vcnillafairy

Latest Posts by vcnillafairy

the things i would for peepaw joel

GIRLLLLL

tumblr just marked my navigation post as mature content like ??? it doesn't have literally anything mature wtf

OMG YOU GUYYYYYYYSSSSS!!!!

ik nobody gives a shit about this but i'm just so exited and have no one to talk about this

okay so i kinda sing (not professionaly) and i just hit Penelope's high notes in "would you fall in love with me again" like guyyyyyyssss i've been trying ever since it came out and I DID IT!!!

it’s such a tomato-throwing moment when people try to police what kind of fics authors should write… like if you know you won’t like something because it has something don’t read it! yes this applies to rape/incest/abuse/shit n piss and whatever floats someone’s boat!

you’re allowed to not like something but you’re not allowed to tell fic writers what they should or shouldn’t write or shit on them bc of it!!

voodoo doll

pairing: jj maybank x raspberry!reader.

summary: jj vandalizes the house of one of the richest kooks on figure eight in a weak attempt to get her out of his mind or himself out of hers but everything goes sideways when he realizes she may be as crazy as he is.

warnings: pre relationship. violence (not towards reader). vandalism. past trauma. jj's canonical insecurities and impulsivity. two idiots in love. slight angst. hurt/comfort. fluff. happy ending. english is not my first language.

𝜗𝜚 poppy talks₊ ˚ ･ i just love love love the concept of jayj falling for a kook and his internal conflict, plus i think a lot of 5sos songs fit so well to write jj x reader.

Only a week had passed since JJ had ended whatever you had going on and it already felt like ages, it was probably because you had got too used to his presence in your life all day everyday whether it was texting or in your room or a hotel or your car in some parking lot late at night but it was frustrating.

It all started last summer when at the boneyard party you were too drunk to reconsider your choices and ended up hooking up with a just as intoxicated JJ in the backseat of your car. After that things were awkward between you two for a couple of days whenever you ran into each other but couldn't help but eventually crawl your way back to each other and do it a second time, then a third and a fourth... And before you know you become what could be called fuck buddies.

The problem was when it didn't end there, it kept going for months where you met for stress relief every time one of you needed it but... late nights started to turn into early mornings and you couldn't even remember when sex turned into talking. Just hours and hours of talking about your day, your week and eventually your struggles and dreams getting to know each other so deeply you could tell what the other was feeling without the need to say it.

You were in love... of course. Anyone who got to know the real JJ was doomed to fall for him, not just for his charms and flirtatious antics but the real him, the JJ who was the most loyal and supportive friend someone could ever ask for putting everyone over himself. He was special in a way you could never express with words but you tried when you talked to your mom about him, you didn't need to say much. It only took her a couple of seconds to see the spark in your eyes when you talked about him to know your feelings were genuine.

Lucky for you your parents were one of the very few ones at the island with three fingers of enough forehead to not be judgmental trash against the people on the other side, they had always taught you to enjoy what you had but to never give it for granted and to be aware that there were people who didn't had that much and it was definitely not their fault so when you talked to your mother about JJ she asked you to invite him for dinner. She wanted to meet the boy who had captured her daughter's heart and make sure he was worthy of it.

You could remember that day as if it was yesterday, how you jumped over him when he got into your room climbing for the window. JJ listen to you yap about how he could start using the door from now on and how your mom had invited him over for dinner, his arms were crossed and his face stoic while you could barely contain the excitement running in your veins pacing around the room already planning what you would be wearing but you stopped when the silence in his side had been too long. You had thought he loved you too, from the way your relationship had evolved to how he looked at you when you talked for hours about everything and nothing.

But you were wrong, at least that's what it looked like when he said he couldn't come tonight and that it would be better if you ended it right there before things could 'get ugly.' He wasn't rude but he wasn't exactly delicate about it and with just a couple of awkward excuses he left.

At first you had been sad, cried for a couple of days and didn't wanted to go out with your friends or even go to school but it only took you one party that your friends practically dragged you to, that day something switch inside you when you saw him making out with three different pogues during the night. You saw red, every fiber of your body screaming at you to do something stupid and so you did when you decided to sleep with his best friend that night in the same house he stayed in since he stopped sleeping at yours.

John B was a cute and nice guy so even if he wasn't exactly your type he didn't give you the worst night ever. Sadly other than making you feel good it only made you sadder and angrier when the next morning nothing happened, no fight, not even a glare and that only meant JJ had never mentioned you. You had talked about him to all your closest friends and even your mom when you thought things were getting serious but he had never even mentioned your name to his best friend.

Now all you had left to do was to stay alone in your house on a Sunday night with all this frustration pacing around your room thinking about a thousand ways to make his life miserable when you heard a loud noise coming from your front yard making you stop abruptly. Then another… then you could hear some glass breaking and you could only look around your room for something to defend yourself and your phone to call 911.

But nothing could have prepared you for what you saw when you opened the curtains of your window. JJ fucking Maybank was breaking your greenhouse with a baseball bat like he had just seen a ghost inside or something. The blood on your veins was boiling the second you saw him again, there was no rational thought inside your head when you took your own baseball bat from under your bed and stormed into the greenhouse.

“What the fuck do you think you're doing?” your harsh tone seemed to surprise him for just a second but he recovered just as quickly.

“What does it look like i'm doing?” he asked, standing straight and prideful in front of you as if he had just won some prize instead of vandalizing your home.

You didn't back up either, actually took a couple of steps closer to him and without giving yourself the chance to think about it twice you slapped him, hard, with all the pent-up rage you had been caring all this time apart. The sting in your hand almost made you regret it but you told yourself it was the least he deserved.

He held his cheek and you were expecting him to give you one of his cynical smirks but instead in his eyes there was just anger and a sadness she couldn't understand. “Why John B?” he asked as if just thinking about it made him want to go back to the chateau and break all his best friend's teeth.

“And why not?” you weren't showing any sign of remorse even if deep down a tiny part of you actually felt bad about it, still you felt that you had the right to do worse after what he had done to you. Sleeping with his best friend seemed only fair.

“He’s my best friend!” He slammed the baseball bat against one of the glass walls but without missing a beat you did the same with another one leaving him stunned for a moment.

“Like you care!” your normally non existent patience was specially thin today. “and it’s not like he even knew about me anyway!”

His face fell, guilt washing over him. “Don’t give me that shit again” he tried to look unfazed.

“Am I the one giving shit?” she scoffed, flipping her hair before loudly breaking another glass wall out of frustration “You came all the way here to destroy my house and for what? A hurt ego? You are a fucking child JJ”

“What are you doing? Stop that!” he took your wrists, making you drop your baseball bat. “I did this thinking you were gonna hate me! Never thought you were going to join me”

He looked embarrassed and slightly amused by your little outburst “Why would you want me to hate you?”

At first you didn't believe anything he said but slowly realization hit you, after all he had told you about his father and the childhood he had, he didn't go into much detail but he repeated some of his old man's words and you remembered one that specifically enraged you. You remember that day, JJ having to hold you down on your bed distracting you from going to his house to get Luke's ass.

He always told him he was trash. Always not only told him but showed him with his own actions that he was unworthy of love, so much and so many times he ended up believing it. But you knew the truth, just because his dad was incapable of loving someone that didn't mean he was unworthy of love. You knew because you loved him.

