#cptn nash

[lifesizehysteria]

random ask for you but what’s your favourite fruit 👀

That is truly difficult because I really like fruit in general but there is little in the world that beats a perfectly ripe nectarine. I do also love watermelon. It’s is the pizza of fruit. Even when it’s not that good, it’s still okay.

What is yours???

[dawntainbobbynash]

ooo ok so here’s one that i’ve thought of a lot but i only see a few people talk about but what do you think bobby’s parents/brother are like? do you think he had any more siblings? (i’ve been writing a fic over the past while so i’ve gotten to kind of develop what i think his brother is like but i’m curious on your thoughts!)

LORD I have headcanons. I have a billion wildly conflicting headcanons bc we know so little and I can never decide how angsty I want his childhood to be. Not knowing drives me insane actually, thanks so much Fox

(gonna stick this under a read more bc it got long)

The one thing I absolutely refuse to change my mind on is that Bobby is the youngest sibling. He has to be the boss or the dad or somehow the strong one in so many of his relationships, so I just want him to be the baby with his parents and sibling(s) to give him a break and have a different dynamic

Lately, my inability to decide things has given me the idea of Bobby being adopted (his brother is still his bio brother), and I’m rather fond of that. It gives me the best of both worlds with crappy bio parents traumatizing him for a few years before he's properly raised by loving adoptive parents. It also fits wonderfully with my idea that he grew up comparing himself to Superman bc his parents called him their little Superman

I do think they inadvertently pushed the "all boys have to be firefighters" thing a little too hard, though. He was just suspiciously unhappy when he revealed that, and it's hard for me not to think there's baggage attached considering how long it took him to tell anyone that he's a fourth-generation firefighter when he should be proud of that. It's become my firm belief since then that he didn't necessarily want to be a firefighter when he was a kid, but he did it to make them happy and bc he felt like he didn't have a choice

I waver a lot about the specifics of Bobby's relationship with his brother, but I do usually think they have a rivalry about who's the better firefighter that mostly stems from Bobby thinking he has to be the absolute best at everything to be worthy of anyone's love (bc I fully believe he's felt like that since long before he broke his back)

I don't have a name for his brother (I used to, but I based it on headcanons I made before the firefighter family reveal and it doesn't feel right in light of the changes that made me make, and I haven't picked a new one yet), but I do think he's happily married with a minimum of three kids. Unlike Bobby, he was always excited to be a firefighter, and he always made it look effortless (their dad absolutely gave them some sort of training when they were growing up to make sure they would be ready for the academy)

I don't know if I think he actually has more siblings in canon, but I want him to have a sister too so I did create a new AU last week where I decided that Captain Shore from May Day is that sister. She's the eldest, her wife is an ER nurse named Jordin, and they have three adopted kids. I pushed the firefighter family legacy & their dad training only the boys for it to an angsty extreme in that, so she moved to LA the second she was old enough and built her life there, and only stayed in contact with their mother until Bobby moved to LA too. They fix their relationship and, when they eventually go back to Minnesota, they do it together

On the back to Minnesota note, I also think that Bobby hasn't actually spoken to any of them since he moved to LA, or even since Marcy and the kids' funeral. It just explains too much, like why they were never invited to the wedding and why he never talks about them and why they never visit even when he's been hurt. At first he just wanted to make his death easier on them, and later it just became the fact that he doesn't know how to reach back out. There's just... so much that he doesn't know how to explain, so much he doesn't know how to face again. They keep up with his life as much as they can through news and stuff, but they don't know how to reach out either

All in all, I think he has a family full of wonderful people who love him, but the combo of his own personality and the pressure to carry the family legacy soured some things as he got older and struggled to find his place in the world, and the cracks truly started showing once he broke his back, and everything finally fell apart after the fire and they have yet to fix it

[ilariyalavorowrites]

Reblogging as I have tweaked a few things after binge-watching Season 7 and the start of Season 8. This has given me a few ideas for a short sequel to Good Enough.

Tagged: @graniairish @madhatter-crazyasahatter-blog @4everflowercore @blueskyredrosegrey @agathaharknessfan96 @ljej95 @yoshinorecommends @horsedragonllama @forever2ne1 @clayzayden @multifandomlesbianic @thepotatoislost @tvshowmasterlistblog @guardianangelsblog @unkindn3ss-of-rav3ns @cptn-nash, @originalsoulcollector, @ateandleftnocrumbz @911readercollection

Good Enough (Chapter Ten)

Imagine: Imagine leaving LA after feeling like an outsider in your relationship with Bobby and Athena as they seem to pull away and distance themselves from you. Only to find that it is almost impossible to actually walk away.

Warnings: Angst with happy ending, AU, Bisexual Athena, BDSM

Pairings: Bobby Nash x Reader x Athena Grant

Word count: 4,025 words

Universe: 9-1-1

Reader gender: Female

Tagged: @graniairish @madhatter-crazyasahatter-blog @4everflowercore @blueskyredrosegrey @agathaharknessfan96 @ljej95 @yoshinorecommends @horsedragonllama @forever2ne1 @clayzayden @multifandomlesbianic @thepotatoislost @tvshowmasterlistblog @guardianangelsblog @unkindn3ss-of-rav3ns @cptn-nash @originalsoulcollector @ateandleftnocrumbz @911readercollection

Previous

Part: 10/10

“I desperately wanted to hate what I could see growing before my eyes, whilst I felt the sting of bitterness deepening within the depths of my soul.

Knowing I was being unintentionally pushed aside, I couldn’t bring myself to hate such tender love, pure and healing those festering wounds within you both. I knew there was no way forward. This was my out and I had to take it before those dreaded dark seeds blossomed. I could not be the one to tear down love as beautiful as yours.”

The sound of silence was almost deafening in how all-consuming it was, as you stood staring straight ahead. You had brought the axe down hard, cutting the conversation dead in its tracks. What else could be said after such a heart-breaking confession?

Your mouth was dryer than the Sahara desert as you waited for the oppressive atmosphere to pass.  You would have regretted the moment those words crossed your lips if they had been a falsehood, a lie to distract from the truth. However this was your reality, this was how you truly felt. You watched as Bobby’s hope deflated as he began to disappear into himself once more.

This cut deeper than anything else, as you witnessed his confidence and self-worth splinter into a million differently shaped pieces. This was not what you wanted but a by-product of your choices.

No matter how you phrased it, no carefully thought-through planned statement could have stopped the blunt force of agony that swiftly followed. It was a hard pill to swallow but you couldn’t skirt around what this was. This was the end of the road when hearts got broken, where feelings were pushed out of the way for the cold harsh light of day. This was a break-up, one that had been long coming. You had heard the deafening sirens in the distance but ignored them for as long as possible. You had truly wanted this to work, you had clung to the notion that they were it, your endgame. 

This was failure plain and simple, no matter how it was presented even neatly with a bow tied on top. This attempt at an unconventional relationship, a throuple had crashed and burnt in a way that you hadn’t given a second thought to. Yet here you were with an increasingly despondent Bobby. Athena had held steadfast to her Second Amendment rights, falling silent and staring anywhere else in the room to avoid your gaze.

You felt as if you had been caught with your hand in a cookie jar when you had been told no treats before dinner. At this moment, shame and guilt were the most prevalent emotions but shades of regret and the anguish of waking up alone tomorrow were starting to manifest, mixing in. The weight of this new dawn was unlike what you had experienced before. You had navigated through both messy and amicable breaks before but this felt on another level.

This would be a whole new scenario to manoeuvre through, the various twists and turns that encompassed the maze that you standing in with walls that stretched as far as the eye could see. Your reality had somewhat shifted, changing the illusionary location rapidly. In a blink of an eye, the interrogation room melted away. This was what your mind replaced it with. An inescapable maze of your own design, that you rushed through but constantly failed to find the correct path that would lead you out.

This was your anticipated worst-case scenario in one way yet things were not playing out as you initially imagined. It was a hell of a lot worse, than anything that your twisted mind would conjure up. You should feel relieved as the pressure on your chest was finally released as you spoke what had been lingering in the back of your mind. However, that dejected look in Athena’s eyes stung more than you ever thought it might as if that knife you used to cut the thread connecting you to them had been turned around and wrapped itself around your damaged heart.

It twisted left then right, damaging just enough with each turn to leave a permanent mark behind. A reminder whenever you found yourself alone with your thoughts. There it would be, a figurative wound, raw and never truly closing for all your days to come. A fractured heart, aching to be healed but the missing piece could never be reclaimed. This was the price too high that would be paid here and now. The piper was calling and this was your reply.

What else was there to be said? The ball was in their court, you just needed to be patient and wait to see what happened next. Bobby Nash, Fire Captain of Firehouse 118 stood off to one side contemplating how small his world had just become. In a few short minutes, his happy little world had frozen over as feelings of failure, inadequacy, confusion and grief overtook his peripheral vision. Sliding over him like the visor clicking down on his helmet. 

This felt like a step to the side, not a step backwards into the darkness. He wasn’t alone in his despair this time. He had a partner along for the ride, sharing the load as he felt Athena slide along before placing her hand into his. An act of comfort, this was what he needed. Tears would come but not quite yet. He had cried enough for more than one lifetime. Athena barely contained the sorrow as it quelled beneath her simmering fury. 

