust.
"Gonna come for me, baby?" he cooed gently to you as he met your gaze, holding it intensely as you nodded lazily. He wasn't far off either, so he quickened his pace to bring the both of you to your climaxes.
"So good," was all you were able to say, the words tumbling out of your mouth in a chant as he panted behind you from his relentless momentum.
Before you knew it, warmth spread throughout your lower belly as he pulled your orgasm out of you with a helpless cry, your head lulling back against his chest as your muscles tensed. An unsteady groan ripped from his chest as he sighed into your hair, his eye screwing shut as his release washed over him as well.
A string of incoherent pleas fell from your mouths simultaneously, the both of you in utter awe of one another. It took a moment for both of you to come back down from your highs, speechless from what had just unexpectedly unfolded in the women's bathroom.
Art helped you look presentable again after he tucked himself away, moving the stray hairs from your face and slipping your underwear back up your smooth legs for you. You watched him with a smile, elated at the way his hands lingered on your hips as he flattened your skirt down.
"Good as new, sweetheart," he placed a kiss to your temple as the two of you moved to walk out the door until it swung open.
You were met with a disgruntled old lady as the two of you stood awkwardly in the middle of the bathroom, unsure of what to say.
Oh shit, you thought. You would guess Art was thinking the same thing based on the deer-in-headlights look that he had on his face.
"Excuse me," she brushed past the both of you with a confused look, before disappearing into one of the stalls. She wanted no business with whatever she had just walked in on.
You looked at Art, finding it hard to hold back the laugh that bubbled up from your chest.
"Let's get out of here before we traumatize more little old ladies..."
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dumb young love
1.9k words, summary: when art leaves you in the dust for tashi, a part of you breaks. after an argument art realizes how desperately in love he is with you.
request from @fangirlinc :)
you had gone and done the one thing everyone had warned you not to do. you had fallen in love with your best friend. i mean how could you not? he was handsome, charming, talented, funny, everything you could want in a man and more. you both had such bright futures ahead of you and just loved being in each others company. which is why you never felt the need to profess your love to him. but lately you've been rethinking this choice.
you obviously knew how close art and patrick were, i mean you guys all practically grew up with each other. this dynamic never really bothered you, why would it? that all changed once tashi came into the picture.
you had been there, at the match where it all started. you had come to support them like you always had, but within those few days something had shifted and you had no idea why. suddenly the boys were ditching you to go to a party you didn't even know they cared about.
they had come back to you the next day, raving about how amazing tashi was and the night they spent together. you noticed a glint in art’s eye that wasn't there before, and you tried your hardest to suppress the jealousy you were feeling.
that day, when patrick won the match, you couldn't help but feel relieved that art would remain yours just for a little longer. what you didn't realize is that art didnt care if patrick was with tashi, because he was still head over heels for her.
“hey are we gonna have dinner tonight?” you ask, throwing another tennis ball over the net.
“yeah, just gotta get back to my room and shower” art replies, hitting back the ball with a distraught look on his face.
“is it tashi?” you sigh.
“what? no-no. i'm just stressed about my next match” he replies, walking over to the bench.
“you're art donaldson. you’re never stressed about a match. c'mon just tell me” you say as you walk over to him.
“its just. patrick called and all he can fucking talk about is how amazing tashi is. and then i walk around campus and all i hear is how amazing tashi is. no matter what i do i can’t escape her.” he confesses, putting his head in his hands.
“i can’t imagine you ever wanting to escape her” you reply, letting out a forced laugh.
“what?”
“cmon art, from the day you lost that match it’s like your entire world changed or something. i mean all of a sudden your whole life revolves around this girl” you scoff.
“y/n i really don’t need this shit from you, i’ll see you later” he scoffs, picking up his bag and leaving the court.
“art!” you call out, only for him to leave you there alone.
standing there you think back to when everything was fine. how art would link his pinky with yours as you walked. the way he would call you everyday when he had to travel for matches. the nights you spent in his dorm trying to cram week's worth of studying into one night. the way he would so effortlessly plant kisses to your forehead. the moments you thought he might actually be in love with you. but now all you had were those memories.
before you knew it, all art was doing was hanging out and helping tashi train. he had been your training partner first, so it hurt like hell to be left in the dust. you decided to try and let it go and focus on winning your matches. your most important match was coming up and you couldn't let your silly love life get in the way. the one person you had always dreamed of being coached by was going to be at your match. so you knew you had to train like crazy to get to work with them.
a part of you was hoping maybe art would see how amazing your match would be, and finally start paying attention to you again. but you knew you were holding onto false hope.
the day of your match had finally come, and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t scared. this was such an important moment for your career and you couldn't shake those nerves. but you knew seeing art up in the stands would give you the boost of confidence you needed.
the first set was about to start and you still didn’t see art in the stands. you felt your heart skip a beat at the thought that he might not show up. he would never do that to you. right?
the first set had started and for a moment, the world around you started to fade. you may have hated tashi, but man was she right about tennis. you were performing flawlessly and you knew all the hard work was finally going to pay off.
after winning your first set, you go back to your seat, taking a breather and still scanning the crowd for art. he was still nowhere to be found and you could feel your sadness turning into anger. deciding to use that as fuel, you prepare yourself for your next set. the rest of the game goes flawlessly and you know this is the best you have ever played.
hitting the winning point, you stand in shock as cheers come from the stands. thanking your opponent you can’t seem to wipe the smile off your face. that is until you spot art in the stands. you could feel all the anger and resentment you suppressed fighting to be released. this had been your best game yet, and there art was, to ruin it.
packing up your bag, you felt a presence behind you. all spectators and coaches were long gone so you knew exactly who was behind you. turning around to face art, you push past him not wanting to hear a word he has to say.
“y/n please i-” art calls out, quickly catching up with you.
“you what art?!” you yell, turning around to face him.
“you forgot? you had homework? you lost track of time? oh better yet, maybe you were with tashi?” you continue, looking up at him. you could feel hot tears threatening to spill from your eyes.
he stays silent and thats all the answer you need.
“oh my god you were” you whisper, stepping back from him.
“please just let me explain” art pleads, a look of desperation you’d never seen before.
“today was the most important day to me. and i really thought that as my best friend you would at least care a little more. but i know where your priorities lay. and i'm done fighting for a spot i’ll never get” you say as tears quickly spill onto your cheeks.
art’s hand reaches up to brush away your tears, but you step back.
“stay the fuck away from me art” you choke out, quickly walking back to your room.
the next few days were hell. spending each day crying in your bed, you had lost not only the love of your life but your best friend. you had gotten a call offering to be coached by someone you could only ever dream of working with. you should’ve felt happy, ecstatic even, but the last conversation you had with art was still ringing through your head. he had called you far too many times and texted you even more. but you had ignored every single one. the first day he came knocking on your door, but gave up after an hour of waiting. the apology flowers he had sent you sat on your desk. you had no idea what you were going to do. until, you got a text from patrick.
patrick
hi love, art told me about what happened im sorry.
y/n
hi, you don’t have to apologize for him being stupid
patrick
do you want to hang out today? try to get your mind off of him
y/n
actually i would love to
patrick
meet me outside at 2
getting ready to see patrick was a highlight from these past few days. while you were enjoying your sulking you knew you had to get out at some point. going out to the courtyard, you see patrick sitting on a picnic blanket. your favorite foods and snacks were neatly laid next to him. you felt yourself genuinely smiling for the first time in a really long time. you spent the next hour eating your favorite meal and laughing at stupid shit with patrick. although your heart still hurt, you could feel your spirits rising.
“thank you for this patrick, it’s all so lovely” you smile.
“of course i’ll always be here for you” he gleams, pushing away the hair around your face and leaning in to kiss your forehead.
“what the fuck?!”
you would recognize that voice anywhere.
“art what are you doing here?” patrick stands up to face him.
“oh i dont know maybe i go to school here? what the fuck are you doing here patrick?!” he replies, getting closer to patrick.
“seriously y/n? you run off to patrick?” he questions, obviously distraught but you can't seem to place why.
“hey you don’t get to blame her for this” patrick replies.
“oh fuck off patrick would you let her speak”
grabbing arts hand, you quickly lead him away from the public spectacle this was all becoming.
“what the hell is wrong with you art?” you yell, shutting your room door.
“i mean, you completely forgot about me for some other girl and now you're mad at me? none of this makes sense, you broke my heart. you don't get to be angry.” you continue, feeling tears brim your eyes.
he paces for a second, running his hands through the curls you missed so much.
“im in love with you” he stops, looking down at you.
it felt like you were dreaming, like you were imagining the words that just came out of his mouth.
“i always have been. i've just been so stupid about it. when tashi came around i threw myself at her because i thought there was no way you would ever feel that way towards me. and i know i fucked up by doing that, i really really fucked up. but when i picture my life i see you, i've only ever seen you. and seeing you with patrick, i was scared i lost you. i'm sorry y/n, i really am. i would do anything to take it back.” he confesses.
“you’re so stupid!” you yell, pushing his shoulders.
“ive been in love with you for like, forever!” you look up at him, confused as to how he never realized.
“really?” he asks, pure shock all over his face.
“yes! i thought it was obvious” you frown.
before you knew it he was holding your face in his hands, planting a kiss on your lips. in that moment everything felt right, like the stars had aligned.
“y’know i'm still mad at you” you look up at him, placing your hands over his.
“trust me, i will do everything to make it up to you. i'm just glad you're finally mine” he couldn’t seem to wipe the smile off his face as he kissed you again.
#mike faist#mike faist x reader#art donaldson x reader#art donaldson x you#art donaldson#challengers
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♡‧₊˚ ꒰ FEATURING ꒱ virgin!atsumu
♡‧₊˚ ꒰ CONTENTS ꒱ : MDNI !! virginity loss, unprotected sex, overstimulation, tsumu and reader fuck each other dumb oops
check out the others here !
"what did ya do to me?” atsumu gasps out, resting his forehead onto yours before he starts moving again.
he can’t help erratically rutting into you, feeling your slick walls coat his cock, driving him further into insanity. the constant pulses your cunt emitted pulls him in a haze, fucking his cum further into you. the way you squeeze him so tightly was going straight to his head, clouding his vision until all he could feel was you.
he never knew it could feel this good. it honestly felt better than any win on the court, higher than any high he’s ever had. something was coursing through his veins, egging him on to push himself as deep as he could into your warm, welcoming cunt.
once you showed him where the clit was, it was game over. he had surprised you, he was a natural. but then again, he was always good at striving to be the best.
and you were being so good for him, laying there and taking it, guiding him with your legs wrapped around his waist. but what else would he expect from his cute manager. the one who had welcomed him to the team with a sweet smile and constant reassurance. he didn’t realize he had gotten any special treatment from you until bokuto commented on it. that’s when he knew you might’ve liked him. and that’s when he decided to make his clumsy move.
it doesn’t matter how many times you’ve cum or how he had already cum, he couldn’t stop even if he wanted to. he kept spilling into you while simultaneously spilling out all the feelings he’s kept locked inside. it was like a dam breaking, once it started it couldn’t stop.
“cant believe i’m the one that gets to fuck ya.” he moans in your ear, hips stuttering against you before finding his pace again. the room was filled with the sound of your bodies slapping together, his balls feverishly clapping against your ass.
he knew he sounded whiny — but he didn’t care. not when every fiber of his being was on fire, the amount of pleasure was overwhelming. the overstimulation was starting to bite at him but there was no way he could stop, even if he wanted to. absolutely addicted to the way your body melded with his.
“shit-” you gasp out, clawing more into his back. the sensation of you drawing small scratches into him brought him back down to reality for a moment, letting out a deep groan.
his eyes quickly found yours as he tried to assess if you were feeling as good as he was feeling. but judging by the way those breathy moans and whimpers of his name were flowing out of your mouth, he hoped he was doing a good job. but he needed you to say it.
“does it feel good? when i fuck ya like this?” he pants, leaving open mouth kisses along your throat. his words were laced with insecurity despite his cocky question, absolutely desperate to know the answer.