That's why he left when he felt things between you were starting to get serious, and that made you want to both hit and kiss him.

For the moment you choose the first one pushing him by his chest “You’re an asshole!” you hit him again and again until he held your wrists again, your eyes locked and even though he was trying to look ice cold his eyes had always betrayed him. “and I love you…”

JJ was frozen for what it felt like forever. “You have no idea what are you talking about”

“I'm perfectly capable of knowing what I feel!”

“No you don't!” his sudden snap made you take a step back but your eyes never leave his. “You’re just confused! You love all this kook-pogue thing, all you want me to do is to be your little doll that you can fix and show around!”

“That is not true!” what he was saying didn't make sense, because he knew you and you knew him enough to see it in his eyes. “and the worst part is that you know it, you know I really love you”

“Please stop” he was pulling his hair and pacing around trying to deny their feelings for each other but it was useless.

“JJ look at me” you tried to make him stop, to look at you in the eyes but hi turn his back on you, his breath was uneven and he had stop pacing but his right foot was still tapping against the floor.

You walked around him until he was actually looking at you, he looked like he wanted to cry but was too stubborn to do it in a moment like that trying to hold on to whatever ounce of pride he still had left. However all of it fell apart when you pulled him down by his neck to kiss him.

There was no resistance, his hands went to your waist like muscle memory, he pushed you against one of the few glasses that were still untouched by you both. His tongue find its way into your mouth and you could've sworn it had been months since you last felt him like this even if it only had been a couple of days.But the truth is that since the first time you spent the night together there was no way back and nothing, not even yourselfs was going to be able to tear your love apart.

“I love you too…” even if deep down you knew it, hearing it in his own words was what your heart needed to melt completely around him.

The sane gays are so sick and tired of the crazy gays

voodoo doll

pairing: jj maybank x raspberry!reader.

summary: jj vandalizes the house of one of the richest kooks on figure eight in a weak attempt to get her out of his mind or himself out of hers but everything goes sideways when he realizes she may be as crazy as he is.

warnings: pre relationship. violence (not towards reader). vandalism. past trauma. jj's canonical insecurities and impulsivity. two idiots in love. slight angst. hurt/comfort. fluff. happy ending. english is not my first language.

𝜗𝜚 poppy talks₊ ˚ ･ i just love love love the concept of jayj falling for a kook and his internal conflict, plus i think a lot of 5sos songs fit so well to write jj x reader.

Only a week had passed since JJ had ended whatever you had going on and it already felt like ages, it was probably because you had got too used to his presence in your life all day everyday whether it was texting or in your room or a hotel or your car in some parking lot late at night but it was frustrating.

It all started last summer when at the boneyard party you were too drunk to reconsider your choices and ended up hooking up with a just as intoxicated JJ in the backseat of your car. After that things were awkward between you two for a couple of days whenever you ran into each other but couldn't help but eventually crawl your way back to each other and do it a second time, then a third and a fourth... And before you know you become what could be called fuck buddies.

The problem was when it didn't end there, it kept going for months where you met for stress relief every time one of you needed it but... late nights started to turn into early mornings and you couldn't even remember when sex turned into talking. Just hours and hours of talking about your day, your week and eventually your struggles and dreams getting to know each other so deeply you could tell what the other was feeling without the need to say it.

You were in love... of course. Anyone who got to know the real JJ was doomed to fall for him, not just for his charms and flirtatious antics but the real him, the JJ who was the most loyal and supportive friend someone could ever ask for putting everyone over himself. He was special in a way you could never express with words but you tried when you talked to your mom about him, you didn't need to say much. It only took her a couple of seconds to see the spark in your eyes when you talked about him to know your feelings were genuine.

Lucky for you your parents were one of the very few ones at the island with three fingers of enough forehead to not be judgmental trash against the people on the other side, they had always taught you to enjoy what you had but to never give it for granted and to be aware that there were people who didn't had that much and it was definitely not their fault so when you talked to your mother about JJ she asked you to invite him for dinner. She wanted to meet the boy who had captured her daughter's heart and make sure he was worthy of it.

You could remember that day as if it was yesterday, how you jumped over him when he got into your room climbing for the window. JJ listen to you yap about how he could start using the door from now on and how your mom had invited him over for dinner, his arms were crossed and his face stoic while you could barely contain the excitement running in your veins pacing around the room already planning what you would be wearing but you stopped when the silence in his side had been too long. You had thought he loved you too, from the way your relationship had evolved to how he looked at you when you talked for hours about everything and nothing.

But you were wrong, at least that's what it looked like when he said he couldn't come tonight and that it would be better if you ended it right there before things could 'get ugly.' He wasn't rude but he wasn't exactly delicate about it and with just a couple of awkward excuses he left.

At first you had been sad, cried for a couple of days and didn't wanted to go out with your friends or even go to school but it only took you one party that your friends practically dragged you to, that day something switch inside you when you saw him making out with three different pogues during the night. You saw red, every fiber of your body screaming at you to do something stupid and so you did when you decided to sleep with his best friend that night in the same house he stayed in since he stopped sleeping at yours.

John B was a cute and nice guy so even if he wasn't exactly your type he didn't give you the worst night ever. Sadly other than making you feel good it only made you sadder and angrier when the next morning nothing happened, no fight, not even a glare and that only meant JJ had never mentioned you. You had talked about him to all your closest friends and even your mom when you thought things were getting serious but he had never even mentioned your name to his best friend.

Now all you had left to do was to stay alone in your house on a Sunday night with all this frustration pacing around your room thinking about a thousand ways to make his life miserable when you heard a loud noise coming from your front yard making you stop abruptly. Then another… then you could hear some glass breaking and you could only look around your room for something to defend yourself and your phone to call 911.

But nothing could have prepared you for what you saw when you opened the curtains of your window. JJ fucking Maybank was breaking your greenhouse with a baseball bat like he had just seen a ghost inside or something. The blood on your veins was boiling the second you saw him again, there was no rational thought inside your head when you took your own baseball bat from under your bed and stormed into the greenhouse.

“What the fuck do you think you're doing?” your harsh tone seemed to surprise him for just a second but he recovered just as quickly.

“What does it look like i'm doing?” he asked, standing straight and prideful in front of you as if he had just won some prize instead of vandalizing your home.

You didn't back up either, actually took a couple of steps closer to him and without giving yourself the chance to think about it twice you slapped him, hard, with all the pent-up rage you had been caring all this time apart. The sting in your hand almost made you regret it but you told yourself it was the least he deserved.

He held his cheek and you were expecting him to give you one of his cynical smirks but instead in his eyes there was just anger and a sadness she couldn't understand. “Why John B?” he asked as if just thinking about it made him want to go back to the chateau and break all his best friend's teeth.

“And why not?” you weren't showing any sign of remorse even if deep down a tiny part of you actually felt bad about it, still you felt that you had the right to do worse after what he had done to you. Sleeping with his best friend seemed only fair.

“He’s my best friend!” He slammed the baseball bat against one of the glass walls but without missing a beat you did the same with another one leaving him stunned for a moment.

“Like you care!” your normally non existent patience was specially thin today. “and it’s not like he even knew about me anyway!”