The storm had come and gone, brushed aside in the heat of the moment. A numbness soon followed, settling over the two of them as they took their first steps back into the world, their hearts bruised and cracked but holding firm. Knitting the threads that held them together tighter than before. This had tested them, pushing them to the edge, only to pull them back again. 

One where things hadn’t worked out when they tried taking a different path, by inviting one another in and opening up their cosy relationship. It had been one hell of a ride, where flames of passion smouldered. Ultimately the spark dimmed as that once fierce blaze cooled until three had disappeared right back to where it had been in the beginning, just the two of them. Where a couple stood on by, watching as their third left. 

Had the right person stumbled in at the wrong time? This bizarre thought dared to cross his mind. Maybe this was simply poor timing and ill-planning. He had nothing but time to run through all the questions, the what-ifs and the rabbit holes that it might lead him down. Athena would be there to set him straight when he’d evitable delve too far into the depths of his mind, becoming lost in the dark. She would be the light to emulate the path hidden from his sight.

This was both an end and a new beginning. It would be an uphill battle, only this time he would have someone else along for the journey. “This was never the plan when Athena and I opened up our relationship, to invite you in for a time and then to push you right back out into the cold” He started as he worked through his thoughts, trying to vocalize his rapidly shifting feelings. 

He was everything all at once. A perfect storm locked away in a glass flask but the fierce winds were steadily calming. Athena was another story together as she had remained tight-lipped. All her words were locked away in a vault, under lock and key. There was no doubt that she would make one hell of a poker player, as she masked through each time she bluffed about the cards in her hand. Winning round after round with ease. Burning holes in various pockets and wallets like a seasoned pro. This was different, this was her vanishing beneath her mask and simply walking away.

Storm Athena had vanished in a blink of an eye but was it for the better? That would be the question you would be battling with in the days to come. Overanalyzing all the little details of this moment, trying to find sense and logic in her actions. Trying to almost read what was happening within, to hear those precious few thoughts that indicated her next play, the steps that she would inevitably take.

Would things ever be amicable? You hoped that would be the case in time but that’s all you could do. Hope that the day would crest over the horizon sooner rather than later but you wouldn’t push. They deserved all the time in the world as the walls sheltering their little piece of paradise began to rebuild. As their battered and bruised hearts started on the next stage of their healing journey without you. This was how it needed to be. Athena, I know that you don’t want to talk to me. Hell, I don’t expect you to even respond or read this but please know that I never meant to hurt you or Bobby. I saw the door start to close and simply reacted. 

I should have tried harder to reach out, to be heard but we are long since past that. I don’t know if I’ll be back this way but please know that I did cherish the time that I was there, standing toe to toe with you and Bobby. I would never want to stand in the way, have that loving affection turn sour and embittered by the very experience of having a front-row seat to a show that slowly capsizing.  

You deserve better than this, you both do. The dear John letter was a stupid and careless idea that I never thought all the way through but please know that I will never freeze out the lines of communication if you ever think of me and want to reach out for that long overdue talk. I will say this one last thing, 

I did deeply care about the pair of you, you meant the world to me but this was not our time. This was not ours but it is yours and Bobby’s. I saw that secret smile whenever you locked eyes with him and vice versa. A love story in motion but I was grateful to have been a part of it. I wish you nothing but all the happiness in the world for all that is to come. 

Clicking send hadn’t been the hardest part, as you sat in the back row of the Grey Hound bus heading out of town. The hospital had arranged transport to the bus station then the rest had been up to you. Your one-way ticket was tucked firmly between the pages of the cheesy romance book you had picked up in the little shop at the hospital on your way out. Something to keep your mind preoccupied for the long hours ahead. 

You had let yourself chuckle softly when you had first pulled it out of your bag. You hadn’t even checked the title when choosing between the limited range and selection staring up from the shelves. there had been a grand total of three different books to choose from, you had split down the middle and just gone for door room two which had turned out to be the only romance-heavy option. It was truly karma in action, a borderline cruel reminder of what once had been yours. 

An epic love for ages, well it might have been if the fire hadn’t been blown out. You had been one to finish off those embers, never once giving them a chance to reignite. Now as you sat staring out of the window watching the world rush past. A sense of conflicted peace rolled over. This was a new beginning, a chapter closing as you started on a new adventure into pastures unknown.

Whether the grass was greener on the other side, you’d soon find out as the bus turned the corner and headed out onto the freeway. You had crossed the point of no return more than once in the last few hours. Or so it felt but there was no point in looking backwards, no matter how much it hurt to admit.

Silently you muttered a single word, finally cutting the tattered remains of the thread that held you in place.

Goodbye

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

It had been a rollercoaster of ups and downs in the years since you had last dared to step foot in Los Angeles. Both professionally and personally. You pushed any thoughts of those failed relationships and the dead-end jobs that landed at your feet when you had struggled to begin again. 

Home had found you when an unmissable job opportunity crossed your desk one fine day, three months back. It was almost impossible to stop your fingers from typing up and updating your resume. Before you had known it, you had completed the application and clicked the send button launching into the depths of the electronic superhighway that was the internet. Regret did not follow in its wake. You had anticipated some awkwardness resonating within you but nothing occurred.

You had expected nothing to come from it, it was a shot in the dark. Yes, you had the skills and the experience in a similar field but would that be enough? As you worked your socks off day in and day out, you had pretty much forgotten about that one particular job application sent three weeks prior. 

You had long since concluded that if you hadn’t heard by now then you were highly unlikely to hear anything at all. You pushed forward with the daily grind. Going to work and then back home. Rinse, lather and repeat. 

Until that one notification last thing on Friday night shook things up. An interview came and went before a second dropped in and then a third soon followed after. Before long an offer of another job, a chance to spread your wings and take flight back to the City of Angels manifested. All that you needed to do was simply say yes, well that and find a place to set up shop. Apartment hunting pre-pandemic was hard enough but this was a whole new ball game. Virtual viewings were the done thing in the post-pandemic world.

Viewing a possible home through the screen of any available device, a tour at your fingertips allowed you to go from room to room as you tried to ascertain whether this one, the third tour of the day was the one. Whether it met all your basic requirements. Was it too far from your base of operations? Was it located in a reasonable neighbourhood? Were there good transportation links into the city itself?

Question after question arose as you continued to scroll into the next room. This seemed a lot harder than all the times before when you had needed to go apartment hunting. It was turning into a headache, they all could easily be made to look rather bigger with the click of a well-positioned camera lens. 

As text came through lighting up your phone screen, you paused the video for a moment. The name displayed above the message knocked you for six. You hesitated opening it, for it could easily go one or two ways. At this moment in time, you were solely existing in Schrödinger's cat type of scenario.

It could both be a harmless conversation starter, cracking open what once had been slammed shut or yet it could be something that held steadfast to the notion of flogging a dead horse. Or it be both at the same time but until you dared to look inside that box, you wouldn’t know. Without a second more to mull it over, you clicked upon it. You held your breath as the message revealed itself to your increasingly growing anxiety that bubbled within.

After all this time, Athena responded and replied to the mammoth message you sent way back when. Your olive branch to do right by her, to have the chance to sit down and talk like adults. To see if it was truly possible to let sleeping dogs lie and move forward as friends. You hated the idea of completely burning that bridge and cutting her and Bobby out of your life because of the mistakes that had been made. There had been the building blocks for a stable foundation which you have decided had been breaking apart at the seams.

In the time since then, you had searched through every avenue of what had been. Through rose-tinted glasses, you had viewed the long hours, the lapses in replies and the never-ending chain of cancellations and rearranged dates in haste. They were a part of the daily ups and downs when dating two first responders. You had acted with the emotional range of a moody teenager. You hadn’t taken the time to consider what it meant for them, who you were at the end of the day.

You were meant to be their safe harbour, away from the multiple emergencies that lingered on the other side of that door. When it closed, you could have their light in the dark leading through the long nights. Instead of being the salve to heal their wounds, you had ripped them wide out, tearing out their hearts, watching as they bled at your feet when you had penned that letter without even giving either of them a second thought.

It had all been about you. You had changed and grown as a person since then learning more about how to navigate a relationship. The many twists and turns that came and went day in and day out and learning from your past indiscretion. When it came to communication, it truly did lay at the heart of every relationship. Looking back, it hadn’t been your finest hour, the last time you were even in the state. You had run away, with your tail tucked firmly between your legs. Across several state lines until you found yourself darkening your brother’s door. He had been expecting you. 

Only a few weeks later than initially planned. You had kept him updated from your hospital bed, your ear red raw from his worried rants, stuck on repeat like a broken record. Each time you called, he softened his tone and inclination and by the time you arrived. The once bare-to-the-bone wire-like threads that had once connected you had begun to heal, deepened as that proud man opened his heart and mind to welcome home the sibling that had been pushed away. It had been a challenging climb but he had been by your side, walking in tandem.  He had grown as a man, a brother and a human being. 

One relationship had flourished, whilst another faded away. However this message, oh how it made your heart skip a beat. Anxious laden but still hope began to flutter its paper-thin wings as it flicked back to life.

I will not deny that your actions hurt, not only me but Bobby too. It has taken me years to come to terms with how things went down. I’m ready to talk, understand and move forward then we can go from there. 

