#what I do know is this is the only series where I am not just looking at TOM BURKE'S FACE all the time

[evermoreness]

moonlight and mending pt.9 | remus lupin

pairing: remus lupin x reader

summary: you become remus' girlfriend, officially.

obs: this is part nine of a series. here's part one.

masterlist

The past few days had been… odd.

Remus was acting strange.

Not in a bad way—if anything, he was more affectionate than usual, constantly tucking you close to his side, pressing random kisses to your temple, and looking at you like you were the best thing that had ever happened to him. Which, in all honesty, you kind of loved.

But he was also sneaking around.

And Remus Lupin was a terrible liar.

“Alright,” you said, crossing your arms as you cornered him in the library. “What’s going on?”

Remus blinked up at you, feigning innocence. “What do you mean?”

You narrowed your eyes. “Oh, don’t you dare try to act clueless, Lupin. You’re up to something.”

His ears turned pink. “I—what? Me? Up to something? Pfft, that’s ridiculous.”

You raised a brow. “You’ve been whispering with the boys every time I walk into a room, Lily keeps giving me knowing looks, and you nearly jumped out of your skin when I caught you writing in your notebook yesterday. You never hide things from me.”

Remus swallowed, looking anywhere but at you. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, love.”

You gasped dramatically. “Oh Merlin, you’re actually lying to me.”

“I’m not lying—”

You poked his chest. “You are! You’re the worst liar, Remus Lupin!”

“I am not—”

“You so are! You do this thing where you scratch the back of your neck—”

He immediately stopped scratching the back of his neck.

You smirked. “Aha! Caught red-handed!”

Remus groaned, covering his face with his hands. “I hate that you know me so well.”

You giggled, reaching up to pry his hands away. “Come on, just tell me what you’re planning.”

“No.”

“Remus.”

“Nope.”

You sighed dramatically. “You’re cruel. This is cruelty.”

He laughed, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead. “Patience, dove.”

You huffed. “You do realize I will figure it out, right?”

He smirked. “Not if I ask James to hide all your detective novels.”

You gasped. “You wouldn’t.”

“I would.”

“You monster.”

Remus chuckled, looping his arms around your waist. “Just… trust me, alright? It’s nothing bad. Just something I want to get right.”

You sighed, resting your forehead against his. “Fine. But if you take too long, I will take matters into my own hands.”

He grinned, kissing your softly. “I’d expect nothing less from you.”

And with that, he escaped before you could question him further.

He still had work to do.

The following days only made you more suspicious.

Remus was still sneaking off with the boys, still whispering in hushed tones whenever you entered a room, and now, even Lily was in on it.

You tried everything to get it out of him—puppy-dog eyes, playful threats, bribery with his favorite chocolates—but nothing worked.

Remus Lupin was a terrible liar, but when he was determined to keep a secret? He was infuriatingly stubborn.

Which was why you were currently slumped over the Gryffindor common room couch, dramatically groaning into a pillow.

“Why are men?” you whined.

Lily snorted from the chair across from you. “I assume you mean Remus.”

You lifted her head, pouting. “He’s hiding something, Lils.”

Lily gave you an infuriatingly knowing look. “Maybe he just wants to surprise you.”

You narrowed your eyes. “You know, don’t you?”

Lily only sipped her tea, looking far too smug.

“Oh, Merlin,” you groaned, flopping back onto the couch. “First the boys, now you? I’m losing.”

Lily chuckled. “Patience, dear”

You huffed. “That’s what he keeps saying.”

Lily smirked. “Then maybe you should listen.”

You were about to throw a pillow at her when the portrait hole swung open and in walked Remus, looking slightly winded, his uniform a little rumpled.

And Sirius, grinning like a maniac.

Oh, this was suspicious.

Sirius clapped Remus on the back. “Alright, Moony, you’re all set. Now go get your girl—”

Remus shot him a look. “Shut up, Pads.”

You sat up immediately. “Go get your what?”

Sirius smirked. “Your girl, obviously.”

Remus pinched the bridge of his nose. “I hate you.”

Sirius only wiggled his brows. “You love me.”

Remus sighed and turned to you, looking nervous but also determined.

You stared at him, heart racing. “Remus?”

He took a breath, then held out his hand. “Come with me?”

Your stomach flipped. “...Alright.”

You let him take your hand, casting one last suspicious glance at Sirius and Lily—both of whom were grinning like idiots—before following Remus out of the common room.

Whatever he was planning… you had a very strong feeling that you were about to find out.

Remus led you through the dimly lit corridors of Hogwarts, his hand warm around yours. He was nervous, you could feel it in the way his grip tightened slightly, in the way his thumb traced absentminded circles against her skin.