His face fell, guilt washing over him. “Don’t give me that shit again” he tried to look unfazed.

“Am I the one giving shit?” she scoffed, flipping her hair before loudly breaking another glass wall out of frustration “You came all the way here to destroy my house and for what? A hurt ego? You are a fucking child JJ”

“What are you doing? Stop that!” he took your wrists, making you drop your baseball bat. “I did this thinking you were gonna hate me! Never thought you were going to join me”

He looked embarrassed and slightly amused by your little outburst “Why would you want me to hate you?”

At first you didn't believe anything he said but slowly realization hit you, after all he had told you about his father and the childhood he had, he didn't go into much detail but he repeated some of his old man's words and you remembered one that specifically enraged you. You remember that day, JJ having to hold you down on your bed distracting you from going to his house to get Luke's ass.

He always told him he was trash. Always not only told him but showed him with his own actions that he was unworthy of love, so much and so many times he ended up believing it. But you knew the truth, just because his dad was incapable of loving someone that didn't mean he was unworthy of love. You knew because you loved him.

That's why he left when he felt things between you were starting to get serious, and that made you want to both hit and kiss him.

For the moment you choose the first one pushing him by his chest “You’re an asshole!” you hit him again and again until he held your wrists again, your eyes locked and even though he was trying to look ice cold his eyes had always betrayed him. “and I love you…”

JJ was frozen for what it felt like forever. “You have no idea what are you talking about”

“I'm perfectly capable of knowing what I feel!”

“No you don't!” his sudden snap made you take a step back but your eyes never leave his. “You’re just confused! You love all this kook-pogue thing, all you want me to do is to be your little doll that you can fix and show around!”

“That is not true!” what he was saying didn't make sense, because he knew you and you knew him enough to see it in his eyes. “and the worst part is that you know it, you know I really love you”

“Please stop” he was pulling his hair and pacing around trying to deny their feelings for each other but it was useless.

“JJ look at me” you tried to make him stop, to look at you in the eyes but hi turn his back on you, his breath was uneven and he had stop pacing but his right foot was still tapping against the floor.

You walked around him until he was actually looking at you, he looked like he wanted to cry but was too stubborn to do it in a moment like that trying to hold on to whatever ounce of pride he still had left. However all of it fell apart when you pulled him down by his neck to kiss him.

There was no resistance, his hands went to your waist like muscle memory, he pushed you against one of the few glasses that were still untouched by you both. His tongue find its way into your mouth and you could've sworn it had been months since you last felt him like this even if it only had been a couple of days.But the truth is that since the first time you spent the night together there was no way back and nothing, not even yourselfs was going to be able to tear your love apart.

“I love you too…” even if deep down you knew it, hearing it in his own words was what your heart needed to melt completely around him.

voodoo doll

pairing: jj maybank x raspberry!reader.

summary: jj vandalizes the house of one of the richest kooks on figure eight in a weak attempt to get her out of his mind or himself out of hers but everything goes sideways when he realizes she may be as crazy as he is.

warnings: pre relationship. violence (not towards reader). vandalism. past trauma. jj's canonical insecurities and impulsivity. two idiots in love. slight angst. hurt/comfort. fluff. happy ending. english is not my first language.

𝜗𝜚 poppy talks₊ ˚ ･ i just love love love the concept of jayj falling for a kook and his internal conflict, plus i think a lot of 5sos songs fit so well to write jj x reader.

Only a week had passed since JJ had ended whatever you had going on and it already felt like ages, it was probably because you had got too used to his presence in your life all day everyday whether it was texting or in your room or a hotel or your car in some parking lot late at night but it was frustrating.

It all started last summer when at the boneyard party you were too drunk to reconsider your choices and ended up hooking up with a just as intoxicated JJ in the backseat of your car. After that things were awkward between you two for a couple of days whenever you ran into each other but couldn't help but eventually crawl your way back to each other and do it a second time, then a third and a fourth... And before you know you become what could be called fuck buddies.

The problem was when it didn't end there, it kept going for months where you met for stress relief every time one of you needed it but... late nights started to turn into early mornings and you couldn't even remember when sex turned into talking. Just hours and hours of talking about your day, your week and eventually your struggles and dreams getting to know each other so deeply you could tell what the other was feeling without the need to say it.

You were in love... of course. Anyone who got to know the real JJ was doomed to fall for him, not just for his charms and flirtatious antics but the real him, the JJ who was the most loyal and supportive friend someone could ever ask for putting everyone over himself. He was special in a way you could never express with words but you tried when you talked to your mom about him, you didn't need to say much. It only took her a couple of seconds to see the spark in your eyes when you talked about him to know your feelings were genuine.

Lucky for you your parents were one of the very few ones at the island with three fingers of enough forehead to not be judgmental trash against the people on the other side, they had always taught you to enjoy what you had but to never give it for granted and to be aware that there were people who didn't had that much and it was definitely not their fault so when you talked to your mother about JJ she asked you to invite him for dinner. She wanted to meet the boy who had captured her daughter's heart and make sure he was worthy of it.

You could remember that day as if it was yesterday, how you jumped over him when he got into your room climbing for the window. JJ listen to you yap about how he could start using the door from now on and how your mom had invited him over for dinner, his arms were crossed and his face stoic while you could barely contain the excitement running in your veins pacing around the room already planning what you would be wearing but you stopped when the silence in his side had been too long. You had thought he loved you too, from the way your relationship had evolved to how he looked at you when you talked for hours about everything and nothing.

But you were wrong, at least that's what it looked like when he said he couldn't come tonight and that it would be better if you ended it right there before things could 'get ugly.' He wasn't rude but he wasn't exactly delicate about it and with just a couple of awkward excuses he left.

At first you had been sad, cried for a couple of days and didn't wanted to go out with your friends or even go to school but it only took you one party that your friends practically dragged you to, that day something switch inside you when you saw him making out with three different pogues during the night. You saw red, every fiber of your body screaming at you to do something stupid and so you did when you decided to sleep with his best friend that night in the same house he stayed in since he stopped sleeping at yours.

John B was a cute and nice guy so even if he wasn't exactly your type he didn't give you the worst night ever. Sadly other than making you feel good it only made you sadder and angrier when the next morning nothing happened, no fight, not even a glare and that only meant JJ had never mentioned you. You had talked about him to all your closest friends and even your mom when you thought things were getting serious but he had never even mentioned your name to his best friend.

Now all you had left to do was to stay alone in your house on a Sunday night with all this frustration pacing around your room thinking about a thousand ways to make his life miserable when you heard a loud noise coming from your front yard making you stop abruptly. Then another… then you could hear some glass breaking and you could only look around your room for something to defend yourself and your phone to call 911.

But nothing could have prepared you for what you saw when you opened the curtains of your window. JJ fucking Maybank was breaking your greenhouse with a baseball bat like he had just seen a ghost inside or something. The blood on your veins was boiling the second you saw him again, there was no rational thought inside your head when you took your own baseball bat from under your bed and stormed into the greenhouse.

“What the fuck do you think you're doing?” your harsh tone seemed to surprise him for just a second but he recovered just as quickly.