It had been frank and straight to the point like the woman behind those words but it was a chance. One that you won’t waste this go around. It was hard not to smile, to fight back those feelings that you long since buried. Soon enough those dreaded butterflies would take up residence within your stomach but you won’t let them consume you. This was a fresh start, not a blank slate. 

Athena, thank you for this. Let me know when you are free to speak. I am ready to answer all the questions you have. I’m sure that there are plenty, I will be nothing short of completely honest with you

You watched the screen, waiting for those two little ticks to appear. The sign that the message had been delivered then you’d have to kill time until the colour changed from grey to blue showing that Athena had read your message. You placed your phone down as you couldn’t be glued to that device like a lovesick fool. The ball was now in her court now. 

When the message arrived, it was simple. A date and time staring up at you. A question then arose in the back of your mind, who would be the one to initiate the phone call in question? However, before you could even type out a response, another message appeared. She would be the one to call you. It felt damn near bizarre finding yourself in a situation such as this. However, you’d pushed on through, if it meant salvaging a relationship from the burnt-out wreckage. Even if it would be nothing but wholly platonic in the long run.

As you typed out a quick reply, you smiled softly feeling happier than you had in months, as a renewed sense of peace washed over you as you made your way out of the room. A list as long as your arm began to form in your mind of all the possible questions that might soon be coming your way. 

“It’s a start. It's the best that I could have hoped for” You softly repeat like a mantra as you consider the next steps. Whatever they might be. The bounce in your step would come in time but still, each stride no longer felt like you were walking in treacle. Weighed down by the guilt that you had long since carried upon your shoulders. 

Peace was just the beginning if things truly went well. This was only the first of hopefully many steps upon this new trail off the beaten path. 

New memories were to be made, once you had truly arrived but you knew that shouldn’t get ahead of yourself. One foot in front of the other, never pushing forward unless the opportunity presented itself. You finally could let go of that aching sense of guilt that hung deftly around your neck. The hangman’s noose tightened of its own accord through the day, worsening when you were lying alone at night, clock-watching until sleep overtook you. 

Pushing away the persistent thought of what if, what if you could go back and change the order that events had played out. You simply couldn’t but it was in the past, finally buried when Athena knew the reasoning behind your actions. The why, the how and the emotions that drove your hand when drawing the next card from the deck of life. 

When you drew the next one, it would be the one that changed your tomorrow. There'd be a bright light that you’d lovingly strive to keep joyfully humming in all the days that were to come. Through the many ups and downs as you rode through the hard and trying times, through the days when the sun shone brightest as if it was only illuminated for you and the ones you loved.

The hours seemed to rush past waiting for the sun to slip beneath the horizon. As day seamlessly melted away, the night took hold. You stood silent as a mouse, staring out at the night sky smiling to yourself as innocent enough thoughts overtook as you pictured a new dawn. This was only the beginning, to gain Athena’s forgiveness, trust and friendship was a road that needed to be walked. A journey that you had started, crossing the threshold when you had held out an olive branch.

You had gained ground but that conversation was all that mattered. You wanted to make good on your promise. Tomorrow was now more than just another day, one to toil through the hours until it was time to head home. Athena then maybe one day you could bring yourself to face Bobby.

As you rebuild your world, one thread at a time. It would not be the same as before but still, it would be home.

[no-goodbyes-no-regrets]

118 group chat (AO3)

---

The thing they don't tell you about being a first responder, Tommy thought, is how much waiting around is involved.

He and Donato had just transported a guy of barely 20 who'd gotten badly injured in a heavy motorcycle accident to hospital, and were waiting around to see if any of the doctors needed to be flown back to the site.

Tommy hadn't seen much from his chopper, but what he had seen hadn't been pretty.

He really hated motorcycles and was still relieved he hadn't personally witnessed Evan getting on one to clear the highway so Athena could land the plane.

A quick search around local news stations after texts from both Evan and Eddie had filled in the blanks for him, but no matter how sexy Evan had looked on the bike, Tommy really hoped it hadn't given his boyfriend the idea of getting one of his own.

"I'm getting a coffee, do you want anything?" Lucy asked, getting up from the seat next to him. "There is no quicker way to make everyone here make up their mind than sitting down with hot coffee."

Tommy chuckled knowing she was right.

"Nah I'm good."

She nodded and went in search for her caffeine boost, leaving Tommy alone with his thoughts and the muted local news playing on the TV on the wall.

Thankfully Evan had the day off so the chances of him appearing on there were slim.

Suddenly he felt his phone buzz against his leg in the pocket of his flight suit.

There was only one person who would text him in the middle of his shift and he smiled as he pulled it out and unlocked it.

Evan ❤️ added you to 118 fam

Evan ❤️: Surprise baby 😘

Hen: You did not just call a grown man baby

Evan ❤️: Why not? It's cute. He's cute!

Hen: 🙄

Hen: Hi @.Tommy by the way.

Eddie: I wish I'd only heard them call each other baby. You're getting way too comfortable around me!

Evan ❤️: Not my fault my boyfriend is so cute and hot and sexy and really good in bed.

Eddie: See???

Evan ❤️: He can sleep for days 😂😉

Howie: Hey look who has finally joined the party! Welcome to the club @.Tommy

Cptn Nash: welcome to the family @.Tommy I hope you can make it to the first 118 dinner in mine and Athena's new place next Sunday.

Eddie: He'll be there cap, Buck will make him.

Evan ❤️: We'll bring dessert. There is an Italian ice cream parlour near Tommy's house. We'll get gelato!

Cptn Nash: Just bring yourselves, that's plenty.

“What's got you smiling like that at your phone? What sappy shit did Buckley say this time?" Lucy asked, coming back with her coffee.

"Nothing you need to know about." Tommy just said, sending a quick "Thanks guys" to the group chat and a ❤️ to Evan and pocketed his phone again when he saw one of the doctors from before make their way over with a heavy bag of medical supplies slung over their shoulder.

"Duty calls" he said to Lucy who swore under her breath and tried to finish her coffee without burning her mouth.

"Every damn time" she muttered but Tommy just laughed and made his way to the elevator up to the helicopter platform, feeling like one of those cartoon characters with the heart eyes floating through air thinking about their love.

Donato would call him a sap if she knew what he was smiling about, but he didn't care. It felt good to belong.

[nathanbatemanfucker]

Ambrosial

summary: he knows your scent— he knows your heart and now he knows your people.

pairing: din djarin x fem!black!reader

contents: longing, pining, fluff, cultural differences

wc: 2.5k

an: this has been a longggggg time coming but this one's for you @cptn-nash and for all of the black women who feel left out of fandom. there’s always space for you.

pedro characters masterlist

The crest always smells like citrus with a hint of cinnamon these days. If Din closes his eyes he can imagine himself standing in an orchard with you by his side.

The warm, fresh smell is all thanks to you— to your hair, your people, and your culture. All things that you hold close to your heart and in turn, Din tries to respect. But, it is not lost on you that he cannot understand the importance of hair to you and your culture completely, not when his is hidden inside of a helmet day in and day out.

What he does know is how much he enjoys yours— watching the way your curls move when you walk, how they pile into the crown when you tie them up, how a bit of them spill out of the silk scarf you wear at night when Grogu refuses to sleep without you and the two of you take over his bed. He has to tear himself away from the sight of you—dark skin lit up in the moonlight and his foundling in his arms— slinking off to your bunk. But there is a reward when he gets there— the sweet, concentrated scent of you rests on the fabric of your pillow.

In the deepest recesses of his mind, there’s a place where there’s just the three of you. Din holds to his creed, unwaveringly so, but here there is no worry of exile. No worry that you or Grogu will be taken away from him on one of your adventures through the galaxy. There is just you, holding his son, curls blowing in some light evening breeze. There is just him, wrapping his arms around the both of you, his nose pressed into the crown of your head as he is able to succumb freely to your scent. He doesn’t let himself go there often, not when he is so unsure that he will ever have it.

The two of you are charted for a bounty when you ask him to make a detour that is quite out of the way— you need something for your hair. And while he’s more than happy to make sure your needs are met, he has to ask.

He glances back at you, his voice soft and not unkind as he asks, “Could you not use my things?”

If you didn’t share the fresher with him you doubt he even had things. He does, though they aren’t as intricate as yours. There are worse things than smelling like the Mandalorian, yes but proper hair care is sacred to you and your people.

You smile at him, shaking your head, “No, it doesn’t work like that. There are specifics, rituals, ingredients.”

“And it is…strict? Necessary?” You can practically hear the confusion in his voice, his lack of understanding.

“As necessary as this,” You murmur, leaning forward and raising a hand to cup the cheek of his helmet.

He blushes within the space of his helmet, unable to bite away the grin that spreads across his face. You and Din teeter on the edge of more— never explicitly naming or acknowledging any of the affection that passes between you, but undoubtedly knowing that the other is devoted. There’s something particularly sweet about his dedication without words. There is no doubt in your mind that he cares for you, but with this lifestyle, with his creed, neither of you make any move to change your relationship.

This is enough. It has to be.

When the silence sits thick between you for a beat too long, you start to ramble, “Like I told you before, hair is integral to our culture, it helps build every facet of relationships in my village. It sounds silly, but it's the basis of community. We would not be nearly as devoted to each other without hair at the center.”

