#he is REAL TO ME. my love for him is very very deep and very strong. if you paid any attention at all. You would know just how much I love

[lurkingshan]

What are your favorite examples of deep unbridled yearning in a bl? I think my is I told the sunset about you the way they used the coconut smell to showcase one the leads feelings for the other was so unique and sensual. He starts out hating coconut and how it smells but slowly as he falls in love he becomes obsessed with it since it's the other MLs unique scent and he uses it on everything, so we get a scene of him inhaling a paper written by the MLs coconut pen and then another one just devouring a coconut like it's the best thing in earth. I don't think I have ever seen such a depiction of attraction/love/lust that's so different but also visceral and beautiful and it really stuck with me. It's very different but it's one of the rare romance things that I'll never forget akin to the hand flex from pride and prejudice.

So you want to talk about yearning.

*Lan Wangji has entered the chat*

There’s a lot of good yearning in the romance genre, and plenty of bls feature it. The example you gave from ITSAY is definitely one of the standouts in terms of how visceral it felt. I will never forget Teh shoving his whole face into that coconut, or all the super charged scenes where he and Oh-aew stare at and touch each other and keep testing boundaries until they break.

There are definitely other expressions of yearning that stick out for me for one reason or another, and not all in this same tone.

The Untamed

Let’s get this out of the way upfront, because no one can step to this man on yearning. He adopted a whole child and named him after his yearning for his lost love. What I love about the presentation of Lan Wangji's particular flavor of yearning is how steady and matter of fact it is. He is always yearning for Wei Wuxian and it's just a part of who he is, whether his love is alive or dead. And while I love that Teh is such a big mess of emotions, I also like this more understated flavor of yearning where nothing is ever said out loud but Lan Wangji's feelings are clear in how he chooses to live his life. He's the poster boy for "actions speak louder than words."

Eternal Yesterday

I'm not sure if you've seen this one, but it's one of the most poignant and devastating depictions of yearning I have ever seen. Mitsuru yearned for Koichi so hard that he kept his body alive for precious extra days and his memory alive forever. Brb gonna go cry.

Utsukushii Kare 2

This is probably one of the more unique expressions of the emotion (on brand for this series), since this sequel season has Kiyoi yearning for the man who is already his boyfriend to love him for real instead of idolizing and holding him from a distance. It's one of my favorite explorations of how lonely we can feel even while in a relationship.

I Cannot Reach You

This show wins for best visual effects to convey yearning, with a beautiful bokeh effect taking over the screen in moments when the characters were extra in their feelings over each other.

Unknown

Wei Yuan's yearning was more of the desperate and hopeless variety, especially in his teens years when he knew his feelings for his adoptive older brother were impossible. I liked that his feelings were expressed via caretaking; he didn't think he could have the relationship he really wanted with Wei Qian, so he made it his mission to take care of him and help shoulder his burdens instead.

I Feel You Linger in the Air

This story stands out in my memory for its dedication to anticipatory yearning. That is, knowing a separation is coming against your will and yearning desperately for the person who is still in front of you. Yai and Jom did not want to let each other go despite knowing they could not stay together, and that yearning was so strong it ultimately connected them through time.

Theory of Love

And on the comedic end of the spectrum, I absolutely cannot end this list without giving a shoutout to one of the funniest manifestations of yearning that has ever graced my screen. Every time his feelings for Khai got overwhelming, Third ran to the bathroom for a Sadness Shower, and if the water wasn't working he was happy to improvise (and now I am cackling).

[star-stilinski]

repost of an old deleted fic.

set in the beginning of season 3b.

☆

stiles has been erratic all day, from counting his fingers in class to pacing and rambling nonsense to scott at lunch and accidentally running two red lights on the way home. he says he's tired, says he's just nervous about his dad being on night patrol after almost getting sacrificed, which is fair. but still, it's not like him to act this way.

you can't figure out what's wrong with him.

"i'm fine." he insists as you run your hands up his arms. he's sitting on the edge of the bed, back turned to you and heaving air anxiously. you rest your chin on his shoulder and wrap your arms around his middle.

"then go to sleep. you're all wound up and sleep deprived, you need to rest."

he doesn't move other than lifting his hands. he begins quietly counting.

"stiles."

"alright, okay, i'm just making sure this is real. scoot over." you hear him try to lift his tone to sound goofy, uplifting. it sounds sour instead. you roll your eyes at the silly comment, more than used to him being swooned by you, claiming you were so 'out of his league'. whatever that meant.

he had been using that line specifically in the most random situations lately. in class, at breakfast, even after coach yelled at him for staring off into space.

whatever, he's just odd. you like that.

you curl up next to him as he lays stiffly with his arm around you. with his body heat and his scent and his breathing, you're out in minutes.

☆

screaming.

loud panicked the sheets are thrown off stiles shoots up right before you do screaming is he okay is he hurt did someone break in stiles stiles stiles is screaming at nothing and grabbing his chest and scrambling back on the bed sobbing screaming again.

you act on impulse, grabbing him around the shoulders and pressing him into you, yelling his name over his noise. he thrashes in your arms for a moment before realizing it's you, practically shifting gears with how quickly he changes from pushing away to pushing into you, turning his body to hug you and sob into your neck, mumbling nonsense you can't hear, gripping your shirt like a vice.

you press him close, hushing him. "i know, i know baby. it's okay. i'm right here. it was just a dream. just a dream, okay?"

he nods into your neck and his loud, pleading sobs turn to quiet whimpers as he breathes into you. his grip on your shirt is just as tight as before, pulling your body into him like you'll vanish if he lets go.

"stiles." you hum his name, feeling him shudder afterwards. his grip loosens a fraction. you whisper it again, scratching his scalp lightly. "stiles, pretty boy."

he lets go of your shirt with one hand and uses it to lift himself up just enough to look at you.

desperate brown eyes roam your face. you watch silently as he examines you, eyes hesitating on your chest. you tilt your head, confused for a moment at how he could be distracted after that but you realize-

you take a breath, a deep one that makes your chest rise and you watch his gaze soften. he was watching for you to breathe.

you pet his hair and he shakes lightly, eyes still searching you like he's looking for a tell of some sort.

"lay down, love." you whisper. he complies immediately, collapsing into your neck and breathing you in while you stroke his hair and whisper comforting words.

after awhile, his grip on your shirt falls away and he sinks deeper onto you. as you hum (beautiful boy by john lennon) softly, he mumbles something incoherent.