“What does it look like i'm doing?” he asked, standing straight and prideful in front of you as if he had just won some prize instead of vandalizing your home.

You didn't back up either, actually took a couple of steps closer to him and without giving yourself the chance to think about it twice you slapped him, hard, with all the pent-up rage you had been caring all this time apart. The sting in your hand almost made you regret it but you told yourself it was the least he deserved.

He held his cheek and you were expecting him to give you one of his cynical smirks but instead in his eyes there was just anger and a sadness she couldn't understand. “Why John B?” he asked as if just thinking about it made him want to go back to the chateau and break all his best friend's teeth.

“And why not?” you weren't showing any sign of remorse even if deep down a tiny part of you actually felt bad about it, still you felt that you had the right to do worse after what he had done to you. Sleeping with his best friend seemed only fair.

“He’s my best friend!” He slammed the baseball bat against one of the glass walls but without missing a beat you did the same with another one leaving him stunned for a moment.

“Like you care!” your normally non existent patience was specially thin today. “and it’s not like he even knew about me anyway!”

His face fell, guilt washing over him. “Don’t give me that shit again” he tried to look unfazed.

“Am I the one giving shit?” she scoffed, flipping her hair before loudly breaking another glass wall out of frustration “You came all the way here to destroy my house and for what? A hurt ego? You are a fucking child JJ”

“What are you doing? Stop that!” he took your wrists, making you drop your baseball bat. “I did this thinking you were gonna hate me! Never thought you were going to join me”

He looked embarrassed and slightly amused by your little outburst “Why would you want me to hate you?”

At first you didn't believe anything he said but slowly realization hit you, after all he had told you about his father and the childhood he had, he didn't go into much detail but he repeated some of his old man's words and you remembered one that specifically enraged you. You remember that day, JJ having to hold you down on your bed distracting you from going to his house to get Luke's ass.

He always told him he was trash. Always not only told him but showed him with his own actions that he was unworthy of love, so much and so many times he ended up believing it. But you knew the truth, just because his dad was incapable of loving someone that didn't mean he was unworthy of love. You knew because you loved him.

That's why he left when he felt things between you were starting to get serious, and that made you want to both hit and kiss him.

For the moment you choose the first one pushing him by his chest “You’re an asshole!” you hit him again and again until he held your wrists again, your eyes locked and even though he was trying to look ice cold his eyes had always betrayed him. “and I love you…”

JJ was frozen for what it felt like forever. “You have no idea what are you talking about”

“I'm perfectly capable of knowing what I feel!”

“No you don't!” his sudden snap made you take a step back but your eyes never leave his. “You’re just confused! You love all this kook-pogue thing, all you want me to do is to be your little doll that you can fix and show around!”

“That is not true!” what he was saying didn't make sense, because he knew you and you knew him enough to see it in his eyes. “and the worst part is that you know it, you know I really love you”

“Please stop” he was pulling his hair and pacing around trying to deny their feelings for each other but it was useless.

“JJ look at me” you tried to make him stop, to look at you in the eyes but hi turn his back on you, his breath was uneven and he had stop pacing but his right foot was still tapping against the floor.

You walked around him until he was actually looking at you, he looked like he wanted to cry but was too stubborn to do it in a moment like that trying to hold on to whatever ounce of pride he still had left. However all of it fell apart when you pulled him down by his neck to kiss him.

There was no resistance, his hands went to your waist like muscle memory, he pushed you against one of the few glasses that were still untouched by you both. His tongue find its way into your mouth and you could've sworn it had been months since you last felt him like this even if it only had been a couple of days.But the truth is that since the first time you spent the night together there was no way back and nothing, not even yourselfs was going to be able to tear your love apart.

“I love you too…” even if deep down you knew it, hearing it in his own words was what your heart needed to melt completely around him.

presenting

𝜗𝜚 poppy talks₊ ˚ ･ my readers do not come with any type of physical description, my intention with making them is to give the readers in my fics a personality so they don't look plain or boring. also so different girls reading them can feel the story more relatable. remember if you liked a fic but not the way that specific reader handled it you can request it to be rewritten with another one. more info about this here.

⠀⠀⠀

RASPBERRY READER! who likes to have fun loudly like partying with her girls, she draws attention wherever she goes and she enjoys it, especially when it comes from men she finds worthy enough of her for a night or maybe more.

RASPBERRY READER! who likes sparkling stuff and go out at night. short skirts and dresses. very high heels and a lot of glitter on her make up. she wishes to be young forever and makes use of her youth while she still has it.

RASPBERRY READER! she can be mean sometimes. if you hurt her she's going to het pay back no matter who you are. impulsive and sometimes paranoid. in some occasions male validation craver.

RASPBERRY READER! who is more likely to be paired up with 'bad/fuck/mean/sarcastic boys' who can pull up with her personality but don't be surprised if every once in a while she's written with a nice guy, she can be sensitive enough sometimes.

RASPBERRY READER! and the characters that share a similar personality with her could be maddy perez, lydia martin and jennifer check.

fluff: ۶ৎ⠀⠀⠀smut: 𑁤⠀⠀⠀angst: ✮⠀⠀⠀dead dove: ☾

navigation. ⠀⠀⠀ main m. list.

⠀⠀⠀

OBX!

jj maybank

voodoo doll ✮۶ৎ

jj vandalizes the house of one of the richest kooks on figure eight in a weak attempt to get her out of his mind or himself out of hers but everything goes sideways when he realizes she may be as crazy as he is.

more to be added...

just spent almost three days off line and i kinda see the appeal

Losing myself into fiction because the second I even try to think about reality I cry, can't handle it and have nobody to hold me.

Lestat's outfit for the night he met Louis's family always struck me as a bit off-character. Something about the bright emerald green necktie and ring struck me as symbolic... and out of the blue I realized why.

He is wearing a carnation. And the main color that pops is green. Lestat wore the American equivalent of Oscar Wilde's green carnation (which no florist would sell on the New World).

Now, whatever version of the tale you'd like to believe, it has always been widely accepted that Wilde used the green carnation as a visual symbol for "his people", a flower of an unnatural color embodying the "unnatural", meaning the queer crowd.

Now, before you think "but, was that common in Paris where Lestat lived?", the answer is yes. Here is a direct and quote on that:

"The claim is often made that the green carnation was fashionable among “inverts” (as gays were then called) in Paris, with Wilde having simply imported the fashion to London. In addition, early sexologists tell us that green is supposedly the “invert’s” favorite color."

Long story short, Lestat came to his in-laws's house carrying the equivalent of the rainbow flag of that time period.

(Also, let's not forget Lestat is an Oscar Wilde fanboy)

my plans are to cry in the shower

born to be all over pinterest, forced to be ugly

alexa play all things end by hozier😭🔫 this hit really really really close to home omg

GOOD RUN , DEAN WINCHESTER.

summary. dean is falling out of love.

word count. 715

this is so sad no my shayla…this might be my favorite I’ve written so far even if it’s super short! The Sam version will be out tonight🤭

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He’s trying to forget you, though you’re still by his side.

You feel it, but you refuse to say anything about in fear that it’ll make things real.

Dean doesn’t love you anymore, and you know that. You don’t think falling out of love with him will ever be possible, but then again, you didn’t think him falling out of love with you was possible either. He certainly didn’t until it happened.