“feels so good ‘tsumu.” your words slur together. the nickname caught him off guard and pride swells in his chest, driving him to drive into you harder, grabbing your legs and throwing them over his shoulders. the new position angled him deeper, and he knew he was a goner.
“fuck m’gonna cum again.” he panted out, driven by the need to fill you up more. he felt himself getting tired but he didn’t want to stop, not when you were babbling out for him. breathing wasn’t the priority right now, you were. tears pricked along his last line as his hips stuttered into you, trying to push himself all the way past your wall and lodge himself into your heart.
everything with blank for a moment, white filling his vision as he came in spurts, practically moaning out your name as he emptied himself into you. the way your walls were fluttering around him prolonged his orgasm and he could barely hold on, roughly gripping onto your waist as his lifeline.
but he wasn’t done.
after cumming twice already, overstimulation was ripping into him, the pain shooting directly into his tip. but the pleasure easily outweighed it. especially with the way your slick walls were clinging onto his cock, almost as desperate for him as he was for you. he knew he had another one left in him.
the two of you were drenched in sweat and who knows what else. but he had never seen you look more beautiful as you laid under him, pulling at him for more. his cock twitched at the sight, and he was more than ready to deliver what you both craved.
#⁺. ʚ now streaming:#ᥫ᭡ : cherry chaser chronicles#miya atsumu x reader#miya atsumu#atsumu x reader#atsumu smut#miya atsumu smut#haikyuu x reader#hq x reader#hq smut#haikyuu smut
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How would Benedict Bridgerton court you... HCS
Masterlist
You both first crossed glances at a ball, you were not a debutant, just passing around, just like his sister Eloise, you weren't much interested on claiming attention, but you catched his.
His first thought when he saw you in the back of the salon, tapping your feet to the rythm of the song while looking at a big painting was that he needed to paint you.
He spent the rest of the night, admiring you from the distance, until you both almost bumped into each other.
Inmediatly he took the chance and asked you to dance.
It was the funniest night you both had, cause after the dance, you talked about art, and drinked, and danced again, all night until your mother decided it was time to leave.
After that night, you didn't heard from him in a couple of weeks, you almost thought he forgot about you.
The thing was that he was collecting information about you, everything he could find that he knew you would like.
Then a bouquet of your favourite flowers came to your door, signed by the name of "Your artist", you knew it was him, but he surely wants to be romantic so you let him be.
A couple of days later, your favourite crystals, and then gems, and fabrics, and art supplies.
With this routine of secretism, a couple of months passed by with his gifts demostrating that he knows you.
You saw each other a couple more times during balls and dances, until you decided to approach him again.
"Why do you sent me notes but not talk to me?"
"I want you to see that i can know you better than anyone, plus i want you to be as crazy in love for me as i am for you."
A smile escaped both of your lips, suddently you had an idea.
You dropped your fan carefully and he inmediatly get down to pick it up.
"So... that's how you like to play then." he told you with a smirk.
"You said you wanted me to get crazy about you, who says i can't play that game too?"
"Then we both must play."
The once innocent game of knowing each other turned into a rollercoaster of temptation.
Small touches while dancing, innapropiate comments while talking in public, purposely moving to the corner of the room to have more privacy with your not so discreet behaviour.
(I firmly believe that Benedict is a switch with a very brat behaviour, so picture that)
Until your mother decided that you were going to marry a noble.
Thats when the game stopped and started to get serious.
Benedict distanced himself from you and you got so sad from the lonelyness that awaited your future that you wouldn't leave your room.
Your mother didn't let you alone in any social act, that means that you can't talk to him... ike that could make a change.
One week until the wedding and everything feels bad when suddently you received a bouquet of your favourite flowers with a note.
"I will not cut you like this flowers, but i will keep you to myself no matter how, with love Your Artist.
You almost broke in tears right there, your mother entered the room with your future husband to finish some business.
They didn't even care to ask you what happened, the just talked about your future like nothing.
One of the servants announced Benedict and everyone on the room turned around.
"I am here to propose."
"Too late, she is my fiancee." you couldn't believe what was happening.
"I double the endowment, my mother and brother approved it."
You know your mother will marry you to the best match she could find, which means the one who could provide more money.
After verifying everything was right, your mother inmediatly sent out your now ex-fiancee and welcomed with open arms your new husband.
"How?" you asked him, still processing.
"I intended to send you that flowers yesterday, i don't know why they got today." he sounded more concerned about his time planning that your tear, "Oh, you mean all the other things, sorry for ignoring you, once you got engaged my family forced me to separate myself to not staint your virtue... so i was convincing them to let me marry you."
"I..." you kissed him on the lips with passion, with all the emotions you've been keeping inside.
"I think we should wait to the weeding night, in a week." your eyes opened surprised while he justs smirks, "I didn't want any longer to kall you mine, so i managed to get a wedding licency too."
"I love you."
"I know, and i love you too."
#the bridgertons#the bridgertons x reader#the bridgertons x you#the bridgertons imagine#the bridgertons headcanons#benedict bridgerton x reader#benedict bridgerton imagine#benedict bridgerton#benedict bridgerton x you#benedict bridgerton headcanons#bridgerton x reader#bridgerton imagine#bridgerton#bridgerton x you
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summary: y/n finds herself caught in a web of as she develops unexpected feelings for her brother's best friend once she comes back from uni for summer break. initial hesitation, the undeniable connection between them pulls her closer, leading to a forbidden romance that tests loyalties and boundaries.
parring: fuckboy!jk x richgirloc
warnings: jk has some anger issues.., they play tennis alott brother best friend trope, y/n brother is taehyung, situationship, secret relationship kinda?, jungkook used to fw y/ns bestie OOP, thier all rich asf smut. angst drug use. and many more to come in other chapters
“Y/n! Taehyung!” their mother said hugging them both. “it’s been so long i miss my kiddos!”
They unloaded the car quickly, and as soon as they were done, y/n picked up her suitcase and book bag and headed straight for her old bedroom.
It had calico wallpaper and a white bedroom set and not to mention it was huge. she went over to her night stand and saw a white framed picture of her as a middle schooler and she quickly put it in the drawer “ew”
Y/ns mom knocks on her door “get dressed Taehyung is inviting his friends over for dinner
Y/n groans knowing his douche friends are coming over.
“Wear something nice!” Y/n mother said leaving her be in her room. Y/n flops on her bed and sighs heavily falling to sleep from the long airplane trip.
Y/n decided to wear a black crop top and light washed blue baggy jeans with black and white converse. She went downstairs of her almost mansion and saw his friends. She already knew them but there was a new member?
He had fluffy black hair, black shirt and jorts with black sambas and tattoos going down his arm with sliver chrome hearts bracelet and a lip piercing. Holy fuck.
Y/n sneaked up back upstairs to her room and added mascara and concealer. Then went back downstairs and sat down at the neatly seat dinner table
“You have a nice home Mrs. L/n” jimin said stuffing his face with the salad. “Aw thank you sweetheart!” Her mom responded, Y/n almost cringed by her mom acting fake and nice
“Y/n can you hand me the bread please?” Taehyung butted in. She reached over and handed it to him
“So.. jungkook? Is that your name?” Jungkook nodded knowing he’s about to be questioned
“You have a lot of tattoos wow.. what did your parents say?” Y/n mom says
“Mom stop” Taehyung whispers to her
“It’s fine my parents didn’t really care about them and I like them a lot so”
Y/ns mom hummed
“And what about you y/n how’s school going? I mean they’ve been calling me alot so”
She shrugged playing with her food. This is the worst thing ever for y/n
After dinner y/n took a shower and changed into a hoodie and shorts and laid on her bed watching tiktok trying to keep her mind off that hottie. She went quickly to Instagram to find him but was quickly interrupted.
Taehyung barged in her room “yo wanna play tennis”
“Sure”
Y/n got up and put her phone on the charger and put on her tennis shoes and grabbed her racket from her closet .They both walked to the tennis court and grabbed the tennis ball
“Ready?” Taehyung yelled out
Y/n hit the ball.
“I’m gonna get a drink of water” y/n called out dropping her racket and walking out of the court and went to the clubhouse and there he was standing there with a blunt in his hand
“Oh shit” jungkook said throwing it away quickly
“I don’t care about that” y/n said filling up her water bottle”
“Wait I think i remember you” jungkook said looking at her intensely “oh shit it’s you! Weren’t you friends with what’s her name.. oh yea Elise. God she was a bitch, no offense”
“What?” Y/n said confused totally of what he just said
“Elise your friend? We dated for like a month or some shit senior year in high school
“I don’t know. I mean she’s my friend but she never told me about you
“Such a bitch..” he said looking up and getting flashbacks
“Shes coming to see me this week I think”
“Eh I don’t care I have no feelings for her anymore as long if I don’t see her dumb face”
Y/n laughed at that “when did u become friends with taehyung?”
“Like this year I was his plug then we just became friends I guess
“Taehyung smokes?”
“No edibles big baby”
Y/ns mouth formed a “o”
“Do you smoke?
“Um.. no I play tennis for my school”
“Boring. Anyway it was nice talking to you.. are u gonna get that”
Y/n looked to see her water bottle was overfilling “Oh thanks”
He walked past her and walked out of her sight. Y/n smiled to herself walking back to the court. “The fuck were you doing?” Taehyung called out
“Nothing? I said I was filling up my water bottle”
“Sureeee”
a/n: hope yall enjoyed this one pls give me feedback this is like my first story ever and this is inspired by euphoria and challengers the movie!
#jungkook#jungkook smut#jungkook fanfic#jungkook fic recs#jungkook fluff#taehyung#bts fanfic#bts ff#jeon jungkoooook
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HELD BY YOU, FELLED BY YOU ┊ TODOROKI SHOUTO
tags: GN reader, developing relationship, physical affection, touch starved shouto, loneliness, hugs + hand holding, fluff, only a little angst, obliviousness, pro hero shouto, reader works at hero agency
wc: 1.4K
series masterlist: 1/5
It is 4:03pm on a Thursday afternoon. The skies are grey, and the rain is so light it’s practically a wet fog. You have not touched Shouto in any meaningful way since Monday.
Before this week Shouto was certain that he must have been absorbed into a long-standing state of neutrality and apathy as a child. He didn’t long for anything, atleast, not in the way his friends claimed to. Whiny professions of loneliness, lamenting over romantic relationships and sex or lack thereof, dreamily recounting their passionate escapades. It didn’t appeal much to him.
Shouto had what he needed to survive—to live his day to day and climb the ranks without disruption, and it seemed that affection was not one of those things. The Todoroki household had never been particularly affectionate anyway. After his mother was admitted to the psychiatric hospital touch became less associated with comfort and happiness, and more of a thing to avoid altogether.
Shouto never actually voiced an aversion to touch. He held hands with crying children as he walked them back to their parents. He rubbed the backs of countless scared victims, he let them wrap around his arm and squeeze until his fingers grew numb. He offered his left side to elderly folk in the colder weather as they waited to be loaded into an ambulance.
But these small instances were always initiated by him, and his well-meaning friends decided to leave the ball in his court sometime during highschool. It never really left.
Until—
“Can I hug you?” you blurted. Your expression quickly twisted into a sheepish grimace. “You look like you could do with one, is all”.
At that moment Shouto had been sitting in the infirmary half covered in soot and picking out the bits of rubble that managed to get inside his suit’s ventilator. He stared up at you and wondered what that would even look like on himself, lifting a hand to feel his face and finding it relatively normal.
The sound of his heart flooded his ears and he frowned at the reaction. You weren’t a new friend by any means, but Shouto scarcely made new friends so you are newer than the others. You’ve never tried to be physically affectionate but he’s caught you gazing at him fondly sometimes, when you think he’s none the wiser, and he likes it.
Shouto nodded. Why, he doesn’t know. To quell your anxiety and get rid of the awkward atmosphere, he reasoned. Then your lips pulled into a soft, pleased smile, and he felt it like the sun on his face.