You wanted to ask but something in his expression stopped you.

Instead, you let him guide you up a staircase, down a hallway, and finally to a familiar wooden door.

The Astronomy Tower.

Her heart skipped a beat.

Remus glanced at you, then hesitated. “Close your eyes?”

You narrowed your eyes playfully. “Are you going to push me off the tower?”

He let out a soft laugh, shaking his head. “Not this time.”

You giggled but obeyed, closing your eyes as he pushed the door open and led you inside.

“Alright,” he murmured, stopping behind you. “You can look now.”

You opened your eyes—and gasped.

The Astronomy Tower, already one of the most beautiful places in Hogwarts, had been transformed into something straight out of a dream.

A thick, cozy blanket was spread out in the center, surrounded by enchanted candles floating in the air, casting a soft, golden glow. A few pillows were scattered on the blanket, along with a basket—probably filled with food, knowing Remus—and a thermos of what you hoped was hot chocolate.

But what really caught your attention was the sky above—clear, open, vast, the stars twinkling like tiny diamonds.

It was breathtaking.

You hand flew to your mouth. “Remus…”

He scratched the back of his neck, looking sheepish. “D’you like it?”

You turned to him, eyes wide. “Like it? Remus, this is—this is beautiful.”

His shoulders sagged in relief. “Good. That’s… that’s good.”

You turned back to take it all in, still in awe. “Did you do all this?”

Remus chuckled. “I had some help.”

You smirked. “Sirius?”

“Mostly James, actually,” he admitted. “Sirius just told me not to mess it up.”

You laughed, grabbing his hand and pulling him toward the blanket. “Well, you haven’t.”

You sat down together, and as soon as you were settled, Remus reached into the basket and pulled out a familiar-looking bar of chocolate.

Your eyes widened. “Remus, is that—”

He smirked. “My favorite chocolate? Yes. And before you ask, yes, I’m sharing.”

You gasped dramatically. “You must love me.”

At that, his face turned serious.

You blinked. “Remus?”

He took a breath, then took both of your hands in his. His thumbs traced over your knuckles, his expression soft but determined.

“There’s something I need to say,” he murmured.

You tilted your head. “What is it?”

He hesitated for a fraction of a second before looking her straight in the eyes.

“I love you.”

“I know I’ve said it before,” he continued, voice steady, “but I need you to know how much I mean it. How much you mean to me.”

Your fingers curled around his. “Remus…”

He shook his head, a small, almost nervous smile playing on his lips. “Let me say this, dove.”

You nodded, heart pounding.

Remus took another breath, then spoke.

“You are—everything to me. Before you, I thought I’d always be alone, that I deserved to be alone. I never let myself believe that someone like you—someone so good, so kind, so brilliant—could ever want someone like me.” He squeezed your hands. “But you do. And I still can’t quite believe it.”

You opened your mouth, but no words came out—your throat was too tight, your eyes burning.

Remus swallowed, then continued, “You take care of me when I need it most. You see me—the real me. And you don’t turn away. You never turn away.” His voice wavered, but he pressed on. “I love you. I love you more than I ever thought I could love someone.”

He exhaled, gaze locked onto yours. “And I—” He let out a nervous chuckle. “I had this whole speech planned, but my brain’s gone completely blank because you’re looking at me like that.”

You laughed, finally finding your voice. “Like what?”

“Like you’re about to kiss me,” he teased.

You grinned. “Maybe I am.”

His lips twitched, but then his expression turned serious again. “Before you do, I need to ask you something.”

You nodded. “Anything.”

Remus took a shaky breath. “Will you—will you be my girlfriend?”

Your heart stopped.

“Because I—I want you to be,” he continued, voice thick with emotion. “More than anything. But only if you want to. I don’t ever want you to feel like you have to—”

You didn’t let him finish.

Because you did kiss him.

Hard.

Remus let out a startled sound before melting completely against you, hands coming up to cup your face as he kissed you back like you were the air he needed to breathe.

When you finally pulled back, you pressed your forehead against his, smiling. “You idiot,” you murmured.

Remus blinked. “Uh—”

“Of course I’ll be your girlfriend.”

His eyes widened. “You—”

You laughed, nudging his nose with yours. “Did you really think I’d say no?”

“I—” He huffed out a breathless laugh. “I don’t know—I was terrified—”

You kissed him again, softer this time, pouring every ounce of love you had for him into it.

When you pulled away, Remus was looking at you like you hung the stars in the sky.

“I love you,” he whispered.

You smiled. “I love you, too.”

Remus grinned, then let out a relieved laugh, pulling you into his arms. “Merlin, I’m so lucky.”

