#the epilogue of every book leads into the next

[fayes-fics]

When The World Is Free: Chapter 14 - Un Coin Tout Bleu

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Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader, WW2 AU.

Warnings: None really... angst, make-ups, misunderstandings, confessions and a proposal.

Word Count: 1.9k

Author’s Note: Multi-chapter fic based on a request by the lovely @amillcitygirl. Please see the masterpost for a synopsis of this story. This is the penultimate chapter, so everyone is starting to make peace. There is one more chapter that will have explicit content and an epilogue to go. Thanks as always to @colettebronte for beta reading. Enjoy!

Aubrey Hall, UK, October 1939

Instinct has you up on your feet and chasing after, rounding into each room you pass, but you cannot find either of them. Your stride is definitely no match for Benedict’s; he is likely already far away. 

When you stumble up the stairs, you collide with Violet. She is taken aback at first but then sees your apparent distress and has you in a hug before you know what is happening. 

“Whatever is it, my dear?” she soothes into your hair.

“Eloise found Benedict and I asleep in an embrace and ran away in horror,” you stutter. “And then I let slip to Benedict you think he loves me, and then he ran. Oh god!! I have messed things up so horribly,” you lament.

Her motherly concern has you clinging to her, the sting of your mother’s recent rejection still a whiplash to your heart.

“Let us find my wilful daughter; she is likely just in shock, that is all.” she counsels calmly. “And then we will deal with your errant husband.”

Looping your arm with hers, Violet leads you to a few places where she knows Elose skulks when she wants to escape the world. You both eventually find her in the attic, where stacks of books and pillows are near an oval window that suggests this is often a refuge for her.

“Eloise Bridgerton, come and make amends with your friend,” is her stern greeting.

“Why should I?” Eloise sniffs, steadfastly refusing to turn around, staring out the small window at the grounds below. “She did the one thing - the ONE THING - I told her would make me disown her….” she adds bitterly, referencing the chat you had in Paris many weeks ago before Benedict arrived. “This was a choice she made.”

“Falling in love with your brother was not a choice, Eloise; it happened quite without me meaning to,” you implore, wanting her to believe it's true.

At that, her head whips around, surprise claiming her face. “Love?” she scoffs. “Please…” Looking to her mother for support in her derision, she frowns when she seems to find none. “Are you serious?”

“Yes…” you reply softly, taking a hesitant step forward, holding your palms open at your side—a conciliatory gesture. “I married Benedict to escape, yes, but even before then, I knew I felt something for him. That connection has only grown more profound since. We have spent a lot of time together in secret. I am truly sorry I, well, we, kept it from you. I was scared you would be angry and hurt. And you are. And you have every right to be.” 

“It's true, Eloise,” Violet, standing a few paces behind you, pipes up. “I saw it the minute they arrived here. And I can tell you right now, your brother feels exactly the same.”

You want to believe Violet’s assertion about that, but you feel a tightness in your chest as she says it, worrying that it may not be accurate.

“You are my friend,” she whines almost petulantly. 

“And I will always be your friend if you allow me,” you counter delicately. “No matter what happens with Benedict, and even I do not know now, you will always be dear to me and a part of my life.”

“What did that bloody idiot do now?” she inquires, sharp as a tack.

“After you left the room, I-I mentioned your mother thinks he loves me, and well, he ran out, you admit, hanging your head.

“That idiot…” she blusters, rolling her eyes.

“I'm very sorry if you see this as a betrayal. I wanted to keep it quiet because I love you so much as a friend. I truly never want or meant to hurt you….”

Eloise sighs, and you watch her shoulders slump. “You are just lucky I know some semblance of what you speak…” she offers wistfully, a glimmer of hope that has you inhaling sharply.

You know without asking that she is referring to Phillip, and you twist to smile at Violet briefly, who suddenly looks very invested. 

“I hope you can find it within your heart to forgive me. I know it may take some time,” you allow. Hope creeps into the edges of your heart that you can reconcile with one Bridgerton, at least. 

“It is just a shock that you kept it from me,” she sighs, finally admitting what upset her the most.

“I thought us terrible actors,” you giggle lightly, hoping humour will brighten your exchange.

A soft smile teases at the corner of her lips. “Are you suggesting I am not as sharp as I could be?” she jests gently.

“Heaven forfend!” you clutch your chest, feigning shock, then morphing into a smile you hope is an olive branch. 

“I think perhaps you saw what you wanted or rather didn't want to see, daughter dearest,” Violet interjects mildly. “Because I can confirm they are both utterly terrible actors,” she chuckles.

You bite your lip and hang your head in an act of contrition that seems to amuse Eloise greatly. Her hesitant huff of humour is the best noise you could possibly hear.

“Friends?” you query tentatively, hopeful.

“Friends,” she pouts, crossing her arms. “But there is still much to make up…” she adds.

“Understood.”

With this fragile peace brokered, Violet links her arm in Eloise’s and yours, leading you both back down into the house with a declaration that tea, the ultimate British elixir, is needed.

—

Ten minutes later, you are gathered in the small glass conservatory, partaking in said refreshments. Other Bridgerton children—Colin, Francesa, and Gregory—likely drawn by the biscuit smell have also materialised. The gathering is a peaceful balm to a dramatic day. A large part of you still aches that Benedict fled, but you try to force it from your mind and concentrate on the fact that Eloise may be willing to forgive… with time.

Just as you stand to refill your teacup, however, the calm is shattered. Benedict charges into the room, flustered and breathless. He drops an envelope he is holding onto a side table and marches right up to you, stride purpose-filled, completely ignoring the rest of his family.  

“There you are! I have been looking all over for you!” Relief palpable in his tone but still agitated and animated, grabbing your forearms. “Where on earth did you go?”

You splutter indignantly. “Where did I go?! Me? I think the more pertinent question is… where did you go?! You ran out of the room so fast!”

“I asked you to wait a moment,” he frowns.

“No, you didn't!” you state forthrightly.

He seems to falter, relinquishing his grip on your arms. “I… I didn't?”

“No…”

A look of doubt, then confusion, then finally understanding ripples over his face. “Oh…So you thought I… Oh…”

“Yes,” you reply quietly so the others gathered, who seem very invested now in your exchange, cannot hear. “I thought you walked out because of what I divulged.” Not wanting to go into detail with an audience.

“No! No!” he asserts candidly. “Nothing could be further from the truth!” His eyes soften as he realises what happened, looking genuinely contrite. “I am so sorry. I must’ve forgotten to say it out loud in my excitement.”

“Excitement!?” you are baffled. “You looked terrified!”

He grabs your hands this time, holding them in his, a look of earnest sincerity claiming his handsome features. “Yes, I was nervous and shocked that my mother knew and told you,” briefly glancing towards her over your shoulder. “But it spurred me to finally be brave enough to show you something. Something very important that I need your opinion on” 

He lets go of your hands to grab the envelope from the table. With a nervous mien, he opens it and hands you a pile of photos. They are of an idyllic-looking country home surrounded by a pretty garden and countryside beyond. It looks so beautiful and instantly captures your imagination. For some strange reason, it already feels familiar to you.

“What do you think?” Benedict seems super nervous, shuffling his weight between his feet, apparently anxious for your answer. 

“It's very pretty,” you opine neutrally, primarily confused. “I'm not sure why you are showing me, though?”

“I… I wanted to know if it was somewhere you could see yourself living?” he asks enigmatically with a small smile.

“Why?” you frown, unwilling to confess the truth - that you would live there in a heartbeat. It looks like the house you dreamed you would live in one day.

He takes a deep breath, seeming to steel himself. “Because… I would like to buy it. For you. Well, for us.”

There is no other word for it - you are floored. A loud buzzing sound is behind your ears, your knees feel oddly weak, and there is a tingle in your fingertips. 

“For us?” you stutter, disbelieving.

You could hear a pin drop in the room. You can’t see them, but you know his family behind you likely have gaping mouths, especially Eloise.

“Yes, to live in. Together,” Benedict answers, that crooked smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “And if you are willing to live with me, well, then I also have another question for you…”

Your lungs feel afire, and your brain is short-circuiting—almost unable to surmount the shock. Entirely confounded as your heart pounds hard in your ribcage.

“A-A-And if I am, what is your other question?” you ask breathlessly.

You gasp as he falls to one knee before you, and you hear a collective ripple of shock behind you as he produces a little velvet box from his pocket.

“I wanted you to wait so I could also go and get this,” he explains, a slight shake in his hand as he holds it open—an engagement ring with sapphires and diamonds nestled within. 

You can feel your eyes welling with tears as you gaze down upon him.

“Realising my mother knew the truth and accepted it was a wake-up call for me. I had to finally be brave and confess to you. We are already married, so some may think this pointless, but it is nothing less than you deserve: a proper, heartfelt, honest proposal.” 

His free hand reaches and grabs yours, lacing your fingers together. It feels like the anchor you need to stay upright. 

“Given the short time, it may seem reckless to others, but I do not care what anyone thinks but you. I know what my heart tells me, indeed, has told me from the moment we met—you are my home, my refuge, my present and my future. Y/n, I love you more than I ever thought possible. I would marry you a hundred times over, in whatever way you would have me. Please, please, will you be my wife?”

A sob escapes your lungs, and you fall to your knees with him, wanting to be at eye level.

“Yes, Benedict! A hundred times - yes!!!” 

Your answer is rendered through watery tears as he breaks into a breathtaking grin and pulls you both to your feet. He gathers you into his arms and seals the pact with a lingering but chaste kiss. His eyes are misty, too, as your lips break apart and exchange smiles.

Behind you, his family erupts into whoops and applause as he pushes the ring onto your left finger, fitting snugly over your wedding band. You twist to see Eloise, a begrudging tear in her eye; a burden lightens in your heart as she nods towards you as if bestowing her tacit approval.

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[perpetual-stories]

Six Ways To End Your Story

Hi, everyone! Someone kindly asked for advice on how to end a story so here it is for everyone!

Six Types of Story Endings

While every story has to end its own way, there are six general types of ending. Which one you go for will depend, of course, on the story you’re telling, and maybe also on the tropes or conventions of the genre you’re working within (if you’re working within a genre at all).

The six types of story endings include:

Resolved ending

Unresolved ending

Expanded ending

Unexpected ending

Ambiguous ending

Tied ending

What Is a Resolved Ending?

A resolved ending leaves the reader with no lingering questions or loose ends A resolved ending is part of most classic fairy tales (“And they all lived happily ever after…”), but also of countless classic novels.

Consider the ending of Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice, a classic of literary fiction and the inspiration for countless romance novels. At the end of the book, Elizabeth Bennet and Mr. Darcy marry, and we’re led to believe that their marriage will be long and happy. Not only that, but the rest of Mr. Bennet’s marriageable daughters have settled down in matches appropriate to their characters. In other words, there are no lingering questions or tensions.

Remember, a resolved ending isn’t necessarily a happy ending. Think of any of Shakespeare’s tragedies, in which the protagonist and most of the other major characters usually wind up stabbed, poisoned, or executed.

What matters most in a resolved ending is that all of the threads of the novel have been clearly and satisfying resolved.

What Is an Unresolved Ending?

Sometimes, the end is not really the end. That’s the case with an unresolved ending. This is the kind of ending that leaves the reader with more questions than answers. Ending on a cliffhanger has the potential to be a frustrating experience, but that frustration can also be satisfying if the story calls for it.

Unresolved endings are popular choices for books in a series, because it leads the reader to the next book.

What Is an Expanded Ending?

An expanded ending often takes the form of an epilogue. As the name implies, it expands the world of the story beyond the events of the narrative itself. That usually involves a jump forward in time, and occasionally a change in perspective as well. (Dostoevsky’s classic Crime and Punishment ends on just such a note, as does Tolstoy’s War and Peace.) Like an unexpected ending, an expanded ending may reframe the way the reader has been thinking about the story.

One advantage of an epilogue is that it allows the writer to answer questions that might not be possible to answer in the space of the main narrative (for instance, how things turned out a decade or more after the main events of the story).

What Is an Unexpected Ending?

An unexpected ending is one the reader likely didn’t see coming. The twist ending can be earth-shattering, or clever and subtle. The trick to pulling off a great surprise is that it should seem inevitable in hindsight. Very few readers are likely to be on board for an ending that seems to truly come from nowhere, but if the ending makes sense they’re more likely to appreciate the subtle machinations and plot twists it took to get there.

A good ending avoids deus ex machina, a Latin expression meaning “god from a machine.” In the context of fiction, a deus ex machina is a heavy-handed device that abruptly and definitively resolves all the story’s problems in a way that doesn’t feel natural to the story.

For instance, a previously unknown rich uncle appearing from nowhere to give the poor striving protagonist a vast fortune may certainly be a surprise, but it’s not likely to satisfy your readers. Remember, a good twist is one that the writer has left clues for all along.

What Is an Ambiguous Ending?

An ambiguous ending is one that’s open to interpretation. While an unresolved ending doesn’t give the reader enough information to say what’s going to happen next, and an ambiguous ending might allow two different readers to come to two completely different conclusions. Of all the endings, the ambiguous one demands the most involvement from the reader, since they are actively invited to think about the significance of events for themselves.

Take a quick look at the ending to Charles Dickens’ classic Great Expectations. In the last lines of the novel, the main character Pip takes the hand of the widow Estrella and says he sees “no shadow of another parting from her.” But is Pip’s vision reliable? Do they stay together or is another parting in the future? The novel leaves the reader with both tantalizing possibilities.

What Is a Tied Ending?

A tied ending is on that brings the story full circle—it ends where it begins. This type of ending follows the classic Hero’s Journey, which is common to many myths and folktales from around the world, but it’s also a popular choice for many works of literary fiction trying to capture the cyclical nature of time. James Joyce’s famously beguiling Finnegan’s Wake even ends on a sentence fragment that literally completes the very first sentence of the novel.

As a writer, you’ll need to make sure that the journey to this point felt worthwhile. Ending up right where you started can feel pointless if the journey there and back wasn’t meaningful.

There you have it folks, and kind ask, I hope this helps anyone who is struggling with their story endings!

Follow, reblog and comment if you find these helpful!

[discount-shades]

Contract Spouse Epilogue

Epilogue: The Future

A/N: My crazy month of June is finally settling down and I hope to start my Western!Daggers fic in the next week.

Pairing: Jake Seresin/Reader (nicknamed Pip)

Warning:  none 

Length: 1600ish

Summary: They have to tell Sami. 

Previous     Masterlist     Main Masterlist

Jake ripped up the divorce papers that day on the beach. Frantically tearing them into smaller and smaller pieces. You had scolded him when he threw the papers in the air, laughing and kissing as you gathered the garbage up, splashing in the waves to keep the litter from going out to sea. Eventually Jake had to go in to work so you had driven home with a lightness you hadn't felt before. 

You kept the knowledge of your new relationship to yourselves, beyond Jake’s ‘you were right’ text to Javy. Your relationship was a weird combination of the newness of a honeymoon period and the comfort that comes from knowing, and being known, by a partner. 

If you were in the kitchen Jake would sneak up behind you and wrap his arms around your waist, peppering kisses down your neck and shoulder. You snuggled on the couch while watching TV in the evenings with Jake’s thumb slipping under your shirt and gently running over the skin of your back trailing goosebumps in its wake. All of your clothes were moved into the master bedroom closet and every night you slept wrapped in his arms.  