He hums, delicately taking one of your curls in between his fingers. He studies it closely through the dark t of his visor, noticing the intricate way that it spirals. You let out a soft, shaky breath– feeling his eyes on you is something you’ve become used to, but the effect it has on you never dissipates.

“I could show you,” You murmur shyly, feeling the fascination in his gaze.

“Show me?” He repeats cautiously.

“Show you how my momma taught me to take care of it,” You suggest. After a moment of hesitation, you add, “Show you my home as you’ve shown me yours.”

The two of you have gone to Mandalore—just once, to show Grogu what should be his home and collect water from the sacred waters. You’ve always tried not to put too much stock in Din letting you tag along— where else were you meant to go if you’re his travel partner?

His helmet tilts, shock in his sandy voice, “You would take me to your home?”

You gaze with the black void of his visor breaks for a moment before you look up at him through your lashes, “Of course I would, so that you could see where I come from, how I’ve become who I am. You let me see yours. Would you like to see?”

He nods, finally releasing the curl that he was still holding between his fingers.

“Chart the course and then I will show you why I take so long in the fresher,” You say, backing out of the cockpit.

He meets you there just as you finish turning everything the correct way, labels up. You keep it all in a bin that you take to and from the fresher, not wanting to take up too much space.

You can’t see his shock but you can hear it in voice, in the way he tilts his helmet as he says, “This is…a lot.”

You laugh softly, before explaining, pointing at various bottles as you do, “There are different products for different times of year, holidays, special occasions.”

“Special occasions?”

“For one’s birthday or wedding. Even for a funeral. All milestones in life, from beginning to end.”

“And you must have all of it at all times?”

“You are to be prepared for all of the days of your and your neighbor’s life. If we were to meet someone from home during our travel and they were in need of something, then its my duty to help. It is our custom. Our way so to speak.”

Din hums in understanding. He understands living life a certain way more than anyone you’ve ever known. He starts to understand the importance— but this is just the beginning. He wants to know everything about your people, to fuse the two of your cultures into something loving and uniquely your own.

—

It takes the night to make it to your home, allowing you to arrive in the morning. You’d sent a communication to your mother as soon as Din had agreed, and she had excitedly responded, eager to see you after such a long stint away. Eager to meet Din, though you’d given her no indication that things had progressed romantically between the two of you.

When you wake in the morning, you find Din a little nervous to have the conversation that made you toss and turn most of the night. You know that he’s quite fond of Grogu, that he loves him with all his heart. You feel the same way, happy to take care of the little creature in any way that you can. It’s a bit confusing, raising a child with Din despite not knowing explicitly what you are. But, you love Grogu. Though you don’t let yourself think about it much, you love Din. You’d do whatever you could to make things easier for the two of them.

But what would your mother think about such an arrangement?

Din tilts his head at you in concern when you inhale a nervous breath, fingers twisting in your lap. He reaches for your hands, steadying them. “What’s wrong? Have you changed your mind?”

You gaze down at his gloved hand that covers nearly both of yours before you shake your head, assuring him quickly, “No, no, I haven’t changed my mind.”

“Then what is it?” He asks gently.

“I know that Grogu is yours, and I’m not ashamed or embarrassed. But, I think it best he stays on the ship while we visit my mother. I don’t want her to assume anything that would make you uncomfortable.”

He’s quiet for a moment, but you can practically hear the gears turning in his head. “You were nervous to ask me this.”

You snort, “He’s your son, Din, of course I was nervous.”

“I understand,” He says, squeezing your hand in reassurance. “The next visit, we can introduce him to your mother.”

The next visit. He plans to make this habitual?

“You’re sure?”

“It’s your home. I’m sure if you’re sure,” He declares with a shrug. As if the decision is that easy for him.

“Thank you, Din.”

He simply squeezes your hand again before clearing his throat, saying that he needs to make sure Grogu is taken care of before you two land.

—

When the ship door opens, you and Din are met with a plethora of people, headed up by your mother. Din can’t help but notice how much of her is in you— the same rich color of your skin, the curls though they are greying. Some of your beauty comes from her, and some of it is uniquely you.

She gathers you into her arms immediately, hugging you tightly. She guides your curls back so that her lips are at the shell of your ear, “We’ve missed you. I’ve missed you.”

“I know, mama. I’ve missed you too,” You whisper back, pulling back to give you a watery smile.

She turns her curious gaze to Din, looking him up and down. “This is who you’ve been traveling with. A Mandalorian who will keep you safe.”

Din nods his head, and you about melt with embarrassment at the way she’s sizing him up.

“Yes, mama, this is Mando. He is my—“ You start to say but Din cuts you off smoothly, extending his hand to your mother.

“Her partner. Din, Din is my name,” He murmurs, taking her hands into his.

The smile on your mother’s face matches your own— wide, flustered and accompanied by warmth that spreads through your entire body. He may be encased in metal but he can always make a woman swoon.

“Din. Thank you for taking care of my daughter.”

“Mama,” You scold, giving Din a nervous smile.

“It’s a pleasure,” He murmurs to her, his voice just as sandy and nonchalant as ever.

Your mother starts to guide you towards the villages, and Din offers you his arm which you take readily. You’re happy to walk in silence as your mother catches you up on all the happenings— who’s married, given birth, changed professions, or died. All of it goes in one ear and out the other as you try to digest what’s just happened.

He gave her his name. What more is to come?

Eventually, the two of you are sequestered in a corner of your mother’s house as she helps another woman with her hair when Din turns to look at you. You raise a brow at him in question.

He leans closer to you, speaking in a hushed voice, “One day you will teach me to care for my own appropriately.”

“What do you mean?” You whisper back.

You feel his gaze meet yours through his helmet as he says, “When you are truly mine and I am truly yours.”

Your heart skips a beat before pounding rapidly in your chest. You stare into the dark t of his visor, mouth open in shock. He’s full of declarations today, ones that you had hoped would be true but never got your hopes up for. He simply nods his head at you, one of his gloved hands coming to tangle with your own.

Meeting your mother has clearly changed things�� all that’s been left unsaid is now cleared up with just a single sentence from him.

His hand doesn’t leave yours as your mother shows him around the village, introducing him as your partner to everyone she can get to speak to her. Din feels a little sheepish, heat creeping into his cheeks by your mothers candidness, by the curious stares of those she speaks to. You keep him close, answering any questions and doing all of the talking if anyone is curious enough to bypass your mother and speak to the two of you.

You don’t even let go to hug those you recognize, holding onto his hand firmly as you wrap an arm around a few of those you encounter. At this, Din’s flush deepens, butterflies in his stomach.

You make him feel like just a man— the most ordinary man in the best way— like he isn’t bound to his creed or this life of hunting. You make him feel like he’s just your Din. A man so desperately in love with a woman that he’d do anything she asked and then some.

Your mother sends you home with droves of oils and butters and soaps. Some of them are for you, but by the labeling and color you can tell that many of them are for Din. There’s a variety, as with the helmet she couldn’t properly see the texture of his hair and gather the corresponding products. It’s your mother’s way of telling you she approves and you hold her tight, murmuring a soft thank you as you bid her goodbye.

The two of you unpack Din’s things, setting the bottles and containers up in a perfect line. You even fetch your own, adding more clutter that both of you are immediately quite fond of. It means more than Din could know, but he’s starting to learn.

He invites you into his bed that night and unlike all of the previous times he stays, gathering you into his arms in the pitch-black space. For the first time, you feel him. He buries his nose into your hair the way he’s always dreamed about.

That night once you’re asleep, Din heads to the fresher, curious about all of the things your mother had sent off with the both of you. You spent a lot of time here earlier— even more than usual. As soon as he’s inside, he sees why. You’ve labeled everything step by step and added his name to the products that are his.

He spends an ungodly amount of time under the water, closing his eyes as he succumbs to the sweet smells. And though they all smell wonderful, he finds himself reaching for your things. He wants to be surrounded by your scent.

When he slides under the covers beside you later, he smells like citrus— that telltale hint of cinnamon. He smells like you. One day, he’ll let you bury your nose in his hair so that you can smell him too. Until then, his helmet is filled with the scent of you and he will have it no other way.

[sleepyfireball]

A Quiet Acceptance of Love | A Bridgerton Story

Chapter 7: Harmony

Fandom: Bridgerton (TV) Rating: Gen Pairing: Violet Bridgerton/Marcus Anderson Summary: Violet Bridgerton slowly but surely falls in love with Marcus Anderson. A character study of Violet Bridgerton in Season 3. Notes: Well, this is the end! Finally here. I cannot tell you how excited I am to finally have a completed story fully released. I really hope you guys all enjoyed the story and I love every one of you. Massive thanks to my duckies @lifesizehysteria and @cptn-nash for betaing this whole story and genuinely being the best support in this whole crazy journey. I never thought that fandom would bring me some of my closest friends, but I am so so thankful that it did. Chapter 6 Chapter 5 Chapter 4 Chapter 3 Chapter 2 Chapter 1 AO3

Francesca and John’s wedding was, in Violet’s opinion, perfect. They were so clearly comfortable with the small wedding, and with each other, it warmed Violet’s heart. Her doubts had vanished after her conversation with Francesca. She could appreciate that their love was a slow and sure one, rather than one that was explosive and quick. 