"what was that, sti'?"

"don't let me fall asleep." he whispers into your skin.

it leaves a chill in the air. it's not sweet. he didn't say it like 'oh i'm so content, don't let me miss this moment.'

he said it like 'it will get me.'

you don't know what it is, but you ignore his wishes. night terrors can be horrible for him, and what he needs right now is a good nights sleep.

it will be the last good nights sleep stiles gets for a very, very long time.

☆

posting this from before i deleted my acc to entertain bc i haven't been free enough to write lately. anyway. love you guys and all the support, i am still alive and kicking and my drafts are moving (albeit slowly)! have a good night, here's a spoonful of angst!

[darth-jess-my-writing]

The Mask of Darth Vader

I'm sure other people realize this and have thought of this before, but as I've been writing my Star Wars fanfic I've come to understand something that feels a bit profound. At least to me.

Darth Vader IS the mask.

He is the mask that Anakin Skywalker wears to DEAL WITH WHAT HE'S DONE.

Because the truth is, Anakin Skywalker is not actually capable of committing the absolute horrors attributed to Vader. If you think about it, Anakin CARES and FEELS MORE DEEPLY than anyone. And while his love for Padmé drives him to embrace the Dark Side, he does not do it lightly. He falls to his knees, saying, "What have I done?" after (quite literally) disarming Mace Windu, which very quickly leads to the Jedi Master's death.

He only accepts the Dark Side and becomes Sidious's apprentice because he truly believes this is the only way to save the woman he loves. But what Sidious asks him to do to become powerful enough in the Dark Side is so awful and goes against everything Anakin ever stood for or believed in. So he creates this second persona, VADER, who has the strength to do what Anakin could not.

And I think this is why Vader hates Anakin: because Anakin didn't have it in him to do what needed to be done to save his (their?) wife. Because Anakin honestly doesn't have it in him to do what Sidious asks him to do.

This is why it's so shocking to everyone who ever knew Anakin that he turned to the Dark Side. Because once gain, HE JUST DOESN'T HAVE IT IN HIM. He is too caring, too loving, too empathetic to do the things that Vader does. And I think that NEVER STOPS BEING THE CASE.

Of course, Anakin and Vader are the same person, and deep down Anakin realizes that Vader is not actually real. But the Vader Persona protects him from the pain. Vader allows Anakin his innocence, Vader takes all the blame. Vader doesn't wallow in grief, Vader turns his pain into rage and uses it to protect the Empire.

Vader is the coping strategy Anakin uses to survive what he did. To survive his wife's death. And it's only fitting that once Luke brings Anakin forth once more, Anakin becomes one with the Force. Vader was the only thing keeping him alive.

This is why I love writing about Vader. His cognitive dissonance is horrifying and wonderful.

[excalibur-gone-missing]

Paring: LSM x fem!reader 

Requested: No

Genre:  soulmates!au, angst

Warning(s):  sad

Summary: Seokmin loves love. But love doesn't love him back.

Word count:  788

Other works 

disclaimer: this is not the exact representation of the subjects in real life. I just use them for my inspiration. 

a/n: I would greatly appreciate it if all of you could take a moment to comment on this fic. As an author, I find great value in your feedback, as it allows me to better comprehend my readers, and I thoroughly enjoy interacting with all of you. Constructive criticism is always welcome, so don't hesitate to talk about this fic or send me an ask. So please don’t be a silent reader.

a/n2: I don't know if I will make this into a series, but do tell me if you want me to do so!

[permanent taglist] [only for those interested, don’t fill the form otherwise]

Seokmin loves love. He looks at young lovers in the park sitting on a bench, leaning on each other or holding hands, and he hopes they stay like that forever. Hell, if he could, his official profession would be matchmaking. But after a bit of a trial run during his uni days, the man understood that he is horrendous at it. He has more chances of pairing Mingyu’s socks than pairing two humans. What can he say—he just likes to bring people together. The only problem is that he’s far more impatient than an alpha particle roaming around in a chamber.

Now, it must not come as a shock to you that this man has indeed fallen in love and, like most of us in this universe, has had his heart broken too. I mean, it was his fault for falling in love with a woman who had another man’s name written in the script of her fate. But hey, love is love. You never understand when it will attack, and, being the defenseless fool you are, you just fall for it.

Seokmin understands it was never meant to be, but that doesn’t mean he loved her any less. Unlike most, he was devoted to Somin. He loved her like a poet loves his poem, like the paper loves its pen, like the sunflower loves the sun. He remembers how his world would light up the minute she came into his peripheral vision. He loved her with every breath he took and every drop of water he drank.

But like every other forbidden relationship, this one didn’t last. Somin found her fated mate, her soulmate. And just like water melting from a glacier, she seeped away from his life with a sad look of apology toward Seokmin and an enchanting smile for her one and only.

Was Seokmin sad? Obviously, he was! Who wouldn’t be? That night, he drank like there was no tomorrow, and Chan still brings it up sometimes: “Hyung looked like he wanted to crush that new dude of his ex, but also looked scared when he remembered his face.” I mean, obviously, that man was built like a truck. As much as Seokmin claims he likes to do push-ups and lift, he could never be the hunk of a man Seungcheol is. Never!

But even after all that, he could never get angry at anyone. It was his and solely his fault for falling in love with a woman who was not fated to be his. The blame falls on him, no one else. They had promised to be each other’s forever, but somewhere deep down, he knew it wouldn’t last. He knew that all those talks were just talks. So when the inevitable happened, he wasn’t angry at her—just happy. No matter how brutally she broke his heart, she deserved to be loved the right way, and so did her soulmate. He would have broken off the relationship anyway the minute he knew about Seungcheol—no questions asked.

Now, this brings us to this very gloomy, rainy day at the bus stop. Seokmin hates the rain; it reminds him of tears, and he hates to see the sky cry. But everyone’s gotta cry once in a while, so he’ll let it go this time.

This is when he feels it—the sting on his back where his mark is. The beautiful fish painted on his skin feels alive. Not even a minute after the sting, he feels it—the pull, the pull to look at the passengers getting off the bus.

That’s when he sees her: the literal definition of beauty and grace, the beautiful butterfly in this gloomy world. His one and only soulmate. You.