The only issue was Sami. You didn't know how to tell your best friend that you were in love with her brother and that you were not coming back to Austin. It was too big of news to share over a text or a phone call. It was the kind of news you share in person. She and Matt were coming out to visit in a month and every day you agonized over telling her. 

You pace the living room. “Worst case scenario she is pissed and never talks to either of us again.” Jake sighs and looks up from the book he is studying for some Navy qualification. 

Why does it have to be the worst case scenario?” he asks. “Best case scenario is that she is happy for us and gives her blessing.”

“If I expect the worst case scenario then I won't be disappointed when things don’t go my way.” You grimace and stare at your hands. “I learned pretty early that expecting good things only leads to disappointment.”

Jake marks his place in his book and tosses it on the coffee table. “Come here,” he urges, opening his arms to you and you walk over to the couch before flopping on top of him. You relax into his arms as he runs his hands up and down your back. “It’s going to be ok,” he says, “it was her idea we married in the first place so she has no one to blame but herself.” 

You snort in laughter before answering seriously. “I just don’t want her to feel like I’m choosing you and that she is going to lose me as a friend.” 

“If anything she is going to be pissed you kept the fact you loved me for years a secret.” 

“Jaaaakke!” You groan and bury your face into his chest. “You are not helping and I regret telling you that!”

“No take backs.” You can hear the smile in his voice and in truth you are happy you told him. His look of awe and excitement when you told him was worth it. Like he was having trouble believing that someone could love him so much. “Ok, on the first night they get here I will take Matt out for beers and you can tell Sami. Deal?”

“Deal.” you say grudgingly. 

— — — 

“Ok, spit it out.” Sami snaps at you from where she is sitting on the couch. “You have been so weird since we got here. I know you have something to tell me.”

You sigh and set the glass of wine you were slowly sipping down. True to his word Jake had taken Matt out for beers on their first evening in town and you and Sami were sharing a bottle of wine and catching up. So far Sami had done all the talking and most of the drinking. 

“I’m not moving back to Austin.” You can see the disappointment on her face. You press your hands between your knees, squeezing them together  

“Does your job want you to stay out here?” Sami is staring at you intently and you squirm under her gaze. “Are you getting a place?”

“No.” You take a deep breath, struggling to overcome a decade of keeping your feelings for Jake a secret. “I’m going to stay here with Jake.”

At that her face falls. “Sweetie, I know you love Jake, but if he hasn’t figured out that you are perfect for him after these months of living together he never will.” She leans forward at your shocked expression, taking your hands in hers. “I love him, but my brother is an idiot and you deserve to be happy and not pining after him. You need to move on, and I don’t think living here with him is going to help.”

You let out a startled laugh, unsure of what to do or say. Of all the things you expected, this was not one of them. “You knew?”

“Yeah, I could tell, you always light up when you talk to him and you get what I like to call your ‘Jake smile’” She shifts so she is sitting beside you, arm around your shoulders and you rest your heads together. “And for what it’s worth I think you guys would be great together, he doesn’t know what he’s missing.” 

“Jake loves me,” you tell her and she sighs. 

“You deserve someone in love with you,” she says. 

“I know,” you pause before mustering your courage, “that’s Jake.” Sami pulls back and stares at you. “We talked. And he realized he is in love with me and we are going to be a real couple.” 

“Jake admitted his feelings?!” Sami says incredulously. “He’s denied he’s had any since our dad got sick!” 

You give her a little lopsided grin. ”He’s always had feelings, he just never wanted to burden you with them.”

“You two are going to be a couple? For real?!” At your nod Sami squeals and pulls you into a hug that is closer to a headlock. 

“You’re not mad?” Your voice is muffled by her arms as she holds you close. 

“No! Why would I be mad? You will finally be my sister for real!” 

“I don’t know, I was just worried how you would respond.” You pull back and look her in the eye. “You will still be my best friend.” 

“Damn straight, I’m still your best friend.” The confidence in her answer makes you giggle. “And we have to plan some kind of vow renewal. You both deserve a real wedding, with a dress and a ring and everything.” 

You glance down at the ring on your finger. You had always loved it for its simplicity. Nothing flashy, just a constant reminder that someone cared about you, that you weren’t alone. Even before you and Jake had confessed your feelings that day on the beach the ring had been a reminder that you had people in your life who loved you and wanted you to be ok. “Maybe not the ring,” you tell her, “I’ve kinda grown attached to this one.”

“Jake picked that ring out.” You glance up at Sami’s words.

“I always thought you picked it, it’s one I would have picked for myself.”

“I was trying to get him to get you something flashy, mostly so I could try on all the big diamond rings at the jewelers. The teller was kinda irritated.” She grins at the memory. “Jake was ignoring me and he picked that one out because he said it was something that you would wear.” 

You gaze down at the ring, loving it even more knowing that Jake picked it for you. “I’m definitely keeping the ring.” Your thoughts are interrupted by another squeal from Sami as she pulls you into another hug. 

“I’m just so happy for you both!” You laugh and hug her back. The anxiety you had felt over telling her just fades away and you let out a sigh of relief. Sami was the closest thing you had to family and having her blessing meant everything. “You need to tell me everything!”

“Everything?” You ask with raised eyebrows. You laugh at the look she sends you. 

“Within reason of what a sister wants to know.” 

— — —

When Jake and Matt get home hours later you and Sami are giggling on the couch. He sends you a questioning look and you nod and gin as he leans over to plant a kiss on your lips. 

“I fucking knew it!” Matt exclaims triumphantly as he sits down next to Sami, “I told you it would happen!”

She pats his hand in a mollifying way. “Yes dear, you are very insightful.”

Jake sits next to you and you immediately melt into his side. His body heat is bleeding into yours as your muscles relax. 

“Treat her right, Jake!” Sami declares with a grin. “Because if you don’t, Pip gets me in the divorce.”

“That threat doesn't work the way you think it does.” He laughs and catches the pillow Sami throws at his head. “How come she doesn’t get the ‘treat me right’ talk?”

Sam just rolls her eyes at him and sighs. “It’s Pip, she treats you better than you deserve.” You roll your eyes at her and shake your head. Out of the corner of your eye you can see Jake nodding and you look up at him. His green eyes are soft as he gazes back at you with a half grin making his dimple pop. 

“I’m lucky I’ve got you to keep me out of trouble.” You grin up at him as he leans down and gives you a soft kiss, promising the future. 

[darcytaylor]

Who will be the lead of Bridgerton season 4? Benedict, Eloise or Francesca?

After watching Season 3 of Bridgerton and knowing that they have included some hints as to who would be the lead for season 4, I wanted to take a closer look and see if I could figure it out.

We know that when watching season 2 the last scene is what gave way to who would be the leads of season 3. Colin declaring he would never court Penelope (a scene that was somewhat taken from the book) cemented who it would be.

If you take a look at episode 8 of season 3 there are a few signs that point to it being Benedict, Eloise or Francesca. Damn you writers!

Meeting Michaela Stirling could mean that Francesca could take the lead. Introducing (what I would presume to be the Michael Stirling character) Michaela to prepare the audience for their love story.

I will say that I'm not too convinced that it will be Francesca's story next, but this could be a hint that they want to head in that direction.

Although, we have seen in the past (Eloise and Philip) introducing a character's love interest and not making them the next season.

Eloise's outfit stuck out to me when watching this scene because of the colour! And we know that Bridgerton likes to add colours as hints. It made me remember Colin's outfit in the epilogue of season 2.

While I think it has more to do with her reconciliation with Penelope - accepting the love of Penelope and Colin and also having a lasting loving friendship with Penelope.

It could also mean that she is ready to find love, being open to finding love, to want to find love.

Eloise going to Scotland would be the perfect opportunity for Eloise to start a correspondence with Philip and an opening to her being a lead in season 4.

But then we have this scene will Benedict and Tilly. Every season has the Bridgerton character or the love interest not wanting to settle down, but then the next person they meet it the one.

Which then brings us to this scene. The Masquerade Ball. Everyone who had read Benedict's book knows what happens at the Masquerade Ball.

It was this scene that made me confident that Benedict would be next.

BUT they could have the Masquerade Ball and have Benedict as a side character trying to find Sophie. This could actually make for a good sideline story for Benedict in the upcoming season. This would be when he does pick up his brush again (because he's painting her portrait out of memory and trying to find her).

So while I still do think that Benedict will be next, its still a toss-up!

Who do you think it will be?

[sherlollyandspoilers]

We're Worth It, Chapter 28, April 3rd

Chapters 1 through 27 of We’re worth it can be found here Here be Dragons is the original fic that this fic is a companion piece for - HBD timeline: Chapter 18, right before the epilogue

April 3rd

“Well, you’ve made it.” June smiled at them. “It’s been a year that we have been on this journey together and you guys have made so much progress.”

“You aren’t trying to get rid of us, are you?” There was panic etched on Molly’s face. “I know things have been going well since we went down to every other week, but I don’t think I am ready to stop meeting.”  

“Oh, no!” June laughed. “Just want to congratulate you two!” Molly relaxed in her chair. “You’ve done a lot of hard work to get to this point…I love when couples really commit to working together and I don’t think I have ever had clients be this committed before.”

“What I hear you saying,” Sherlock mocked in therapy speak, “is that we are getting top marks in the therapeutic process.”

Molly and June broke into laughter.

“Top marks indeed,” June smirked. “I think I shall I bring in a grading book and start tracking your marks!” Sherlock shook his head at the two women as they giggled. “Sooo, how have the last two weeks been with affirmations and continuing to be open with how you are feeling?”

Molly nodded. “Sherlock is really good about communicating where he is at and continues to use his real world checklist, which I appreciate…I am not the best with immediately sharing,” she admitted sheepishly.

“Any thoughts on why that is?” June asked.

Molly scrunched up her nose, thinking. “Not that I had a lot of experience with relationships prior to Sherlock, but I am starting to realize that he is the first to really care how I am feeling, not so he can navigate around me but because he genuinely wants to be helpful.”

June hummed in understanding. “It would make sense then if you felt like your emotions did not matter that you would have just kept them to yourself.” Molly nodded in agreement but didn’t say anything. “Sherlock?”

He frowned for a moment. “When I do ask how she is, which is not seven times in an hour,” Molly rolled her eyes, “She does answer.” He looked at her, “It seems that part is getting easier?”

“Yeah, it is,” she smiled.

“She has also been keeping us on track with our affirmations…which I still do not like but am coming to appreciate.”

“What part do you still not like?” June asked.

“The dissonance,” he said, brow furrowed. “I have two informational sources giving conflicting information – both of which I have put trust in.”

“That makes perfect sense…you trust Molly because she is your partner in many things, life, parenting, experiments and you trust your brain as it has gotten you where you are in your career. What I think – ”

“I brought this up in individual therapy last week…” he raised an eyebrow at June who motioned for him to continue. “I was reminded that the prefrontal cortex is used for logic and the amygdala manages emotions…and while I do trust Molly, its not the dissonance between her and my brain, it’s the dissonance within my brain.”

“Oh, I see,” June thought a moment, “was it helpful to break it down like that?” She held her hands up to one side as if she was holding a large ball. “Into logic processing over here” – she moved her hands to the other side – “and emotional processing over here.”

Sherlock nodded. “My therapist suggested that part of the reason I have not made much progress on improving my self-hatred is because I don’t want to question my overall thought processes as this could lead to questioning my judgements and deductions.”

“How uncomfortable were you with sitting with that realization?” she asked slowly.

“Very,” he said flatly. “But,” a small smile stretched his lips, “after I broke it down it was like a weight had been removed.”

“It was a visible change,” Molly said quietly, a look of pride on her face as she stared at Sherlock. “When we exchanged affirmations the next morning, I could tell he was still uncomfortable, but he was able to physically sit with my praise and not immediately move on to the next thing.”

June looked back at Sherlock. “I was able to hear what Molly said and challenge the negative things that sprang forward knowing my logical processes were still untouched.”

June smiled, “I am sure you discussed this at your session, but this will take some time and effort on your part to make this knowledge work for you, but Sherlock, this is a big breakthrough.”

He nodded, a wide-eyed expression on his face. “She is teaching me to be the man she already thinks I am.” Molly smiled at him, grabbing his hand and he looked up, meeting her gaze. “It’s not a pleasant thought, but I have this terrible feeling from time to time that we might all just be human,” he said, finally returning her smile.

They sat quietly for a moment, all processing the conversation that had just taken place.

“Anything else pressing prior to the walk down the aisle?” June asked. They both shook their heads no, their hands still intertwined. “Then I am hoping you will indulge me and tell me about the first time you met.”

“Oh god,” Molly sighed and covered her face with her free hand, her cheeks turning red.

“What?” June asked, her curiosity peaked even more. “I know it was through your work.”

Sherlock chuckled quietly. “Molly thinks this story is embarrassing.”

“Because it is embarrassing!” She pulled away from him, tossing her hands in the air.

“I disagree.” Sherlock continued to give his fiancé an amused expression.

June held up her hands, “You do not have to share if you don’t want to.”

Molly gave a dramatic sigh and rolled her head to the side. “Well, I haven’t told this story in a long time, so might as well…”

Molly was nervous. And excited! She was going to have the best day!! Or she was going to ruin it terribly and it was going to be a disaster, leaving her with no job…another wave of nausea hit her, and she was beginning to regret the big breakfast she had treated herself to. She had already been at Barts for a couple of weeks training and getting used to the facility, but today was the day she was scheduled for her first solo postmortem.

After reviewing her schedule for the morning, her boss left her alone in the morgue. Smiling to herself, Molly turned on her music and got to work. She was halfway through, doing her best to document as she went, when she was startled.

“Oi!” A voice shouted over her music making her almost drop the organ she was holding. “HEY!”

Returning the organ to its place, she hurriedly stripped off her gloves and smashed the mute button on her music. “Hi,” she squeaked after a moment of silence.

“Well, you’re gonna be a fun one to work with!” He smiled brightly at her, nodding to the speaker. Despite his already silver hair, the man had a young, pleasant looking face. She had seen him before but couldn’t place his name. “Oh – sorry!” He held out his hand. “Detective Inspector Greg Lestrade,” he said with a grin. “Not sure we’ve been officially introduced.”

But Molly didn’t hear him as her full attention had been drawn to the stranger behind him. His dark hair was a mess of curls that her fingers instinctively itched to run through as she tried and failed to place a name on the color of his piercing eyes. His high cheekbones, the distinct bridge of his nose, and his strong jawline perfectly complimented the Cupid’s bow of his lips. Molly wasn’t sure she had ever seen such a beautiful man in her life.

“Miss Hoop, I believe it was?” Lestrade said, upon her continued silence, his hand still outstretched.

“Hooper!” she practically shouted, finally blinking and drawing her gaze away from the other man. She swallowed hard and shook his hand. “Molly Hooper.”

“Well, Miss Hooper, as I said, Detective Inspector Lestrade,” he repeated before dropping her hand. “And this is Sherlock Holmes…consultant.”

Sherlock Holmes cleared his throat. “Consulting Detective,” he bit out. “I need to look at the body,” he said dryly, pushing past Lestrade and straight up to Molly. She tilted her head back to look at him but the height difference and his proximity was making her slightly dizzy.

“I…uhhh…I don’t….” she stammered, her ability to think straight completely gone with him now in her personal space.