You stepped forward as though approaching some skittish animal. Shouto made no move to stand. He had only watched with trepidation as your hands lifted. A breath caught in his throat as they extended to rest on his sloped shoulders. “I’ll get you dirty,” he murmured dumbly in afterthought.
“That’s okay,” you replied, barely above a whisper. Your arms slipped around his back gently, and soon tightened to a secure hold when no objection came—there could be none, because the instant Shouto’s cheek pressed against your soft stomach, a rush of adrenaline speared through him and swept away all conscious thought.
To Shouto touch was like skipping a rock through the cavity in his chest; doing it only ever made its presence more obvious. But you cradled him there for what seemed like hours and he felt warm in ways he couldn’t articulate. Your fingers danced aimless patterns along the top of his spine, sometimes pausing to curl the wispy hair at his nape around them, and he sank.
True to his word, Shouto had dirtied your clothes. He apologised when you pulled away because it was all he could do not to whimper. You didn’t spare your shirt a glance—you just smiled at him again, and said you hoped it helped.
Helped? Helped?
The weight of your embrace had lingered for hours, cloven to the forefront of his mind, clinging to the memory before it became too obscure. Only now the memory hurt him to think about, and the pervasive ache for more intensified as the days passed.
Just this morning he’d wrapped his bedsheets tight and drew them around his shoulders to simulate that same feeling. Closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, picturing you there. Your sweet, purposeful touches. Your comforting scent. Your chest rising and falling. Your voice rumbling against his cheek. Heat filled his body, like you’d reached inside and turned the spigot of his heart.
It was mortifying. And exhilarating.
Shouto stuck his hand out from the shelter of the awning and let the rain lick at his fingers. Overturning his wrist, catching them on the shallow of his palm, he contemplates how he can get you to touch him again.
Last time you said he simply looked like he needed it. Too frustrating and vague, not to mention Shouto has been needing it all week. You could have meant his grimy post-battle appearance, but he didn’t really think this should warrant being thrown from another high rise building. Maybe he has to earn it this time.
You’re standing beside him, too preoccupied by the emails on your phone to notice his dilemma. Things have been fine. No awkwardness on your part, which he should probably be pleased about, but his mind keeps veering beyond rational conjecture. Nothing had changed. Everything had changed. It all felt too one sided.
Shouto gives you a sidelong glance. You might be the only person he knows that can look alluring in the dreary afternoon light. With a sigh he lets his hand drop to his hip and wipes it on his dry suit.
Your thumbs move fast across the screen. “Sorry, Shouto. I promise I’m not ignoring you—just need to reply to this intern,” you tell him. “God, have I ever mentioned how much I hate the email software your agency uses? Because I do”.
He hums, “You have”.
Whatever you hear in his voice has you looking up. There’s a crease etched in your brow, expression open and apologetic. Your gaze flickers to the hand held to his front, where he’s working out the static in his knuckles.
“Are you cold?” you ask, pocketing your phone. It’s a silly question. He is a walking furnace. But Shouto is statuesque as you reach to cup his distinctly bigger hand with your own. Heat prickles under his skin. The staccato of his heart kicks up. You lean down to exhale a warm breath over his fingers, and stroke your thumb along the dips and peaks of his knuckles.
Shouto sends a mental apology to Kaminari for the halfhearted response he gave after a long, lovestruck monologue about his girlfriend’s hands. He thinks he gets it, now.
Your lips curl into a satisfied smile. “Better?” you scan his face and the smile falters. “Shit. Sorry, Shouto. I should’ve asked,” then you’re retreating again and—
He reflexively grabs your wrist. It’s a loose grip, enough for you to free yourself from. You pause. “No,” a puff of steam billows out from his mouth and he has enough presence of mind to be embarrassed by it. “…It’s fine. You don’t have to stop”.
Your concern dwindles into amusement as he wafts it away. “Alright,” you say placatingly. The tension alleviates, and when your fingers slip against his you immediately twine them together, taking the ache in his chest with it. “Is this ‘fine’ too?”
Shouto nods, not yet trusting his voice or his quirk.
“I wasn’t sure if I crossed any lines on Monday,” your eyes dipped to stare at the pavement as you continued. “I know you aren’t touchy feely like the others. They were… surprised when I mentioned the hug”.
“I didn’t think I was,” he swallows, flexing his fingers to squeeze your hand. “I liked it”.
You squeeze back, “You did?”
Shouto squeezes harder, and can’t stop the smile coming unbidden to his lips. “I did,” he says.
You meet his gaze. He’s pinned by that fond look you always try to hide from him. “Do you want another one, then?”
“But I didn’t do anything”.
A litany of emotion passes over your face at his response. There’s determination in the purse of your lips as you step into his space, entangled hands caught between your bodies. Wrapping an arm around his waist, you tuck your nose into the hollow where his jaw met his neck.
There’s a clumsiness to his movements as he follows your lead and slips his arm around your back. Head suddenly too heavy for his neck, he rests his cheek on your crown, melting into the embrace.
“You don’t need to earn my affection, Shouto. Not now and not ever”.
“Oh,” Shouto breathes. “I can just ask?”
“You can,” you laugh softly.
Why hadn’t he thought to just—ask. That is far more reasonable than being flung from another burning high rise.
“What?”
Ah. He pulls you further into his chest until you’re pressed together like the pages of a book. “Nothing”.
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Omg your amazing at writing Anthony bridgerton angst. Pls write more😫😫😫💋
You caused this? (Anthony Bridgerton x GN!Reader)
Summary: You are complaining to your dearest friend Anthony about your lack of luck through the seasons but he is terribly silent. His silence brings answers that you never expected from him.
Pronouns: You/Yours
Warnings: Angst
Word Count: 3.4k
A/N: Thank youuu!! Here's more for you my love! (Also for the new thing below this, tagging, you guys can be asked to be tagged in any sort of fics lol!)
Tagging: @etherynn
A stunning afternoon shone on the walking paths families decided to take for eloquent bonding times. Children were laughing, mothers were sending their daughters off to promenade with one another, and the men were keeping watchful eyes out. It was a perfect day for the courting season to bloom in its full beauty and potential.
It was lively around the grassy green parks where people conversated with each other, it was a lovely day.
Two of the people taking advantage of the wondrous day to promenade together were you and Anthony Bridgerton, the most inseparable friends in all of London. The two of you had been great friends ever since you were children, you had been there for him through the easy and the rough patches, and he had done the same for you. Neither of you questioned your roles in the other's life, you just fit together.
Anthony loved you dearly, you knew that. He treated you like his own sibling, sometimes you appreciated it, other times you had to give him a good wack for him to stop scaring the poor guests at parties you attended.
There was no need for that during this moment, no. There were only warm smiles, sweet treats, pleasant conversation, and why was that? It was because it was only the two of you, no one to interrupt, or drag you away.
Anthony walked with you along the path, holding his hand out when he reached the stony steps to the dock. You raised a brow and rolled your eyes, taking his hand with a playfully distasteful look on your face, causing him to chuckle ever so slightly.
You walked down the wooden planks of the dock, noticing how there were no boats out. “I wonder why there are no boats out when it’s such a beautiful day.” You hummed aloud, not really expecting any response to your comment.
Anthony looked around and shrugged, hands behind his back, “Would you care to go out on the water?”
“Oh, heavens no!” You answered a little loudly, a sheepish smile finding itself onto your face as you turned to face him. “I was simply expressing my passing curiosity.”
The Bridgerton shook his head and stood quietly, admiring how the waves rocked with one another. He thought of the water like a ball, each drop with its own partner to create a beautiful array of movement within the water, to create a somehow roaring image of tranquility.
You, on the other hand, adjusted your clothing and sat upon the wooden planks, smoothing out the fabric as you did so. You carefully took off your shoes and set them to the side.
“What are you doing?”
The sudden comment caused you to look up with fluttering eyes, “What does it look like I’m doing?”
Anthony walked a bit to you, looking down, “It looks as if you’re on the brink of putting your feet into the water.”
"A remarkable observation indeed," You responded sarcastically, a playful glint in your eyes. “I shall have to inform your mother that we have discovered you possess the brilliance of a prodigy.” You spoke, removing the last of any clothing surrounding your feet to enter the cold water. Once you made contact, you left out a soft sigh, your hands falling to the wood behind you, leaving you in a relaxed position.
Anthony sucked his teeth at your remark, but no one could mistake his mischievous grin for anything other than delight. “Let us not raise her expectations.” He mumbled to you with a shake of his head, kneeling to take off his own shoes, “She’s already enthusiastic enough about Daphne.”
You hummed, tilting your head over to him, squinting your eyes due to the bright sun. “Pray tell, how is the new Duchess of Hastings?”
The man rolled his neck a bit and sat next to you, dipping his feet into the water. His body blocked the sunlight so you had no need to squint as you gazed upon him, his eyes falling to yours.
He let out a huff with a toothy smile, “She’s gone away with Simon.” Anthony informed you, looking out to the water now. He adjusted the collars of his wrist as he took a deep breath, “She swore she’d write letters so…”
“You’re looking forward to them, do not deny it.” You told him, scrunching your nose as you bumped your shoulder with his.
He chuckled and nodded, “Indeed, I eagerly await her thought filled letters.” He told you before biting the inside of his cheek, his eyes still looking forward, but they were further than ever. “I never imagined I’d miss her presence so much,” He confessed, blinking rapidly, “her ceaseless ramblings about finding her soulmate are over now.” He whispered, clearing his throat, adjusting himself once more, “My little sister is now gone, and I won’t be able to protect her anymore.” His voice with loss, his fingers clasped together as if he was grasping for something.
You placed your head on his shoulder, “She’s still your sister Anthony, she will visit.” You reminded him, placing one of your hands on his thigh.
You felt the man take a sharp inhale of breath before letting it go slowly, “I know…” He nodded against you, placing his head over yours.
There was a moment of silence, the two of you kicking your feet in the water, enjoying the cool splashing against the warmth the sun brought.
You moved your head, looking to the families across the way, “Besides, there are plenty of others for you to protect, people still rely on you.” You reassured him with a supportive smile, remembering his other siblings, specifically his three younger sisters.
Anthony was not thinking the same as you though, he took his hand and placed it over yours, which hadn’t moved from his thigh. “Right, like you.” He smiled, rubbing his thumb along the edge of your hand.
You looked to your lap, laughing a bit, “I require little protection.” You muttered out, playing with a small string on your clothing.
Your friend furrowed his brows and scoffed, “There are dogs out there.”
“I mean, because no one approaches me anymore.” You spoke suddenly, looking at the water solemnly, lips in a frown.
Anthony's smile dropped, and he turned his head to you, “Pardon?”
You scratched your head with a breathy laugh, “No one wishes to marry me.” You said, tone in a light song, but you knew it wasn’t a light hearted moment. It was a harsh truth you never wanted to face, but you had no choice as the season continued on.
The Bridgerton shook his head though, turning himself to you, his leg propped onto the wood, only one foot in the water. “That is not true, many do.” He assured you, but you shook your head in response.
You turned your body to him, feet still in the water, “Then why has no one called for me in weeks?” You asked, shoulders dropping in defeat. “Why has no one proposed?” You asked another unanswerable question as you looked back to the water.
Anthony felt an uncomfortable feeling bubble up in his stomach as you spoke. His blood grew cold, his heart beat faster than ever, his throat felt dry as if all the saliva in his mouth suddenly disappeared. He was suddenly aware of everything around him, all the sounds, the feeling of the wood on his calf, the water rushing around his foot, how hot the sun was.
You didn’t notice his sudden silence, you didn’t notice his expression, you were lost in your own mind. “I just feel as if I’ll never find someone.” You muttered, looking out to the empty body of water, “It’s as if I’m being avoided, and everyone knows to do so.” You continued, feeling pricks from the wood in your fingers. “I wish I knew why I was being avoided, because I swear,” You sighed, “I would change what they don’t like about me.”
Anthony stayed silent but his eyes were filled with a deep sadness, his lips parted slightly, his hands clenching. He could feel his nails embedding themselves into his palms, leaving crescent shaped marks, his palms now red.