Violet smiled to Agatha during the ceremony, and when Agatha had smiled and nodded back, Violet felt her heart become a little more full. Her season had turned out better than she could have planned, with two children successfully gaining a true love match, her friendship with Agatha now stronger than ever, and her own ventures back into the romantic fray. 

Speaking of the romantic fray, her eyes slipped over to Lord Anderson, standing just behind Agatha, as he smiled softly at her. Violet dipped her head and smiled giddily, feeling her heart flutter, just a little, remembering the last time that she and Marcus had been in the drawing room together. She swallowed and hastily returned her gaze to the happy couple, pushing such thoughts from her mind.

As Agatha made her excuses to leave Violet alone with Lord Anderson, Violet felt her pulse quicken in her veins. She watched Agatha speaking to Hyacinth briefly, then heard Marcus’ voice speaking lowly in gentle conversation.

“It was a beautiful ceremony.” She turned her attention back to Lord Anderson, smiling at him as she nodded.

“I thought so,” she said. Lord Anderson smiled before he continued as if she had said nothing. 

“Second only to the beauty of its hostess,” he said, and Violet almost thought he may have rehearsed his words before he said them.

Violet laughed softly. “You flatter me.” She felt a flush rising as she swiftly took a drink from her glass, desperately trying to prevent herself blushing even more. How was it that she could look at him and have entirely impure thoughts, but the moment that he spoke to her, she turned into a blushing debutante once more?

“I am sincere.” Lord Anderson continued, still watching her even as she turned away briefly. “And sincere in wondering, if you would be so kind as to, uh…” He trailed off. Violet watched, smiling, as he uncharacteristically avoided her eye contact. She felt lonely without having his warm eyes watching her and she sought them out once more. “Save a dance for me at the next ball?”

Violet blinked. And blinked once more. Had he– Had he just asked her, Violet Bridgerton, to dance?

“Uh, wha-- The, uh… Uh… Dankworth-Finch Ball?” Violet’s words escaped her as she desperately tried to pull herself together enough to be able to answer his question. “I… Uh, well…” Violet cast about the room, laughing slightly, hoping she would find the words she wanted to say written in the curtains. “Yes.” Marcus chuckled and Violet’s heart skipped a beat. “Ye-- Uh, That… That would be most adequate.” Violet finished feebly. 

She took another sip of her drink as she exhaled, disappointed in herself for being reduced to stuttering. Again. She felt, rather than saw or heard, Marcus next to her as he also appeared to sigh in relief.

“Good. Very good.” He said as he huffed out a laugh, Violet hearing it as if from very far away. She heard her blood rushing in her ears and the tips of her ears pinked in embarrassment. As John clinked his glass and began his toast, Violet heard her own words to Francesca, from earlier that morning, repeating in her head. 

“You know, when I first met your father… I could barely speak my own name; I was so taken by him. I stumbled over words most familiar.” 

Had love really snuck up on her in such a way that she had not expected it, but welcomed it home with open arms anyway? Perhaps she understood Francesca’s own love better than she had thought. 

“So, instead, I shall offer a few humble words to your family, especially your mother.” John’s words pulled Violet from her thoughts. “Lady Bridgerton,” I really must remind him to call me Violet now, we are family. “I see your openness reflected in Benedict, your charm in Colin, your wisdom in Eloise, and a brightness you have instilled in both Gregory and Hyacinth.” 

Violet felt the blush warming her cheeks as she looked down, uncomfortable in the face of such brazen praise, especially from John, who always chose his words so carefully.

“In this moment, when I feel so much gratitude for my new wife,” John continued, “I feel it in equal measure for the remarkable woman who raised her.” Violet looked up to him, overcome, smiling softly as tears pricked the corners of her eyes. “I thank you, all of you, from the bottom of my heart.” He finished, raising his glass for the toast.

Violet laughed gently as she wiped the tears from her eyes. She felt both Marcus and Eloise’s hands on her arms, taking comfort from them. She had certainly not intended to cry at another of her children’s weddings, but the emotions of the day, coupled with John’s heartfelt toast, had overwhelmed her.

Seeing her tears, John spoke up once more, smiling. “Ah. Forgive me. Tears were the last thing I meant to evoke.” As everyone chuckled, Violet breathed a sigh of relief as the attention moved from her.

“Hyacinth has been crying this entire time.” Gregory said, much to Hyacinth’s indignance.

“One day, you, too, will have a heart.” Hyacinth retorted and Violet could not keep the smile from her face in watching her two youngest bicker. At least, not everything would be changing by the end of the season.

“Mama, will you play a duet with me?” Francesca turned to Violet, a pleading smile on her face.

“Oh, heavens, when-- Now?” She chuckled awkwardly, torn between having one last moment to bond with the daughter that she was soon to be waving away or maintaining the last shred of her remaining dignity after being reduced to heartfelt tears. “I… Well, I am dreadfully out of practice.” She had not played the pianoforte since she and Edmund had played together, serenading the children. It had simply been too painful to play without him, but, perhaps, with her children, new memories could be formed.

“I believe the last time I nearly moved you to tears was when I first started playing.” Francesca said and Violet was no longer torn, deciding that whatever her mischievous child was about to do was worth it if it meant that she got to celebrate this time with her.

“She was not the only one. I wept in my room from the hideous chord combinations.” Eloise interrupted, prompting soft laughter from everyone and a gentle tap on the shoulder from Violet.

“Oh, haha.” Francesca dismissed her sister’s taunt, turning back to Violet and taking her hand, saying. “Thankfully, Mama did not abandon me.” Violet smiled, as Francesca continued. “And I shall not abandon you now.”

“Is that a threat?” Violet said laughingly, suddenly very nervous that Francesca would not simply let it go.

Francesca nodded wryly, and Violet chuckled softly, hearing Marcus echo her from where he stood beside her. Violet allowed herself to be dragged to the pianoforte, handing her champagne to Eloise. She felt her nervousness rise, and she took several deep breaths as she sat next to Francesca, who started their duet.

Under the watchful eye of her family and friends, Violet drew a little strength from Francesca, who had grown so much during the season. Violet could still scarcely believe that she was married, and would be leaving for Scotland all too soon. She laughed with Francesca as the chords clashed, releasing some of the nervous energy she felt, but, in following her lead, Violet found a harmony with her daughter.  Her words with her from the start of the season echoed in her head.

“When you play with another person, there is a certain vulnerability which can be quite frightening, I would imagine. But it is worth it, once you find that person with whom you make an unexpected harmony.”

Perhaps her words had applied to herself this season as well, not just with Francesca.

As Violet played her duet, she was overcome with the overwhelming love for her children that always threatened to spill out. She had always tried to steer her children in the right direction, but it appeared that Francesca had managed to steer her, too. Francesca’s insistence for her own happiness had warmed Violet’s heart, to know that her daughter felt comfortable enough to stand for what she believed in, but it also opened Violet’s eyes to a new perspective. Violet looked up and caught Marcus’ eye as she played. He smiled, oh so softly, and Violet felt her heart fall a little more in love.

***

As Violet entered the Dankworth-Finch Ball, leading her children, she took a steadying breath. Tamping down the nerves that constantly threatened to arise was proving difficult. However, when Violet’s eyes settled on Marcus, she felt her nerves suddenly calm and explode simultaneously. The butterflies in her stomach took flight and Violet swallowed, to ground herself. As he noticed her, he excused himself and walked over to her family.

“Lady Bridgerton.” Violet would never tire of hearing her name in the rich timbre of his voice. “May we take a turn about the room?” Marcus offered his arm to her. Violet swallowed once more, before taking his arm in her hand. The moment she touched him, felt the warmth of him through his coat, her nerves finally settled. It was not explosive and powerful as it had been with Edmund; it felt like coming home after a long time away. A different love, Violet supposed.

“I would like that.” Violet said softly, smiling. She could feel the eyes of her children, watching her, but, for tonight, she put her worries aside. Her children were bright enough to realise that she was being courted, especially if Benedict’s parting wink was anything to go by. Violet entered the ball as a partner and not just a mother for the first time in 12 years.

***

Penelope’s speech had both worried and impressed Violet. She was so proud that she had finally managed to find her voice after so long hiding herself underneath the voice of Whistledown. Violet, however, worried of how the ton would react, but, seeing the ball return to its festivities, she realised she need not worry so much. Her children were growing up and she had always counted Penelope in that number, ever since her yellow bonnet had blown Colin off of his bicycle.

Marcus turned to Violet, his voice low. “Did you know?” 

“That she was Lady Whistledown? Not until earlier this week. I received a letter, much like Her Majesty.” She turned to him, seeing a quiet look of amazement on his face.

“I am quite impressed, she seems like a very bright young woman.” Marcus said, looking over to see Colin speaking to Penelope.

“Indeed, she is. And, if I am not mistaken, Colin has finally realised just how lucky he is to have her.” Violet watched the pair as they began to move to the dance floor. She felt Marcus shift beside her and her attention turned to him, to see him offer his hand to her.