“I can phone Mike, if you would prefer? I’ve got all the paperwork.” She heard Lestrade shuffling papers, but her eyes were still glued to Sherlock’s.

“Mike, ye-yes, that – ” she snapped her eyes closed, grasping at all of the information she had been told over the last couple weeks – “NO!” She jumped back from Sherlock and opened her eyes, looking at Lestrade. “No, umm, I, I was told that – that the police might come.” She walked over to him and took the paperwork, trying to ignore the invisible string that was tugging her back towards the consulting detective.

“Great! Sherlock, do your thing!” Lestrade hollered at him, but Sherlock was already examining the hands and feet. “Find anything interesting in your exam yet?” he said quietly to Molly.  

Molly shook her head. “No…what is he looking for?” she asked as she watched Sherlock inspect the body.

Lestrade laughed, “Not really sure! If I knew, I wouldn’t need him.” He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “So, you new to the area?”

“Uhh….no…” she attempted to answer him, but her attention was still on Sherlock and watching him work. “I mean…yes. Kind of.” She blinked several times, forcing herself to turn her back to him. “I grew up around here and when my dad died, I ended up following a couple of my mates, but now I’m back. It was hard because those mates were my best mates…you know, not boyfriends or anything…that would be silly, wouldn’t it, moving away from home for a boy to just break your heart…I guess that’s more sad than silly as people do it all the time…” Molly looked up and saw the confused looked on Lestrade’s face. “Sorry…” She blinked several times, wishing she could just turn back on her music and be left alone in an empty morgue.

“If you are done rambling, I need you to come hold your incision site together.” His words should have embarrassed her, but instead the deep timbre of his voice sent shivers over her skin.

“Sorry,” she mumbled again and rushed to put a new set of gloves on. She moved back to the body and stood across from him. “Which area specifically?” she asked, hesitating. He sighed and motioned to the body. She did her best to accommodate what he was asking for, but she could tell he was becoming frustrated, his directions getting more and more short and rude.

“Oi, Sherlock, don’t be a dick!” Lestrade snapped at him. “You can’t alienate all of the hospital workers…” he mumbled.

“Did you take any pictures before you started?” Sherlock snipped.

“Of – of course, yes,” Molly stammered. “Its, uhh, protocol.”

He stared at her with a blank expression that she could not read.

“Well?” he said after a moment, startling her.

“Well…?” She looked at him, confused.

“Show them to me,” he instructed.

“Oh!” She stepped back and started to take off her gloves but as she moved, her foot caught the cart she had been using for her tools and waste, and she went tumbling forward, bringing the tray and contents tumbling down onto her.

“Oh my god, are you okay?” Lestrade rushed forward, but Molly stuck out her hand.

“Don’t touch it.” She looked down at herself, covered with random bits of human blood and remains, and fought hard not to burst into tears. Brushing her hair out of her face with the back of her hand, she stood up, staring at the two men, and wanting to melt into the ground. “If you can just give me a moment to go and – ”

“All I need to see is that picture,” Sherlock interrupted her. “This camera?” he asked, but he was already moving towards it.

“STOP!” Molly shouted at him, her embarrassment replaced with anger. “There is a protocol for these things! Which I have followed!” She huffed and tossed her arms out, fluid hitting the floor. “I have to go clean myself up and get this area cleaned and THEN I will have your information to you!” She stomped over and stood between Sherlock and the camera. “You can leave now!”

He stared down at her, but she remained unmoved, hands on her hips. “Fine.” Sherlock turned on his heel and headed for the morgue doors. “Graham, when you get the pictures, you know where to send them.”

“ITS GREG!” Lestrade called after him. “Thank you and…sorry ‘bout him.”

Molly waited till both men had left and she could no longer hear their footsteps before she burst into tears.

After a quick cry, she found her boss and explained what happened. He waved it off, thanking her for trying to indulge the consultant detective’s requests. Attendants were sent to take care of the mess in the morgue, and she found herself stripping out of her soiled clothes in the locker room.

“Stupid Sherlock Holmes with his stupid hair and stupid cheek bones,” she muttered to herself as she deposited her clothes into a bio bag.

Stepping into the shower, she scrubbed and scrubbed at her skin, doing her best to feel like a human again. After what felt like a lifetime, she finally felt clean enough to redress and go back to work. Wrapping a towel around her, she hurried back to her locker and dug into her bag, finding her extra change of clothes. Drying off she began to dress.

“I took the liberty of adding my contact to your mobile.” His voice startled her, and she jumped back into the door of her locker. “We will be working together in the future, figured this would be simpler than expecting the police to get me anything on time.” He held out her phone to her, but she didn’t move.

“I’m in my undergarments,” she finally managed to say. He looked down at her, as if noticing for the first time that she was in any state of undress.

“Yes, and I am sure that the skull pattern makes it all the more comfortable for a long shift.” He reached around her and placed her phone back in her locker. “Miss Hooper.” He nodded before disappearing from the locker room.

“That’s quiet the story,” June laughed when Molly was done sharing. “Immediate attraction for you, then.”

“Oh, gosh, yes,” Molly shook her head, “If I wasn’t going to be marrying him in two weeks, I would be ashamed of how immediately attracted I was.”

“We’ve talked about the importance of the emotional and intellectual connection and how it plays into attraction for you, Sherlock,” June looked at him, “did your affection for Molly grow over time or did it start here as well?”

Sherlock smirked. “I could tell how attracted she was – I was used to it and most of the time a snide deduction shut it down but when Lestrade and I walked into the morgue she was singing and dancing while elbows deep inside a man’s chest cavity…you would think I had a million things to say to her…but nothing.” He held up his empty hands. “For the first time all of my observations led me to one conclusion…I wanted to know more - my brain was completely fascinated. But Sherlock Holmes didn’t do attraction, so I became an ass.” He sighed, “Then despite her lack of confidence and being covered in human remains, she stood up to me.” He gave a little shrug, “Her undergarments being covered in little cartoon skulls only added to the fact that meeting Molly was a very intense day for me.”

“I know as a therapist you’re not supposed to have favorites…but you two make that very difficult,” June laughed as Molly and Sherlock exchanged smiles. “Anything else for today?” Molly and Sherlock shook their heads. “Well then, I guess I will see you two when you get back from your holiday.”

The three stood and as they headed for the door, Molly abruptly turned around, halting June’s progress.

“I know Sherlock and I wouldn’t have made it through this last year as smoothly as we did if we had not had you, so thank you.” She hesitated a moment but then wrapped her arms around the woman.

June smiled and hugged her back. “Thank you both for putting in the work.”

[caffedrine]

Keith Howell - Romantic Epilogue - Summary

I pretty much have no idea what I’m doing. I don’t trust me, and you shouldn’t either. This summary is not guaranteed to be accurate, it’s mostly written for myself to follow along with the route.

After some time, Emma is beginning to get her feet under her at the Court of Jade. She’s finished for today, though she plans on going over Jade’s history tomorrow and testing new herb cultivation methods. There is still a lot for her to learn and try, but she is in a much better position than she was when she first came to Jade. She intends to do her best and excel at Keith’s side.

Keith, who was sitting next to Emma and reading a book, raises his head to look at her. When their eyes meet, she can see his joyful expression. He asks if anything has happened if anything is bothering her.

Actually, there is something that’s on Emma’s mind. She has recently noticed that since coming to Jade, she hasn’t really been alone. Either Keith himself, or if he is away on official business, his butler Liam, has been with her. Should she ask him if something is wrong?

Honestly, Keith was a little worried about Emma. She is in a new country, and there are many things she’s not used to due to cultural differences. He thought it would be better to have someone around to lend a hand until she gets the hang of things.

Emma thanks him but points out that this is usually something maids and butlers should be doing, not the crown prince.

Keith’s expression withers like a flower. Oh, Emma has stuck her foot in her mouth again. She quickly assures Keith that she didn’t mean it like that. She’s happy that he’s been by her side, she’s just worried that if he spends all of his time fretting over her, he won’t be able to relax properly. She doesn’t want to be a burden that Keith has to shoulder.

Keith quickly assures her that she’s wrong, this isn’t a burden. He wants to spend time with her, more than anything else. Is that okay?

How can Emma say anything but ‘thank you’ to that? To be fair, she never intended to refuse Keith’s company. Her heart is filled with happiness, and before she knows it, her mouth is smiling gleefully.

Every day Emma spends with Keith only deepens her love for him and Jade. It was those feelings that prompted her to be more than just Keith’s lover, but to do what she can for the country as a whole.

Which is why she’s studying to become a pharmacist. The way Keith would light up and shine when he talked about plants was what set her upon the road. The pleasant memories of their talks in Rhodolite made her happily nostalgic.

Thanks to Keith, she was able to meet with and shadow pharmacists in Jade, and her love of the profession has only grown. Currently, she is studying hard to obtain an apprenticeship with one of the castle pharmacists.

Later

After a day of studying, Emma finds Keith waiting for her. She hurries over to him, and he greets her with a soft and sweet smile. Even without words, Keith’s love is conveyed easily, and she feels herself begin to blush.

Keith thanks Emma for all of her hard work, and Emma agrees that she has learned a lot. Yes, she still has a lot more to learn, but she is certain that with methodical studying, she can reach her goals step by step.

Keith offers to help her with anything she doesn’t understand. With him cheering her on, Emma wants to do her best even more. She thanks him and asks if it’s okay to take him up on his offer right now. If so, there’s a red flower in the botanical garden she’s been wondering about.

Like a teacher leading a student, Keith breaks down the difficult subject so that it’s easily understood by Emma. It was very informative, and the knowledge just flows into her head.

Liam calls out that it’s almost time for their meeting, and Emma realizes that Keith is actually in the middle of something. She apologizes for bothering him.

A finger lifts up her chin and Keith kisses her, interrupting her. He tells her that he was looking forward to seeing her and was happy to spend time with her. Emma can understand, she feels the same way.

Another kiss drops onto Emma’s lips. At her confused look, Keith explains that was for looking so cute. Keith smiles gently, like wildflowers swaying in the wind. He wishes her good luck in her studies, but not to work too hard. Emma tells him in that case also not to work too hard either.

Smiling in response, Keith kisses Emma a third time. Just as she expected, this kiss lasted longer than any of the other two.

Liam notes that Keith is in very high spirits right now and sympathizes with how tough Emma must have it.

Emma jumps back, realizing that she forgot that Liam was right there. Oh no, he’d been there the entire time. Emma is so embarrassed that she wants to faint.

Aside from that, Emma is very happy. She wonders if she’s been able to properly convey his feelings to Keith and decides to do something about it.

~That night~

Emma prepared an herbal tea for Keith that night. In fact, this herbal tea is one of Jade’s specialties, one she had learned about during her pharmacology studies. Keith recognizes the smell and smiles happily in recognition. Emma is both happy and a little embarrassed. She wonders if she makes a similar expression whenever Keith does something nice for her.

Keith sips the tea and praises Emma; this is one of the relaxing teas. Emma praises Keith’s palate at recognizing the tea immediately.

They talk about casual matters before Keith suddenly asks if Emma is more confident when walking around the castle. Emma assures her she is; she’s memorized the layout to stop from getting lost. She was nervous about getting lost at first, but thanks to Keith escorting her, she is used to the layout.

It suddenly occurs to her that this is another reason why Keith has always been with her. Not just to keep her company, but to keep her from getting lost. Keith admits that this is true, he was worried about her getting lost and wanted her to be able to ask help from someone she was used to rather than a complete stranger.

Thinking back to her first few days at Jade Castle, Emma had been stiff and awkward. She has been very relaxed recently, due to Keith’s kindness and attention. He’s been supporting her in so many ways all this time, and her face heats up.

Emma is so happy, she doesn’t know how to express this in words. Spontaneously, she leans over to hug Keith, full of feelings of gratitude and love. She kisses his cheek, ear, and mouth in that order as if returning the kisses she received earlier.

Keith’s eyes are wide, but his cheeks are red and his eyes are full of joy. He was so cute.

With love overflowing, Emma gently pushes Keith’s large body down. She asks Keith if he minds if she brews tea for him every night. She wants to make time for the two of them, though she also wants to brew it for him if he’s working or if he’s tired.

Suddenly Keith hugs her to him, burying his face in Emma’s neck. His fluffy hair tickles her neck, making Emma squirm involuntarily.

Of course, Emma can brew tea for him whenever she likes. The arms around her squeeze her as if to convey Keith’s love growing stronger.

Keith raises his face and kisses her cheek. He asks if she’s finished kissing him, and Emma asks if he minds. Keith wants more kisses, lots of them.

Nodding, Emma lightly kisses him, all while thinking that Keith is very cute like this. It’s a light kiss, gentle and warm, but then she feels a hand against the back of her head.

Keith’s tongue is in her mouth, moving against her mercilessly. Before she realizes it, she is on her back on the sheets, and Keith stops the kiss, bringing his face to her ear. He points out that if Emma is making time for them at night, that means she’s fine with him not letting her leave until the morning.

Kissing Emma’s earlobe, Keith begins to undo her blouse. His golden eyes are like a beast looking at it’s prey, and her heart begins to beat wildly when she meets his gaze. Keith lowers his mouth to the newly exposed skin. A countless number of kisses are dropped onto her skin, each one conveying an overflow of love.

Emma wants to make sure that Keith knows that she loves him as much as he loves her. She wraps her arms around him and brings her mouth to Keith’s ear.

She loves him.

Saying that, she hugs Keith tightly to her, only to have him hold her tighter. Keith warns her that now he definitely can’t stop.

[instructionsnotincluded]

Heyy babe how are you doing? Just a little check in😉

I saw you started a new series for MOTA and i will say I absolutely loved it🥰🥰🥰 i was wondering tho, i am literally in love with your audrey/ jj story and my question is, will the third book continue right after you finish the second one or will you take a break on State of grace and pay more attention to MOTA fic or will you continue with updates as you are now?

Whatever you decide i will support you, and will patiently wait for State of grace (i check for updates everyday couse I’m addicted🤫🤭). Love you girlie 💛

Hi!! I’m doing well, thank you! How are you?

Thank you! I’m so glad you enjoyed the MOTA sneak peek!

As for JJ/Audrey’s story, I’m planning on continuing their story right as season 2 ends, so as soon as the epilogue for State of Grace is up, so will the first chapter of season three’s story. I do plan to still update the OBX story every few days, depending on how crazy life gets!

MOTA will be my side project, I’m hoping to update it once a week, but we’ll see how it flows. MOTA requires a lot of research, I know nothing about flying/airplanes and just what was taught in school about WWII, (so, like nothing) and it will probably take a few days of just research alone for each chapter. 🤣

I’m so happy that you’re enjoying it all! That makes me so happy!! The newest chapter of State of Grace should be posted in the next few hours, I’m going to run through it once more for errors and then upload it! AO3 does weird formatting spaces when I italicize something, so I have to go through and edit it after saving the draft.