You looked back over to him, wiping your eyes that began to water, “I didn’t mean to ramble on…” You trailed off as you caught sight of his expression. “What is it?” You asked, concerned as he had never looked at you so…upset before.
He shook his head, snapping himself out of his thoughts, “Nothing.”
“Anthony, what is it?”
The tone of your voice was heartbreaking to him, you were really worried about him after telling him your concerns. He slowly turned his head to you, almost reluctantly, and looked into your eyes that shine with sunlight. He could see the reflection of the clouds in your eyes, and it made him feel worse than he already did. When he looked into your eyes, he knew he could not lie to you. So he took a shaky breath and whispered out the words, “I’m sorry.”
“For what?” You answered immediately, confused by the sudden change in mood. You wished you had not spoken, perhaps if you kept quiet the two of you would be laughing and splashing each other.
There was silence.
“Anthony, for what?” You persisted, searching his expression for answers.
“I’m so sorry…” He continued to shake his head, gulping down his own breaths as if the world would run out of oxygen just for him. As if he was being tortured and couldn’t breath on his own. His grip on your hand was tighter than it had been, “I was just… I’m so sorry…”
His panic conveyed through his action, through his expression, through his words. You just couldn't understand why he was so anxious, why he was so scared.
Until you realized, he didn’t seem scared over whatever he did, he seemed scared for how you would respond. His eyes kept snapping to you before looking down, he continued to clasp onto your hand, he closed his eyes as if he was silently praying for a better outcome.
Your brows knitted together and your lips pursed, “Sorry?” You repeated his apology, trying to think of what he was so apologetic about.
Suddenly, all of the memories flashed through your mind, quick as ever. The balls, the sitting rooms, the lack of dresses you needed to buy… it was because Anthony had never left your side. You thought he was being supportive, letting you know who would be better than the other for your bright future, but no. He wasn’t helping weed out those who weren’t good for you, he was clearing the field completely, so there was nothing left. No weeds, nor even blossoming flowers that you would’ve loved to pick.
Until there was no one left.
You blinked rapidly as you thought about this, finally making eye contact, “You didn’t.” You breathed out quietly.
You were met with silence and Anthony's sorrowful gaze, already begging for forgiveness.
You tried to remove your hand from his grip, but he wouldn't let up. Once you finally pulled yourself away, you stood quickly, not caring for the water dripping to your clothing from your quick movements.
Your feet were wet, causing a dark spot to form onto the wooden dock. “Anthony, how could you?” You asked, exasperated, hands going to your face as you began to pace.
Anthony scrambled up himself, trying to grasp your hands, but you continuously pulled away, making him face your back. “I just wanted to protect you!”
His words caused you to seethe, protect you? How was he protecting you?
You turned to him, feet stomping once you were face to face with him, “You’re not protecting me!” You yelled, your volume caused him to fall back a bit, unused to your yells. “You’re labeling me as a…” You paused, taking a few small breaths, “bad contender.” You mumbled, clutching your chest, feeling your eyes begin to sting. You began to shake your head as you backed away, “At this rate I will not be married.”
“What is the fault in that?”
“What is-?” You laughed, honestly not believing that this situation was happening. Your hands were up to your head, clutching at your ears, pinching, praying that this wasn’t really happening.
Anthony Bridgerton, the man of the Bridgerton home, the man who almost forced Daphne to marry a man who wanted nothing good for her. Anthony Bridgerton who was to duel a man for his sisters honor. Anthony Bridgerton, the man who took the responsibilities of his father for his family, because he knew how important it was for women to be married in this world.
You stood straight, face contorted in anger, “You are well aware, as I am, that our society revolves around marriage.” You spoke slowly, “My family wishes for me to be married or I will be a disgrace.” You reminded him, tilting your head, mouth opened in another sense of disbelief. “How is it that you now fail to comprehend such a thing?”
Anthony nodded with your words, but it seemed as if he wasn’t hearing you at all, he was being so frustrating. “I merely believe that you should pursue your own desires.”
“You did not consult me on what I desire!” You yelled, drawing the attention of passersby. You looked down, frown on your face as Anthony waved them off with a smile. You looked back to him with a harsh, cold glare, “You acted according to your own desires, but for what purpose?”
He ran a hand through his hair before unbuttoning his vest and taking it off. Anthony felt like he was suffocating, and nothing was helping him breathe properly at the moment. “It’s because I hold deep regards for your well-being.”
You scoffed, “No one who truly cares about the other would do that.”
“I-”
You stopped him, holding up your finger, “No, you would never do this to Daphne.” You told him, causing him to fall silent. You could hear the harsh gulp he took as you continued. “You endeavored to secure a match for her, so why must you subject me to this treatment?…” You trailed off, turning away once again before turning right back to him, “You repelled every potential partner.”
Anthony didn’t make eye contact, he just mumbled out, “I have my reasons.”
“Please, list them.” You ordered, trying to meet his gaze, “For it appears that you do not wish the best for me.”
That sentence brought him out of his thoughts, that sentence made him realize how you didn’t realize the true intentions of his actions. “I care deeply for you!” He spoke a bit loudly, “It is inexplicable, I can not put into words my concern for your future.” He continued to speak, and you were quiet, waiting for any valid reason, because you wanted to forgive him, you did. “I truly believe that none among the ton is truly suitable for you.”
You blinked at him, “No one of the…” You just stared at him, “You…what?”
“Please understand.”
Oh, you understood just fine. You crossed your arms with a raised brow, “No one but you, I assume?”
His eyes widened and he shook his head quickly, “That is not what I mean.” He spoke, breaths quickening as his thoughts swirled through his mind.
“So you harbor no romantic sentiments towards me?”
“If that is what I implied, I apologize.”
You nodded, poking your cheek with your tongue, “Then why do all this?”
You were met with no response, so you continued, walking forward, poking his chest with your finger. “If you do not love me,” You began, “also being you do not wish to court me,” you clarified, tilting your head with a blank expression, “then your actions are malicious.”
Anthony shook his head, cupping your hand in his, “They are not, they are in good health.” He tried to convince you, but you wouldn’t budge.
You pulled your hand from his grasp, “Is the idea of courting me so revolting to you that you must scare off all contenders with your jealousy,” You backed away, hands up, “and leave me as a spinster for the entire court to laugh at?”
“It was not my intention.” Is that all he could say, it was not his intention?
“Then what was your intention?”
He sputtered and babbled out a response, but it was stutters of the beginning of sentences he would never finish. The only thing his pieces of words could convince you of, was that he had no idea why he would do such a thing.
“Was it your intention to prompt me to recognize deeper emotions for you?” You asked him, and he continued to knock his brain for some sort of response that he couldn’t give you. “Well?”
The Bridgerton man put his head down, hands over his face before they went to the back of his neck, “I thought,” He spoke, dropping his hands to his sides, “if we spent more time together as if we were courting-”
“But we are not.” You interrupted with an obvious stare, “You are not courting me, you do not wish to court me Anthony.”
He nodded and clapped, eyes wide with promise as he strode towards you in a sudden burst of excitement. “But perhaps, if we acted as such, we could discover the wisdom in such an action.” He spoke, nodding along with his own words, “It is smart, surely, you see it through my perspective!”
You chuckled because, what else were you supposed to do at the sudden idiocy that escapes a man's mouth? “Anthony, this is not business.”
“I understand that,” He told you confidently, “but, consider the mutual benefits it could offer us.”
You chuckled once more, taking a step back with a shocked smile, “I don’t care if marrying you would take the trouble from my family for thousands of generations, Anthony.” You explained, waving your hands in a large ‘no’ motion. “I would never marry you!” You told him harshly, the words engraved in the air as a promise.
Anthony's eyes dimmed, his breath pausing as his shoulders began to droop, “Why not?”
“For the same reason you will not court me.” You answered, rolling your eyes a bit.
He didn’t understand so he stared at you expectantly, “Which is?”
You couldn’t believe he wasn’t aware of why he wasn’t courting you, why your marriage would never work. Since he couldn’t understand such a simple answer, you stepped forward, staring him into his eyes. His brown eyes looked at you, searching for answers.
You shook your head lightly, “ Anthony, I feel nothing when I look at you.”
Time has stopped completely for Anthony Bridgerton. You spoke the words so easily. He felt everything move so slowly, to the point he didn’t even realize that he stopped breathing. He didn’t stop staring at you until you waved your hand in his face to capture his attention.
“Is that why you think I won’t court you?” He whispered to you, face falling.
You scoffed, again, at how he wasn’t understanding the conversation. “Wake up, Mr. Bridgerton!” You yelled, the first time you’ve ever used the title. “You just tried to propose a business deal with me, knowing that I have a better chance with any man over you.” You explained, hands falling to your sides as you paced across the doc, the man standing still, facing the same direction he was before you moved. “Yet, you still sabotaged any chance for me this season, and I will end up alone due to your selfish actions!” You spoke angrily, nostrils flaring once you finally looked at him again.
His eyes were the only thing that followed you, “I..I don’t…. I wasn’t thinking of-”
“You’re right!” You told him, clapping at his realization. “You were not thinking, which is exactly why you ruined everything for me!” You yelled, voice feeling strained due to the emotions you were currently feeling. “You ruin everything because you do not think.”
Anthony wiped his coming tears, opening his mouth for another apology.
You stopped him immediately, “I am utterly sick of every apology that leaves your mouth, because you do not mean it.” You spoke, not letting him speak any further.
You walked to the steps that separated the dock from the walking paths, “Goodbye Mr. Bridgerton.” were your final words before you left Anthony near the water.
He couldn’t say anything else, his gaze was trapped on the wooden flooring of the dock. What had he done? Why does he feel his heart squeezing every time he takes a deep breath in? Why was everything spinning?
More importantly, why did he do something so stupid, and push you away?
#Anthony bridgerton#anthony bridgerton x reader#bridgerton#bridgerton x reader#bridgerton fanfiction#bridgerton fic#angst#infinite imaginings
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NOT FOR HIM — BENEDICT BRIDGERTON
masterlist
pairing: benedict bridgerton x reader [plus platonic anthony x reader where he’s being a matchmaker/shitstirrer]
description: you may not have been the season’s diamond, but your debut had caused quite the stir in many a man’s heart — your childhood best friend benedict bridgerton included. however, given that the viscount had decided that he would marry this season, benedict cannot see why you would choose him over his brother.
warnings: kinda tiny bit of angst (if you squint) into tooth-rotting fluff !!! tiny bit of suggestive benedict at the very end but it’s not much !
author’s note: this is basically like a reverse to the anthony one i wrote because i have a big ol’ soft spot for benedict too after my latest rewatch. enjoy !!! [edited, but not thoroughly — will be returning to do so asap]
“You look astonishing, Y/N,” Benedict’s eyes were wide when he saw you, “Absolutely astonishing.”
You blushed crimson under the intensity of his gaze, “You don’t look too bad yourself this evening, Lord Bridgerton.”
You never called him that — you’d known him far too long to consistently comply with formalities — but considering that it was one of your very first balls of your very first season, you had to be the picture of manners.
“It is so strange to hear you call me Lord Bridgerton,” Benedict screwed his face up, “Even if it does give me some small hope that you might consider me too as one of your many suitors.”
You shook your head gently with a laugh, “Oh, Benedict, as if you would wish to court me.”
Before he had a chance to retaliate with stern disagreement at your idea that it was such a preposterous notion, your eyes snapped up to see his brother entering the ballroom.
“Ah,” you grinned, noticing that he had spotted you both immediately and was on his way over to you, “It appears your brother has finally arrived!”
You didn’t look at Benedict for long enough to see the frown on his face at your apparent excitement.
For years, everyone around you had speculated about the closeness of your relationship with Benedict.
Granted, you were close with the whole family, but the tenderness with which Benedict treated you had always teetered on blatant romance even if neither of you had seen it before.
Of course he was aware of it now — he’d realised he was in love with you long ago as silly young teenagers, and now that you were finally out in society (emphasis on finally, as you had delayed doing so as much as possible) he had hoped to make that clear.