“May I have this dance?” Violet stood, for a moment. She knew he would ask, of course she knew, it was the primary cause of her nervousness tonight. But it had slipped her mind through the commotion with Penelope. She blinked, still staring at his hand. Before she realised it, she felt her hand in his, her attention focusing on the warmth spreading from his hand to hers. Her other hand rested on her stomach, as it always did, a shield between herself and the rest of the world. He led the way to the dance floor and Violet swallowed, pushing her nervousness down as best she could.

I have not danced in so long, what if I do not remember the steps? Surely people must be looking. A widow dancing with a widower, it is sure to -- Violet’s racing internal monologue was silenced by the feeling of Marcus’ thumb stroking over her hand reassuringly. He watched only her as they moved into position on the dance floor. He stepped in toward her, slightly closer than what was proper.

“I’ve got you.” He whispered to her. At his words, Violet felt herself relax slightly. She was not alone in this; every courtship took two people and she felt safe by his side. She had felt safe by his side for far longer than she was willing to admit. 

As the music began, Violet remembered the steps for their dance. It all came back to her surprisingly quickly. While it had been 12 years, she had coached all of her children through their dance lessons and it appeared Violet’s own dance lessons were still embedded in her memory. Glancing over to the other couples for a cue of the next steps, Violet felt Marcus take the lead. She focused on him. 

As they danced, she remembered the last time she had danced. With Edmund. She felt a wave of nostalgia and melancholy wash over her. In a perfect world, she would have been here with Edmund, dancing with him. However, he had passed on and Violet had made her peace with that. 

As she danced, she was brought back to the present, instead of lingering in her memories. She smiled softly as Marcus spun her under his arm. She could not deny that she was excited to explore whatever this would become with Marcus. As the memories of dancing with Edmund flooded her, she allowed them to come to her, but not to overwhelm her. She wanted to stay in the present, with Marcus, enjoying her first dance with him.

He took her in his arms, the closest that Violet had ever been to him. She felt him behind her, solid and sturdy; safe. The longer that she danced, the less the memories of Edmund overwhelmed her and she truly began to enjoy herself. Of all her deportment lessons, dancing had always been her favourite.

Violet beamed at Marcus, seeing him return her smile with one of his own. She realised that she had fallen in love with that smile the moment that it had graced his lips. She looked up to his eyes, to see them twinkling with happiness. She spun underneath him once more, unable to hide her own happiness shining through, and as she danced, she found that her heart was making room for this new love for Marcus alongside her own, ever enduring, love for Edmund.

[mystic-writings]

ik she’s fucking sick of me (ily bestie @cptn-nash)

[caffiene-fueled-fuckery]

I was tagged by @dykewithamashobsession for a thingy so let's do it!

Last song: Breakfast - Dove Cameron

Currently Reading: the M*A*S*H Novel, Once and Forever - The Tales of Kenji Miyazawa, and The Makioka Sisters by Junichirou Tanizaki

Last Film: does it count if I was sitting in the room while my parents watched A New Hope? No? Well then... Uh... Twilight Breaking Dawn: Part 2. Yeah, yeah, I know. I'd never seen it though so I watched it when my fam did. The last movie I sat and intentionally watched was called Role Play, it had Kaley Cuoco in it. It literally just came out on Prime.

Currently Craving: chocolate of some sort. Or a grape rockstar... I have a problem

Three Ships: Hawkcahy, AtsuJuni, and KyouKen (1 MASH, 2 BSD). Didn't think I could include my OC ship w Mulcahy lmao. Do they even have a ship name...? Jella? :/

First Ship: the first ship I remember being hardcore for was Newtmas (Thomas and Newt from The Maze Runner). Oh wow that's some nostalgia...

Favourite Colour: I like to joke that it's tie dye bc I wear it so much but in all seriousness I like blue and yellow. Pink is up there, too.

Currently Working On: Oh God so many things. So so many. The next chapter of my BSD fic, the second Blood in the Water chapter, some prompts leftover from Whumptober... so many things.

Tagging: @cptn-nash @panic-sl0th @chaoticgremlinwholikescheese

Thanks for the tag, this was fun!! :)

[moonlightspencie]

WIP ask game

Thanks for the tag @avanatural 🤍

Rules: post the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, then post a little snippet or tell them something about it. Tag as many people as you have WIPs.

I don’t have a ton rn lollll but some things exist!

Dean Winchester:

“in a life where we work out” part 2

unnamed fluff

“Run”

Aaron Hotchner:

“cowboy like me” series

and a few drabbles for hotch, reid, and dean!!!

no-pressure tags: @deanwithscissors @cptn-nash @boldlyvoid @beardedhotchh and whoever else sees this and wants to join!!!

[lifesizehysteria]

4D for the writing combo asks

I think which fic surprised me with how much attention it got might be a toss up between She is Home for The Fosters and Counting Freckles for Bridgerton.

She is Home was the first fic I published that felt like it really hit in a big way. I wrote for what was a fairly small ship for a long time and that fic got SO much love, got me lots of anon messages and interaction. It was a really awesome experience.

I have NO idea how to pick any one moment from it. The whole thing is SO special to me. But I’ll go with the ending because it really sums up who they are and what it was that made them so special to me.

Though they didn’t know it, that night was the moment that the separate paths they had been walking came together and their two futures fused into one. As they drifted to sleep with their limbs tangled and their hearts intertwined, Stef realized that home wasn’t necessarily a place. Home could be a person and, after searching so long, she had finally found hers.

For Counting Freckles, I was writing xReader for the first time and it was all so new and in a fandom I had barely dipped my toes into so having it end up receiving as many notes as it did was really surprising.

I really love this paragraph that describes Violet sleeping.

You woke to the misty blue light of a cloudy early morning, and the sound of rain pattering against the window. Turning onto your side, you could see Violet asleep on her stomach, her long hair sprawled, wild across her pillow and over her neck. Its rich brown was streaked with silver like veins of sparkling moonlight. She would have hated you for thinking it, but you would swear there was more gray in it every day, which you did not mind because it just added to her beauty. Smiling, you brushed it away from her back, twisting a lock between your fingers as you did so, revealing the freckles smattering the skin across her shoulders. You had them memorized by now, the way they were sprinkled down her back, over her chest and arms and face, like stars scattered across the night sky. You would never understand how anyone thought them an imperfection.

[dawntainbobbynash]

i just wanna say i 110% agree with what’s in your bio being a bobby stan always comes first😌

There is simply nothing more important than Bobby Nash

[ilariyalavorowrites]

Good Enough Update

I have updated my tag list for Good Enough as the final chapter has reached the home stretch. I have written the angst-heavy section, and it's onto the happy ending. It hasn't gone how I thought it was initially conceived but I have enjoyed writing it.

If anyone still wants to be tagged let me know.

Tagged: @graniairish @madhatter-crazyasahatter-blog @4everflowercore @blueskyredrosegrey @agathaharknessfan96 @ljej95 @yoshinorecommends @horsedragonllama @forever2ne1 @clayzayden @multifandomlesbianic @thepotatoislost @tvshowmasterlistblog @guardianangelsblog @unkindn3ss-of-rav3ns @cptn-nash @911readercollection @originalsoulcollector

[lifesizehysteria]

@cptn-nash it’s you! 😆

Nervously, I pull from the tarot deck. It's the Nine of Clocks. My fate is revealed to me: It's my bedtime, and I gotta go to sleeps

[nathanbatemanfucker]

*indicates NSFW/MINORS DNI/18+.

request a blurb for all characters i write for except wanda maximoff & stefan salvatore (acceptable characters in the tags). below i will have the prompts already taken listed on finished or pending requests. SUBMISSIONS CLOSED.

PROMPT LISTS: here and here.

Heat of the Night (marc spector x reader, prompt: AIR)

Snuggle (din djarin x reader, prompt: FUZZY)

Overboard (frankie morales x reader, prompt: #19)

Summer Song (javier peña x reader, prompt: BIRDS)

Instead (aaron hotchner x reader, prompt: #10)

White Noise* (steven grant x reader, prompt: NOISE)

Lemons (santi garcia x reader, prompt: #5)

Witness (din djarin x reader, prompt: #44)

Anything (jake lockley x reader, prompt: #3)

Midnight (marc spector x reader, prompt: CALL & TOWN)

Proof (javier peña x reader, prompt: #36)

Unravel (marc spector x reader, prompt: #31)

Maybe (jake lockley x reader, prompt: #18)

Possessed* (miguel o’hara x reader, prompt: #14)

Runnin’ (javier peña x reader, prompt: FOGGY)

Unnamed (steven grant x reader, prompt: #13)

Moron (miguel o’hara x reader, #22)

If Only (miguel o’hara x reader, #48)

tagging some moots: @hotchs-bitch, @doctorstethoscope, @greg-montgomery, @lefthandedhotch, @dudeitiskarev, @eyelessfaces, @juneknight, @cptn-nash, @missdictatorme, @campingwiththecharmings, @astroboots, @jazzelsaur, @hotchnerxo, @marc-spectorr, @toracainz, @mccn-bcys, @lavendertales, @haylzcyon, @inklore, @psychedelic-ink, @lesbianhotch, @softlyspector, @cupofjoel, @nicolethered, @iamskyereads, @pedrito-friskito, @flightlessangelwings, @lavenderursa, @whatthefishh

[sleepyfireball]

A Quiet Acceptance of Love | A Bridgerton Story

Chapter 1: A Chance Meeting

Fandom: Bridgerton (TV) Rating: Gen Pairing: Violet Bridgerton/Marcus Anderson Summary: Violet Bridgerton slowly but surely falls in love with Marcus Anderson. A character study of Violet Bridgerton in Season 3. Notes: I finally got it all written, so chapters are going to be posted weekly. Massive shout out to @lifesizehysteria and @cptn-nash for being the best betas and friends a girl could wish for! This story would not have happened without them! Thank you to @shmaptainwrites for letting me use her her visuals because they are so stunning! AO3

Violet Bridgerton loved Edmund Bridgerton. That was simply a fundamental fact of life. Her husband passed away 12 years ago and it still stung when she thought of the time they should have had together. If she dwelled on the past too long, she could almost feel herself slipping into her happiest memories. However, it could not change the fact that she still had wants and needs that had been left untended since Edmund’s passing. Violet felt that she had come a long way in understanding that wanting and needing those things was not a betrayal of her husband. 