But fear not! JJ & Audrey will continue to be our leading couple, their story is far from over! 🥰

[hanzajesthanza]

Who’s your favorite minor witcher book character? that even the fandom doesn’t talk about much, mine is probably Milo “Rusty” Vanderbeck the whole field surgery scene in LOTL sort of felt like a MASH episode , there isn’t any fanart of him and only a few fics on ao3 none that were in English

anon, are you reading my mind, because i just reread LOTL’s chapter 8 this week!

that scene in the medic’s tent is so surprising to me, it’s intensely moving (it does feel like a M*A*S*H episode!) despite the fact that these characters haven’t been granted much pagetime before. but within the very chapter you become so moved and attached to everyone, it all seems so real and the stakes are so high… also the fast pace of the chapter and flashing between scenes, even those outside of the battlefield (for instance, back to melitele’s temple, to nimue’s class) is very engaging. the fucking concept to show a battle from the POV of a medic’s tent which is tending to anyone injured from both sides of the battle is absolutely brilliant.

the part which makes my hair stand on edge (and probably everyone else’s too) is when the vrihedd brigade show up in the medic’s tent and… god, i want to scream every time i think of that, it’s terrifying. and rusty’s defense of his patients and crew, the fact that he bravely stands up to them… ok!! and the ending of the chapter with the epilogue of fates of marti, rusty, iola, and shani… shani being the only one that survives into old age and her saying showing that she never ever forgot that battle…

okay, gushing over, lmao but i just had to say you have very good taste!!

i have a lot of minor favorite characters but my immediate answer is joanna “kenna” selbourne, i just… i find her so interesting for a number of reasons.

firstly, probably what everyone would think she’s interesting for—she’s psionic, she can go into people’s minds and read them and control them, she has this innate level of magic, but at the same time, she’s not formally educated like a sorcerer or sorceress. i find any character that has magical abilities but NOT the formal training of say, aretuza, ban ard, or the academy really interesting. they’re essentially what tissaia was warning of in the poisoned source. it’s interesting to me because joanna is essentially using magic at a low-scale for illegal or at least law-bending means.

which leads me to my next point, that she was alleged to have a hand in the disappearance of the ship the north star but they couldn’t pin anything on her. okay. that is an incredibly interesting backstory?! also the fact that she’s called “kenna” and almost mixes up her names when giving her name in court… that’s also interesting and leaves me wondering why she has this alternate name (it’s not a nickname like “cicada” for instance, it seems like just a name?).

and then, through the clever use of joanna’s POV, tower of the swallow is partially narrated through her court testimony, which is just such a clever device to tell the story through. also the fact that at the end of the book, she uses her powers to control the judge’s mind and get off free (which suggests something about her involvement in the north star’s case…).

i also find her relationships within stefan skellen’s hanza very interesting, as she seems actually eager to please skellen and wants to work her way up to being an officer (ch. 10) and her conversation with chloe stitz (ch. 4) was also interesting, as chloe is skellen’s ex but assures her that it’s not mandatory, just that she likes him, and joanna is not interested in skellen in that way.

and i also really love joanna and neratin’s um… comradery, closeness over time? the way they threaten esterhazy together (ch. 4) and then at the end (ch. 10) like… “i’m a simple woman, neratin… these intrigues are not for me…” (btw i love that she’s not highly-educated, the translation also tries to make this apparent) and the fact that neratin is killed by bonhart and this seems to have affected joanna, as when she is giving her account she is like “but… neratin is dead, so idk if you want to record his name or not…” … i do ship them a little… we need the nblw representation with neratin ceka lol…

and then the fact that joanna leaves skellen’s hanza and SURVIVES, and her testimony takes place a year later. so she’s basically a FINAL GIRL in a horror movie (along with boreas mun).

also the fact that she is described as “tall,” tall women are very interesting in this series as they don’t appear quite often. i mean ciri is 5’9” (which is already tall in my opinion) and she described joanna as tall, so is joanna really tall?! ahhh so cool.

also gordeev gave neratin ceka a bowl cut AAAUGHH

[seacee16]

when petals fall | bangchan

bang chan x original female character

warnings: none

prev chapter

!! FULL STORY ON AO3 !!

epilogue 2 ~ when your heart comes home

~ 1 year later ~

People watching had always been a good way of passing time. Seeing different people with varying traits pass by as they go about their daily lives. Some on their way to work, catching up with friends old and new, or simply trying to make it through the day. Every story hidden beneath the judged cover of each individual person’s exterior. In this sense, all one could do was judge the books by their covers. Unless, they were to ignore the what-if’s of each passing soul and focus on the unique beauty of each and everyone. That is what Sakura did. Sat in the middle of an airport, sketchbook wide open on her lap as she rushed to capture as many faces as she could before they were out of sight. Slowly, her pages filled and she went on to the next. It had been just over an hour since she first made herself comfortable on one of the rows of hard airport seats, her backpack to her left and a pencil mix of different hardness scattered on the open seat to her right. A black pen sat between her teeth; one that she would use to finalize each expression and emphasize shadows.

With a soft puff of air, she finished up the last face on the double page and set it down with the rest of her stationary. Sakura looked over her work, admiring the way her ability to capture people had improved over the months. She had put every ounce of effort into completing her studies, earning grades that she knew would make her father beam from ear to ear while simultaneously scolding her for all of the proper meals and sleep she had skipped. But when things got too busy and the deadlines got closer, the girl allowed herself an hour each day to sit and draw. Whether it was in the university library, or the green quad, or referencing images and videos she found online. Whether it was neatly done with prior planning, or roughly done. All that mattered was that she gave herself some time to forget about her academic stress and regroup her scrambled thoughts. And, after a long year, Sakura had finished.

Now, she sat in the middle New Chitose Airport, ready to begin the newest chapter of her own story.

“You’re really talented,” a voice called out from over her shoulder.

It was mid-thanks that she noticed how familiar the voice sounded. Like warm honey after a long day in the cold. Turning her head, her gaze met the smiling face of a friend.

“Hello, noona.”

“Hyunjin.”

The last syllable of his name got lost in the rush as she leapt from her seat, throwing both arms around the boy made of lead and love letters. He might have chuckled at her enthusiasm, but she couldn’t hear. Sakura was clinging to the back of his blue-grey hoodie like her life depended on it, still unable to believe that he was in front of her. And when his arms wrapped around her torso, she almost let a sob free fall from her lips.

“It’s good to see you too, Sakura.”

His hands never left her, holding onto her upper arms as she pulled away to look him over, her eyes drifting around him as she spoke. Searching. Hoping.

“What are you doing here?”

“Photoshoot. Just me.”

He isn’t here.

The male should have been disappointed to see her deflate at his words, but he couldn’t bring himself to frown. Instead, he pulled her back to his chest, just happy to see her again after so long. And who was she to deny the boy of a hug?

“How have you been?” He asked her, pulling away enough for the two of them to sit down. He set his own bag down with hers, twisting in the seat until he was facing her fully. There was so much he wanted to ask, but that was the best place to start. A smile filled her face.

“I’ve been good. I came back home as soon as my final presentation was over. I’ve been here for two or three months now, spending time with everyone before I had to leave again. But what about you? You were still touring up until a few weeks ago, right? How was it?” Questions just flowed out of her, unable to hold back her curiosity the way Hyunjin had.

The male’s eyes seemed to sparkle more as he told her about their travels. He told her all about the new places they visited. How excited they had all been for their two members when they finally touched down in Australia for the first time since their last tour so many years ago. Luggage mix ups and embarrassing stage moments and a passport that was thought to be missing, only to be found moments before boarding was closed. Sakura could listen to him talk for hours without growing tired of the sound of his voice. It was then that she realized just how much she had missed the idol – well, how much she missed all eight of them, really.

Before he could continue, he paused. Her words replayed in his head, bringing his attention to something she had said in the midst of her rush. “Wait, you said you’re leaving again?”

She nodded shyly. “I am. While I was studying, one of my supervisors put me in contact with a friend of theirs that was keen on having me work for them. They really liked my paper and some of the ideas I proposed to her. So, I’m moving. Permanently this time.” As if on cue, Sakura pulled her vibrating phone out of her pocket, turning off the alarm she had set to keep herself from potentially missing her flight. “I should probably start heading towards the gates.” Grabbing her things, she stood. Hyunjin mirrored her.

“Does he know?” Three words, but she knew exactly what he was asking. Does Chan know that you’re moving? Are you going to tell him?

Sakura shook her head, adjusting the backpack on her shoulders. “He doesn’t. We haven’t spoken much. It didn’t feel right to drop something like that on him so out of the blue.” All he could do was nod. He understood, but that didn’t stop the shift in the atmosphere around them. They had only been speaking for a few minutes. There was more they needed to speak about. Hyunjin didn’t want to part ways with her just yet.

As if sensing the man’s dilemma, Sakura asked, “Walk me to my gate?”

With a sad smile, the dancer nodded.

“Of course.”

<3        <3        <3

“Chan-hyung!”

The leader paused his incomplete track at the muffled sound of his name being called from somewhere outside of the bubble his headphones had dragged him into. Prying himself from the work splayed out on his desk, Chan made his was out to the kitchen where the shout had come from. There, the other Aussie stood with his fists deep in dough. Flour dusted his nose and cheeks, hiding some of his lighter freckles.

“Hyunjin texted. He can’t get in. Said there’s something wrong with the keypad. Can you open up for him, please?” Felix asked, showing off his sticky hands to prove that he was unable to do it himself.

“Sure, Lix.”

Making his way to the door, Chan made a mental note to bring up the broken keypad issue with their manager the next time they saw him. He couldn’t risk any of the kids being locked out of the dorm. Or worse, couldn’t risk anyone else getting in somehow. The thought alone made him shiver. He would get it fixed as soon as possible. When he opened the door, a smiling Hyunjin stood patiently waiting on the other side. Hands full with his bags, the dancer hobbled past his leader, enthusiastic greetings coming from both of them – followed by an eagerly shouted ‘hello’ from the kitchen.

Pushing shut the door, Chan asked, “How was your flight?” He failed to notice the way Hyunjin tensed at the question.

“It was good. Managed to take a short nap too, which is always welcomed.” He began making his way to his bedroom, but stopped before he could disappear from sight. His gaze drifted between his belongings, as if trying to remember something. “Oh,” Hyunjin said, turning back towards Chan, “I think I may have dropped something out in the hall. Could you grab it for me, hyung?”

Chan wanted to groan. He had been in the zone with his music right before Felix called him. On the edge of a breakthrough with his latest track, he wanted to go back to work immediately before the idea could slip from his mind. But he could see the tired bags under Hyunjin’s eyes, knowing well that the boy would want to go right to bed. So, he nodded, offering a light smile before opening the door once more.

It took a single look for Chan to lose all knowledge of any vocabulary he had spent his life memorizing, in both tongue. She looked well, healthy and rested the way he had hoped she was. Her hair was a lighter shade now, closer to caramel compared to the usual cocoa brown he had been so used to. The same height, yet she seemed to have more definition to her arms and face. Her freckles had darkened. So did the rest of her skin. And across the top of one ear was a small titanium rod that definitely hadn’t been there the last time. But one thing remained unchanged. Her eyes. Golden and glowing like a thousand birthed suns. The way she looked at him with impossibly kind eyes, overflowing with every burning emotion known to them. Joy. Comfort. Love.

I love you, he thought.

A million thoughts raced through his mind at the sight of her standing before him. No number of seconds that passed made it seem any more real. She was here. His heart ached, not knowing what to do. At least, that was until their one-man audience decided to voice his thoughts.

“God, hyung, if you don’t kiss her right now, I will. The tension is stinking up the room.”

His words earned him a stern glare from the older male, his gaze following Hyunjin as he left with his hands raised in surrender, but the sly grin on his face didn’t falter. Only when he was way out of sight, did Chan’s expression soften, but his eyes stayed focused at the doorway the younger one had disappeared through. He was scared. What if he looked back and she was gone? What if this was all a dream he would inevitably wake from? Would his mind play a trick so cruel?

“Chan?”

No. Her voice was too clear, too close, too real. What if she was really there? What if he turned and she was still smiling up at him? What if he opened his arms and she ran right into them, feeling whole the way he knew he would? What if-

“I would have told you I was coming, but Hyunjin…” She paused. “I’m sorry, I’ll go.”

No, he thought. Don’t leave. God, move, you idiot. Do something. Anything.

It took everything in her for Sakura to force herself to walk away from him, the sight of his turned frame causing a lump to form in her throat. And the longer she stayed, the further the pain in her chest spread. So, she twisted away. Her steps grew, each stride bigger and quicker than the last until-

A hand wrap around her upper arm, causing her to spin right into someone’s chest. She knew it was him the moment there was contact, when she felt her skin crawl at every point they connected. And then his hands were in her hair, tugging her closer until they shared a single breath. A single heartbeat. She felt his lips against hers and every doubt in her mind slipped away like a leaf in a stream. Her body recognized his touch instantly, both arms reaching up to wrap around his neck as muscle memory kicked in. She could feel his tongue against her bottom lip and his big hands roaming her back, touching every inch. She couldn’t breathe, but not even the burn in her lungs could pull her away from him. Because if she were in his arms like this, suffocating with his tall frame cocooned around her own and him stealing the very air from her lungs, she would die happy. So, she let him kiss her. Longer, rougher, sweeter. Until his hands finally stilled and his lips reluctantly separated from hers. Behind her shut eyes, the world was dark, but every nerve ending in her body was alive. Her hands slid over his broad shoulders and down his chest, resting in the space between their racing hearts. Sakura felt the tip of his nose brush against hers, and then against her cheek as he kissed her again. Once. Twice. And this time, when he pulled away, she opened her eyes. Chan lifted a hand to cup her face, his thumb rubbing the reddening skin of her freckled cheek as he stared down at her.

“You’re here.” It was the first words he had spoken, and the sound of his voice alone hand her crumbling in the palm of his hand. It was so gentle, so sure.

“I’m here,” Sakura managed to whisper back, feeling the steady thumping of his heart beneath her fingertips. “Hi.”

Chan laughed, his hold on her waist tightened. “Hello, petal.” The way that her smile widened was enough to make his mind go completely blank. It was contagious, and soon his face mirrored hers.

“Surprised?”

“More like afraid that I’ll wake up.”

“This isn’t a dream.”

“That’s exactly what someone in a dream would say.”

She smirked. “Should I pinch you?”

“I’d rather just kiss you again, honestly.”

Wanting to feel her smile against his again, he leaned in to kiss her. However, voices were heard from the corridor, warning the pair of the swarm of members that would likely intrude any moment now. So, with his arms secured around her waist, Chan lifted her up and dashed towards his room. Her giggled flooded his ears as she tightened her hold on him to stop herself from falling, her legs wrapping around his waist for extra grip. As soon as his door had closed behind them, the male lowered both of them to his bed.

With his face buried in her neck, he whispered, “I can’t believe you’re here.” The feeling of his lips against her skin made her shiver, more so when he pressed a kiss to the tissue pulsing over her jugular. She felt Chan’s hand slide up and down the side of her waist, bunching up the material of her sweatshirt as he did.

“I missed you,” she admitted. The male pulled away, resting his weight on his arms as he looked down at her. Her hair was splayed around her messily and there was a sad glint in her eyes. He frowned. “So much, Chan. There were so many times that I wanted nothing more than to drop everything and come back. I thought about knocking on your door and being in your arms again and immediately feeling like everything was going to be okay.”

“My sweet petal,” he hummed, brushing the hair out of her face. He bent forward, kissing each of her cheeks softly, with a final stop at her lips. It was a quick kiss, but pulled away felt like fighting against a riptide. “You worked too hard for that spot to drop it so easily. And I missed you too, every day,” he told her. “But I am so proud of you for staying and finishing what you started. You did so well, I just know it, Sakura.”