But of course your eyes were fixed on his brother, the Viscount, who had finally decided he wished to marry and therefore seemingly snatched all of your attention away from him.
“Good evening, my lord,” you curtsied, and Anthony laughed, “Such formality! How are you enjoying your first ball, Y/N? I trust my brother has not let you leave his side?”
You giggled, and as much as Benedict adored the sound of your laughter he couldn’t help the clenching of his jaw at his brother’s remark and your evident amusement.
“He has taken great care of me, undoubtedly,” you smiled, hands resting on Benedict’s upper arm for a moment as you leaned into him, “How do you feel about your first ball on the hunt for a wife?”
Anthony scoffed, “Consumed with dread, as expected,” he joked, “Brother, would you mind if I stole Y/N away for one dance? Only so that I might enjoy one last moment of vague freedom before I endure the onslaught of mamas I see staring me down?”
Benedict swallowed thickly, because yes he very much did mind you being stolen away to dance with a man who could provide for you so much better than he could.
He had always been second best to his brother, but never with you.
And now he felt rather ridiculous as he nodded meekly and watched you saunter away at the side of his own brother, who would never love you like he did nor treat you as more than a friend and a commodity necessary to the life of an important man.
“Of course.”
You smiled shyly over at Benedict as you followed Anthony away, and made a mental note to confront him about the sad look gracing his features as you did so.
“My brother is staring daggers into my skull already,” Anthony chuckled as you took your positions to dance, “I rather wonder why he was not dancing with you if he is so bothered by my doing so.”
You bit your lip, “We have danced together twice already, Anthony. In fact, I’ve danced only with him so far tonight. I feel… safe with Benedict. This is all so terrifying.”
As Anthony beamed down at you knowingly, you realised quite what he had initially said, “Whatever do you mean by him staring daggers? Why would he be doing that?”
“Oh, my dear Y/N, you must see that my poor fool of a brother is overcome with jealousy at our interaction,” he laughed as though it was the most obvious thing in the world, “Particularly now that I plan to marry. He quite clearly thinks that it is you I wish to do so with.”
You looked down at your feet for a moment, suddenly feeling shy.
When you remembered that you were talking to a man you knew like he was part of your own family, however, your head snapped back up — a smirk gracing your face.
“Oh, am I not to become Viscountess? I so had my hopes up!” you feigned a gasp, “In all seriousness, Anthony, why on earth would Benedict think we might marry and more so why on earth would he care so much?”
Anthony heaved out a deep sigh at that as you danced, almost irritated by your blatant ignorance to what was so clear.
“I don’t believe I should tell you the answer to that if you are somehow quite unaware of it yourself,” he shook his head, briefly meeting the eyes of his brother as he spun you, and smiled almost teasingly at him, “I hope that after stealing you from him for this dance he might finally discuss it with you himself.”
You rolled your eyes, “You jest, Anthony, because if you are trying to imply that he has affections towards me I’m sure you are sorely mistaken.”
Anthony stopped abruptly, quirking his eyebrow at you, “You truly are oblivious?”
You looked at him curiously, doe eyed and inquisitive as you waited for him to continue — or to resume dancing so you didn’t continue to feel all eyes on your frozen frames.
“Right, very well. I am going to walk away now, all smiles,” he informed you, plastering a smile on his face and nodding at the onlookers as he kissed the back of your hand to show no ill-will had halted your dance, “I would suggest that you get some fresh air, perhaps? My brother might… Come to check on you.”
You forced a smile as he silently moved away from you and towards the buffet table at the other side of the hall.
With a sharp breath you took his advice, despite your confusion, and lifted your skirt a little to busy your hands as you traipsed out of the ballroom and onto the balcony.
Like clockwork, Benedict Bridgerton found himself at your side in mere moments.
“Are you waiting here for my brother?”
The tension in the air was palpable, his voice low as he failed to hide the disappointment at his suspicions.
“Not for him, no.”
“Then for another?”
“I suppose so.”
“Apologies, then. I’ll leave you to it.”
You spun on your heel now as he turned to leave, touching his shoulder, “No, Benedict, I was waiting— for you.”
“For me?”
The incredulous smile on his face made your heart swell with hope — perhaps Anthony was right.
Maybe what you had spent all these years perceiving as friendship truly was reciprocated love all this time.
“Anthony claimed he believed you jealous, and that you thought we were attached,” you giggled, and he swore his heart melted at the sound of your gentle laughter, “And I was utterly unsure as to why you would believe that, let alone be jealous of it. But then he told me to get some fresh air and that you might find me here and I became hopeful.”
“Hopeful?”
“Yes. Hopeful that perhaps the feelings that have steadily grown on my part throughout the time I have known you might be returned. That perhaps you were not joking when you said you hoped I might consider you a suitor this season,” you blushed crimson as you served him your honest feelings on a silver platter.
He cocked his head to the side curiously, not quite believing you entirely though you were evidently being sincere, “Do you not wish to marry my brother?”
You scoffed, quickly covering your mouth with your hand at the outburst, but then sighed as you looked deeply into his eyes, “Of course not, Benedict.”
“But he is a Viscount — he could offer you so much more than I, and he seemed taken with you.”
“He was taken with making you jealous enough to confront me, my dear Benedict. He spent our dance essentially telling me to wise up and talk to you,” you bit your lip nervously, “Because he knows that I have long loved you, and believes that you feel the same.”
The curious smile on his face grew now into a beaming grin, his hands flying to take yours within them and bring them to his lips for a gentle kiss.
“I—, Y/N, I cannot— I cannot even begin to express the joy that those words have brought me,” the words tumbled from his lips like he couldn’t think fast enough to convey his feelings, “I have been in love with you for as long as I can remember. I settled for cherishing mere friendship because I feared I would not be… I would not be the man for you beyond that.”
You shook your head, “Benedict, surely you know how dear you are to me? I— at the very least in my heart, you are the man for me. I’ve been certain of it for so long and that is why I feared entering society so much. I didn’t want to marry for the sake of marriage and have to have the man I truly love as a mere friend. You are more than enough for me, Benedict, I feel safe with you — you are home to me.”
“And you are home to me, Y/N,” he was trying so very hard not to kiss you, his words soft and delicate as his breath fanned over your face due to your newfound close proximity, “If you would allow me to… I would like to court you. In fact, I would propose to you now if I was to allow my selfishness to take control. But I want you to be sure it is me you want, even if it hurts to see you dance and converse with others.”
“You’re all I could ever want, Benedict,” you spoke like it was utterly obvious, “And when you do propose, you can be certain of my acceptance. For now I am happy to share every dance with you and pretend we need to get to know each other to form an engagement. We have all of the time in the world.”
“We do.”
You were both breathing heavily, eyes glossy with the sheer emotion of the confessions you had just shared.
“I wish so badly that I could kiss you right now, but I fear I may not be able to control myself in future once I do,” his voice was barely above a whisper as you licked your lips, swallowing thickly.
“I wish— I wish you might kiss me too,” your reply was hardly even coherent, too love drunk to properly formulate your words, “More than anything.”
He was still holding onto your hands, and so he brought them up to ghost another kiss over them again, settling for this as he fought his urge to press his lips to yours instead.
“As you said, my love, we have all the time in the world,” there was a subtle undertone of what you might describe as lust in his tone now, intertwined with the love struck lilt he had been speaking with.
Your breath hitched in your throat as his lips ghosted up your forearm briefly before he brought them back down to your hands.
“And I cannot wait.”
———
horny benedict at the end to satiate my own need for that despite the intention for this to just be fluffy hahaha. hope you enjoyed !!!
feel free to keep requesting — and in the mean time here is my masterlist.
#bridgerton#benedict bridgerton#benedict bridgerton x reader#benedict bridgerton imagine#benedict bridgerton imagines#benedict bridgerton fluff#anthony bridgerton#benedict bridgerton one shot#bridgerton one shot
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tired already?... kuroo x bottom male reader
!!.. amab reader, semi-public sex, kuroo loves to tease, bokuto almost caught the both of them lol, biting and marking, creampie, both characters are 18...
a moan resonated through the empty bathroom. the setting sun outside peeked its way into the many stalls yet the fluorescent lights overpowered it.
" k-kuroo.. finish already! w-what if someone comes in... plus i don't think i can hold myself up anymore! " you whined, trying your hardest to hold yourself up using the stall's door.
meanwhile, kuroo only got more excited at the thought of someone coming in. them being able to hear your slutty moans. how loud you were begging just for some sweet release. maybe kuroo would let them take a peek too.
" hah, bet you would love that right? " kuroo grinned and trusted into you harshly, making you choke a bit on your own spit.
how did you even get here?
" bokuto! " you yelled out at your best friend, him already running and making his way towards you.
kuroo noticed this however it was too late.
before he could even react, you already set the ball towards bokuto who was already mid-jumping. the ball spun in the air, everyone's eyes towards it.
bokuto raised his left hand and winded back his right, preparing to hit said ball. kuroo tried jumping to stop the ball but it was too late.
the moment he began jumping, the ball hit the floor with a loud thud. the sound echoing throughout the audienceless court.
a moment of silence passed by with everyone processing the victory which now belonged to the fukurodani's players.
screams of happiness broke the silence, shaking the empty court. " yeah! let's go! " you screamed out, hugging your sweaty best friends bokuto and akaashi.
the three of you hopped around in happiness after winning the game, your teammates also happily cheering around you.
the nekoma players all congratulated you upon winning the practice match, both players shaking each others hands.
a whistle interrupted you, " yn, nice save earlier! " kuroo, your close friend approached you and sat down next to you.
" oh hey kuroo! thanks heh, you were pretty awesome earlier too! " you compliment him back, sipping the last drop of water in your bottle.
he hums in acknowledgment, appearing tired from the match. " oho what's this? is the great nekoma captain tired already? " your teasing voice earned you a slight jab from him.
" ugh im not tired yet! c'mon, let's go grab some drinks at the vending machine. " kuroo got up first, leaving you to follow him on your own which you did.
your mind wandered off as you trailed behind him, thinking of what to drink to get at the vending machine. what you didn't expect though was you being pulled to the bathroom by kuroo and getting your back blown by him.
" tired already? weren't you the one who was teasing me about being tired earlier. " kuroo laughed at your face as he held you up with both hands, slamming you up and down his cock.
" now look who can't even keep himself up. "
you could only moan while grabbing onto his shoulder, your own cock already leaking and smeared with cum. " i'm close, keep going kuroo..! " you managed to moan out, clenching him harder and harder.
kuroo's cheshire smile stretched itself on his lips, clearly enjoying how dumb you were from his cock alone.
you were so so close to cuming till..
" yn? kuroo? are you here? " bokuto's cheerful voice suddenly echoed in the bathroom, causing you and kuroo to stop your movement entirely.
bokuto looked around the bathroom, shrugging when he found neither you nor kuroo. he decided why not take a quick bathroom break while he was here, completely unaware of what was going on in two stalls next to him.
he sat himself at the first stall, one stall away from him having a front-row seat to hearing you get your ass pounded.
you looked up at kuroo in fear, afraid that even a tiny squeak could make bokuto a bit too curious and start to investigate the sound.
however, kuroo on the other hand looked down at you with a sinister look in his eyes, it being pretty obvious about what he was about to do.
you shook your head at him while covering your mouth to which he turned a blind eye.
he slid you up and slammed you down on his cock harshly, the sound itself making bokuto look around, but the sound that escaped from your mouth was what made him realize what was going on.
a high-pitched moan escaped from your mouth, the sound being an obvious giveaway of what was going on in one of the stalls.
your eyes rolled up to the back of your head at the sudden sensation of being full.
your release immediately came out of your cock. the cum that was seeping out of your ass hole and dripping down onto kuroo's thigh was also just making the situation more messy.
but kuroo wasn't done yet.
he picked up the pace and began thrusting into you, the feeling of your tight walls making him go overdrive.
tears rolled down your face as you tried your best to keep quiet, afraid that your own best friend might hear you getting dicked down.
you buried your face into the crevices of kuroo's neck, bitting and sucking on his neck in an attempt to hush yourself. kuroo on the other hand enjoyed the feeling of your teeth against his skin, leaving mark after mark on him.
bokuto quickly finished his business and rushed out of the bathroom, leaving the both of you alone again.