That’s when you look at him, feeling the pull too. It seems as though the world has stopped for Seokmin. Time has allowed him this moment to stare at you and take in your grace and beauty. And suddenly, he realizes you’re heading straight for him. Straightening his back, he looks at you expectantly, hoping to hear your name pour out of those beautiful, glossy, plump lips of yours. And then he sees them move. But he doesn’t understand what you’re saying, because your beauty has rendered him speechless.

Then he hears the words—those ominous words that will haunt him for the rest of his life, maybe even eternity: “I don’t believe in soulmates, so let’s never fucking meet each other again, ever!”

And before the boy can even process the words you’ve just thrown at him, you’re walking away. And just like that, the Seoul rush engulfs you like a sea monster, not letting Seokmin reach you to at least ask why.

a/n: thank you so much for reading, please don’t forget to leave a review

[thinkinginpen]

Jazz and Desire

a/n: This one is just to tease you guys because I felt like it: pairing: bucky x reader w/c: 4.4k warnings: romance, hinting, love, etc. summary: Going on a first date with Bucky and he takes you home.

Bucky looks at his watch for the twelfth time in the last half hour.

"Relax," you say. "You look like a college kid on his first date."

"I'm nervous," Bucky replies. He straightens his tie and sighs. It's hard to tell in the dim light of the bar, but you swear he looks a little red-faced. "It's been a while since I've done this."

"And here I thought you were some sort of World War 2 playboy." You take a sip of your drink, looking him up and down. He's a little dressed up for a dark dive like this, but you're certainly not complaining.

Bucky shrugs, trying to look casual as he takes a drink of his own. "I don't know if that's an accurate description. Most of my dates in that era never made it past second base."

You laugh. "Bucky Barnes, are you saying you were a nice boy during the war?"

"Hey, I tried to be a gentleman," Bucky says, although he's smiling. "I'll have you know, I was quite the charmer."

"And humble, too." You roll your eyes, trying to hide your smile.

"I'm serious," Bucky says, leaning in a little closer. "When I was trying to impress someone, I was the sweetest guy you'll ever meet."

His voice lowers a bit, his smile growing a little more wicked. "Until you got me alone, that is."

You raise an eyebrow, trying to keep your cool even though you can feel the heat rising in your face.

"Oh, so you were a nice boy when someone was watching but a bad boy behind closed doors?"

Bucky grins at your reaction.

"That's exactly what I'm saying. I was a good boy in public and a very bad boy in private."

He smirks and lets his eyes wander up and down your body, obviously enjoying how flustered he's making you.

You can feel your heart pounding in your chest as you try to keep up the banter.

"And what kind of bad things did you like to do behind closed doors, Sarge?"

Bucky leans in even closer, his voice lowered to a near-whisper as he murmurs in your ear.

"Let's just say it involves a lot less talking and a lot more…"

He suddenly pulls back, leaving you hanging for a moment before finishing the sentence.

"Dancing. We'd do a lot of dancing. What did you think I was going to say?"

You roll your eyes again, trying not to show just how much he's getting to you.

"Oh, I'm sure you were a real Fred Astaire in your heyday."

"I was pretty good," Bucky says, smiling smugly. "And I can still cut a pretty mean rug, if I do say so myself."

He stands up from the stool and straightens his jacket, offering you his hand. "Feel like a demonstration? I have an old record player back at my place."

You hesitate, considering. On the one hand, you were having a good time here in the relative safety of the bar. On the other hand… spending more time alone with Bucky, potentially within touching distance of his bed…

You take a deep breath and reach out, grabbing his hand. "Okay, but you better be able to back up your big talk, soldier."

Bucky grins, obviously pleased that he's talked you into this. He pulls you to your feet with his Vibranium arm as he stands up, his chest suddenly pressed against yours.

"I'll do my best, doll," he says, his voice a low murmur. "But I always deliver."

You can feel your heart racing as he pulls you close, his muscular chest pressed against yours. You can feel the heat radiating off his body, his muscles coiled under his jacket, just waiting to spring into action.

You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. "So, are we heading back to your place to do some dancing, or what?"

Bucky grins, clearly enjoying the effect he's having on you. "Dancing, yes. There might be some other things involved too."

He keeps hold of your hand as he guides you out of the bar and into the cool night air. The walk to his apartment is only a few blocks, but it feels like an eternity as the tension between you continues to build.

Finally, you reach his apartment building. Bucky leads you up the stairs to the third floor, unlocking the door and flipping on a light switch.

His apartment is small, but tidy. There's an old record player in the corner, and Bucky heads straight for it. He rifles through his collection of records before pulling one out and carefully placing it on the player.

"You recognize this song?" he asks as he starts the record spinning.

You nod as you recognize the opening bars of the song. It's a slow, sultry jazz number, the kind that's perfect for dancing.

Bucky holds out his regular hand for you, gesturing for you to join him in the small living room. "C'mere."

You take his hand and let him pull you into the middle of the room, then he smoothly pulls you into his arms, your body pressed against his. You can feel the hard muscle of his chest against your cheek as he starts to sway to the music, guiding you in a slow circle across the wooden floor.

Bucky's arms are strong and sure as he leads you around the room. You can feel the steady rhythm of his heart against your cheek, and the warmth of his breath as he speaks quietly in your ear.

"See? Nice, polite boy in public, and not too bad today."

He spins you out in a quick twirl, then pulls you back in tightly, your bodies now pressed even closer together.

You try to say something witty in response, but all that comes out is a small gasp as he pulls you back in. You can feel the heat of his body against yours, the firm muscles of his arms as he holds you close.

"So," you say, trying to keep your voice steady. "Is this what you did with all the girls back in the forties? Slow dancing?"

"I did a little bit more than dance," he replies, his voice a low murmur in your ear. "But yes, I did a lot of dancing."

He spins you out again, then pulls you back in with a twirl, his arms wrapping tighter around your waist. He's pressed flush against you, his hips pressed against your hips, his thighs pressed against your thighs.

You can feel your face growing warmer as you dance. Bucky's body is like a furnace pressed tightly against yours, the feel of him nearly overwhelming. You can feel the taut muscles of his arms and chest through his shirt, the heat of his breath against your skin as he murmurs in your ear.

"You know," he says, his voice low and raspy. "I wasn't joking about it getting a lot less polite in private."

"Oh really?" you reply, trying to sound casual, but your voice betrays you with a small hitch in your breath at the end.