It starts little by little. He doesn’t hold you at night anymore, but when he does, his heart doesn’t race against the side of your face laying on his chest like it used to every night. He wakes up, gets out of bed, without even looking at you, or kissing you.

In the mornings, he used to lay with you until the very last second. He would complain about having to go, would say he wants to lay here with you forever. Sometimes he would cook you breakfast. He would kiss you, morning sex was common.

Now mornings are dreadful. You feel his body leave your side, without daring to open your eyes. You hear the shower run, the door open, it’s like you don’t exist anymore.

At dinner, he doesn’t reach for your hand like he used to. The side of his thigh doesn’t touch yours, his eyes don’t meet you halfway, you look up, but he’s avoiding them. He’s avoiding you.

He skips dinner sometimes, because he doesn’t think he can face you. He might blur it out, and he doesn’t want that.

Dinners used to be full of laughter. He would reach for your hand under the table, he would have a hand on you at any given time. He would kiss you, but now you’re not sure you even know what his lips feel and taste like anymore.

Your body is grieving his touch, and you’re grieving his presence. Because he is here, he’s just not really here, he’s like a ghost.

Sam wants to say something. He wants to talk to you, over talking to his brother but he’s afraid you’ll break. Sam cares about you, but he also cares about his brother- he knows that if this ends, all of it will. You’ll leave, Dean will refuse to talk about it, and everyone will be miserable. But eventually- it has to happen because you already are.

You cry when he sleeps. You think he doesn’t hear you, but he doesn’t sleep much either. He feels the bed shake with every single sob you let out. He wants to reach for your hand and tell you he’s sorry, that he wish it was different and that it’ll all be fine but it would be a lie. He’s lied to you enough- he doesn’t want to do it anymore.

After yet another dinner full of silence and betrayal, you lay in bed wondering if this is the night Dean decides to get it over with, rip off the bandage, or decides to sleep somewhere else- but the door opens.

The bed sinks next to you, his back barely touches yours, and you hear him sigh.

‘Dean?’

He doesn’t answer.

‘Are you still in love with me?’

He doesn’t answer.

Except he does.

This silence means everything. It means the empty kisses felt empty because he didn’t love you anymore. It means, that the last I love you he said that sounded so robotic, like it was something he was used to say, but didn’t mean, is because he didn’t mean it anymore.

It means that it’s over, and you have to accept that.

It means that Dean is not the love of your life. Maybe it’s right person wrong time, or maybe it’s just the universe telling you that you had a good run, but it’s time to move on now.

It means that not only do you have to leave him, but you have to leave sam.

It means-you have to start over, and be alone again, because you don’t think you’d be able to breathe any longer if you stayed here with him without being able to kiss him and love him.

It means this is the end of a beautiful love story, ending in tragedy. It’s run its course- like every good thing does eventually.

this is the cutest thing i've ever read just when I needed something cute in my life, thank you, thank you, thank you.

i just want to keep this tattooed on my soul wtf besties wdym benedic x spinster x laufey this is everything for me, the way he was on his knees for her from the start and she didn't even noticed, bring yearning back please I beg of y'all.

YOU BEWITCH ME

꧁ ༺ ✧ ༻ ꧂

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Oh baby I am a wreck when I’m without you- I need you here to stay.

Line Without a Hook, Ricky Montgomery

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benedict bridgerton x eldest daughter! reader

summary: Benedict Bridgerton has been the least tolerable Bridgerton since you arrival to the ton. You are a lady of respectable means, though nearly forgotten by society due to some extenuating circumstances. But no matter how hard you try, you can’t stay away from him.

cw: time period typical treatment of women in society. btw when i say eldest daughter i mean SHE IS THE FIRST BORN OF HER FAMILY SHE IS NOT RELATED TO HIM NO INCEST THAT IS NASTY !!!! also no smut

a/n: i’m writhing on the floor foaming at the mouth im dying dead. my girlies from the books know that Benedict is a Tier One Yearner (tm) and im utterly obsessed with the dynamic of elizabeth bennet and fitzgerald darcy so i bring you the bridgerton version

i wrote this before i watched season two so shhhhh i didn’t steal her backstory from Kate’s i had no idea they were gonna be so similar T-T

please excuse the crazy long playlist my brain is infected

songs i listened to while writing: Somethin’ Stupid by Nancy and Frank Sinatra, Bewitched by Laufey, Line Without A Hook by Ricky Montgomery (these fools are yearning CRAZY) Amore mio autami by Piero Piccioni, Valentine- Live at the Symphony by Laufey & The Iceland Symphony Orchestra, Someone to Say- Reprise from the Cyrano Motion Picture Soundtrack, Hopelessly Devoted to You by Olivia Newton-John, The Way I Loved You (Taylor’s Version) by Taylor Swift, A Lovely Night by Ryan Gosling and Emma Stone, The Swan by Camille Saint-Saëns, Sebastian Comberti, and Miriam Keogh

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title taken from Bewitched by Laufey (GO LISTEN TO LAUFEY)

✧˖°.

In your short time at the ton, you have met every Bridgerton. Eloise in particular is your favorite- her determination to carve her own path despite the vice grip societal standards have on her is nothing less than refreshing and inspiring. Violet, their mother, is the most likeable of all the ones you have met. Anthony is respectable, Colin is nice, and the children behave well enough for their age. That just leaves one left.

Benedict Bridgerton is the least tolerable and easiest to dislike out of his siblings and family. His cavelier disregard for anything of true substance —besides the art he covets so dearly— grates on you. His smirk prickles your skin whenever he flashes it at you (which is, of course, much too often) and his general manner of being make you desire nothing more than to leave whatever party or ball you are at and never return.

And he, no matter how hard you try, does not seem to get the message.

"Ah," He bows slightly as you enter, "The lady doth grace us with her presence."

You give a tiny curtsey —enough to appease Portia Featherington, whom you have arrived with— and a thin smile, which drops the second she is out of earshot.

"Mr. Bridgerton," You greet, purely out of formality and however might be eavesdropping, gossip is especially rife in this town, "How... nice of you to leave the comforts of your canvas to charm us ladies at this party. I'm sure there is someone else here in attendance who would wish to speak to you more."

Indeed, there are several ladies eyeing the pair of you. To Benedict, with very obvious heart eyes, and to you, barely contained sneers.

If only you could assure them you are of no threat to their dear Benedict. Not a threat to any gentleman well and truly looking for a wife, to speak plainly.

"But who would entertain you? It must be difficult, being here, so far away from your friends and family in..." He trails off, leaning in to you expectantly.

"Cheltenham," You respond, smile paper-thin.

"Cheltenham," He nods. "I hear they have the most magnificent gardens. We do have some impressive ones here in London, but we are not quite known for them."

"Oh, yes. You must be quite familiar with these gardens by now. I must suppose this is our third time having this exact conversation."

There. Right there, his smirk almost falters. As usual, your sharp-tongue and quick-wit catches him off-guard. It is the easiest way to disarm a one Benedict Bridgerton long enough to make a quick escape.

Except this party is rather boring (even though you have just arrived) and well. With almost no chance of possible suitors approaching you and your usual preference of lingering on the fringes of parties and analyzing what happens in them, there is little better to do than subject Benedict to whatever mood you are in.