" mhm.. hahah, you loved almost getting caught by your own best friend, didn't you? " kuroo teased, his relentless thrusting still not finished.
you shook your head while burying deeper into his neck, your tears and saliva soaking kuroo's jersey.
he laughed at you, muttering about how cute you were.
after some hellish rounds, he was finished with his tormenting of you. the both of you walked out of the bathroom with your tracksuit jacket covering the marks all over each other's bodies.
you went back to the almost empty court, trying your hardest not to limp.
" hey hey hey, yn! where were you earlier? " you looked around like a deer caught in headlights upon seeing your two best friends behind you.
" oh uh.. hey! i was just at the store nearby.. " you lied through your teeth, praying that bokuto would buy it.
thankfully he wasn't the sharpest tool in the shed.
he nodded in understanding and began gossiping to you about how he heard some couple getting it on in the bathroom and how awkward it was since he needed to take a shit earlier.
you nodded along, acting as if that couple wasn't you and kuroo.
however, akaashi didn't seem convinced about your lie.
" yn, were you with kuroo earlier? " akaashi suddenly questioned you. your sweat dropped as you tried your hardest to not make any eye contact with either of them.
" huh oh uh yeah.. w-we were just yknow.. eating at the store together. " your voice gradually got quieter the more you talked.
akaashi hummed, as if already knowing what was going on but decided to not pry any further. meanwhile bokuto looked between you and akaashi, trying to figure out why you were so red at the simple question.
" well whatever, im tired and sweaty! let's go home now! " you thanked the world for how dense bokuto was.
you grabbed your stuff and followed behind the two men, already planning to beat the shit out of kuroo for next week's practice.
#tyunniez 🕷#tyunniez asks 💌#bottom male reader#bttm male reader#male reader#uke male reader#x male reader#amab reader#male x male smut#male reader smut#kuroo x male reader#haikyuu x male reader#kuroo x reader
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I saw Challengers earlier today and I decided to start a running doc of some of my feral thoughts in an effort to not forget what's currently marinating in my brain after my first watch
I want this movie to get a long theatrical release/run because it deserves it, but that's unfortunate because I also NEED to have it accessible to me in my home ASAP so I can pull on all its threads and take screencaps. Alas.
EXTENSIVE SPOILERS BELOW
might add to this later as I remember things, idk
-The parallel of Art spitting his gum in Tashi’s hand and in Patrick’s hand… My jaw dropped soooo early on. Anyway they obviously both act as Art’s “coach” at different times in his life in different ways. (The jerking off teaching?? Scream???) Art craves their guidance and approval as a form of love (which is also directly responsible for his confidence issues) and initially likes to follow their leads in every situation
-The parallel of Tashi making out with both Art and Patrick up against cars… delicious
-Patrick’s car is his “bed” and it’s where he and Tashi fuck. Nice
-Wait now I’m sad because… lowkey Patrick is homeless because Art and Tashi are his home…………….
-The storm = Patrick and Tashi having sex = the reason why Art’s half of the giant poster/ad on the side of the building falls down so only Tashi’s side is left up. Iconic, loooove a good visual metaphor, especially shown nonlinearly
-The parallel of the forehead kisses??? Art and Patrick on the court at the start when they won the doubles, and Art and Tashi in the sad almost-sex scene towards the end??? I will throw up
-Disclaimer and reminder I’ve only seen this movie once and might reform any of these thoughts later BUT…
One of Art’s main things is, as he tells Patrick towards the start, not wanting to be “left out.” He loves and he wants both Patrick and Tashi (but he doesn’t fully want to acknowledge the extent of his want for Patrick for years, and that repression is part of his problems…). He gets “lit up” about the thought of them together not because he’s jealous of one of them but because he’s jealous of BOTH of them; he wants to know it all, he wants to be in the room, he wants to be with them both, he despairs at the thought of losing either of them (but, at the start, especially at the thought of losing or being of lesser importance to Patrick. Obviously he’s a fucking idiot as evidenced by how Patrick goes to see him FIRST at Stanford. Ugh). We see all of this at the start when Art wants to know if Tashi and Patrick fucked. We see this in Atlanta when he witnesses Tashi cheating on him with Patrick but doesn’t directly confront either of them about it; he only skates the edge of confronting it with Patrick in the sauna while also lashing out at him. Patrick tells Art at Stanford “it’s nice to see you so lit up about something, even if it’s my girlfriend” during the homoerotic churros scene because Patrick’s clocked all of this about Art, too. He clocks it further in Atlanta when he shows up to Art’s practice with Tashi and his mere presence makes Art hit the ball harder. It obviously all comes full circle; the cocktail of emotions that Patrick and Tashi being together gives Art coalesces again for him on the court in the Challengers match: Tashi’s threatened to leave him if he loses… and she’s maybe got one foot out the door with Patrick of all people, who Art already “lost” in the past as the love he’s been mourning for 13 years. But what’s important is that THIS time, unlike Atlanta, Art learns about Tashi cheating on him with Patrick not by accident but rather because Patrick actually tells him. Patrick understands the significance of how this will get Art lit up again and make him play the way he needs to for all of their sakes, and it’s fucked up, but… what this means is Patrick doesn’t leave Art out. He TELLS Art – and he tells him in a way only they understand while they’re on the court together again. Of course Art goes through several stages of emotions in response to that fucked up information… but ultimately that moment of honesty and realization between the boys is what Art needed and puts where all 3 of them stand into sharp relief, shedding a light on who they’ve all always been and what their individual needs are.
Art’s always wanted to play tennis, but that desire is framed around his relationships. Tennis is only something he truly enjoys or that fully makes him happy when he’s experiencing it through his connections to other people: he wants to impress, earn the approval of, or celebrate with those he loves who are watching (like his grandmother or Tashi) – which is partially why he wants Tashi to be his coach in the first place. And of course, tennis all began as something Art found joy in because he was always doing it with Patrick. It’s clear Patrick feels the same. At the start, neither of them cared much about winning for the sake of winning unless it was doubles because they competed as a team and that was “really fun” for them. With the singles competition, they kind of cared less about the wins at the start; Art assumed Patrick would win and didn’t care back then, and then Patrick was willing to let Art win so he could impress his family, and they were both fine with all of those sentiments. Tennis was first and foremost something they did with and for each other. As Patrick later tells Art in the sauna, “I miss playing with you” – and, of course, at that point he’s definitely not only talking about tennis. But in that final match, after so many years, Patrick and Art finally understand each other completely again. It’s like they’re in love (because they are and always have been), they go somewhere really beautiful together… etc. They finally reconnect on the court and feel that thrill as they become synchronized again, which is what tennis was always about for them.
And Tashi, who’s irrevocably connected to them both and whose primary love is and always has been the sport itself, gets what SHE’S always wanted: to “watch some good fucking tennis.” It’s why she pitted the boys against each other vying for her number at the start. Though she needs/wants both boys in different ways on an individual level, she doesn’t particularly need or want anyone to ~be in love with her~; she wants the men who are in love with her to entertain her and challenge her and give her a show. So that’s what she tries to accomplish again in the end by telling Art she’d leave him if he lost the Challengers match… but the missing piece in her making that threat – the element that would get Art truly fired up – was that she’d potentially leave Art for Patrick. That final piece of info, when Art finds out about the cheating, is what reconnects them in all of the above ways. Because it’s about all 3 of them and their triangular codependency. They’ve all been broken for 13 years because they all need each other and tennis to be fully functional. Split any of it apart and they just don’t work.
-Literally this is a film where from the moment of the injury they’re all constantly mourning. They all lose their greatest loves that day… Tashi essentially loses tennis, Art loses Patrick, and Patrick loses the two of them. Everything after that is just them being affected by how they’re all mired in various grief and feeling incomplete… until that synchronization at the match when they finally become whole again. Going from that bed scene that was breaking my heart to the final match was HEALING. Things are still fucked up and in progress, but they’re fucked up in a way they all understand, which gives them a path forward. This movie has a fiercely happy ending in that regard… and what I’m saying is that… after the match, once they communicate further, and much later down the line… Art and Patrick should go back to playing doubles and Tashi should coach them as as doubles team. God they’d eventually all be so happy I wanna CRY just thinking about them doing that. It would take them awhile to get there — because yeah, Tashi is living vicariously through Art’s career as an individual player and maybe if Art retired she’d then want to live through PATRICK’S career for awhile — but I think if they worked out their relationship then their tennis could come to reflect the needs of that relationship too, and doubles can still be “good fucking tennis” in its own satisfying right, y’know? I think they could get there and it would be a beautiful collective restart.
-I gotta say, I can't imagine Tashi pregnant. Wild to me. Sorry to their daughter. Oooo also... I think Patrick would be great with kids... when he gets to meet Lily and become "Uncle Patrick" they're gonna hit it off so fast. Help me
-*holds up Tashi watching them kiss after she orchestrated it*
*holds up the Challengers match*
It’s the same picture. Except the kisses were kisses whereas the match was actual sex.
The moaning and grunting… I’m insane.
Also Tashi’s “COME ON!!!!” is arguably the sole orgasm/climax we witness in the whole movie perhaps? Though you could argue the hug is too. In this essay I will, etc.
-Art begging for Tashi’s love/validation saying “Tell me it doesn’t matter if I win tomorrow” vs Art telling Patrick in the sauna “this is a game about winning the points that matter” / Patrick saying “I don’t matter?” AAAA oh my fucking Goddddddd I’m gonna die
-Thank you Luca Guadignino for your dedication to having Art and Patrick hold phallic drinks and food in each others’ presence. Specific shout out to Patrick at the beach party holding the beer bottle on his crotch
-Patrick = comfortable with who he is and secure in his bisexuality; honest and open
Art = repressing his queerness and his overall desires
Tashi = hiding who she is aka her dissatisfactions with life and the lengths she’ll go to because tennis is her true greatest love and always has been
COMPRESS, REPRESS... REPRESS, COMPRESS... AND THEN JUST SURRENDER, ONE TWO THREEEEE
-I need to rewatch to catch the dialogue because it was difficult for me to hear it over the music, but I think in the 3am Atlanta scene Tashi tells Patrick that Art’s grandmother had a stroke. IF that’s what she said (and if there’s no reason to believe it’s a lie Art told; like I said, I need to rewatch)… my immediate impression was that it’s a nod to Patrick being the voice of accuracy and prediction in this movie. Towards the beginning he tells Art (jokingly) that he hopes Art’s grandmother dies of a stroke, and that’s seemingly what literally comes to pass. He repeatedly clocks both Tashi and Art’s behaviors, describing them brashly to their faces (and to us as the audience), and he was right about his predictions. He’s the one who’s not repressed or unaware of who he is out of the 3 of them: when Tashi first asks if there’s something between him and Art, he looks away because he knows the answer is yes; he’s openly bi on dating apps; he tells Tashi he won’t be her lapdog unlike Art which we see later ends up becoming literal; he clocks how Tashi is hiding some of her true motivations when she seeks him out in the storm; and even from afar he predicts Art’s mindset about wanting to retire. For the most part, what Patrick does / says either seems to be or becomes truth. Hmmm, wait, as I’m typing this… something to look out for: the “I TOLD YA” shirt. Working theory: Tashi briefly wears it, she’s the voice of accuracy; then it blatantly switches over to Patrick and he wears it throughout the film and [waves to all of the above]
-Head in my hands thinking of how the word “love” is used in these tennis matches. Also something I need to make detailed note of when I rewatch
-Patrick grabbing Art’s thigh when they first watched Tashi play… oh my GOD
-Patrick pulling Art’s stool close and Art just smoothly sitting on it with no reaction… the way they kept looking at each others' lips... oh my G O D
-I just remembered Tashi referred to the boys being known as as “fire and ice.” What the fuck even.