A small involuntary whimper fell from her trembling lips. In one motion, Chan scooped her up in his arms and rolled the pair over so that she was laying comfortably on his chest. His arms enclosed around her frame, lightly pressing her head into the nook of his neck as he ran one hand through her hair.

They had all of two seconds to themselves before the door to Chan’s room burst open and Jisung stormed in with a pout on his face. The lack of surprise on his face at the sight of Sakura curled up in his leader’s arms proved that Hyunjin had told the rest of them about her arrival. He crossed his arms over his chest, glaring daggers at the eldest, who just groaned, not very pleased to have been interrupted.

“Hyung! You can’t keep Sakura-noona from us!”

Chan’s arms only tightened around her, re-enforcing his hold. He was not let go of her any time soon. The leader buried his face in her neck as she tried looking up at the other rapper. She couldn’t help but smile at him, glad to see his full cheeks and happy eyes again.

Sticking out his tongue in Jisung’s direction, Chan stated, “I can and I will. She’s mine.”

The younger huffed. “Unfair! Last week, when I didn’t want to give you half of my donut, you said I had to because sharing is caring!”

Chan pretended to think, his exaggerated expression causing the girl in his arms to giggle against his chest. “Hmm, I don’t recall that happening. Do you have any evidence to support your claim, Han?”

At the door, a crowd of six others had formed, each one smiling at the scene unfolding before them. “If that’s the case, don’t expect me to share my brownies with you next time, Chan-hyung,” the other Aussie said as he joined the group. Now it was Chan’s turn to pout, pure betrayal in his eyes.

Still tightly bundled in his arms, Sakura’s words were muffled against the material of the man’s clothing. Chan reluctantly loosened his grip on her so that she could speak freely. Lifting her head towards the door, Sakura said, “Come here, Sungie.”

There was nothing the leader could do but watch as his first kid rushed forward and plopped down comfortably into Sakura’s arms, knocking her back slightly. However, she was happy enough to just be hugging the younger boy again. He was warm and oozing with excitement, practically purring as she ran her hand through his hair.

“You’ve gotten so big, Ji,” she told him, still smiling down at the boy.

After one last squeeze around her waist, he sat up on his knees so that she could see him fully. It was clear as day that he had grown in size, his shoulders looking wider and stronger than they had when they last saw one another. He had the same kind eyes and goofy smile, but his newly dark hair made him look older than he was. More mature. More handsome.

Sporting a smooth grin, Jisung lifted one arm and flexed proudly. With a blush to her cheeks, she adverted her eyes before the jealous male behind her noticed her stare.

“I’m almost as big as Chan-hyung now,” he stated confidently.

Sakura smirked. Briefly eyeing the older male behind her, she cooed, “Oh, really now?”

She reached forward as if to touch Jisung’s pronounced bicep, only to be tugged backward into Chan’s steady chest before she could get close enough to feel. Two arms secured themselves tightly around her, pinning both arms to her own chest, preventing her from reaching out a second time. Now laying with her back flush against his chest, Sakura could feel a low rubble from behind her, his eyes no doubt piercing the younger.

“Thin ice, Jisung,” he warned, arms rewrapping around her waist.

Sakura couldn’t help but laugh at the way Jisung’s bottom lip stuck out. Twisting until she was more comfortable, the girl curled up against Chan’s chest tiredly. It took a single look at her for their leader’s entire stern persona to evaporate, leaving behind a loving gaze. He let his hand brush gently against her cheek and up the back of her neck. The action caused her to nuzzle deeper into his comfort.

“I’m going to leave before I throw up,” Seungmin teased with a gag before marching out, the rest of the group close behind them, but not before Sakura promised Jisung a movie to make up for Chan hogging her. The idea caused him to smile, holding up a pinky before closing the door behind him.

Alone once more, Sakura tilted her head up to look at Chan, who was already watching her with hearts in his eyes. She smiled a loopy smile.

“Jealous, Mr Bang?” Sakura asked, staring up at him with tired eyes. They shut as he leaned down to place a tender kiss to her forehead, and in return, she pressed a kiss to each dimple. An action that made him purr.

“Immensely.”

“I love you,” she whispered up to him.

"I love you, petal. In every orbit."

____________________________

and that is a wrap on 'when petals fall' !!

this may just be another piece of fanfiction to some people, but over the two years that it took for me to piece this together, I went through some dark times. my experiences became Sakura's, and as she healed, so did I. stray kids have been a great comfort to me - and sooo many others - over the years, and I only hope that stays are always able to bring them that same feeling of comfort.

idk if I'll end up posting more stories on here, but I hope everyone who reads this enjoyed the story. I am in no way a professional writer and I am a south african who has never been to Japan or Korea, so there are likely many errors and inaccuracies throughout the story. please be kind if you spot any.

anyway, thank you for reading, and I hope you all continue to love and support stray kids.

may the weight of your skies always be light.

love, AC

[fayes-fics]

Moments: Epilogue 1

Moments masterpost

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Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

Summary: Epilogue 1 of 2 for the Moments story. This is the wedding night shenanigans. Nuff said.

Warnings: 18+ smut, minors DNI, tiny bit of spanking, dirty talk, oral sex (m to f), vaginal sex.

Word Count: 5.1k (this epilogue only, 23.9k total for all chapters to date)

Authors Note: So uh tbh this is gonna be a disappointment, as all long-awaited things usually are. Sorry about that. If you’re expecting a plot, don’t bother. If you prefer your Moments-verse non explicit, move along, please. If however, you want some smut, read on! This turned out quite romantic and emotional rather than filthy. The wedding vows recited here are taken from the “Solemnization of Matrimony” section of the 1662 Book of Common Prayer that was in use during the Regency period in England. Thanks as ever to @makaylan who has been invaluably helpful with this story. Enjoy! <3

Epilogue 1: Moments from a wedding night

As the sounds of the party - your wedding reception - fade away, you turn to your new husband.

“Where are we headed?” You query as Benedict leads you arm in arm, crunching across the gravel drive of Aubrey Hall.

“I thought we may wish for some wedding night privacy,” he smiles. “So I took the liberty of setting us up in a lovely guest cottage on the estate until we leave on honeymoon. My valet and your lady's maid have already prepared food and drinks. But,” he leans in closer and whispers in your ear, “I didn’t ask them to bother with much clothing.”

You giggle and lean into him. He kisses your temple, then slides his arm around your waist, so you walk embracing, feeling his body warmth sinking into you.

“How do you feel, my darling wife? Are you well?”

“Very well, husband. I’m so happy I can call you that now,” you say honestly. “But call me Mrs Bridgerton,” you whisper with a hint of a seductive tone, making eye contact.

“Mrs Bridgerton,” he drawls in a dusky tone, a playful eyebrow raised.

“Again,” you murmur, still staring into his eyes.

He swings you around in front of him, his hands sliding low on your rear as he walks you backwards slowly.

“Mrs Bridgerton,” he repeats slowly, elongating every syllable, looking down at you sinfully.

Oh yes, that.

You launch yourself at him, throwing your arms around his neck and attacking him with a kiss. His mouth opens under your assault, and your tongues dance as his hands on your cheeks band lower, taking your weight and lifting you higher. 

You want him right now. You don’t care if it’s in the cottage he is taking you to, in a field, or right on the driveway where anyone could see. You need him right now. A desperate pull deep inside the minute he lifted you up.

“Take me right here, husband,” it’s a desperate plea against his lips.

He groans. “I’ve waited for six years, two months, 14 days and 9 hours” his forceful precise counting takes your breath away. “I can wait for another five-minute walk.”

“But I don’t want you to,” you argue breathily.

He pulls your body roughly against him, and you feel something insistent against your lower belly.

“We will do this properly in a bed,” he intones, “as much as I would happily throw you on the ground right now, this is our wedding night, and we deserve the best. Just wait; it will be worth it, I promise.

You pout but relent to his wishes. “Only if you carry me over the threshold.”

“Oh, Mrs Bridgerton, I don't plan to put you down until it’s onto a bed underneath me,” his voice silky, shifting you in his arms to carry you bridal style.

And that’s what he does. He carries you almost effortlessly through a small patch of trees while you enjoy the flex of his body against you. A little ivy-covered whitewashed, thatched cottage comes into view, its windows glowing gently with candles.

“Oh, this is beautiful, Benedict,” you inhale.

“It’s all ours until we leave for France,” he whispers. 

“France?!?!” You gasp, your head whipping back to look at him.

“Ooops, I guess I ruined that little surprise,” he chuckles warmly. “Are you upset?”

“Benedict Bridgerton, you are taking me to France?! In what world would I be upset to know that?!” You reply incredulously.

“I’m so glad to hear that,” he smiles as you reach the front door.

“Ready, Mrs Bridgerton?” he murmurs, the hand around your back moving to turn the door handle.

“So ready,” you respond with a slight tremor in your voice. 

He pushes open the door and takes a step forward, his lips descending onto yours as he dips to walk under the low doorway into the cottage.

“Over the threshold,” he whispers against your mouth as he pulls back just a fraction. Then there’s a bang as he flicks his foot, closing the door behind you. 

“It’s just us now,” you say quietly, as much for yourself as him. 

He doesn’t break eye contact for one moment as he carries you up the stairs and into a bedroom. A large bed covered in white linens awaits you, along with a crackling fire. The staff must have just left. 

As promised, he gently lowers you onto the bed, your head resting on a pile of plush pillows. 

“What now, husband?” you whisper anticipatory.

“I’m going to unwrap the most precious gift in the world,” he replies, climbing on top of you.

“My buttons are in the back,” you answer, a little breathless.

“I know—patience, my love,” his voice low.

He cups your jaw reverentially, then allows a hand to slide into your hair as he leans in and captures your lips. As he opens your mouth in a sensual kiss, you feel a pin sliding out of your hair, then another, and another. You realise he is letting your hair loose. You move your hand to help, but he breaks the kiss and grasps your wrist, pushing it against the sheets, and hovering over you.

“No, my love, I said I’m going to unwrap you, and I mean it; from the top of your head down to your feet, I’m going to undo, undress, unwrap, and unfurl every layer. And you, my daring, will just have to lay here and let me,” the hint of authority in his voice makes you quiver all over. “I’ve waited six years to have you again; believe me, I intend to be extremely thorough.”

You nod your acceptance, biting your lip. His thumb runs to your bottom lip and pulls it down from under your tooth.

“I’ll be the one to bite your lip, please, darling,” he simpers and leans in to suck it into his mouth with an edge of teeth. You moan at the sensation, and he moves to cover your mouth, swallowing your noise. 

“In fact…” he adds as he pulls away, “the only thing I want from you tonight are sighs and screams and pleading with me for more; you don’t have to do another thing, my love. I intend to worship you, my wonderful, beautiful wife.”

“Benedict,” you crest a moan at his words, pushing up against him. It’s been so long that you want him right away, but he seems determined to tease and go achingly slow.

He chuckles gently, and his hand is back in your hair, plucking out pins as you lay very aware of your breathing as his lips leave warm, soft kisses on your forehead. Until the last pin slides loose, and he fans your hair out on the pillow above you. His hand then slips down to the necklace you wear, turns it gently, so the clasp is visible, and undoes it, kissing the spot where the chain laid. He kisses your right ear, slides out your looped earrings and does the same on the other side.

“The only thing I want on your body when I’m done is your wedding ring, my love,” he explains, placing your jewellery on the small table at the bedside.

He moves to the end of the bed and grabs your ankle, taking off one shoe and kissing your stockinged ankle and then repeating with the other foot. Everything is so slow and precise. His warm hands run up your stockings under your dress to your knees, where the ribbons hold them in place. Slowly he unfurls each ribbon and pulls down both stockings. 

“Mr Bridgerton,” you sigh.

“Bored already?” he teases.

“No, just… wishing I could undress you,” you admit.

“You have a lifetime to pull off my clothes, Mrs Bridgerton,” he smirks, “in fact, I actively encourage you to do so anytime the mood suits you. But tonight, let me do it.”

With that, he hops off the bed and makes a little show for you, shucking off his tailed jacket and popping open the buttons on his waistcoat, unwinding his cravat, all the time his burning gaze never leaving yours. He then bends down to gracefully remove his shoes and socks. You admire the view but are disappointed when he stops there and returns to the bed, still in his white shirt and black trousers.

“Is that all I get?” You ask with a mock pout.

He barks a laugh, “for now.” 

He hovers over you again, standing at the bedside and running a hand over the intricate detailing of your wedding dress.

“You look so beautiful in this, my love; it seems a shame to take it off you,” his voice wistful. 

“Please take it off,” you whisper fervently.

He leans close so his lips are ghosting yours, “roll over, my darling,”.

As he pulls away, you do so quickly, feeling your own warm, shallow anticipatory breaths against the fresh cotton of the pillowcase.

Soft fingertips push your hair aside, then spider gently down from the back of your neck and along your spine, causing your whole body to erupt in goosebumps until he reaches the tiny mother-of-pearl buttons between your shoulder blades. Slowly he slides each one through its delicate silk loop. He gently tugs the gown from both of your shoulders, exposing the top of your stays and the silk chemise underneath.

He leans over and kisses the skin of your shoulders, running his lips over to your spine and down.

“Lift yourself a little, my love,” he asks sweetly, and you do so, allowing the dress to fall to your waist, exposing your stays that you wear outside your chemise tonight, wanting the luxuriant silk against your skin for this special day.

You feel his fingers unpicking the laces that hold your stays; each movement takes time as if he is savouring every action. Your mind flashes back to how, in fits of passion, he has torn them off you rather than patiently unlace them like he is now. You chuckle at the memory.

“What’s so funny, my love?” He asks, his tone bright with curiosity.

“I’m thinking how many stays I lost before, to your tendency to rip them off me rather than unlace.” You smile as he finishes the last hole, and the sides fall away onto the bed.

He pulls the material from under you and moves his lips to the shell of your ear. “Mrs Bridgerton, you will lose many more in future too, but tonight I’m trying to be a gentleman,” he says with a tinge of amusement as he softly caresses your back.

“Don’t be too much of a gentleman, husband,” you whisper seductively. “Sometimes I like it when you’re a little rough,” you confess quickly.

His hand stills and you hear him make a slight noise in his throat. “Tell me more.”

“Don’t get me wrong; I like it when you’re a gentleman, Benedict,” you specify. “But I also like it when you’re not.”

“What do you like most about me when I’m ‘not a gentleman’, as you say?” His voice is pitched low, and his hand feels heavier.

“I like it when you spank me,” you exhale, feeling like you should be embarrassed to admit it but only feeling a tingling warm desire. 

“Do you, now?” His tone has gone sinful, and the hand smears heavy down your spine towards your rear.  “Do you think you’ve done anything to warrant a spanking tonight Mrs Bridgerton? I thought you the very picture of respectability, a beautiful bride,” he opines.

“You didn’t see the rest of my chemise yet, Mr Bridgerton,” you counter, raising an eyebrow and lifting your hips, inviting him to pull your wedding dress down further.

He stands and pulls it down and off your legs suddenly. You revel in his sharp intake of breath.

The silk chemise is very short, just covering your bottom, a special request you made to the modiste. She raised her eyebrows at your suggestion and was confident your husband would love it; she wasn’t wrong, based on how his pupils dilate.