"Mm-hm," Bucky says, his lips brushing the soft skin of your ear. "I was a real bad boy behind closed doors. In fact, some of the things I did were downright sinful…"

The low rumble of his voice combined with the warmth of his body is almost too much for you to handle. You can feel yourself starting to lose control, your body responding to his on its own.

"Oh yeah?" you say, your voice breathless. "What kind of… sinful things?"

"Oh, you know… touching… caressing…" Bucky murmurs, his lips brushing against the side of your neck, his hand tracing a lazy path down your back. "Kissing… biting…"

You let out a shuddering gasp as he kisses your neck, his lips trailing down the sensitive skin to your collarbone. The feel of his mouth on your skin is like fire, and you can feel your body responding hungrily to his touch.

"B-Bucky," you whisper, trying to gather your thoughts. "We… we shouldn't…"

"Why not?" Bucky says, his voice low and sultry in your ear. "Aren't you enjoying your date, doll?"

He starts to kiss his way back up your neck, his hand now resting at the small of your back, his fingers tracing lazy circles on your skin.

"You're a grown woman," he continues, his voice still low and intimate. "You're allowed to enjoy yourself."

Your body betrays you, leaning into his touch as he kisses your neck and shoulders. His words are making it harder and harder to resist him.

"We… we just met," you protest weakly, but you can feel yourself starting to give in.

Bucky chuckles, his breath hot against your skin. "That's never stopped me before."

You take a shaky breath as his lips brush against your ear again, his voice dropping even lower, almost a growl. "I always get what I want, doll. And right now, I want you."

His hand slides down to the curve of your hip, pulling you closer. You can feel the hard planes of his body pressed against yours, and your resistance is rapidly weakening.

Bucky starts kissing his way down your neck, his hot breath fanning across your skin as his lips travel lower and lower. You can feel yourself losing control, your eyes closing as your head tilts back, your body practically melting into his.

"B-Bucky," you whisper, your voice sounding weak. "We… we shouldn't…"

He chuckles, his voice low and intimate in your ear, his body pressed up against yours. "Oh, but I think we should."

[anastasiareadsnwrites]

Hi,

I just love your Anthony Bridgerton x male reader story. Can you write another? I don't mind what it is about but maybe Anthony has a secret male lover who is of lower class than him, like someone who is a working or middle class person.

No One does it like Ant Part I (Anthony Bridgerton x Male! Reader)

Part I

Author's note: Hiya so I decided to make this into a series typa thing so I really hope this is to your liking. I'm so relived to hear that you loved the other one-shot or story. Thank you so much for requesting. I am intrigued to where this one leads.

Summary: Despite the weight of his title and obligations, Anthony Bridgerton finds solace in the secret moments shared with someone who should be invisible to a man of his status: you, a blacksmith's son. The stark differences in your worlds don't matter in the shadows, but in the daylight, the walls between you seem impossible to scale.

Warning(s): Tension/Anxiety, Emotional Turmoil, Risk of Discovery, ANGST, Class difference, Secret Relationship, Emotional Vulnerability, Mild Sexual Content, Fear of Loss, Period-Appropriate Homophobia

The MAIN Masterlist

The Bridgerton Masterlist

The flickering candlelight danced across Anthony's face, casting shadows on the familiar furrow of his brow. He stood by the window of the secluded cottage, his posture stiff, as though the very air around him weighed heavily on his shoulders.

"It's not enough," he whispered to himself, but you heard him, leaning quietly against the doorway.

"What isn't enough?" you asked, your voice cutting through the silence like a warm breeze in winter.

Anthony turned abruptly, his dark eyes locking onto yours, the tension in the air thickening as he hesitated. He took a deep breath and stepped forward, his boots echoing against the wooden floor. His fingers twitched, almost as though he was reaching out for you, but stopped himself, retreating back into his restrained composure.

"You and I...this life we lead, these stolen moments," he said, his voice low and laden with the turmoil that seemed to forever grip him. "It cannot be enough, for either of us."

Your heart clenched, but you stayed where you were. You knew this conversation would come, but you had not been prepared for the pain that surged within you.

"Why isn't it enough, Anthony? In here, away from your title, from society's watchful eyes, we are enough."

His expression softened, and for a moment, he allowed himself to drop the mask, the Viscount disappearing behind the man you loved. His lips parted as if to speak, but instead, he closed the distance between you, reaching up to cup your face in his hands.

"You deserve more than this, more than hiding in the shadows with a man like me," he murmured, his forehead resting against yours. "But I cannot walk away."

His confession hung in the air, raw and real. You raised your hands to cover his, savoring the warmth of his touch.

"I never asked for more," you whispered back. "I only ask for you."

The truth of your words startled him. Anthony pulled back slightly, his fingers tracing the line of your jaw before dropping to his sides. He took a step back, his gaze distant, as if he were already being drawn back into the world outside—the one that demanded perfection, duty, and sacrifice.

"The world doesn't care what we want, Anthony," you said softly, "but in here, when it's just you and me, it can't touch us."

Anthony's expression tightened, torn between desire and responsibility. The flicker of vulnerability in his eyes was replaced by the rigid control he so often wore like armor. You could see the battle raging inside him, the weight of his title pressing on his shoulders, even as his heart urged him toward you.

“I have obligations,” he began, his voice barely above a whisper, as though speaking the words made them more real, more suffocating. “A name to uphold. Expectations from my family, from society. This... this between us... it defies everything I’ve been taught.”

You frowned, stepping closer, the heat of the hearth warming your back. “And what about what you want, Anthony? You’ve spent your whole life living for others. Don’t you deserve something for yourself?”

Anthony’s jaw clenched, and he looked away, staring out the window into the night, as though the darkness held the answers he couldn’t find in the daylight. His silence was answer enough. You sighed softly, stepping closer, the space between you shrinking as you reached out to brush your fingers against his.

“Anthony,” you whispered, your voice gentle but firm, “I know what you’re afraid of. You’re afraid of losing everything. But what is the point of all that wealth, that power, if you’re alone? If you deny yourself happiness?”

His head lowered, eyes shutting briefly as he absorbed your words. For a moment, he allowed himself the luxury of your touch, his hand grasping yours, fingers interlocking in a way that felt both familiar and fragile.

"I want you," he said softly, his voice breaking the stillness. "God help me, I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anything."