-Tashi going to Patrick asking him to lose the match for Art… she’s literally like, "do this because I love tennis and if I lose Art then I lose the way I live tennis through him. Do this because if he loses this match he'll lose himself." And she's really like, "Do this because I know you’re in love with both of us." And Patrick is like, "A) fuck you because you know I’ll say yes precisely because I'm in love with both of you so how dare you ask this of me, and B) you’re kidding yourself if you think you don’t miss the challenge I give YOU simply by being myself because I don’t take your shit." Something something they're peers, you know
-Tbh for 13 years when Patrick gets his rare opportunities he’s @ both Art and Tashi like “you want to fuck me so bad it makes you look stupid.” And the thing is that he’s RIGHT. He’s right! Art in particular doesn't want to admit it because he's trying to convince himself he outgrew being bisexual / outgrew Patrick but it's obviously bullshit
-Realizing some of the sounds in the soundtrack intentionally emulate the sounds of tennis balls and rackets???? MADNESS
#challengers#challengers movie#challengers 2024#tashi duncan#art donaldson#patrick zweig#char writes things
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Just A Girl | Eris x Rhysand's Sister
series masterlist | summary: Your father throws a ball in your honor. When Beron belittles you, you decide to show him what you're capable of, catching the attention of his firstborn.
word count: 2K
a/n: Hi guys! It's been a hot minute since I've written anything and I feel rusty lol (kinda like when you stop riding your bike and have to relearn type of feel.) Anyway, this is entirely based off no doubt's just a girl bc I felt like it gave off Rhys's sister vibes and then I thought why not incorporate this into an au I had planned for an Eris x Rhys's sister one shot??
“When I’m High Lord, I’ll go–”
“I’m sure you’ll go far,” you interrupt, a half smile playing on your lips as you look up at the first born of Spring. With his luscious blond hair, striking green eyes, and well-defined jawline, he's undeniably a sight to behold. Unfortunately, his personality doesn't match his looks—dull yet somehow arrogant and miserably misogynistic.
You don’t have it in you to spare him a moment longer, especially not when his overbearing pride is becoming overwhelming for your senses. You push past the desire to call upon your abilities and manipulate his emotions into something more humbling. He is not worth exposing your powers.
With a pat on his shoulder–too harsh for his liking– you add, “and I really hope you stay there. It was nice speaking with you, Heathen.”
“It’s Heath.”
You give an uninterested hum before making your way to the refreshments table, desperate for something to soothe the tension between your brows. A silent prayer is sent to the Cauldron that no other male approaches you with a lame attempt at conversation. If they are interested in you, they should at least be able to hold a good one. One that doesn’t incorporate any microaggressions toward you.
Fortunately for you, it is your brother who approaches you next. He takes your–what was it? fourth or sixth, you can’t remember– champagne flute from your grasp with an effortless ease. A glare settles upon your features as you watch him chug it before fixing your gaze straight ahead, to the dais where your father and mother sit.
Your father occupies the grand throne, while your mother sits beside him in a smaller, less ornate chair. The Lady of the Night Court—magnificent and burdened with countless responsibilities—receives none of the praise that is lavished upon your father. Despite her contributions to your court, she is not held in the same regard… simply because she is a female.
It leaves you to wonder what your destiny is.
Rhysand looks at you with sympathy, and you realize that in your moment of vulnerability, you've let your mental shields slip. “Please, save your breath,” you mutter.
Sensing Cassian and Azriel approaching, you flash them a small, relieved smile. “And please, stay by my side,” you say, your eyes scanning the room where multiple pairs of eyes are fixed on you. You feel so exposed and though it’s no surprise, it leaves you unsettled. When your gaze meets that of one of Autumn's sons, you quickly look away and strengthen the shield around you.
“I could use my scary brother privileges right now.”
“Who are we scaring, princess?” Cassian asks, flexing his muscles as he pretends to adjust the cuffs of his dress shirt, rolled up to his elbows.
Azriel lets out a snort, but his keen eyes are already scanning the room, easily locating the Autumn male. The red-haired male immediately cowers under his cold, hard stare.
“No one.” Rhysand replies, shooting them both a warning look. He then turns to you and you don’t need his daemati abilities to know what he’s about to say. “y/n–”
“Don’t you think I know exactly where I stand?” You interrupt him with an exhausted sigh.
Tonight was a celebration–a ball to honor you and all you’ve done for the Night Court during the war. When the war started, you were twenty-three and deemed too young to participate. Though, at that age, Rhysand had already completed the bloodrite and was esteemed a formidable warrior. You were fortunate that your father allowed you to train and even more so that he allowed you to join the Night Court council.
You quickly mastered the politics of war and the intricacies of the Prythian courts. Midway through the war, your father entrusted you to visit the war camps and delegate on his behalf. There was no doubt that it was a privilege you were granted due to your powers. Still, you embraced it eagerly and tonight was the night you would officially be recognized as an emissary.
But of course, many–especially the sons of the High Lords–confused tonight as your debutante ball. You were in your third decade, after all. While your brother was recognized as a fierce warrior and heir, you were regarded as a highly sought out bachelorette.
Lucky you.
“I am meant to be pretty and docile,” you continue, gesturing to yourself.
The dress you wore was far from your usual preference. The bodice, adorned with intricate beadwork and sequins, featured a sweetheart neckline that teased a glimpse of your breast—but not too much. The skirt of the gown was voluminous, made of layers of soft tulle that shimmered delicately with every step as the light caught the scattered sequins. It was a beautiful black ball gown, crafted by your mother's talented hands. Yet, you much preferred dresses that clung to you like a second skin, revealing more of your figure.
To put it frankly, you felt quite suffocated in this gown. And you rather not even get started on your makeup. You were transformed into a perfect painting of a sweet and innocent princess. Not the daring and powerful female you knew yourself to be.
“Desirable but not too attainable.”
“However, that does not mean I need to be consistently tortured by dull conversations and hungry stares from controlling males,” you finish, crossing your arms against your chest with a scowl. “No one has even asked me about my role in this court.”
“Oh, yeah. How is it being an emissary to the Night Court?” Cassian asks, earning a smack to the back of his head from Azriel.
“Just splendid,” you reply with a sarcastic smile.
“You played a significant role in establishing peace between Spring and the rest of the courts after the war. I’m sure your efforts will not go unnoticed,” Rhysand assures you.
“Perhaps I played my role too well. Heathen has seemed to have taken an interest in me.”
It’s as if he heard his name being called, for the blonde male’s gaze meets yours across the ballroom. He winks at you with that stupid, cocky smirk of his. A grimace crosses your face. You had been hoping your conversation from earlier would deter him. It seems it has only spurred him on.
“He’s... pretty,” Rhysand starts, but then trails off, struggling to find a compliment for Heath. “Pretty full of himself,” he finally manages, shooting you an almost apologetic glance.
Both of you erupt into laughter.
“It could be worse,” Azriel comments after a moment, a futile attempt at making you feel better. “It could be the heir to Autumn. As the by-product of growing up under Beron’s cruelty, I hear he’s pretty ruthless. Might even turn out to be crueler than him. At least Heath isn’t as bright…”
“Ouch,” Cassian says with a playful wince, almost feeling bad for the Spring heir.
Your eyes find the male in question. Eris Vanserra. His vibrant red hair makes him and his siblings easy to spot in a crowded room. Surprisingly, Eris hasn't made any attempt to approach you tonight. Unlike his brothers. Instead, he stands by his mother's side. She appears uncomfortable and weary, her arm linked with his as she rubs her swollen, pregnant belly.
As you focus on him, you feel a mix of anger and concern. “Somehow, I doubt that,” you voice your thoughts out loud, following the trail of emotions. Your eyes land on the recipient of his anger. Beron. The High Lord of Autumn stands amongst the other High Lords, engaged in conversation with your father.
Sensing your gaze on him, your father looks up from where you stand. He holds a hand up, summoning you and your brother.
“Time to shine,” Rhysand says, holding his hand out to you.
**
“Ah, my son,” your father greets with a smile as you and Rhysand come to a stop before him and the other High Lords. He then turns to you, violet eyes alight with pride that has your chest swelling with warmth. At least your father recognizes your worth and you don't dare to wonder if he'd see you the same if you weren't blessed with your power.
“My daughter, the guest of honor," he introduces, reaching for your hand to pull you to his side. You offer a polite smile and curtsy to the High Lords. “Y/n has done a lot for this court and all of Prythian. Tonight is a means to show my immense gratitude and present her with the official title of lead emissary of the Night Court.”
It is the High Lord of the Winter Court who speaks first, offering a slight bow of his head. “I look forward to continuing working with you, Lady y/n.”
“A wise and thoughtful member of the Night Court.” High Lord Thesan says with an amiable smile, the High Lords of Day, Summer and Spring sharing his sentiments.
However, the same cannot be said for the High Lord of Autumn. His lips curl in distaste, the thought of having to interact with a female tasting sour on his tongue. He had tolerated you before but only due to the war.
“You expect me to welcome her to my court to discuss important matter?" Beron huffs. "She’s just a girl.”
You don’t speak. You don’t even make a sound. But the look in your eyes…the look in your eyes was downright murderous.
Memories begin to flood your mind of you being berated and undermined. The box in which you had locked away your emotions can no longer contain them. A wave of anger and frustration begins to surge forth...
Rhysand knew exactly what was about to happen, his hand silently reaching out for yours. To hold you back.
But it was too late. Your mind was like a wall of steel. Impenetrable.
All you saw was red, your wings bursting forth from your glamor, unfurling behind you. They tore through the seams of your dress, provoking gasps. Swiftly, your magic mends the fabric, accommodating your true form.
Tendrils of darkness emanate from your outstretched hands, weaving through the air like sinister ribbons. Your gaze, unwavering and intense, remains fixated on Beron. With each movement of your fingers, the room plunges deeper into shadow. The once-illuminated space is now consumed by a thick veil of darkness. Even Azriel’s shadows, accustomed to the darkness themselves, cling onto him like a second skin.
As the last glimmer of light fades into oblivion, the ballroom becomes a chamber of obsidian night. With a mere thought, you tap into the emotions swirling within the hearts of those present. Careful to be subtle upon the intrusion as you do not want to expose the true extent of your abilities.
You summon only the most negative emotions like a maestro orchestrating a symphony. Screams erupt, drawing your lips upwards. You can feel resistance against your power and whether it is from your father or brother or even one of the other High Lords, you can’t tell.
Gathering all your pent up frustrations, you use it to fuel your strength, wanting to hold onto this moment of mayhem just a bit longer. It is only when you feel Beron’s heart racing, feel the trace of fear threatening to dim the fire in his veins that you let go.
In the blink of an eye, your tendrils of darkness disperse, succumbing to the resistance. The faelights adorning the ballroom shimmer to life once more and the moon’s light seeps back into the room. It casts an ethereal glow over you, revealing the calm and cool expression on your face. Yet, your eyes remain seething with the fury of a dark, raging storm.
Beron's scowl deepens at your display. He parts his mouth in disbelief, looking towards your father, who says nothing. Beron then looks back at you.
For once in his miserable life, he is at a loss for words. Pride swells in your chest and you push against the talons raking across your mind, wanting to bask in your small victory.
“I’m just a girl,” you finally say and then give a nonchalant shrug of your shoulders before turning to leave.
Reveling in the animosity radiating off of him, your smirk deepens as you recognize a faint trace of humiliation somewhere among the fire of his wrath.
The assembled crowd parts before you, their gazes a mixture of disdain, shock, and fear. You keep your head held high and eyes focused straight ahead. Dread begins to settle in, the onset of a headache from overexertion threatening to break your composure.
Still, you carry on, feigning nonchalance. The only sounds echoing through the room are the hushed whispers and the sharp click of your heels against the marble floors.
Yet, amidst the sea of wary onlookers, one figure stands apart.
Eris.
The heir to the Autumn court is leaning casually against the wall near the exit doors, his mother nowhere to be seen. The corner of his lips are upturned into a smirk, amber eyes alight with amusement and curiosity and perhaps, even something more.