“That is scandalous,” he whispers approvingly, his eyes roaming your exposed thighs. 

“I thought you might like it. Ivory, just like you wanted. It’s all for you, darling husband,” you respond, a little smirk on your face as you glance at him playfully over your shoulder. You gently tilt your hips, making the chemise ride up to expose the lower part of your cheeks, the weave of the material shines like liquid as it catches the firelight. “I’m not wearing anything else either. Is that worthy of a spanking?” You ask coquettishly, eyelids fluttering, goading him.

His answer is a stinging slap on your butt cheek. 

You moan loudly and push your hips higher, seeking more. 

“My filthy little wanton wife,” he growls and slaps the other cheek.

Before you can playfully demand more, he flips you over suddenly and descends. Your lips crash together, like the days of old. Passionate, almost dangerous in intensity, moaning into each other’s mouth as he climbs on top of you, his hands slipping low to grasp your hips. You surge against him, rubbing yourself over the bulge in his trousers. He groans as you drag back and forth, guiding your movements with the flex of his long fingers. His tongue is hot and insistent against yours, your hands twining around his neck, fingers delving into the luscious hair at his nape.

“Please…” you implore against his lips, drunk on the sensation of rough wool against your bare clit.

“Not yet,” he responds breathily but sounds less sure this time. “Your sinful silk chemise made me forget my plan. You are supposed to lay back and be worshipped, my darling.”

“I don't want to be passive,” you counter, grabbing his face and caressing his cheekbones with your fingertips, “and I want you to talk to me. Oh god, I've missed your voice, Benedict. All those wonderful, passionate things you say, my darling poet. Please, please talk to me.” 

“I'd almost forgotten just how… spirited you can be,” he huffs, enthralled.

“Six years Benedict,” is all you can say, “six lonely unfulfilled years. Every day I would touch myself thinking of your voice, what you say, your beautiful lips spilling such sinful things.”

“Every day…?” his pupils are blown wide as his lips ghost over yours, wet and wanting.

“Every single day. You, always, always you,” you whisper desperately, grabbing his wrist and placing his hand over the swell of your breast, the warmth of his skin seeping through the silk. 

He groans, and his fingers curl inwards to tweak your nipple, making you cry out and writhe.

“Talk to me….” you whisper hotly against his cheek.

“You thought I had forgotten how sensitive your nipples are, my darling?” his voice is low and honeyed, precisely what you need.

You wrap your legs around him, pulling him heavier onto you. Your fingers slide down his corded neck to his shirt, flicking open the top button.

“I recall every single detail about you, my love. The mole on the back of your knee,” his hand cups the back of your leg, touching the exact spot. “The little scar you have on your elbow from when you fell as a child…” he lifts your arm and kisses the site. “But especially every little intimate detail of your breasts and between your legs,” his voice sinful now. “Like how if I do this…“ he leans lower and bites your nipple through the silk, and you shudder and push up against him “you get soaked, don’t you, my love?”

“Yessss”, your answer is an instinct, fumbling to undo more of his shirt buttons.

“Hmmm, I know. I’ll soothe that ache you feel very soon,” he promises.

This is the Benedict you remember; that you have craved. 

You grip him hard with your legs and flip over so you are sitting on top of him; he makes a little noise of surprise, which turns into a groan as you grind down against his straining cock. Reaching to undo the rest of his shirt, he finally helps and whips it over his head quickly, revealing that, if anything, he has become more defined in the intervening years.

“Oh, Benedict,” you sigh and run your hands over the smooth contours of his toned flesh. “I have missed your body so much.” It's an admission that you follow up by learning over him and licking a line from the top of his abs over his breastbone to his neck, revelling in his taste. 

His little noises spur you on, and your hands fly to the buttons on his trousers, wanting to sink onto him immediately. You accomplish part of the task before he grabs your wrists and softly twists your hands behind your back, sitting up and kissing your lips.

“So impatient,” he scolds gently. “I haven't even had to chance to refamiliarise myself with my favourite place in the world,” he smirks, his breath ghosting over your cheek as his hands slide around to your front, down the silk and pull up the chemise, exposing your intimate area.

He breathes heavily. “Just as I remember,” his tone deep as his fingertips trail lightly into your patch of hair, your breath quickening. 

Before you know it, you are flipped back onto the mattress, him hovering over you with a wicked look. He slides down your body, running kisses over your chemise, only stopping to loop your thighs around his shoulders. 

His warm, soft lips land on your lower belly, and you tremble at the sensation of it. “I am reminded of my wedding vows, darling,” he begins softly, “perhaps I need to recite them again, so you know how much they mean to me,” he affirms as his lips trail lower.

“I, Benedict Bridgerton, take thee y/n to be my wedded wife….” he rumbles as he nudges the sensitive skin of your inner thighs; his tongue flicks out and licks a strong link all way up to your nub. You cry out, and he has to hold your legs open a little, the instinct to close up around his head so strong. 

“....To have and to hold from this day forward….” He continues before delving in and pushing his tongue into your channel. Oh god, you realise he is reciting the wedding vows, word for word; he must have memorised them.

“…For better for worse….” Your fingers flex and drag against his scalp as you direct his motions. His tongue presses into you rhythmically as you whisper his name, closing your eyes and tilting your head back to revel in the sensation.

“…For richer for poorer….” each sentence is panted against your heated flesh as he kisses his way up to your clit and sucks it hard into his mouth, swirling his tongue insistently against the most sensitive spot.

“…In sickness and in health….” it’s muffled against you, and the vibrations make you call his name loudly, between heavy pants, him spiralling you towards something you haven’t felt in years. In fact, six years since your last wedding day. The symmetry of the moments is both sweet and poignant.

You open your eyes, and your hand in his hair flexes and grips, encouraging him to look up the plane of your body to your face; his hazy blue eyes focus wholly on you as he speaks the following line.

“….To love and to cherish…” his voice thick with emotion. I love you, you mouth at him. He smiles almost demurely, which is a delicious contradiction to the things he does next as he descends back between your legs and nudges you towards orgasm.

“Till death, us do part, according to God's holy ordinance,” invoking something holy while doing something so debauched paints a delicious contradiction. “And thereto I plight thee my troth.”

With that, he takes you quickly to a place that you realise you only vaguely remembered from the past you had together. A place beyond yourself, where all that exists is his tongue, his fingers and where he touches you while you float far away and blissful. You know your body is writhing, your voice a litany of his name and babbled praise. Still, all you feel is something ethereal, intangible, a wave of ecstasy that starts between your legs and spreads like wildfire over your body into every cell of your being.

As you lay there panting, feeling little aftershocks across your skin, he crawls slowly up your body, taking your chemise with him so it’s gathered around your armpits. Somehow while between your legs, he has managed to remove his trousers, and you feel the slight tickle of his leg hair against your inner knees. He lavishes kisses and little soft bites on your breasts that make you breathless and wanting, his hard cock brandishing a warm spot across your thigh. He finally pulls the chemise up and over your head and settles over you, face-to-face.

You lay tangled together in the glow of the firelight; the only things you both wear are your shiny wedding rings.

He grabs your left hand and kisses your ring.

“With this ring, I thee wed….” he restarts his vows. 

You smile through watery eyes, so happy you are reunited with this wonderful man you love with all your heart. He touches your cheek and moves in for a kiss, and you feel him finally, finally nudging his cock against your folds, almost wanting to cry with relief.

“With my body I thee worship……” he murmurs, his tone devoted, slowly pushing into your body. 

It feels like coming home. You know there are tears now, of relief, of love, of overwhelming emotion, as the man who is finally your husband finds his way back inside your body.

“and with all my worldly goods I thee endow…..” his voice is wavering now, thick with emotion, as he relishes the moment, still pushing into you so slowly, breathing against your skin, breathing you in. 

As he reaches your hilt, he takes a deep, shuddering breath. He feels wonderful, like what has been missing - a deep, filled sensation that isn't just physical, it's an intangible wonder too, something almost spiritual yet very much of the rich earth and carnal.

“In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen,” he concludes, kissing your cheeks, your forehead, and your chin as if you are the most precious thing in the world.

“I love you.” It's all you can say in response to his marital serenade—simple, straightforward, but accurate.

His eyes carry a world of emotion as he withdraws slowly, then surges back into your body, your whole being rolling with the force.

“Yesssss, husband,” you hiss, eyes closing with the pleasure you feel humming over you, the burning anticipation for this moment feeding a fire over your skin.

“Always call me that when I’m inside you, please,” he implores, starting a slow rhythm, his mouth open against yours, sharing air.

Then his lips are peppering your face with sweet little kisses, barely a touch, just enough to make your skin tingle and flush hot.

You push up against his thrusts, chasing all the sensation you can, yearning to communicate just how much you want this, need this. Your hands run over his back, remapping the contours of his muscles; how his skin feels under your fingertips. You stutter as his lips find that spot below your ear that makes you shudder. You feel his grin, his recall of how to slowly take you apart moment by moment, returning like muscle memory. He punctuates his triumph with a thrust of his hips a little stronger than usual, revelling in your corresponding moan.

You wrap your legs around his hipbones, wanting to feel him deeper inside you, an ache you want to carry tomorrow as a souvenir of this special night. You want him to mark your skin, claim your body as his, something primal and symbolic beyond the ring you now wear with pride. You want a tattoo of him across your heart and body.

“Bite me,” you whisper desperately in his ear as he moves faster, “I want you to leave no doubt of who I’m bound to.” 

He groans at your request to be marked as his, at least for now. “I can’t hurt you like that, my love,” he frets quietly.

“It won’t hurt,” you assure, “ please, just here,” your fingers fly to the spot where your neck meets your shoulder.

He moans and feels too drunk on the moment to resist, his teeth clamping right where you want. You yell his name and clench around him, a vice-like grip that makes his hips stutter to a halt and his teeth release.

“Please, please do that again,” he begs, lathing where he bit you with soothing wet tongue strokes,

You know what he’s asking for, and you oblige, squeezing your internal muscles tight in a slow pulsing motion. His cock feels huge, hard and heavy as you do so; impossibly steely. 

“Oh fuck,” slips from his lips, his eyes now closed, his whole being present in the moment, in the feelings of his physical being. You watch his face as you compress around him, him motionless, buried to the root.

“If I spend more than a day outside of your body ever again, I swear I will lose my mind,” he whispers fervently, restarting his thrusts into you, somewhat more urgent now.

You run your fingers into his lush hair and grab a handful, directing his lips back to yours, kissing in waves of intensity that match your body's joint movements.

“I will live in thy heart…” he says, fingers slipping to your dewy breastbone, hot from the slide of your skin together. “Die in thy lap…” his hand trails a line down to your clit and rubs gently. “And be buried in thy eyes,” he concludes, his gaze burning into yours as he spirals you higher.

That he has the capacity to quote Shakespeare at this moment astounds you and makes you love him even more. Poetry falls out of him almost unbidden, a reflex, how he expresses his passion without even needing to think of the lines; they just tumble from his very soul.

His finger circling your bud pushes you desperately towards your peak, feeling utterly surrounded by him as his other arm brackets your body, his lips on yours. It’s all heat and whispered poetry and pleading.

“Please darling, please come for me,” his plea resonates in your bones, the catalyst to the crescendo you have felt teasing at the edge of your being since the moment he entered you. Now it sweeps over you in a tide of physicality that steals your breath, robs your vision and ripples out from your core to every fibre and synapse. Careless of volume or content, you call words and his name in a rhapsody of sated bliss. It’s as if your body has been on hold for six years, awaiting this very moment.

Your desperate movement and fluttering are what pull him over the edge too. His grip on your shoulder bruising, his noises desperate, his mouth slack against your neck, curling his whole body into you as he releases deep inside you, the warmth of his seed blooming. 

As you lay together, recovering your breathing, him slipping from your body, he holds up your hands, spreading your fingers with his, then sinking his between yours, a tight grasp; he smiles as your wedding rings clink together.

“Thank you,” he breathes quietly. “Thank you for coming back to me, for James, for letting me back into your life, for giving me a family of my own. Just thank you….,” his exhale is a slight shudder as you see unshed tears in his eyes.

You do the only thing you can think to do. You pitch forward and kiss him tenderly. “Thank you for letting me have a chance at the only life I ever wanted,” you say back to him, your tone soft, enjoying this quiet sensual intimacy that feels both of this moment and every moment in the future.

You fall asleep entwined like a vine, rings together, hearts beating in sync.

—

You wake up the next day to sunlight streaming through the windows, birds tweeting happily in the tree outside the window beyond the foot of the bed. You look at your husband sleeping peacefully. The sheets are pooled around his waist, exposing his torso, his skin glowing in the shaft of sunlight slashed across the bed, the white linen around him gleaming like a halo. He resembles a heavenly creature, to you at least.

As you admire him, your thoughts turn to how incredibly happy you are with your life at the moment—how it’s just the two of you together alone, married and with nothing to interrupt you. Your son is happily ensconced with his grandmother Violet and his nanny, and your time is free of commitments or obligations for two whole weeks. 

“Penny for your thoughts, my love,” Benedict’s voice cuts into your reverie, voice rough from sleep.

“Good morning,” you smile and lean over to place your face next to his as he returns the greeting. “I was just delighting in the views this morning,” you wink, “and thinking about how lucky I am to have you all to myself, absolutely no one here to interrupt us, not even our son.”

“Mmmm,” he smiles lazily and pulls you into an embrace partially on top of him, kissing your neck languidly. “Speaking of our son, James seems lonely, does he not? I think he might need some siblings.” His voice is like velvet as he plants hot kisses on your skin. “I think it’s only fair. “

“Are you trying to get me pregnant, Mr Bridgerton?” you tease.

“Well, I tried last night, didn't I? It is somewhat of a tradition for us, is it not? Making beautiful babies on wedding days. I didn’t think we ought to mess with tradition, my love.” He chuckles and rolls you fully on top of him, your legs tangling. “But just in case my plan didn't work last night, I think we should keep trying all of today as well to be safe. And in France too. We definitely need to give it lots of effort there.”

“Oh, you think so, do you? Hmmm, well, let me think about that,” you pretend to be deep in thought for about a second. “I can see your point. Go ahead, Mr Bridgerton, give me more of your beautiful babies.”

“With pleasure Mrs Bridgerton,” he growls, and you squeal in delight as he flips you over onto the mattress.

And true to his word, he manages it. Nine months later, Isobel Bridgerton is born. She is your double, the fiercest little ball of energy you have ever known and has her father hopelessly in love from the moment he sees her. 