His admission sent a rush through you, but it was bittersweet. The walls he had built around his heart were still there, still towering. You could feel the strain in his grip, the way his fingers tightened as though holding on to you could anchor him, even as he felt himself slipping.

You gently pulled him closer, resting your forehead against his, your breath mingling in the small space between you. “Then be with me. Here. Now. Forget the rest of the world, just for tonight.”

His eyes opened, and for a heartbeat, the mask dropped completely. Anthony’s hand slid up the back of your neck, his thumb brushing your skin as his lips captured yours in a kiss—deep, searching, filled with everything he could never say aloud. The world outside the small cottage faded away, leaving just the two of you in the warm glow of the firelight.

For now, it was enough.

But the unspoken fear lingered, a shadow neither of you could ignore. What would happen when the sun rose and the world outside came calling once again?

Later, as you both lay side by side in the quiet aftermath, the weight of Anthony’s unspoken words filled the room. He traced absent patterns along your arm, his touch gentle, but there was a tension there, something unsaid hanging in the air.

“You know this can’t last forever,” he said quietly, breaking the silence.

Your heart clenched, but you had known that truth from the beginning. Still, you couldn’t stop yourself from asking, “Why not? Why can’t we find a way?”

Anthony turned toward you, his dark eyes filled with a mixture of sadness and longing. “Because men like me... we don’t get to choose. I’m the Viscount, the head of my family. The expectations... they’re not just mine to carry. They belong to my siblings, to my lineage. I can’t risk everything for something that the world won’t allow.”

You propped yourself up on one elbow, looking down at him, searching his face for something—some flicker of hope that this didn’t have to end. But all you found was the same conflict, the same war raging inside him that had been there since the day you met.

“I don’t care about your title, Anthony,” you said, your voice firm but gentle. “I care about you. And if you can’t let yourself have this, if you can’t let yourself have me, then what’s the point of any of it?”

Anthony’s gaze softened, and for a moment, you saw the man beneath the title, the one who longed for the freedom to choose his own happiness. But then the walls went up again, and he was once more the Viscount Bridgerton, burdened by duty.

“I wish it were that simple,” he murmured, his hand resting on your cheek. “But you and I... we’re from two different worlds. And I can’t pretend that the world will ever accept that.”

You closed your eyes, pressing your face into his palm. “Then let’s not care what the world thinks. Just for a little longer.”

The night was growing late, and though Anthony knew he should leave before the morning light betrayed him, he remained there beside you, holding on to what little time you had left together. As you drifted off to sleep, you could feel him watching you, his fingers tracing the contours of your face as though committing every detail to memory.

Tomorrow would come, and with it, the harsh realities of your different lives. But for now, you had each other. And for tonight, that was enough.

Morning came too soon. The pale light of dawn filtered through the thin curtains, painting the room in soft, muted hues. You stirred first, the warmth of Anthony’s body still close beside you, his arm draped protectively across your chest. For a fleeting moment, you allowed yourself to bask in the serenity of it, in the peace that only came in these rare moments together.

But reality was already creeping in. You could feel it in the cool air of the room, in the weight of the silence that now stretched between you. Anthony stirred beside you, and as he slowly woke, you felt his grip tighten briefly, as though holding on to the last shreds of the night’s illusion.

His eyes fluttered open, and the moment his gaze met yours, you saw it. The mask slipping back into place. The Viscount, the man of duty, was already returning.

“I should go,” he murmured, his voice hoarse from sleep, but his tone carried a certain finality, like a man waking from a dream he knew he couldn’t linger in.

You sighed, sitting up and gently pushing the tangled sheets aside. The cold floorboards beneath your feet were a stark contrast to the warmth of the bed you’d shared, and it sent a shiver through you—not just from the cold, but from the realization that this, too, was slipping away.

“You always say that,” you replied, your voice steady, though your heart ached with the truth. “But you always come back.”

Anthony sat up beside you, his hand reaching out to touch your shoulder, his thumb brushing against your skin in a way that made your heart tighten. “I come back because I can’t stay away,” he admitted quietly, his voice filled with a vulnerability he rarely allowed himself to show. “But I can’t give you more than this.”

You turned to face him, searching his eyes for something—anything—that could give you hope. “Why can’t you, Anthony? What are you so afraid of?”

He hesitated, his gaze dropping to the floor. “I’m not just a man,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’m the Viscount. My family’s future rests on my shoulders. Marrying, having an heir... it’s not just expected of me, it’s required. And being with you...”

His voice trailed off, but you understood. Being with you was not part of that plan. It never could be.

“I know what’s expected of you,” you said quietly, your voice steady even though your heart was breaking. “But I also know that you deserve to be happy, Anthony. And if that happiness is here, with me, then maybe it’s worth fighting for.”

Anthony’s eyes met yours, and for a moment, you saw the flicker of hope, the part of him that longed to break free of the chains that bound him. But then, just as quickly, the hope was gone, replaced by the weight of responsibility that always pulled him back.

“I don’t know if I’m strong enough for that,” he admitted, his voice cracking with the strain of his inner conflict.

You reached out, taking his hand in yours, holding it firmly. “You’re stronger than you think,” you whispered, your voice filled with quiet conviction. “But you have to decide if this—if we—are worth the risk.”

Anthony’s grip tightened around yours, and for a long moment, neither of you spoke. The silence was heavy, filled with unspoken words, with all the things that could never be.

“I wish I could give you more,” he finally said, his voice barely audible. “But I can’t change who I am.”

You nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat. “I know.”

And you did know. You had known from the beginning that loving Anthony Bridgerton would mean heartache. But even knowing that, you couldn’t bring yourself to regret it. You loved him, and even if the world would never allow it, you would carry that love with you always.

Anthony stood, his movements slow and deliberate as he began to dress. You watched him silently, the reality of the situation settling heavily on your chest. The moment was ending, and soon he would leave, just as he always did.

As he pulled on his coat and adjusted the lapels, he turned to you one last time. His gaze lingered on your face, and for a brief moment, the mask slipped once more.

“If I could... if things were different...”

You smiled sadly, shaking your head. “But they’re not.”

He closed his eyes for a moment, as if trying to summon the strength to walk away. When he opened them again, the Viscount had returned, composed and resolute. He crossed the room in long, measured strides, and when he reached the door, he paused.

“I will see you again,” he said, his voice soft but certain.