Recently, she had begun to realise just how lonely she felt, every time she saw Simon and Daphne doting on their children, or Anthony and Kate, still in the happiest throes of an early marriage. Violet realised, with a pang, she was not alone, but she was lonely. She felt it most when she was chaperoning for her children among the atmosphere of fresh love during the season. It should have been her and Edmund there together, matchmaking successfully for their children, when instead, she was alone in her endeavours. True, she had Agatha and was friendly with the other mamas of the ton, but it did not compare to the rather large hole in her heart and her life that Edmund had left behind.

When Violet had spoken with Agatha about her feelings, even in the vaguest of terms, Agatha had been excited for her. And Violet knew that Agatha and her father had been familiar, despite Agatha’s best attempts to hide it from her when they were in London during the off season. Violet had expressed that she was open to the idea of finding love, or at least companionship, once again, she just had not been expecting to find it the very next season, so imagine her surprise when she dropped her glove outside the Innovations Ball, and a very dashing man stooped to pick it up for her. 

“I believe this is yours.” The man said, his voice deep and rich, as they both rose to their full heights, offering her glove back to her with a slight smirk on his face. Violet hesitantly took the glove from his grasp, searching for the right words to say.

“Thank you,” tumbled from her lips as she smiled brightly, perhaps too brightly, at the man who had done her the unexpected kindness. She turned to the entrance to the ball before half turning back to the mysterious man, almost intent on striking up a conversation before she thought better of it and continued on her way, following her children inside. Violet, this is ridiculous, he picked up your glove, he didn’t make some grand declaration of love. Although, at her age, it was entirely possible that the two coincided.

Violet took a few steadying breaths as she entered the ballroom, trying to focus her attention on her marriage minded (and not so marriage minded) children. While having the attention of a man was not unwelcome, it certainly was not expected, and she did not really know what to do about it all. Apparently, it was one thing to coach your children through the season, but to experience even just a taste of it for herself for the first time in 30 years was something else altogether.

I really should talk to Agatha about this, she would know what to do.

As her closest friend in the ton, Agatha had become her confidante, even despite their hiccup during the winter. But sorting out her own issues would have to wait until after the ball; she did still have a job to do and a role to play after all.

***

Francesca appeared to be getting on well with Lord Samadani, as far as Violet could tell from her ‘definitely not interfering’ distance away, chatting with some of the other mamas. However, the moment her gaze dropped, Francesca had vanished, apparently leaving Lord Samadani to his own devices. 

Violet had admitted, to herself at least, that she was struggling having four eligible children on the marriage mart. Not that having four out was new in any way; in fact it had been the same for the past 2 years. However, she knew that Francesca was slightly out of her depth in the crowded ballrooms, and Eloise, despite the strange friendship she had struck up with Cressida Cowper, still looked like a fish out of water when out in society. Benedict had escaped her at every possible moment, and Colin, who had come back from his extensive travels as someone she barely recognised, all charm and suave, when she knew her son was far more caring and compassionate of others than he was clearly letting on, seemed incredibly preoccupied with assisting Penelope in her quest to find a husband. 

Presumably, that should have made it easier, but trying to corral 4 children whom she could tell did not entirely want to be at any of the ton’s outings was tiring to say the least. So, when Francesca vanished from her sight for the first time that evening, Violet was worried, but unsurprised. She knew her daughter to prefer the company of few over the company of many, which is why she flourished so much when learning the pianoforte under her aunt’s tutelage in Bath. Still, Violet was looking around for Francesca when she heard the deep voice of the man who had assisted her outside.

“Looking for your other glove?” 

Violet spun around, surprised at the interruption to see the man was smiling broadly at her. She took a brief moment to compose herself before responding.

“Uh, no. No. But thank you for earlier,” she stammered out, moving to show there was no need for help and resting her arms comfortably above her stomach as he responded, smile still gracing his features.

“Well, some cannot help being heroes.” That successfully got a small laugh out of her as she continued to look around, absent-mindedly fidgeting with her hands.

“I am looking for my daughter,” she said, as way of explanation.

“Ah. I remember that feeling.” Violet turned back to him and smiled, laughing lightly before he continued, “Mine have all since flown the nest.” Violet felt the walls around her heart dropping as she became more comfortable in the man’s presence, no longer just continuing the conversation for propriety’s sake.

“Do they ever, really?” Violet responded, slightly exasperated. He looked at her intently, perhaps beginning to truly see her. 

“No, I suppose not.” He said, looking thoughtful. Violet chuckled lightly again, allowing herself to relax more as he revealed more of himself to her before he continued, “Well, a nest is just twigs and leaves. It becomes a home when your children are near, which is… always, as you carry them with you wherever you go.” 

As the mysterious man continued talking, Violet could not help but stare at him, captivated to have found someone in society who felt as strongly about their children as she felt and as Edmund had once felt. She smiled broadly, deciding that she must get to know this man better, to perhaps strike up a true friendship between the two of them.

“I do not believe I have seen you before.” Well, there was nowhere better to start than to discover where this mystery man had come from. As she spoke, she subconsciously turned her body toward the man, briefly forgetting about her quest to find Francesca and giving her full attention to him. As she did so, Agatha approached the pair and announced her presence.

“Ah. Marcus.” She addressed the man. So, that must be his name. Marcus. Violet let the name ring around inside her head, devoting it to memory. She turned toward Agatha and murmured lightly, with a laugh inflecting her tone, acknowledging her intrusive presence in what had been shaping up to be a lovely conversation indeed. She continued as if Violet had not spoken at all. 

“You are here.” Agatha sounded disapproving as she addressed the man, Marcus. He muttered an affirmative as Violet chuckled lightly to ease some of the tension before Agatha continued, this time addressing Violet, saying, “I see you have met my brother.” Violet’s smile dropped and her eyes widened comically as she processed what her friend had just said, putting her arm out toward her to draw her attention as she hesitated to confirm.

“Y-your brother?” Surely not, Violet would have known if Agatha had a brother, especially after the two ladies bonded so much during the winter.

“Lord Marcus Anderson.” Marcus-Lord Anderson- spoke up with a light smile, confirming his connection to Agatha, and Violet could not help from smiling, even as she was stunned at who he was, as he continued with a small bow, “It is a pleasure to formally meet you.”  Finally, a formal introduction, to which Violet responded in kind.

“Violet Bridgerton.” Violet also bowed her head slightly and smiled toward Agatha before realising that she had, in her shock, introduced herself with her given name, not her title, and continued on to rectify the slight misstep. “L-Lady Bridgerton, the dowager- Formally.” Well, that was a disastrous introduction. She stammered her way through it, feeling as though she was nearly a child again who could not remember the proper introductions. She was not sure why she had suddenly become so nervous in front of Lord Anderson, practically blushing at him, though more so from embarrassment than anything else.

“Hm.” Agatha interjected with a tight-lipped smile before continuing the explanations and allowing Violet some brief respite to compose herself after the awkwardness that came of stumbling over her introduction so much, especially in front of Agatha, to her brother no less. “Yes, Marcus has just arrived in town. He’s only visiting.” Violet was certain that there was disapproval and possibly some discomfort between Agatha and Lord Anderson, who still remained to be Agatha’s brother, somehow.

“I was not aware you have a brother.” Violet said to Agatha, eyes widening in her shock, slightly quieter than the rest of the conversation in a futile attempt to avoid embarrassing Lord Anderson.

Agatha murmured in response as Lord Anderson seemed slightly taken aback, muttering as his smile slipped from his face for the first time during the conversation. He glanced at Agatha before turning back to Violet as she continued speaking, this time addressing Lord Anderson himself.

“Uh, well, welcome to Mayfair, Lord Anderson.” Lord Anderson’s smile returned as she spoke in an attempt to smooth over the awkward edges of the conversation that they seemed to be veering dangerously close to.

“Thank you. I am quite enjoying my time here already.” Violet could not help herself from grinning as he spoke, possibly about her particularly, her traitorous brain supplied before she quashed it. He is certainly married, get a hold of yourself, Violet, she told herself mentally. She glanced towards Agatha before responding, wondering to herself, why is she still here? She usually runs away swiftly at the first sign of an uncomfortable conversation, and she certainly looked uncomfortable. In fact, she almost looked like she was chaperoning them.