Benedict taglist: @makaylan @foreverlonginguniverse @iboopedyournose @wysteria-clad @colettebronte @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @margofiore @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @crowleysqueenofhell @baebee35

Moments only taglist: @queenofshinigamis @khaleesjj @starslibrary @magical-spit @honeylovemoon @justwant2read8421

[fictionalfantasies]

The Zodiac: Book 1 - Capricorn - Epilogue (on Wattpad)

this is it! the re-edited version of Capricorn is now finished! thanks to everyone for all the support. keep spreading the word for me. next up is aquarius, who’s ready???????????!

 https://www.wattpad.com/1270676184-the-zodiac-book-1-capricorn-epilogue?utm_source=web&utm_medium=tumblr&utm_content=share_reading&wp_uname=FictionaIFantasies&wp_originator=lyh94cLMk5LADpUcMeXAwT7cNm%2FVEj%2FR51S4nTwDgjSgw8%2Fts1LKUCPL%2BsYhjrZ4ROunlG74yi1PHezZOUgfFPMi4RzHEW8yCHnoBd%2FjmIhkq7dOKxMmuaZcrdVDb9VF 🥉3rd Place in Chick Lit at the Red Carpet Awards 2021🥉 ✨ December 2021's "Who Said" (Female Lead) Reading List Selection by NewAdultReads ✨ Adena Capricorn is proud that she's successful at only 23 years old. She's an art dealer at one of the most prestigious galleries in Manhattan. This Capricorn has it all, a great job, great girlfriends, and a loving husband. Until her world crashes down when she finds lipstick on her husband's shirt and finds help and solace in the most unexpected of places. How would a Capricorn handle this situation? Genre: Romantic Comedy/Chick Lit/Fanfiction Rating: R (for language, strong sexual content) Starring: Aaliyah, Craig David, Taye Diggs Aesthetic: late 90s, early 2000s r&b/hip hop, aaliyah, biggie smalls, mya, lil kim, new york city, urban, present day, black art museums, african art #1 Ratings In #BlackFanfiction 🥇 #BlackDrama 🥇 * This is Book 1 of "The Zodiac Series" What's your zodiac sign? Are you an earth or water sign? Are you crabby like a Cancer or a headstrong bull like a Taurus? Whether you believe in astrology or not, the day you were born determines your zodiac sign and that can determine who you are. This practice has been around for eons. Your sign can determine who you are compatible with, your positive and negative traits, goals, personality, even right down to a small detail like why Aquarians eyes always have that dreamy look about them. Each sign has a character, every character has a story. Is their story similar to yours? Or the opposite? ♈️♉️♊️♋️♌️♍️♎️♏️♐️♑️♒️♓️

[yhgooi25]

Oppenheimer (2023)

running time: 180 minutes

directed by: Christopher Nolan

produced By: Christopher Nolan, Emma Thomas, Charles Roven

starring: Cillian Murphy, Emily Blunt, Matt Damon, Robert Downey Jr, Florence Pugh

music by: Ludwig Göransson

I'll give this movie a 9.5/10

I had the chance to finally watch Nolan's latest film on the big screen a couple of months ago. Initially I wanted to watch together with my friend on IMAX however by the time we wanted to check out the number of seats left available, most of the best seating areas towards the screen are fully booked and sold out. Which I then decided to watch solo in the cheaper standard hall morning showing time as my friend is still adamant in wanting to watch it on IMAX experience. I usually don't like to watch biopics as they mostly have a very long runtime and deals with lots of heavy subject matters but this film has really caught my attention since it was announced way back in 2021. This biopic is directed in a very unconventional style as opposed to a traditional one. The movie is filmed in a non linear narrative style with black and white scenes and colored scenes depicting different time periods of Oppenheimer's life as a typical biopic will usually shows the person's life in chronological order. My favourite scene in the entire movie has to be the trinity test scene of the first ever atomic explosion in history during the Manhattan Project. The scene is very visually striking with the flames dispersing all around the screen and masterfully crafted by Nolan who claimed that there is no CGI shots being used to film the movie at all. I would say this movie is the culmination of Nolan's entire filmography with the black and white scenes being a callback to his previous older movies like Memento and the non linear narrative plus WWII setting as a reference to Dunkirk. The score is hauntingly beautifully composed by Ludwig Göransson who worked on Nolan's previous movie Tenet. I really loved his track called "Can You Hear The Music" as it is very mesmerising and inspirational with the loud tempo increasing during the opening scene of how a young Oppenheimer progresses in his studies and his mind of his upcoming invention of nuclear physics. The entire star studded ensemble cast delivered an amazing job on the acting performances particularly the lead and supporting actors Robert Downey Jr as Lewis Strauss and Cillian Murphy who nails every single scene as J. Robert Oppenheimer from his accent to his mannerisms and facial expressions. This movie is a very strong contender to win or at the very least earn a lot of oscar nominations next year such as Best Picture, Director, Visual Effects, lead and supporting Actor, Cinematography and Score. Overall, I really enjoyed this movie a lot considering it has no action scenes and only fully dialogue as this movie also serves as a cautionary tale about the dangers of using nuclear weapons that could cause a huge chain reaction to the world. The final shot of Oppenheimer closing his eyes and epilogue of the movie left me having a lot of thoughts on my mind after watching it as in typical Nolan fashion, he likes to leave his endings open ended for the audience. The scene is a parallel to the opening shot of raindrops falling from the sky with Oppenheimer watching them in silence. This will be my second favourite movie in his filmography after The Dark Knight. It's one of his undisputable masterpiece for the ages and leaves a long lasting impression for the audience. I will say this is the best movie that I had watched of the year.

Some of my favourite Quotes:

1. "Prometheus stole fire from the gods and gave it to man. For this he was chained to a rock and tortured for eternity."

2. "They Won't Fear It Until They Understand It..."

3. "I Believe We Did."

4. "Now I Am Become Death, The Destroyer Of Worlds."

[readingforsanity]

Copycat | Kimberla Lawson Roby | Published 2017 | *SPOILERS*

Befriending Traci Calloway Cole is the best thing Simone Phillips has ever done. Traci is the kind of woman Simone wants to be - in every way possible. She begins copying her role model. Not because she wants to be Traci. She just wants to be exactly like Traci. 

Traci doesn’t worry, though. She knows Simone doesn’t mean any harm and that her mimicry is only sincere admiration. Until she discovers how far Simone’s obsession has gone. It is then that Simone’s entire world begins unraveling, and dreadful secrets from her past are exposed with no warning. Secrets that she’ll do anything to protect. 

Simone Phillips meets Traci Calloway Cole, a successful published writer, at a hair salon. Simone is ecstatic - not only is Simone a writer herself, though unpublished, but she is new in town and was looking for a friend. When Simone introduces herself, Traci is as personable as anyone thought she would be in person. 

Later, Simone messages Traci on Facebook, thanking her for being so kind and hoping to get her interested in her romance novel. Traci goes out of her way to assist Simone with her want to get published, offering to get names of publishers as well as reading parts of her manuscript. This leads to an unlikely friendship between the two women. 

What starts off innocently enough soon becomes a weird turn of events. Simone is doing everything like Traci - from wearing the clothes she wears, wearing her hair in the same style and color, buying the same car, the same handbag...everything about Simone now mirrors Traci. Traci doesn’t see it, but her older sister, Robin does. 

After Traci’s latest book signing, Simone returns home and finds her fiance Chris waiting for her. Chris has spent the last two hours going through Simone’s personal items, finally coming to terms with the fact that his fiance is not who she says she is. In that timeframe, Chris has learned that Simone is $70,000 in debt because of all the money she has spent, that she is not in management as she had claimed, and that she makes less than $50,000 a year. After all the lies and deceit, Chris decides to end their relationship. Simone makes plans to go to Traci’s home the next evening after their relationship ended, coming up with more lies as to why he decided to end their relationship. 

When Simone arrives, Chris appears a short time later with enough evidence against Simone to turn hers and Traci’s friendship inside out. Not only has Simone been copying everything Traci says and does, but she also used Traci’s first manuscript outline for her second novel. All of these things are not something that Traci can forgive and their friendship ends. 

We find out, in the epilogue set 6 months later, that Simone has begun seeing a therapist and has transferred to Atlanta. Her book is expected to do well, but Simone cannot fathom everything she had been through. We learned that Simone had a really terrible and horrible upbringing, which could have led her to have acted the way she does. 

Discussion Questions 

1. Have you ever known a copycat like Simone? If so, were they copying you or someone else? How did you deal with the situation? I’ve never met someone who copied another person to this degree. I think at some point, we’ve either liked or admired something someone else had and either bought it or bought some variation of it. If someone copied me, I never took offense to it, but I think if I were in Traci’s situation, I would have noticed it far sooner than she did. 

2. What emotions do you feel when you read from Simone’s point of view? Can you recognize any of your own thoughts or actions as either similar or even less extreme versions of the way Simone thinks and acts? Never recognized anything in Simone in myself. The girl was legit crazy, even if she did have a terrible upbringing. You have to feel sorry for her character. She endured awful things growing up, and just wanted to have the life she thought she deserved, but that life was also someone else’s life entirely. 

3. Simone and Chris have real disagreements about what a marriage should be. For example, they have different views about whether all finances should be joint and whether it is necessary for both partners to belong to the same church. How much give and take on issues should there be in a healthy marriage? How do you decide which ones to give in on and which ones to stand fast on? There has to be compromise. Chris didn’t want Simone to have any chance at compromising, simply because it went against what he thought was right. This is where I disliked his character the most. I’ve been with my husband now for 14 years - 6.5 years of dating and nearly 8 years married. We have separate bank accounts, despite me being a stay at home mom. I do have access to his and vice versa, but we’ve always kept finances separate. We never left the other hanging though, and we never thought it to be a problem. Neither of us is very religious, but he was baptised, whereas I never went through religion in my family. It’s about having to make sacrifices for each other, not just one or the other. 

4. In terms of marital finances, do you believe they should be kept joint or separate? Why or why not? Simone wanted to keep things separated for different reasons. I think it’s smart to have one joint account, and the rest of the money be kept in separate accounts for their own personal use. Money can be the point of arguments for many people, and I think this could help alleviate that for a lot of couples. 

5. Do you think Chris had a right to go through Simone’s things, or should he have respected her privacy even as she lied to him? Was he right to tell Traci about what he discovered? Why or why not? Did he have the right? No. It was personal to her, but he felt he had no choice because he knew Simone was lying to him about every aspect of her life. Was he right to tell Traci? Absolutely. Chris never felt any ill-will toward the Cole’s, and he felt that Traci needed to know of Simone’s current and past history. 

6. Given the way they treat her and have treated her in the past, do you think Simone still has a responsibility to support her mother and grandmother? Please explain. Absolutely not. Just because they’re her blood family doesn’t mean she needed to be there for them in any fashion, especially given what they did to her growing up. Yes, her grandmother raised her and took her in when her mother didn’t care for her any longer. But, her grandmother was nearly as bad as her mother. 

7. Simone feels bad when she lies to Traci and is surprised and hurt when Chris leaves her. Do you think she sincerely cares about Traci? About Chris? I think she genuinely cared for them both in her own way. But it isn’t the way you care for people. 

8. Simone’s identity is tied to her achievements and material possessions. Do you think our culture encourages this sort of thinking more than it used to? Please explain. I think society definitely plays a role in this for sure. It’s been embedded in our minds that the better stuff you own, the better off you are. Take for example, my husband and I: we live in a $130,000 home we purchased in 2014. This was before marriage and kids. My husband worked hard, but for a smaller salary. Now, we’re married, with two small children, still living in the home we purchased. It has not grown with us, and we know that we need a bigger home to support the four of us, but we have a roof over our head. We do enjoy the finer things in life which comes with the fact that my husband makes substantially more than he did 9 years ago. We own several vehicles, a boat, and enjoy going out to nice restaurants when the time comes. But, we also enjoy munching on fast food. 

9. Traci struggles between her desire to see the best in people and the warnings she gets from family members and her own previous experiences with betrayal. Do you think she was wrong to trust and pity Simone and to want to be her friend? Can she be blamed for her optmistic and forgiving nature? Why or why not? I don’t think she was wrong to trust Simone. We all want to see the good in people, and then that blows up in our faces. Given her history with her previous author friend, I wished she was more cautious. Helping Simone was nice of her, and this was all before she knew the real Simone. But, even after she began seeing the signs herself, she still kept trying. 

10. Simone ultimately views herself as a victim. To what extent do you agree with her, if at all? And why do you think she became a copycat to begin with? I don’t see her as a victim in the things she caused herself. Her debt, and everything she put Traci through was done all on her own. However, she is a victim of what happened between her and her mother when she was a child. 

11. Simone lacks awareness about how she is copying Traci, and she does not recxognize her own actions in Reverend Black’s sermon and Traci’s newest book. Is there anything that Chris, Traci or Robin could have done to help her see what she was doing before it got out of hand? If so, what? Chris could have tried harder, and Robin could have tried harder to warn Traci. But Traci could have said something when she began noticing the changes in Simone. 

12. At the end of the novel, how do you ultimately feel about SImone? Do you thinks he will copy her next friend? I’m hoping that Simone will eventually see that she has a true psychological problem. I want her get the help that she desperately needed. I feel sorry for her. She thought she finally found a friend but her actions kept that friendship from blossoming. That was her own doing, but she didn’t feel like she was doing any wrong. 

I read reviews before reading this book, and I’m I did. I spent a lot of time looking at the mistakes and seeing what other readers had felt. The book is a short, easy read. The storyline is fantastic, but the overall writing is terrible. I don’t know how this author has managed to write 25 books in her career, but she has. There was a lot of unnecessary added things, like what they ate for their easter dinner. There was no point but to fill up space where there didn’t need to be any fillers. 

Read with caution on this one if you choose to read it at all. 

[mermaidsirennikita]

Sitting here in my bed growing increasingly pissed that we don’t have a Maiden Lane series when the material is RIGHT THERE

Georgian era!Batman shenanigans!  An orphanage!  Winter Makepeace getting his cherry popped in a moving carriage by an older woman!  Silence Holingbrook teaching a pirate king to love with the help of his baby that he doesn’t really give a fuck about!  Emotional oral sex!

[frostironfudge]

 Silhouettes In The Spotlight - Bucky Barnes - Masterlist

Summary: Bucky Barnes has worked immensely hard to have a filmography expanding across genres and garnering accolades from critics, peers and fans. Y/N Y/L/N, with her debut novel (fan-fiction turned New York Times Bestseller) has two other best sellers under her belt. Next is her highly anticipated fourth book lined up for release.

SHEILD Productions has acquired the film rights to her debut novel and they want Bucky Barnes to play the lead (aka himself) by any means necessary.

This story is about angst, lust, heartbreak, and love. After all fairytales only exist in books and movies right?

~~~

the fanfiction turned published book mentioned in this fic is my completed Bucky fic I Think I Met You In My Dreams Once (this fic isn’t a published book however I do hope to be able to publish it one day)

~~~

Warnings: before every chapter specific warnings will be placed, slow burn, angst, fluff.

Pairing: Actor!Bucky Barnes x Plus Size!Fem!Reader

Taglist: Open || Main Masterlist || Fic Playlist

Chapter List:

[FIC ON HOLD]

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten (please read warnings)

Chapter Eleven (please read warnings)

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen (check warnings)

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Epilogue

Last Updated: 09 May 2024

[hollandorks]

domesticity--motn oneshot

battinson!bruce wayne x f!reader

a/n: time for another motn oneshot! This is set after chapter 31 but before the epilogue. It’s also set after the “partners” oneshot (but you don’t need to read that to understand this one!) This is just pure, unadulterated fluff. Get your toothbrushes ready, it’s going to give you cavities. 

If you feel like supporting me further, here’s some info on ko-fi perks! 

The song I listened to when writing this chapter is The Lament of Eustace Scrubb by The Oh Hellos (mostly for the overall vibes!) 

Series Masterlist

word count: 3300

It was the middle of the night in early December. 

Y/n was wide awake, curled in front of a roaring fire in the living room with a new book, waiting for Bruce to get home from his nightly patrol. 