You didn’t respond. You didn’t need to. You both knew the truth—that no matter how many times he walked away, he would always come back. But what neither of you could say aloud was that each time he did, the space between you would grow, the distance between your worlds widening until one day, it would be too vast to cross.

The door closed softly behind him, and with it, the chapter of this fleeting moment in your secret world came to an end.

You sat there in the stillness, your heart heavy but resolute. You loved him, and for now, that would have to be enough. But in the quiet of the empty room, a question lingered: how much longer could you both live in the shadows?

Days passed with a crushing sameness. The quiet routine of your life returned, each day filled with work and the small distractions that kept your mind busy. But no matter how hard you tried to immerse yourself in the rhythm of everyday tasks, thoughts of Anthony clung to you like a persistent shadow.

At night, when the world was silent and the loneliness pressed in, you would remember his touch, the way his voice softened when he was just Anthony—not the Viscount, but the man who had stolen your heart. The memories were bittersweet, tugging at you even as you tried to push them away.

Weeks later, as you stood at the forge, the clanging of iron on metal ringing in the air, you caught sight of a figure approaching the workshop. Your heart skipped a beat, the familiar broad shoulders and composed gait unmistakable. You set down your tools, wiping the sweat from your brow as Anthony stepped inside, the heavy wooden door creaking shut behind him.

He was dressed impeccably, as always, though there was something different about him today. A tension, a sense of urgency in his movements, as though he had come to a decision.

“Anthony,” you greeted, your voice steady despite the sudden quickening of your pulse. It was the first time you’d seen him since that morning he’d left your bed, and the air between you crackled with unspoken words.

He stood before you, eyes searching your face as though he hadn’t expected you to be exactly as he remembered. For a long moment, neither of you spoke. The weight of your last meeting hung heavily in the air, both of you knowing this wasn’t just another visit.

“I couldn’t stay away,” he said at last, his voice raw with emotion. “Every time I try to distance myself, it’s like I’m suffocating. I thought I could bury it, push it aside. But I can’t. I don’t know how.”

You stepped closer, your chest tightening as you watched the mask of the Viscount crack once more. This time, it wasn’t just a fleeting moment of vulnerability. It was something deeper, something more desperate.

“Then stop trying,” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the roar of your heart. “Stop fighting it.”

He closed the distance between you in two long strides, his hands reaching out to grip your arms, his touch firm, almost frantic. “I don’t know how to do this,” he admitted, his voice shaking slightly. “I don’t know how to balance what I feel for you and the life I’m supposed to lead. But I know that I can’t keep walking away.”

Your breath caught in your throat as you stared up at him, the intensity in his gaze overwhelming. You could feel the battle raging within him, the clash between duty and desire that had haunted him for so long.

“What do you want, Anthony?” you asked quietly, your voice steady despite the storm of emotions swirling inside you. “Not what society wants, not what your family expects—what do you want?”

For a moment, he hesitated, the question hanging in the air like a challenge. But then, as though the weight of it was too much to bear, he finally let go of the control he’d been clinging to for so long.

“I want you,” he said, his voice breaking with the force of the confession. “I’ve always wanted you.”

Before you could respond, his lips crashed against yours, the kiss desperate, filled with all the pent-up longing and frustration that had built between you. It was raw and messy, a collision of emotions that neither of you had been able to fully express before. You kissed him back with equal fervor, your hands tangling in his hair as you pulled him closer, your heart pounding in your chest.

For a moment, nothing else mattered. There was no Viscount, no obligations, no world beyond the walls of the workshop. There was only Anthony, his lips on yours, his hands gripping you as though you were the only thing keeping him grounded.

When you finally broke apart, both of you were breathless, your foreheads resting together as you tried to catch your breath. Anthony’s hands slid down to your waist, his touch softer now, more controlled but still filled with that same intensity.

“This won’t be easy,” he whispered, his breath warm against your skin. “I can’t promise that things will change overnight. But I’m tired of running from this. I’m tired of pretending I don’t want you.”

You exhaled slowly, your heart swelling with a mixture of hope and fear. You had waited so long to hear those words, but you knew the road ahead would be anything but simple.

“I’m not asking for everything right now,” you said softly, your fingers tracing the line of his jaw. “I just want you to try. To fight for us, the way you’ve fought for everyone else your whole life.”

His eyes softened, and for the first time in weeks, you saw the hint of a smile on his lips—a small, tentative thing, but enough to give you hope.

“I will,” he promised, his voice filled with quiet determination. “For you, I will.”

The days that followed were stolen moments, brief but filled with a new sense of possibility. Anthony was still the Viscount, and his duties pulled him away more often than not, but when he returned to you, there was a shift in him—a willingness to fight for what he wanted, for the life he had always denied himself.

There were no grand declarations, no sudden changes in his public persona, but in the quiet of your shared moments, there was a newfound resolve. You could see it in the way he held you, in the way his gaze lingered on you longer than it used to. He was still navigating the treacherous path between his duty and his desires, but for the first time, he wasn’t walking that path alone.

One evening, as the sun set over the horizon and the two of you sat together by the fire, Anthony turned to you, his expression thoughtful.

“I’ve been thinking,” he said, his voice soft but certain. “Maybe there is a way. A way for us to have more than this.”

You raised an eyebrow, your heart skipping a beat. “What do you mean?”

He smiled faintly, reaching for your hand and intertwining his fingers with yours. “There’s a lot I can’t change about who I am or the life I lead. But I can change this—us. I can be with you, more than just in secret. I don’t know what the future holds, but I’m willing to find out.”

For the first time, there was a glimmer of hope in his words, a sense that maybe, just maybe, the world you both wanted wasn’t so far out of reach after all.

The days blended into weeks, and in those weeks, you and Anthony managed to carve out a fragile existence, balancing his life as the Viscount and the moments of tenderness he could afford with you. Every meeting was a risk, every touch a gamble, but neither of you could pull away. Not anymore.

The late afternoon sun cast long shadows over the village as you waited for him in the small cottage just outside of town—a place that had become your sanctuary, a hidden world where, for a few hours, you could forget the harshness of reality.

You paced, the nervous energy in your body building as the minutes ticked by. Anthony was late, which wasn’t unusual given his responsibilities, but tonight felt different. There was a tension in the air, a heaviness that you couldn’t shake. You wondered if today would be the day he wouldn’t show up. If something had finally happened to tear him away from you for good.