"You'll forgive me," he affirms, "It is hard to find topics of conversation when one's partner is adamant on not continuing past formalities."

The usual flame begins to spark in your chest. "Oh? Then let us continue, if that's what you desire. I had believed you would want to save your best conversation for the ladies who are much more... diverting."

"My, my," He tilts his head, smirk widening. "Do you consider yourself plain?"

"I consider myself un-agreeable," You remark, words rolling so easily off your tongue. Something about arguing with Benedict specifically always makes your words easier to find, easier to say. "I think you will find that most, if not all, of the gentlemen here agree. Even Lady Whistledown writes of my abilities to repel any and all suitors."

"So I have heard," Nearly in sync, you both pluck glasses of wine off a passing tray, "I do worry, my dear Lady. You sound almost proud of this feat."

"I am. I have worked tirelessly for the title."

He takes a sip of his wine. "I recall several suitors calling upon you back when you first arrived, at the start of this season."

"Ah yes, well," You take a sip of your own, "Nothing makes a woman think of marriage like being fought over like a shiny new toy."

Benedict chuckles, looking down at his glass and then back at you. "I see now why you and my sister get along so well."

"I believe that was evident from the moment we met. Not just anyone deserves the right of befriending Eloise Bridgerton."

"Ah! There we go," He raises his glass as if toasting. "Something we both can agree on."

The conversation lulls into silence, neither of you bothering to start it up again. You merely stand, an appropriate distance apart, and watch. Benedict, likely watching his brother, who has taken to the dance floor, and you, watching a young lady who bears a rather striking resemblance to your one of your sisters.

A stab of homesickness plunges deep into your chest, so sharp and so quick you almost suck in an audible gasp. You haven’t seen your sisters in quite some time. Each of them married and in love and happy- something you worked so, so hard to achieve.

Even if it meant you yourself are likely to become a spinster.

Benedict notices your momentary grief. He follows your eyeline, and when he speaks next, it is surprisingly soft.

“Do you miss your sisters?”

You sip your wine, at the same time using the glass to cover the slight shine of tears that has risen in your eyes and to take a moment to gather your words.

“Do you miss Daphne?”

“Of course I do,” His voice is firm, almost vehement. “But I gather that the bond between sisters is different than sisters and brothers.”

The wine begins to settle in your stomach, rich and heavy.

“It is,” You say, nearly a whisper, “My sisters and I were all very close. I miss them a great deal.”

You allow your words time to hang in the air before continuing. “But they are all married now, and they are happy. Most of them have children of their own. They’ve all gotten fine lives for themselves.”

Benedict makes a noise in the back of his throat that has you turning to stare at him.

“You are the eldest, yes?” He asks, something you can’t identify in his eyes.

“I am.”

“And you have not yet married,” He continues, “I would think that the eldest would get married first, and her sisters would follow her lead.”

You stare down at your gloves. This topic of conversation has come up several times over the course of your stay —Especially because you’re staying with the Featherington’s, being old family friends of your father, and Portia does love a good piece of gossip— and it never gets easier.

“My mother died before any of us entered society. I was raised by our governess, and my sisters were raised by me. Our father has… little interest in the affairs of match-making and courtship and everything it is young ladies get up to.”

Benedict is silent while you speak, eyeing you curiously.

“And my mother had always spoken of how she wished for her daughters to marry for love. And with her gone, well,” You swallow harshly over the lump in your throat, “Somebody had to ensure that came true. How could I prepare my sisters for society and guide them to their matches if I was busy and married?”

He doesn’t respond for several long moments. When he does, there’s an edge to his voice that wasn’t there before.

“I had not considered you so selfless.” He admits, eyes flicking over your face. “I must say, I am quite surprised. So many layers to the ton’s most infamous suitor-fighter.”

And just like that, all the air seems to return to the room, and whatever momentary tension was there leaves, and you remember that you are speaking to Benedict Bridgerton.

You give him another fake smile. “We can’t all be so one-dimensional, Benedict.”

—

You’re not sure how you have found yourself a seat at the Bridgerton dinner table.

Of course, you are not surprised at all to have found yourself at dinner with the Bridgerton’s. Eloise is always insisting you come to dinner— the dowager Bridgerton has heard of her pleas so often that they’ve almost come to save you a seat- you are there at least once a week.

The surprise falls in the matter of who is sitting next to you.

“Mr. Bridgerton,” You say, voice just loud enough for him to hear, “Your wine glass is a bit close to mine, don’t you think?”

The smile he sends you —that you can barely see from the corner of your eye— is sharp and full of teeth.

“Nonsense. I’ve found that a little proximity is good for things every now and then.”

“Every now and then,” You repeat, voice firm, “Somehow I find myself seeing you more and more.”

“Oh, surely there are worse fates.”

“Hardly.”

“Tell me- are you this sharp-tongued with all whom you meet?”

“Only the ones that deserve it.”

He raises his wine glass to his lips. “And what have I done to deserve such cruel wit?”

“Oh, don’t play ignorant to your intentionally aggravating behaviors.”

Benedict rests a hand over his chest in mock pain. “You wound me. Truly.”

The sip of wine you take is a little too large to be considered a sip. “Somehow, I find that hard to believe.”

“Tell me,” He tosses back a generous gulp of wine, “Were you born this stubborn and sarcastic or did it come naturally over time?”

“Hmm,” You pretend to think, “I suppose I’d consider myself that of a fine cheddar. Only tasting sharper with time.”

Benedict laughs, a private thing, clearly already tipsy. “That doesn’t even answer my question.”

“Why do you even want to know?”

“I want to know what your sisters endured during their childhoods. My word. I can only imagine why you haven’t had any suitors since arriving here.”

Fear races up your spine at his words, a sudden a rather unwelcome reminder of why your father sent you to London.

“Yes, well,” You answer, your mouth suddenly dry and your hands sweating in your gloves, “They should know there is no accounting for someone’s personality.”

He’s silent for a few moments. It makes you nervous his silence, so you turn your head, just a little, to see what expression he’s wearing.

Only when you turn, he’s already staring. Not even the half-head turn that you’ve done. He’s staring. Right at you.

His brows are furrowed, little creases on the skin in between them, and his eyes are bright and searching.

“Are you alright?”

You have been in London for two months, one week, and three days.

Benedict Bridgerton is the first person to ask if you’re okay.

“Fine,” You say, smoothing out your features with force, “Wine does not always agree with me.”

He doesn’t believe you. But he doesn’t pry, either.

“Shall you be giving the wine a thorough lecture, then?”

“Wine does not have ears. A lecture would be wasted on it,” You pause, “However, if we can track down the winemaker…”

Your words have their desired effect. He laughs, this time a little louder than something just for the two of you to share, garnering a couple glances from Anthony and Eloise, so you sip your wine and pretend you did not just make Benedict laugh. A real laugh, not the fake one he does when you’re arguing.

You suppose there are worse ways spend an evening.

—

It is an almost pleasant day in London. Almost being that the temperatures are fair, but the weather overcast.

You find garden parties the most interesting of all the parties to be had by the high society families because it means you get to escape to the gardens. Of course, there are others milling about in them, but they offer much more privacy than a ballroom and have the added bonus of reminding you of your home in Cheltenham.