Mentally, Violet’s jaw dropped as she considered the possibility that Agatha thought she had to stay near, to prevent anything untoward. Is that really what Agatha thought was going on here? Surely she knows that I handle myself with the utmost decorum. Violet laughed softly in an awkward attempt to diffuse the rising tension, which prompted the others to chuckle lightly as well, only serving to heighten the awkwardness. 

Despite everything, the three of them remained rooted in place, as if whomever was first to leave would be admitting defeat. Violet felt frustrated that Agatha would not leave, as she had been enjoying her conversation with Lord Anderson immensely before she had joined them, and Violet now felt like she could not speak her mind because of Agatha’s prolonged presence.

Usually, she was so pleased to while away the match-making hours with her, however she did not usually have other stimulating company to occupy her time. Usually, she and Agatha spent the time watching her children and scheming about the best suitors for Eloise and Francesca! Suddenly remembering what had begun the whole conversation in the first place, Violet started and began to glance around in search of her daughter.

“I was looking for Francesca after she left Lord Samadani, did you happen to see her before you joined us?” As Violet spoke, she turned to Agatha, awaiting her response.

“Unfortunately, I did not, however the others around the room may have spotted her. You may need to go and ask them.” Agatha made clear her intentions to remain in place and Violet acquiesced. She bowed her head slightly to both Lord Anderson and Agatha before leaving in search of any of her children who may be able to help.

As she left the two behind, she could hear what was possibly a muffled conversation beginning, although she did not wish to stay to hear what they had to say about her, if anything. Glancing around the room, she could not see any of her children just yet, so she began to take a turn about the ballroom, looking for them as she reflected on the rather enlightening conversation with the mystery man who was, apparently, Lord Marcus Anderson, Agatha’s brother. It astounded Violet that Agatha had not mentioned a brother to her at all during their conversations together. Violet took a moment to pause and look over the room once more.

Lord Anderson was a lovely man, and she felt the very slight butterflies in her stomach that signified to her that, despite his almost certain married status, she was quite taken with him. She had come a long way in order to be able to admit that to herself, even if her first foray back into the courting scene was a disastrous introductory conversation with a married man who was her best friend’s brother, too. And it hardly counted as courting, the two had just been sharing a really rather lovely conversation indeed. Try as she might, Violet could not seem to make her thoughts behave on this particular matter. 

Looking over the room once more, Violet spotted Colin, who had just finished entertaining a small group of debutantes and appeared to be intently focusing on something or someone, and she started making her way towards him, putting all thoughts of her conversation with Lord Anderson and Agatha from her mind as she focused her efforts on her children.

***

Francesca had appeared to attract the attention of an earl, Lord Kilmartin, to be precise. Violet had not understood how the pair felt comfortable around each other when they seemed content to simply sit in silence together when he came to call on her, however she could see that Francesca was happier with Lord Kilmartin than she was with Lord Samadani. Despite that, Violet was eager to impress Lord Samadani, due to his being the Queen’s pick for Francesca.

That was before Violet and Francesca had gone shopping together in Mayfair and happened to see Lord Kilmartin. Francesca had clearly been excited to see him before the earl abruptly left their conversation. No matter how uninterested she said she was, her actions spoke louder, as they always had for Francesca, her quietest daughter. Violet recognised the quiet thrill of love blossoming even when the two of them were silent together. She also knew that Francesca had disregarded all possibility of continuing a courtship with Lord Kilmartin, which had led Violet to be watching over Francesca dancing with Lord Samadani at the Queen’s Ball. While her attention appeared to be devoted to her daughter, her mind wandered, thinking back to the Innovations Ball and the conversation that she and Lord Anderson had been having. 

Violet had found her thoughts returning to him more and more frequently when she had a quiet moment to herself. Despite her best efforts to avoid focusing on him, her mind simply would not be swayed. Her thoughts continued to wonder if she may get a chance to get to know him any better at this ball. She had spotted him while everyone had been watching the ballet, not that she’d been looking for him, her mind insisted quietly. However, it was not done for a lady to approach a gentleman, certainly not a lady in her position, so she remained quietly hopeful on the sidelines, watching Francesca dance. As if her thoughts had summoned him, she heard the rich timbre of Lord Anderson’s voice call her name.

“Lady Bridgerton.” She turned to see the object of her thoughts strolling towards her with a plate of pastries and a bright smile, offering them to her. She smiled brightly to him, responding in kind.

“Lord Anderson.” She laughed lightly as she politely declined the proffered food.  “Oh, thank you, but I have no appetite.” She had eaten, perhaps more than she should, just after the ballet and could barely handle the thought of more food. Eager to continue the conversation as Lord Anderson placed the plate down, Violet kept watch over Francesca as she asked, “Are you enjoying your evening?

“Oh, very much. I have not spent much time in Mayfair since the early days of my marriage.” Oh, so he was definitely married then. While she smiled and hummed her acknowledgement outwardly, Violet’s heart sunk slightly, though she forbade herself from thinking about that too carefully, in case she stumbled across some thoughts that may have struck a little too true. “In the countryside, one can walk and look at trees and lounge about one’s house.” Lord Anderson commented, to Violet’s amusement, as he took to watching Francesca and Lord Samadani as well. “Enlighten me, however does one pass the time here in the city?” He asked.

“I am afraid most of us spend our time meddling in the lives of our young people. At least, that is my and your sister’s favourite pastime.” Violet answered, keeping her eyes trained on the young people in question, so as to avoid accidentally staring at him. When she glanced at him, she could see that he was looking at her with something akin to astonishment.

“My sister likes to meddle?” He sounded almost… incredulous.

“Well, in truth that word does not do her justice. She moulds society to her will, and she is rather good at it.” Violet smiled, thinking on the truth of those words as she turned directly toward Lord Anderson then, in time for him to quietly acknowledge her. She realised that he seemed stunned by her words. “You do not know that about her?” Now it was Violet’s turn to be incredulous as she took a step to turn to him, abandoning all pretences of watching Francesca any longer.

“We are… becoming reacquainted.” Lord Anderson looked uncomfortable under Violet’s scrutiny. What had happened between the two siblings to cause this constant discomfort in either each other’s presence or at the evidence that they had barely been acquainted at all? As she opened her mouth to continue, he cut her off, in an effort to steer the conversation. “And who is the target of her moulding at the moment?”

“Ah. My daughter, Francesca.” Violet said softly as she turned back to the dance floor, allowing Lord Anderson to compose himself after she had accidentally confronted him. She appraised Francesca with more concern as Lord Anderson murmured his recognition. Violet continued, concern tinging her voice as she watched carefully, “Though, I am not certain she has yet found that spark.”

“Well, for what it is worth…” Lord Anderson began, continuing to watch Francesca and Lord Samadani.

“Mm?” Violet prompted as she turned towards him once more.

“… sometimes a fire is slow to burn.” Lord Anderson finished, and Violet hummed gently, allowing him to continue. “My own marriage was not a love match, and, admittedly, not very passionate in the beginning.” Lord Anderson chuckled slightly. Violet turned away from him, unable to prevent her smile from vanishing as she listened to him. He did not need to see the slight sadness and disapproval that Violet could not stop from reaching her eyes. “But I became very fond of her.” At his words, Violet watched Lord Anderson directly, content to see something akin to love in his eyes. “We were happy until the day she died.” Violet smiled softly, allowing him a moment to collect himself before offering her condolences.

“I am so sorry for your loss.” Violet would not have admitted it to anyone, but she was at least a little pleased that he was a widower, for he would understand her, perhaps more than most, especially given that his marriage was a happy one, a rarity in the Ton. “Maybe there is hope, then.” Violet continued brightly, thinking of Francesca and Lord Samadani, a good match theoretically, however Violet could see when her daughter was uncomfortable. Lord Anderson hummed his agreement before Violet spoke of her own experiences. “I, myself, had a love match, so that is all I know.” Violet remained steadfast in looking at Francesca with tears pricking her eyes until she could no longer bear it. She glanced at Lord Anderson, seeing only compassion in his face.

“You have my deepest sympathies.” Lord Anderson said, maintaining eye contact with her for the first time all evening. Violet bowed her head slightly in gratitude and smiled sadly at him, turning to look at Francesca once more before he continued, “But I am envious. You had the chance to experience a love match.” Violet turned back towards him then, laughing lowly as she remembered a stunningly similar sentiment expressed by his sister only a few months ago. “That is something I, myself, have not given up on finding in my second act.” Lord Anderson finished, and Violet could not stop looking at him. Here was someone else who was in almost the same position as she was, and he had just openly admitted to her that he was willing to find a true love match in his second foray into the courtship market.

As he glanced at her, she smiled ever so slightly, in awe at his confidence. It had taken her 12 years to even admit that she was willing to try once more, and she had resigned herself to perhaps not finding true love once more. Violet was unaware if she was even capable of loving someone as wholly and truthfully as she had loved Edmund. As she was contemplating this, the song ended and Francesca curtsied to Lord Samadani. Lord Anderson watched them and glanced up to the balcony where the Queen and Agatha were conversing before he excused himself. Violet bowed her head as he left her, before retraining her eyes on Francesca and Lord Samadani, allowing her thoughts to be consumed by them instead of the handsome Lord Anderson.

[lifesizehysteria]

@cptn-nash and me being obsessed with @sleepyfireball's Mittens.