But then, the door creaked open, and there he was—disheveled and out of breath, as though he’d run all the way from Bridgerton House. Relief flooded your chest, but it was short-lived as you noticed the look in his eyes: a mixture of exhaustion, fear, and something else... determination.

“Anthony,” you breathed, crossing the room to him, your hands reaching for his. “You’re late. I was worried.”

He pulled you into a tight embrace, his face burying in the crook of your neck as if trying to ground himself in your presence. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, his breath hot against your skin. “There’s... there’s something we need to talk about.”

You froze, your heart pounding. His words were too serious, too final. Panic flared in your chest. “What is it?” you asked, stepping back just enough to look into his eyes. “What’s happened?”

Anthony sighed, running a hand through his dark hair. He looked tired, older even, as though the weight of his responsibilities had finally caught up to him. “My family... they’re pushing harder for me to marry.”

Your stomach dropped, and for a moment, you couldn’t speak. You had always known this moment would come, but knowing didn’t make it any easier.

“Do they... do they know about us?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper, your worst fear suddenly feeling very real.

“No,” Anthony said quickly, shaking his head. “No, they don’t. But they’ve been watching me closely, and I can’t keep making excuses for disappearing like this.” His hands gripped yours tightly, as though he was afraid you might slip away. “But I’m not going to give up on us.”

The determination in his voice caught you off guard. You had expected him to tell you that it was over, that he had no choice but to marry someone his family deemed suitable. But here he was, standing in front of you, fighting for you.

“What are you saying?” you asked, your voice trembling with both hope and fear.

“I’m saying that I’m willing to take the risk,” Anthony said, his voice steady despite the turmoil in his eyes. “I’m tired of living my life for everyone else. I want to be with you. I don’t care what it costs me.”

Your heart soared, but at the same time, the practical part of your mind screamed in protest. “Anthony, you can’t just throw everything away. Your family... your title...”

“I know,” he interrupted, his hands cupping your face, forcing you to look into his eyes. “I know what I’m risking. But I’ve made my decision.”

Tears prickled at the corners of your eyes. You had never imagined he would choose you over everything he stood to lose. But now that he had, the reality of it terrified you. “What if it all falls apart? What if—”

“We’ll figure it out,” he said firmly, pulling you into a kiss that silenced your fears, at least for the moment.

The following weeks were a blur of secret meetings, stolen moments, and whispered promises. Anthony became more reckless, more willing to risk everything for the sake of being with you. It frightened you, but it also exhilarated you—this man, who had been so bound by duty and expectation, was finally choosing to live for himself.

But the world had a way of catching up with those who defied it.

It happened one evening, just as the sun was setting. You and Anthony were sitting together by the fire, the cottage bathed in the warm, golden light of dusk. He had come straight from an event, his hair still neatly styled, his clothes still carrying the scent of expensive cologne. He looked every bit the Viscount, except for the way he relaxed into your side, his hand resting comfortably on your thigh.

A knock at the door shattered the peaceful silence.

Both of you froze. No one ever came here. This place was yours, a secret known only to the two of you. Anthony’s hand tightened on your leg, his eyes locking with yours, fear flashing in them.

You stood, your heart racing as you moved toward the door, unsure of what—or who—was waiting on the other side.

[margoshrmargoshing]

FOLKS I FINISHED BEAST WARS (thoughts and spoilers under cut)

1. The timeline is absolutely unique, i love how optimus and megatron aren't even optimus and megatron and how bw relates to g1

2. The graphics will never be an issue to me, it's more than enough for the time period and it's much more than watchable. I'm in love with the slimy cgi and didn't pay much attention to the quality. All i can see is designers and animators having fun

3. I think that the designs gradually got a little fucked up but it's okay

4. I really enjoyed Blackarachnia's character, she was so interesting for me! I'm not aware of the fandom's general opinion on her but she's my special girl now

5. There was like at least 5 times more on-screen gay kissing than straight kissing

6. If you didn't understand how insane i am about dinotrap from my previous posts then now i can say it's my #1 pairing,, i rarely have a fav ship when i watch something because of The Multishipper Curse that makes me think about too much characters together but for bw specifically i have a favourite. Usually I'm a little turned away from dynamics that are built on characters insulting each other but it's a special case, because they definitely share a bond and i can ramble for hours

7. Bw optimus is my 3rd place fav after tfp and tfa respectively (because they're a classic) (even though i know it's not even him) he's very much of a Some Guy who is Hungry And Needs a Nap and i like how he's just. a person. like a leader but he's just a guy come on. probably for the same reasons i love tfa op, i like seeing him get mean and angry and worried and yelling at his team and then understanding that he was wrong. my man

8. The predacons are so chaotic it's insane. The lack of a (main character i mean) Starscream is not noticed because there's not one con trying to take over, not two, not three, but I'm pretty sure everyone in the whole goddamn team has attempted it at least one time during the show.

9. And, with lack of Starscream, Megatron took all the cuntiness for himself. He stands out insanely among other continuities (again it's not him so). That voice? Thanks David Kaye!!! He's doing the whole dramatic hot villain thing that Tumblr loves, with blood baths and everything, and it deserves to be noticed. Megop is the classic tumblr dramatic villain x tired hero stuff you see in like 2016 writing prompts and everything. Megatron is insane here

10. I really enjoyed Dinobot. I cannot say this loud enough but he is my second fav after Rattrap because he's a really interesting and conflicted character. You see him as inherently evil? He does a beautiful gesture of kindness. You see him as good? He fails to disobey his nature. It goes on and on until his last eps. The betrayal? I was sobbing. That scene when he's on his knees with a sword? It fucked me up. The episode ending had me on the FLOOR.