“What is it liked to be overlooked by society?” Eloise asks, ever lacking decorum. It is, honestly, refreshing. She does not beat around the bush or sugar-coat her words.

You think on her words before responding, taking the time instead to eye some rather nice roses. “Honestly? It is not as terrible as you might think. Everybody always says that spinsterhood is a fate worse than death, but if it’s anything like this, I can’t think it to be that painful.”

She nods, thinking over your words. “But didn’t you want to marry? You must be lonely.”

You elbow her side as you walk, arms entwined. “How could I ever be lonely with such incorrigible friends?”

You both laugh, raucous and cackling and nothing close to lady-like.

“Is there a pack of hyenas roving about the gardens?”

You hear the rush of footsteps swishing across the grass, then feel the brush of fabric on your arm.

“Mr. Bridgerton,” You sigh, cutting him a glare, “What are you doing here?”

He loops his arm through yours, the same way that Eloise has done to you.

“Mr. Bridgerton.” You warn, tone sharp

“Oh relax,” His smirk is in high form, today, “I am protecting you ladies from those hyenas. We haven’t found them yet, have we? It’s the gentlemanly thing to do.”

“Eloise,” You pause, craning your neck about the garden, “Do you see a gentleman around here?”

Eloise snickers behind her glove. “I can’t say that I can see any.”

Benedict rolls his eyes. “Humor me, then.”

You continue walking. “I suppose we will. It’s good to engage in charity, dear Eloise. You must not think yourself above those less fortunate.”

He scoffs. “Since when do you consider yourself charitable?”

You flap your fan a few times. “I have a great many qualities. Do not fault me because you are so caught up in yourself to notice anything other than what you want.”

His fingers flex. “And what is it you think I want to see?”

You shrug plainly. “Me as I present myself. Unbecoming and, probably by the standards here, vile.”

“No.” He says, the word more of a sound, sort of ripped from his chest.

You look at him in alarm and he meets your gaze evenly. “You are a great many things- stubborn and irritating, but never vile.”

His words and the vehemence in which he said that stun you into silence. You’d never imagined Benedict, of all people, to take such an issue with that word. Vile. You’ve been called vile often over the course of your life, by mothers and suitors and other debutants and even on occasion your father. Its meaning has been mostly lost on you, the cruel nature in which it is said no longer barbed and painful. It is just a word, like every other word.

He’s staring at you, an almost pained expression on your face, so you figure you should say something.

“I see,” Eloise’s arm tightens on yours, “I suppose I should take your words to heart. I am glad to know that there is at least one gentleman who does not think me a vile woman.”

Benedict smiles, but there’s a flicker of something else in his eyes for a moment, something you don’t manage to place before it is gone.

“Ah! You called me a gentleman. Have I won you over?”

“For now, at least.”

—

You miss dancing.

Since you are the most un-agreeable lady in the Ton, you are seldom asked to dance, and since a partner is a requirement for the activity, you tend to spend most parties on the fringes, either talking with Eloise or merely observing.

Or arguing with Benedict. But you’ve found it a little harder to truly poke at him with any real malice or criticism since he defended your character so passionately that day in the gardens.

“You’re watching the dancers like they personally offended you.”

He always finds you at parties. Actually, he always finds you no matter where you are.

You gaze at him out of the corner of your eye. “I’m envious. Pay me no mind.”

He snorts. “Envious of the dancers? Whatever for?”

“I miss dancing. The only problem with scaring away all your suitors is that you also scare away all of your potential dance partners.”

You both observe them quietly for several moments, eyes tracking the flowing and sweeping movements.

“Do you,” he pauses, clears his throat when his voice cracks over the last syllable, “Like to dance?”

“Yes,” You admit, a tad embarrassed, “I always have. Most of society’s expectations for women are quite sedentary or still. But dancing is… its movement and passion. And sometimes, when your partner is agreeable and the music fair, it can almost feel like you’re not dancing at all. That there is no one else there, just the two of you.”

Your face heats, the realization that you’ve been talking so long about something you really do care about striking you. “Or so I’ve heard. I haven’t actually experienced that last bit.”

He inclines his head. “Where did you hear about it?”

“From my mother, as she regaled me on the day she met my father.”

You both stand, shoulder to not-shoulder, more like mid-upper arm, observing the spins and steps of the pairs of dancers.

“Would you dance with me?”

You snap your head to him. “Dance?”

“Yes,” He says, voice a little breathless. “I have yet to do my duty dance for the evening and it would be unfair to keep a lady from the dance floor.”

He extends a hand. “Especially if she longs for it.”

You stare down at his hand. “People will talk of you dancing with me. I would not want to bring reproach—“

“Dance with me,” He says again. “Please.”

Who are you to deny such an earnest request?

He marks a spot on your dance card- your first and only of the night.

As the next song comes a close, he leads you onto the the dance floor, and for the first time in awhile, you feel… conscious, of the eyes on you.

Everybody always watches for the who the Bridgerton’s dance with. Except now Anthony has Kate, and he is much less interesting than the second Bridgerton brother taking a partner to dance. Especially a partner with the reputation you have.

The song begins, and you glide your way through the steps.

“You didn’t have to dance with me. I’m sure we’ll—“ you pause, spinning, “—appear in Lady Whistledown’s review in the morning.”

He grasps your hand tightly. “Let them talk. I have never been the brother anyone is well and truly worried about.”

You begin to feel more and more alive and the song plays on. Movement— real, fluid, passionate movement thrums in your veins, the music jumping through the air.

But all good things must come to end.

Eventually, the music comes to a close, and you must curtsy, and allow Benedict to leave the dancefloor.

“You dance well,” He praises, eyes alight, “I see why you miss dancing. You glide like a swan.”

The smile that tugs at your lips is entirely involuntary. “You are too kind. I do not dance that well. I just have a passion for it.”

He raises a brow. “Oh come now, accept the compliment.”

You shake your head, chuckling a breathy laugh. “Then I must pay you one in return. Not once did you step on my toes or lose your way. Color me impressed.”

His face lights up, joy evident. “And the night grows better! A compliment from our dear spinster.”

“I have always proclaimed myself a fair judge, have I not?”

Benedict’s expression is alight with amusement. “You have. But that doesn’t mean I’ve been all that inclined to believe you.”

You can’t help but roll your eyes. “Well, there’s no accounting for opinions, even if they are wrong.”

“I thought opinions above being right or wrong.”

“Only sometimes.”

Benedict looks all together too pleased with himself as he gazes at you, lips quirked up and cheeks still a little flushed from the dance.

He extends a hand.

“Care for another dance?”

You smile down at your gloves. “I couldn’t possibly. Dancing with me once could be forgiven, but twice? What would your mother think?”

“My mother happens to like you a great deal,” He says smoothly, “And I think I might enjoy dancing with somebody who actually dances.”

How could you refuse?

You place your hand in his.

“I’d be delighted.”

—

As has become a particular habit of yours recently, you’re lying away, staring at your ceiling and pondering Benedict’s actions.

Why did he ask you to dance? Why did he allow you the joy of two dances?

Why did he care?

Why can’t you stop thinking about it?