It was still early, not quite two AM, still hours from Bruce being back. Even with the freezing rain outside, he still patrolled every night. He was adamant that winter was worse–longer nights made for more crime while the cold and snow made for more desperate people, hoping not to starve or freeze. 

Y/n was working on her own way to help–her budding restaurant, still as yet unnamed, a way to pay it forward and have a small homeless shelter all at once. She was going to feed, clothe, and house people as much as she could. In fact, she had just found the perfect building–two buildings next to each other, actually–in the heart of Gotham. She couldn’t wait for Bruce to get home so she could show him the listing. The place was a bargain, actually, long abandoned and rotting. But the less they spent on purchasing it, the more they could spend making it perfect. 

There was a loud clang from the general vicinity of the basement. 

Y/n frowned. It was too early for Bruce to be back yet. 

Unless something had happened. 

She tried not to panic as she set her book aside and hurried in the direction of their bedroom. 

She ran smack into Bruce, who was stepping into the hallway from downstairs. The cowl was off, the tips of his hair wet and turning to ice, drops of ice covering the armor he was still wearing. 

She immediately looked him over head to toe, worried he would be bleeding out. 

“Bruce?” she asked carefully. He usually stayed out until at least four, but sometimes six or seven if it was a busy night. Two AM was too early. Much too early. 

A shudder went through him at his name. His eyes met hers but they were distant. Cold. He was still in Batman mode. But usually he didn’t come upstairs in the armor. 

“Are you hurt?” she asked, hands already on him, fingers searching the places between armor plates for blood or bullet holes. 

He shook his head. “Not–not bad,” he amended after a second. “Might have cracked a rib.” 

“Not bad?” she said. “A cracked rib is not great.” She would know. Her ribs had been broken at the gala, and she was just now getting to where it didn’t hurt to stretch in certain ways. “Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.” 

He was covered in ice, melting quickly now, and mud. She wanted to ask what happened, but knew he needed time to switch back into Bruce. He’d gently explained it to her, a couple of weeks after their first date, that he wanted to share things with her but that he needed a little time when he first got back. He said it was like shedding a skin every night. He took off the armor and wrote out his thoughts while reviewing the footage from the night. He needed to process everything, to let himself think, to let Bruce Wayne resurface slowly. 

Bruce let her lead him into their bathroom. She gently helped him remove the armor, promising in a murmur to clean it later, while she let the bathtub fill with hot water. 

There was something almost haunted in his expression. Something bad had definitely happened. She swallowed hard. Her heart broke for him. 

She slipped his shirt over his head. There was a chill coming off of his skin, icy water dripping from his hair into his eyes and over his bare shoulders. 

His left side was already turning purple. “We should have someone look at this,” she said softly. She went to unbutton his pants but he caught her wrists in his freezing fingers. 

She stared up at him, at that terrible look in his eyes. She grabbed his wrists in turn so they were holding on to each other. “What do you need?” she asked. 

“Just–stay,” he whispered. His eyes closed and he lowered his head until their foreheads touched. “Just stay with me.” His voice was broken. He was hurting. 

“Always.” She lifted one of his hands and kissed the bruised knuckles. “You’re freezing.” 

He shivered as if her words made him finally realize it. He quickly shucked off his pants and got into the tub, shuddering heavily at the hot water. 

“Too hot?” she asked as she knelt beside him. He closed his eyes and shook his head. She pushed her sleeves up and lightly touched his shoulder, just to reassure him that she was there, that she was with him. 

Y/n reached over and shut off the water, dousing the room in sudden silence. She went to the shower, got his shampoo and a bar of soap, as well as a washcloth. 

She quietly shampooed Bruce’s hair, letting him dunk and rinse it while she started gently washing the grime from his skin. He hummed softly as she wiped the cloth over his shoulders and down his back. She took one arm and then the other, then worked her way down his chest and stomach. She dunked her arms into the hot water and scrubbed down his legs next, careful not to accidentally pull the hairs that covered them. The edges of her sleeves dampened. 

Satisfied that at least most of the grime was off of him, she grabbed one of their shared makeup wipes and started removing the black makeup, heavily smudged down his cheeks from his dripping hair. The water sloshed as Bruce leaned his head back against the edge of the tub. His eyes were still closed. She held his jaw still with one hand and the wipe in the other. 

“He killed a kid,” Bruce suddenly said. The movement of his lips ghosted against her wrist. Under the water, his hands tightened into fists. She’d stopped wiping at his face when he’d spoken, but quickly resumed so he would keep talking. “He broke in and the kid tried to stop him. Made enough noise that the neighbors called the cops. I got there first.” 

Done with removing the makeup, she switched to a facial cleanser and used a clean cloth to wash his face. 

Eyes still closed, Bruce said, “He shot the kid when he saw me. He tried to run, made it into the backyard, out in the suburbs, but–” 

But Bruce had caught him. 

“I almost didn’t stop,” Bruce whispered. His breath gasped from between his lips. Y/n was done with his face and gripped it with both hands. “I almost didn’t–” 

“It’s okay,” she said firmly. “You did. You got the guy. And he’s going to go to jail forever for what he did.” 

Bruce’s eyes opened and latched onto hers. He was still breathing heavily, blue eyes even bluer in the light of the bathroom. Her breath hitched a little. “I was too late,” he whispered, broken, hurting, ashamed. 

Y/n pressed a kiss to his damp forehead, brushing the wet strands of his hair back. He leaned into her touch, watching her from beneath his long, dark lashes. “But you got him, and he’s going to be punished. You can’t blame yourself, Bruce. You did as much as you could.” 

“But I–” 

“What? You could have gotten there sooner? Sure. But he probably would have killed the kid either way. Or maybe he wouldn’t have killed that kid, but he would have had enough time to run. And then he would have killed someone else later. I know–I know it sucks. I’m sorry he was killed, really. But you’re doing enough. You’re enough.” She kissed him lightly. “You’re doing the best you can, and that’s enough. Gotham is better because of it.” 

Bruce’s eyes closed. She released him and watched as he relaxed, little by little. 

“What do you need?” she asked again. “Food? Sleep?” 

Bruce opened his eyes a little to look at her. She studied the long column of his throat as he swallowed. “I want–pizza.” He gave her a sheepish grin, cheeks turning slightly pink. “I just–I haven’t had pizza in a long time and–” 

She smiled. “You don’t have to explain yourself to me. I’ll make it happen. How about I order while you get dressed, or you can relax here for a bit. Then we can watch that new documentary I told you about.” 

Bruce hummed again. “That’d be nice,” he murmured. She kissed him one more time and climbed to her feet. 

She wasn’t confident that a pizza place would be open so late, even in a city as big as Gotham, but she was going to make it happen. Bruce never asked for things for himself, and if he wanted a pizza, she was getting him a damn pizza. 

A quick search on her phone revealed only one place that was still open, and they were set to close at three. It was 2:45. With a small curse, she called the number. They didn’t pick up, so she called again. 

When they answered, she made her case, and offered a hundred dollar tip if they would deliver it despite closing soon. The person on the phone asked the delivery driver in a skeptical voice if they were willing to risk it, not caring that she was still on the other line listening. 

“What’s the address?” he asked with a sigh. 

She gave the mailing address for Wayne Manor. 

The guy was suddenly angry. “I–that’s Wayne Manor. Is this a prank?” 

She bit back a retort and instead only said, “Yes, it’s Wayne Manor. Bruce Wayne wants a pizza. I’m telling you, I’ll give you a hundred bucks if you can get here. Please.” 

There was another hushed conversation before they finally agreed to do the order, promising to have it there within half an hour. 

Y/n hung up with a triumphant smile. Pizza acquired. Now she was going to stoke the fire in the living room, queue up the documentary, and hunt down every appropriate movie snack she could come up with in the house along with as many warm blankets as she could find. 

As she gathered up some throw blankets–ones she’d bought on sale as soon as the weather turned freezing a few weeks before, because Bruce didn’t really have much in the way of comfortable blankets–she called down to the guards at the gate to let them know there was a pizza delivery coming. 

Bruce found her in the kitchen scrounging up snacks and drinks. He was wearing his favorite pair of gray sweatpants and a sweatshirt that was so faded she couldn’t tell if it had always been plain or if it had once said “Nirvana” or something. 

“Alcohol, soda, juice, or water with your pizza?” she asked. She preferred soda when having pizza, and realized that she didn’t know Bruce’s preference. As had happened often these past few weeks, a little thrill shot through her at getting to learn something so simple but strangely intimate about him. No one else knew what Bruce Wayne liked to drink with his pizza. 

Bruce shrugged. “You pick.” 

Soda it was. Caffeine didn’t matter for someone who was nocturnal anyways. 

“I didn’t realize what time it was–how’d you find somewhere still open?” he asked, helping her carry the drinks and plates into the living room where the fire was crackling cheerily. 

“Oh you know, just casually dropped Bruce Wayne’s name and threw in a bribe.” She grinned as he blinked. 

“I can’t tell if you’re joking,” he said with a frown. 

“For once, I’m actually not.” 

Bruce breathed a laugh. “Well, at least I’m good for something.” 

She moved around the couch and wrapped her arms around his waist. She tilted her head back to look up at him. “You’re good for a lot of things.” 

Their lips met halfway. She leaned into the solid warmth of him, his lips chapped but gentle against hers. She still couldn’t get over that this was her life. She felt a little bit like Cinderella after all. 

Bruce’s phone vibrated with an alert from the gate. The pizza was here and being escorted up the driveway. 

“Have you ever ordered takeout here?” she asked as she gently pushed him down onto the couch. “Because the guards definitely seemed surprised.” 

Bruce sank into the cushions. He rubbed the back of his neck with one hand. “Um. No. Usually I send Alfred for stuff so no one bothers us.” 

Her response was interrupted by the doorbell. 

“Is–that my wallet?” Bruce asked when she pulled it out. 

She winked and half-skipped to answer the door. 

“Hi,” she said to the pizza delivery guy who wasn’t trying to hide his shock. He craned his neck around her, obviously trying to get a glimpse of Bruce Wayne in his own home. Behind him, the security guard was bundled up on his golf cart, obviously annoyed at having to be out of the warm guardhouse. “Here’s the money for the pizza,” she said as she handed over the cash. Freezing air poured in through the open door. The air smelled crisp and clean, promising snow. “And the promised tip.” 

The guy’s eyes almost popped out of his head. 

“I–Wow, thank you, wow. I thought for sure this was going to be a prank or something, wow. Have a good night!” The guy gave her a huge grin but made no move to leave. He was waiting to see if he could still catch Bruce. 

“You too!” she said as she closed the door in his face. 

She brought the two steaming pizzas back to Bruce, who perked up when he saw them. 

“I got two larges with each half something different. I have no idea what you like.” She bit her lip. “Probably should have asked before I ordered, huh?” 

He tugged her wrist so she would sit beside him. “Perfect,” he said, kissing her temple, before eagerly grabbing the boxes. She watched as he chose a slice of all four kinds of pizza and dug in. 

“How long has it been since you’ve had pizza?” she asked with a raised eyebrow as she got a couple of slices of her favorite. Bruce was eating with the enthusiasm of a preteen boy at a sleepover who could have as many slices as he wanted without being told to stop. 

“Um,” he said, mouth so full she had to laugh. He chewed and swallowed. His cheeks were pink again. “Before Batman, I think?” 

“Wow. That’s…you haven’t had pizza in like two years?” Her mouth dropped open of its own accord. “Isn’t that…a sin or something?” 

Bruce huffed a laugh. “Well now that I’m having it, I don’t know what I was thinking.” 

She bumped his shoulder. “Don’t worry, I’ll teach you all about Gotham’s best pizza places.” 

They ate in companionable silence as the documentary played on the screen. After a little while, Bruce propped his feet on the coffee table and pulled a blanket over himself. She snuggled into his side and tucked her knees up. 

His cold fingers laced with hers. He smiled at her, all soft angles in the low light of the screen and the fire, and lifted his arm so she could snuggle closer. 

Outside, snow began to fall, the first of the season. 

Y/n gasped and sat straight up as her eyes fell on the window. 

Bruce sat up too, instantly on alert, eyes darting around for any hidden threats. 

“Snow!” she said, pointing excitedly towards the window. 

He made a face. 

“I’m going outside,” she said, scrambling up from the couch and making a beeline for their room. She pulled on snow boots, a hat, and a couple of extra layers. 

“It’s freezing,” Bruce said from right behind her. He was frowning deeply. “It’s just snow.” 

“Yeah, but I’ve never seen it snow here. I’ve always been stuck in the city where it turns brown as soon as it touches the ground. Here though–” She sighed wistfully as she began lacing up her boots. 

Bruce sighed, a much more resigned sigh than hers had been, and started bundling up. He pulled a knit hat over his dark hair and she had to stop to smile at him for a second. 

“What?” he asked, a little self conscious. 

“Nothing. You just look so cozy.” She grabbed his hand and tugged him excitedly out of the front door and onto the already snow-covered lawn. 

The flakes were falling thick and fast, a gentle shushing noise the only sound to be heard for miles. Even the distant city noises have quieted, a blanket of silence laying over all of Gotham. 

Y/n spun in a circle, arms thrown wide, head tilted back to catch flakes on her tongue.  

The grounds of Wayne Manor–and the house itself–were spectacular in the snow. She couldn’t wait to wake up in the early afternoon and see the thick white covering everything in the daylight. She inhaled deeply and let the clean scent of the snow fill her lungs. It was so much better than it had been in the city. 

She turned to find Bruce staring at her, his expression dumbstruck, like he had been hit in the head. 

“What?” she asked with a grin. 

He merely shook his head and smiled. He was a splash of shadow in the bright white in his dark clothes. The snow, even in the dark, made his eyes so much bluer. Her breath caught in her chest as she looked at him. 

“I love you,” he said, then pulled her close for a kiss that stole what was left of her breath. 

She didn’t know it, but it was at that precise moment that Bruce Wayne decided he wanted to propose to her. 

They spend a few minutes in the snow. Bruce took her hand and they started walking, no destination in mind, simply enjoying each other’s company. 

She stopped to retie her boot. When she straightened, a snowball hit Bruce squarely in the face. 

She laughed and skipped away. He caught her about the waist and held her with one strong arm while the other scooped up a handful of snow to press against her bare neck. She shrieked and struggled to get away. 

Laughing, they threw snow back and forth, hardly bothering to even form snowballs. 

Bruce caught her again and yanked her close. His lips crashed against hers, his nose cold, his body warm against hers. 

“What was that for?” she breathed when he finally pulled away. 

“I love you,” he said fiercely. There was something in his face she couldn’t quite place. “Thank you.” 

“For hitting you in the face with snow?” she asked with a laugh. 

“For–making this fun.” He kissed her again. “But can we please go inside now?” 

She laughed again. Everything was bright within her. Her heart was so full of joy she could burst. Things were good–she was going to build that restaurant and shelter, Bruce loved her, and Wayne Manor looked beautiful in the snow. 

“I haven’t told you yet!” she said excitedly as they headed back inside. “I found the perfect place.” 

Bruce let her chatter at him as she led him inside, back to their bedroom, both of them freezing and damp now. 

She was radiant like this–her face glowingly happy, hair damp with melting snowflakes, talking about the project she was passionate about. 

Bruce wanted to marry her. He wanted her to be his wife, to be his forever. 

Maybe Alfred could help him find his mother’s old engagement ring.

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