11. I'm conflicted on dinobot 2 because on one hand, i do appreciate how it is shown how actually fucked up megatron and his schemes are. He's insane, and he's obsessed: he doesn't try to make any super soldier or whatever, but specifically wants to bring back dinobot and make him stay. And he fails, because it *is* dinobot deep inside, and that brings him down; his real sense of honor. He won't stay. His sacrifice was insane. But on the other hand, i actually didn't want Dinobot to be actually brought back. Sounds very nice but i think his actual death was really a point to his character that made me love him more. And when i saw Dinobot 2, i was kinda hoping that he would be an empty shell, an attempt, that it would be a plan Megatron put too much hope into, and that it's *not* dinobot, just a copy without a mind. Maybe im just weird sorey

12. Transmutate is gender

13. I love rhinox but it's sad that they didn't make him stand out as a character like the other maximals. He rarely got to be a main character, and even when he got to, he was just the butt of a joke and didn't get to build relationships and resolve personal problems like his teammates did. Or maybe i just wasn't looking at the screen when he did who knows. He's my big weird man

14. I enjoyed Tigatron and his conflict about the conflict so much

15. I'm actually sometimes a little disoriented/lost when watching something so i just straight up didn't notice half the character deaths??? I was just wondering where they went and then went oh.

16. who the Vok are the Vok. I wish they weren't Just Mysterious Aliens but more than that

17. Why did they keep making all of the characters so trans it's not funny im in tears

18. Beast wars was absolutely made for goddamn freaks im sorry. i loved it

19. I think everyone at the studio was gay for megatron. Why else did they animate the scene where he's in the bath wiggling his dinosaur toes

20. WASPINATOR FUCKING HAPPY AT LAST

[blindmagdalena]

really obsessed with soulmate au’s recently and it got me thinking… what if john’s soulmate was part of the boys? a girl trying to kill him with an entire group of people also trying to kill him… and he’s fated to her? could picture him finding out and just putting his hands on his hips while turning his back to her and doing that click chuckle thing. just in utter disbelief but it is definitely on track for fate’s little play with him and his life lolol

Oohhh, you know, I've never played much with the soulmate au concept, but this struck me just right because I can so clearly see the slow, building meltdown that strikes him when that reveal drops.

The mirthless laugh, shaking his head, the hapless gesture to the ceiling before his hands drop. "Of course. Of course it's you. Why wouldn't it be? I mean—Christ, it makes sense, doesn't it? Every single person who was supposed to love me has-has fucked it, so why—" he keeps cutting into this escalating, unsettling laughter. There's nothing funny about it: you're sure that you're watching someone lose the last shred of their sanity in real time. "Why would my 'soulmate'-", he says, miming big, dramatic quotation marks. "-be any different?" That manic grin has shifted into tight baring of his teeth, a vicious sneer. He closes in on you, stands so near you can feel the heat of his breath when he hisses, "I should put you in the fucking dirt with the rest of them."

It should be terrifying, but it's hard to focus on anything other than the glassiness of his eyes. The sheer devastating heartbreak of it all, telegraphed clear as day in the way he carries himself. His eyes flare red, sizzling up the tears before they can fall. "And then you really will be all alone," you say. Maybe it's the hopelessness of the moment, maybe it's the shock of learning for yourself that he's supposed to be your one and only, but you feel numb. Frayed in a way you didn't know you could be. The crimson light of his eyes disappears in an instant, revealing surprise, followed by a wounded kind of look, before that familiar seething rage returns. "We'll see about that."

[nothinggold13]

Eli “Weevil” Navarro. Character of all time, methinks.

[possamble]

realizing im kind of a weirdo about laios and marcille

[cerealmonster15]

haikaveh... save me haikaveh...

i KNOW it's been talked about to death but. the haikaveh research project. it literally haunts my mind. i cannot get over the implications. alhaitham going through his school life as someone that most people dont even really know about because he keeps to himself and doesn't socialize, with kaveh being the one exception to that, finding his way into his life as his Best Friend, and then leading to alhaithams one and only time he participated in a research topic. his bio says he only ever did ONE joint project!!! one!!! the one with kaveh his best friend and i think also his only friend at the time!!!! and then it ended in not only the project falling apart but also alhaithams only friendship. kavehs best friendship. they were each others closest person. they had no family around - alhaithams parents having died when he was young and his grandmother dying before he joined the akademiya, and kaveh's dad dying when he was young and his mom having moved to fontaine. like even if you dont look at it through a romantic lens it's still undeniable how important they were [and are] to each other..........

i'm getting off track but my point is very specifically for alhaitham, the one time he got close to someone, made a friend, even agreed to join one(1) group project ever, it ended in disaster. it led him into a fight so bad that his one and only friend said he regretted that friendship!!!! it was so bad alhaitham left the project and he and kaveh didnt speak for ages until they just happened to run into each other again at the tavern!!!!! like obviously it has to be incredibly awful for both of them but i just think how this probably had alhaitham in the cynical mindset that friendships and collaborations like that might just never work out for him because the one time he let someone into his life, it blew up on him and he was all alone again. even though alhaitham never seems to care much if people dont like him, that clearly cant still apply to someone he was exceptionally close to. like if he didnt care he woudlnt have been the one to take his name off the project and mutually not speak to kaveh...... kavehs words are the ones that hit the most significantly to alhaitham.......... kaveh is said/implied to have had at least some other friends while at school / people knew who he was, but not so much alhaitham. people didnt know him and the ones that did just knew he didnt socialize/he was not easy to get along with. he only had kaveh and then, for a while, he lost him too!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[epsileonsaturn]

so all of Peter’s actions towards Neal in s5, especially at the end of the first episode, were Not Okay, but I think it was really fucked up how Peter used the “we’re your family” card ESPECIALLY after the whole thing with Neal’s dad. Like you confide in this guy “yeah i consider you more of a family to me than my own flesh and blood” and then he uses it against you to tell you that you’re just a criminal and oh, btw, you’re getting an entirely new handler who you don’t even know! And Peter does it all under the justification of “protecting” Neal. Not cool!

I get the complexities of the situation but I feel like people are too lenient on Peter bc the show likes to make him out as the good/right one (the copaganda is showing)

[whentherewerebicycles]

this sucks lol

[cosmic-ships]

On a different note I feel guilty in a way? That I haven't really talked about Kylo in a few days and I feel bad about that. Okay so maybe some shitty people helped with making me feel bad about it.

[sysig]

Pivotal bright spot (Patreon)

[unproduciblesmackdown]

also was revisiting a little bmc bway interview ft. william last night & him saying his favorite part of the show was probably doing the agtikbi reprise scene on the couch at the party & mentioning the Nonverbal aspect of jeremy & christine's interacting / communicating there & a way of exploring/depicting Love & Affection in a way you don't always see everywhere and like aaaarghhhhh so true good lord that specific scene. and Again the bway obcr version Existing and being like that, it's just like. winded exhale yeah obsessed 5ever thank you all