In your heart, and probably your mind, you know why. The warmth of his hands through the gloves and the dappling of the candlelight on his flushed cheeks is stuck fast in your mind for the exact same reason you’ve hated him since the moment you met:

You love him.

You didn’t love him when you met, but you know yourself. You know he is the type of man that you would love- the type that would break your heart because he is charming and kind, and he will never choose you. And why should he? You’re sharp and sarcastic and nowhere near the shining qualities and perfection of this season’s diamond- any of the season’s diamonds, really. You’re a spinster in the making with an attitude and standards.

It is a most unfortunate combination. For your upbringing to have made you so hard to love and have also instilled such a deep want for love and romance in your heart. You know you were not made for it, not for the kind your father sent you to London to get.

He wants you married to whoever will take you- only problem is, now no one will. Especially not Benedict.

But… could he?

You turn over in bed, smushing your face into the pillow.

No, you tell yourself, Don’t go down that road. Don’t even think about it.

You barely sleep a wink, that night.

—

The morning brings the post, and the post brings a letter from your father.

Not even Portia Featherington’s threats of grounding stop you from racing into a carriage to Bridgerton house.

You enter through the back entrance and upon seeing your disheveled appearance and tear stricken face, a servant rushes inside to fetch Eloise immediately.

The girl herself looks harried and concerned as she meets you in the back garden, a million questions etched in her face and streaming out of her mouth.

“My father,” You half-sob, “Has found me a husband. Baron Dunsmoor. He is— he’s horrible. He has had two previous wives, and then all died in childbirth. He is disgusting and revolting and treats women like, like cows.”

Eloise’s expression crumples. “What is, what can be done?”

You shake your head, pressing the back of your hand to your mouth. “It is too late. He’s ordered me to come home at once so the proposal can be made official.”

The younger Bridgerton girl grasps your shoulders. “What if you were to get a proposal? Here? Now?”

“Eloise!” You say, “Who are we going to find to marry me before tomorrow?”

Her eyes shine when she answers. “My brother. Benedict.”

The cruel, twisting stab to your gut that hearing his name, now, here, gives you is nothing short of agonizing.

If you were not crying before, you certainly are now.

“How could you say that?” You ask, breath hard and stuck in your throat, “He would— He will never marry me. That is, it’s cruel to even suggest that.”

“No, no I promise, he loves you, I am sure of it—“

“Eloise, please do not—“

“He has painted you, drawn you, I swear he must have illustrated your likeness more than—“

“Eloise!” You snap, patience thin and tears thick, “That is enough. Benedict will not marry me. I cannot—“

“Marry me.”

You snap your head up at the sound of a familar, rich voice, eyes meeting Benedict’s as he marches over to you eyebrows drawn tight and lips set.

He looks… distraught. Utterly wrecked.

“Mr. Bridgerton,” You gasp, “You—“

“Benedict. Please. You never call me Benedict.”

His words come out like a dying man’s wish, despite you being the one stuck in a hopeless situation.

“Benedict,” You start, “I cannot marry you.”

“Why not?” He snaps, words and expression immediately becoming sharp and confused, “You would rather live a life with that wretched man?”

“Of course not,” You retort, “But it’s not that simple—“

“Yes it is!” He cries, throwing his hands up and taking another step towards you, “Tell me, honestly, if you wrote to your father and told him I had proposed and you had accepted, would he not choose my proposal over the baron’s?”

“Yes, but—“

“But what?”

“But I cannot accept!” You shout, aware of Eloise standing only a few feet away and servants no dough crowding to watch from the door, “I can endure a loveless marriage to a loveless man. I could not endure a loveless marriage to a man that I love.”

Benedict sucks in a gasp, and you refuse to meet his gaze. How can you, after saying that?

Birds chirp overhead. There is the distance noise of carriages moving about in London. Somewhere distant, a dog barks.

“Do you truly think our marriage would be loveless?” He says, voice scraped raw and quiet, “How could you not know the depth of my affection for you?”

You look up, taking a half step forwards, searching his face for any hint of a lie, for deception.

You find open, painful, vulnerable honesty.

“What reason would I have to believe that I had a chance?” You ask, voice hushed, “All we do is argue. I have been cast out by society and you are a Bridgerton.”

He reaches forwards, grasps your hands in his. Your breath hitches.

Neither of you are wearing gloves.

“I am so in love with you it makes my chest hurt and my bones ache. Eloise was right. I have drawn you hundreds of times because there is just so much inside of me and it has nowhere to go,”

His lips quirk up a little, almost sad, “I loved it when we argued, because it meant you looked at me. It meant I held your attention. And you are remarkably smart and so, so much more wonderful than you give yourself credit for. I would sooner burn everything I’ve ever drawn than let you marry that man, than let you believe that you can never marry for love.”

He squeezes your hands once.

“Please, marry me.”

Your eyes are burning with a fresh wave of tears, but there’s something warm and alive unfurling and beating in your chest, something that glows with every word he says.

You laugh a strange noise, somewhere between a chuckle and a sob.

“Yes,” You gasp, your smile practically splitting your face in two, “Yes. I will marry you.”

Benedict’s smiling too, the both of you looking like fools, smiling and laughing in his garden.

Eventually, he turns to Eloise. “You’d better go tell mother she has another wedding to plan.”

Eloise scoffs. “Oh, please. She’s been working on this one for ages. I’m absolutely positive everybody knew this was only a matter of time except the two of you.”

He looks baffled, and you note in the back of your mind that he’s still holding your hands, “What? I wasn’t that obvious.”

“You danced with her. Twice. In a row.”

“So?”

Eloise rolls her eyes. “You don’t dance with anybody, especially more than once. You’ve been making love eyes at each other over verbal spars for ages. It’s been disgusting to watch.”

You snort. “Then look away.”

“Absolutely not. You insult my brother too well.”

You laugh again, then look back to Benedict.

“My father, and the Baron—“

“I will write to him today,” he soothes, “And have the letter sent with the fastest post carrier. You’re my wife now. I’m not going to let anyone else have you.”

Your cheeks heat. “I’m not your wife yet.”

He shrugs. “Only a matter of time, my love.”

Eloise retches in the background, and Portia will be an absolute nightmare to deal with when you get back, and part of you still wonders if Benedict is serious, but none of that seems to matter.

Not with how he’s looking at you now. Not with your hands in his.

You’re really looking forward to that first kiss.

✧˖°.

──────────────────────

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mood

The sexiest man in the entire world is probably building a fence right now with no instagram account

at the end of the day its better to be hurt than to hurt someone else

I love nerds and smart people in general SO MUCH. like yes PLEASE tell me random stuff about chess as you do your homework, or the etymology of a word I said, LIKE AUDJDHFHFNFNFFNFN I JUST LOVE IT WHEN PEOPLE KNOW THINGSSUDHDJFJN. 😭

how is this man always in his prime?!?!?

need him in a way that’s offensive to feminism

Can you still hold me tight? I forgot to stop dreaming of you.

if i was in the materialists that movie would be about 5 min long i am picking the fine ass rich man played by pedro pascal bffr

oh to be a barbie doll serving vintage cunt

everytime jamie fraser is on screen, i'm just like 'that is a good man savannah, a good man,'