Your steps threaten to falter as your eyes meets his. He looks back at you, holding your gaze with a searing intensity, it sends a shiver down your spine. He looks at you in a way no one ever has...as if he can see you for you who you really are.
Because you aren’t just a girl.
You’re the daughter of the Night Court. A shining star. A force to be reckoned with and one he finds himself irresistibly drawn to.
series masterlist
a/n: I honestly don't know how to feel about this one. I guess it's kind of a prequel to my upcoming one shot. Also, you can't tell me Eris wouldn't find anyone besting his dad like reader did in this hot lol
general tag list: @scooobies, @kennedy-brooke, @sillysillygoose444, @lilah-asteria
#acotar imagine#acotar fanfiction#acotar fanfic#acotar x you#eris x reader#eris x y/n#eris fanfiction#eris vanserra x reader#eris vanserra x you#eris vanserra x y/n#eris vanserra x rhysand's sister#acotar x reader#acotar x y/n#eris vanserra fanfic#eris! his star au#eris vanserra#eris acotar
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Bridgerton shade of blue
Benedict Bridgerton x Female Reader
Benedict bumps into you, quite literally, at a ball while trying to escape his mother's attempts to find him a partner. You decide to humour him with a dance, not realising just how entwined you would become with him. It seems the universe will find every excuse to push you and Benedict together, no matter how much you fight it.
{Masterlist}
{Previous Chapter} - {Next Chapter}
Season one
Chapter Four - Roots for friendship
♡♡♡
The ball was entirely outside. It was beautifully done. You had been in awe from the moment you arrived.
You left your mother's side in order to explore the grounds and see who and what was happening around you. The music was lively and many people were out dancing. This felt far more comfortable and free than the last ball.
You pass Colin Bridgerton, who is approaching Penelope Featherington. The poor girl is looking rather down. It is, unfortunately, well known that she had not danced at all at the last ball. Nor did her sisters, but you felt most for Penelope.
You were lucky to have even bumped into Benedict that night. Otherwise, you were sure you would have had the same fate as poor Miss Featherington.
The gown Penelope was wearing was much nicer than ones you had known her to wear. You had heard Portia had a habit of dressing her daughters in the most unruly shades of pink and yellow, sometimes even red. Tonight she looked rather lovely.
You carry on walking, leaving them to talk. Though you think Penelope would make for a good friend, you think she would rather talk to Colin alone. You wonder if perhaps there is something between them.
Cressida Cowper walks past you. She doesn't even look your way. You don't see how she approaches Colin, spills her drink on Penelope on purpose, or Colin stepping in to dance with his friend.
Your eyes land on his brother. Benedict is standing off to the side with his eldest brother. Anthony isn't paying much attention to his, though. Benedict nurses a drink in his hand.
You approach. "Good evening, gentlemen."
Both of them turn to you. Benedict smiles. Anthony bows his head in your direction.
"Good evening," Anthony greets you first.
"Are you looking for Daphne?" You ask. He nods. "I saw her over there with your mother."
Anthony glances over, but does not leave to join them. "Is she well?" He asks.
"Seemingly so."
Anthony takes your answer. As long as Daphne is well, all else is well.
You turn to Benedict. "Not dancing?"
"Haven't found a partner." He smiles.
"My card is empty," you say.
"I shall have to remedy that then." He finishes his drink and puts the glass down on the table behind him.
However, before he can ask for the next dance, the music quietens, and a voice calls out amongst the crowd. "I present Vauxhall's newest spectacle of illumination."
You all turn to see what's happening.
"Feast your eyes above."
You look up. All the lanterns above your head light up at once. You smile. It was quite beautiful. You applaud with the rest of the crowd.
You hadn't noticed that Anthony had drifted away from your side to seek out his sister.
"Shall we dance?" Benedict's hand came into view. You chuckled and took it. Benedict led you off to the dance floor, and you both danced to quite a merry tune.
You laughed and smiled. This dance felt quite friendly. No one could ever assume he was actually trying to court you. Not that anyone was paying much mind.
"It seems mother is too distracted. I might had a lucky escape after all."
You laugh at his words.
"Well, thank you for enlightening me regardless."
You both finish the dance with a bow.
"That was quite a lot of fun." He grins at you.
"It is good for one to enjoy a dance, do you not think?" You giggle.
He nods and escorts you back to the sidelines. Benedict catches sight of Anthony looking less than pleased at something. Benedict excuses himself and goes after his brother.
You find Penelope standing alone now. Colin nowhere in sight. You decide to approach. "Are you enjoying the ball?"
The poor girl looks startled as she turns to you. "Oh, yes. Quite."
She doesn't sound overly convincing, but you decide not to push her. You smile and introduce yourself properly. She smiles and introduces herself in return.
"You look lovely." You compliment her.
"Thank you. Mother had to stay home, so I was able to dress myself. Do you like it?" She smooths down the front of her gown.
"I do."
"You were dancing with Benedict, were you not?" She asks.
"I was. We have become friends, of sorts."
Penelope smiles. "Colin is my friend."
"The Bridgerton's seem like good friends to have."
"They are."
You smile at her and link your arm with hers. "May I keep you company a while?"
Penelope looks quite pleased by your offer. "Yes."
You decide to take a turn around the garden with her. You have decided if nothing else, this season you would make new friends in London.
As you finish your lap of the guests, everyone seems to fall quiet and turn off to the side. You and Penelope stop to look also.
There, entering the ball once more was Daphne Bridgerton. Right beside her was the Duke of Hastings.
"My word," you whisper.
Penelope says nothing as she watches the two. People begin to whisper. You would never have guessed that had any interest in each other after the dinner party last night. Tensions at the table had almost been unbearable, and yet, Simon leads Daphne to the dance floor.
As fireworks light up the sky and the music plays, they dance among the other couples.
Penelope slips from your arm to take a closer look. You watch them with a smile. They had seemed ao unlikely, and yet, the way they danced with each other made you wonder.
Anthony Bridgerton was seething. You could almost feel it.
Violet Bridgerton was thrilled.
♡♡♡
An invitation to the Bridgerton house was not something you were rather expecting so suddenly, but it seemed Benedict was trying to make you quite comfortable with the idea of visiting them.
He had stated to his mother quite clearly that you were his friend and should be allowed to come by as you wished. Violet had agreed with him and reminded you upon entry to her home that you were always welcome.
Funnily enough, it was not Benedict who greeted you right away, but Daphne. She smiled when you entered the drawing room.
"Are you coming too?" She asks.
"Coming where?"
"To promenade with us in the park." She checks her hair with her hand carefully.
"I was unaware you were all going out." You confess to her.
"You're more than welcome." Violet walks past you with a smile.
"I'd be delighted." You smile.
Benedict enters the room and smiles brightly. "There you are."
"Did you invite me for this on purpose?" You ask.
"Perhaps."
"Devious," you chuckle. "Still, a walk would be lovely." You turn back to Daphne. "I assume this has to do with the Duke?"
Daphne puts on a smile, but her eyes don't quite light up. You don't question it. "It may," she says softly.
Benedict offers you his arm. "Shall we?"
You take it and nod.
While Daphne would be with the Duke and chaperoned by Lady Danbury and her mother, the rest of the family were free to stroll at their leisure.
Benedict kept you on his arm as you walked with him and his brothers.
"It's lovely out." You comment.
"Yes, very." Anthony responds, but his mind is elsewhere. "Excuse me." He walks off in a hurry.
"What's wrong with him?" You ask.
"I do not know," Benedict sighs.
Daphne and the Duke have gone way ahead. Lady Danbury and Bridgerton are following them.
"Shall we walk this way?" Benedict suggests. You walk with him, Colin trailing behind with his younger siblings, Gregory and Hyacinth.
"How did your sister manage to catch the Duke's attention? Not that she isn't beautiful or witty enough to capture such a gentleman."
Benedict laughs. "Gentleman? I've never heard him described as such."
"You mean because he is known for being... well, a rake?" You ask.
"Precisely."
"Are you a gentleman?" You ask him, looking at him curiously.
"Of course. All us Bridgerton boys are."
You hear Colin try to hide his chuckle behind you. You smile. "Somehow, I question the truth behind that statement."
"You simply don't know us well enough yet. In the last few weeks you've seen very little of us." He looks at you.
"I've seen you a great number of times for someone I bumped into at a ball."
He grins. "Funny."
"Is it?"
"I think so." He continues leading you through the park. "Are you coming back to ours after?" He asks.
"I'd hate to intrude further on your family."
"Nonsense." Colin speaks up from behind you. "You're welcome in our home."
You smile back at him. "Thank you. It feels strange to become so close to a family I've only really gotten to know."
Benedict looks at you softly. "I rather like having a fresh face to look at."
You laugh. "Careful. If your mother hears, she'll be on your case about finding a wife again."
"She knows I shall not find one in you."
"Splendid. I am certain there is some fine gentleman somewhere in London who will suit me quite nicely."
Benedict chuckles.
♡♡♡
You find yourself back in the drawing room of the Bridgerton Estate. Violet had fetched tea for everyone which you were currently enjoying quite nicely.
Daphne was playing the piano quite nicely in the background.
"Two dances? With a duke?" Hyacinth asks, smiling.
"He was quite taken with your sister, Hyacinth." Violet says proudly. "The entire party was, for that matter. All eyes were on Daphne."
You smile at them as you glance at Daphne. She is focused on her piano playing.
"Are you sure the entire party was not simply eyeing a tear in her dress?" Colin asks, sitting next to Benedict.
You were sat across from the brothers. You give Colin a narrowed stare.
"Or some misstep she took on the dance floor?" Benedict asked.
"You two are terrible," you say to them. Both of them smile at you with boyish grins.
"I do wonder, Daphne, might we count on the Duke at the Crawford ball?" Violet asks her daughter.
"I should think it a fair chance."
"What about the Ramsbury ball, Friday? And what about the grand picnic?"
"We shall see, Mama."
The excitement was evident in Violet. She was happy for her daughter's chances.
As the youngest siblings discuss Francesca being away for the rest of the season, Eloise comes in with quite the question.
"How does a lady come to be with child?"
You choke on your tea.
Daphne stops playing.
"Elosie, what a question!" Violet exclaims.
"I thought one needed to be married," she says right after.
"Whatever are you talking about?" Daphne asks her sister.
"Apperantly, its not even a requirement." Elosie says.
"Eloise, that is enough." Violet puts a stop to this conversation.
Eloise nods and goes to sit between her two older brothers. Violet tries to encourage Daphne to carry on playing the piano.
"I take it the two of you know?" Elosie asks thr men beside her.
"Do not look at me," Benedict says.
You hide your chuckle behind your cup.
"Have you ever visited a farm, El?" Colin asks.
Benedict smacks him round the back of the head, nudging Eloise in the process, who growls in discomfort. Violet turns around to face her children. "I do hope the two of you are not encouraging improper topics of conversation."
"Not at all, Mother." Benedict says.
"In fact, we were just heading off to... take our sticks out."
"Colin Bridgerton!" Violet scolds.
"A round of fencing!" He clarifies.
You bite back a smile as Benedict rises from seat along with his brother. He looks at you with a grin and then departs.
Poor Violet looked like she was going to suffer from those boys.
All other conversations in the room are put on a halt as it is declared that Humboldt is coming.
Daphne rises in delight.
You look up at watch as Humboldt enters the room.
"Has someone arrived, Humboldt?" Daphne asks.
"Callers for Miss Daphne, ma'am."
Daphne squeals with excitement.
"But... the duke? You already have a caller, dearest."
"Well, I suppose now I have more." She says excitedly.
You rise from your seat and approach Violet. "I shall take my leave. I think, perhaps, you're going to be quite busy."
Violet smiles at you softly. "Yes, quite. It was good having you, dear. Come again, won't you?"
You nod with a smile. As you walk past Daphne, you smile again, tapping her arm gently. "Good luck."
She thanks you and you leave.
As you exit the house, you find many gentlemen making their way to the door. She did not just have one or two callers. She had many.
Daphne was a diamond after all.
♡♡♡
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