You hugged him back, eyes closing as you listened to his heartbeat.

And for the first time in a long time, Remus Lupin felt like the happiest boy in the entire world.

You settled onto his lap, arms wrapping around his neck as you nuzzled into him, breathing him in. You just wanted to be close—closer than ever. Like you could melt into him, merge your hearts together because Godric, you loved him.

And Remus—Merlin, he was still trying to wrap his head around the fact that you were his now. Officially. Not just in the way you gravitated toward each other, or in the way you cared for each other, but in the real, undeniable, world-acknowledging way.

“You’re mine,” he murmured against your temple, like he was testing the words out loud, making sure they were real.

You grinned, pulling back to look at him. “Yours,” you confirmed, tapping his nose. “And you—you’re mine.”

His lips twitched. “That’s how this whole ‘relationship’ thing works, yeah.”

You giggled and kissed him again, just because you could. Just because it felt right.

When you pulled back, you ran your fingers through his soft, messy hair, admiring him. Your boyfriend.

Remus still looked a little dazed, eyes flickering between your lips and your eyes. “I still can’t believe you actually said yes.”

You gasped dramatically, placing a hand over your heart. “Remus John Lupin, are you insulting me?”

He blinked. “What? No, I—”

“Because I’ll have you know I love you, and I would’ve said yes the second you asked me—maybe even before.”

His lips curled into a lopsided smile. “Before?”

You grinned. “Oh, yeah. I would've just known.”

He let out a chuckle, shaking his head. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you love it.”

“I do.”

You beamed. “Good.”

He took your hand in his and started tracing random shapes on your palm, looking thoughtful. “I just don’t get it,” he admitted after a moment.

You raised an eyebrow. “Get what?”

“How you—this brilliant, beautiful, perfect girl—ended up with me.”

You groaned and lightly smacked his chest. “Remus, shut up.”

He laughed. “I mean, really, you could’ve had anyone—”

You sighed dramatically. “Okay, fine, let’s settle this right now.”

Remus blinked as you leaned in, your lips brushing against the shell of his ear. “You are brilliant,” you whispered. “You are beautiful. You are perfect. And you are mine. And if you ever question that again, I will throw hands.”

His breath hitched, and you could feel the way his hands tightened on your waist. “Throw hands with who?”

You pulled back, eyes serious. “With you, if necessary.”

He grinned, shaking his head. “You’re impossible.”

“You love it,” you said again, giggling.

Remus let out a dramatic sigh. “I do,” he admitted, feigning defeat. “I really, really do.”

You hummed in approval and reached for the basket, grabbing a piece of his chocolate. “Good. Now, since I’m your girlfriend, I think I deserve the biggest piece of this.”

His eyes widened in mock offense. “That’s my favorite—”

You smirked, taking a slow, obnoxious bite. “Mmm,” you said, exaggerating the sound. “Tastes even better when it’s yours.”

He huffed, crossing his arms. “Merlin, I should’ve known this would happen the second I asked you out.”

You giggled, leaning in to kiss the pout off his lips. “Oh, Remus,” you whispered against him. “You love spoiling me.”

He groaned. “I do. And it’s awful.”

You gasped. “Did you just call loving me awful?”

His face dropped. “That’s not—I meant you’re awful—no, wait—”

You threw your head back, laughing. “Remus, I’m teasing you.”

He sighed in relief. “Oh, thank Merlin.”

You kissed his nose. “You’re adorable.”

He huffed. “I was trying to be charming.”

You grinned. “You were.”

Remus blinked. “I—wait, really?”

You nodded. “In your own awkward, bookish, Remus way. And I love it.”

His lips twitched. “I tried to flirt with you, you know.”

You tilted her head, intrigued. “Did you?”

“Yes.” He cleared his throat. “And then you stole my chocolate, and now I’m questioning my life choices.”

You giggled, popping another piece into your mouth. “Welcome to dating me, Lupin.”

He just shook his head, wrapping his arms more securely around you. “Merlin help me.”

You kissed him again, softly, sweetly. “You’re stuck with me now.”

He smiled against your lips. “That’s the best part.”

Officially his.

The days passed, and being Remus Lupin’s girlfriend was, quite literally, the best thing in the world.

You had always loved him, always been close to him, but now—now you got to call him yours. Now you got to kiss him whenever you wanted, hold his hand under the table, steal his sweaters without pretending it was an accident.

And the best part?

Remus—your shy, awkward, bookish boyfriend—was so different when you were alone.

In public, he was still himself—still sweet, still affectionate in his own way. He’d tuck loose strands of your hair behind your ear, guide you through crowded hallways with a hand on your lower back, steal soft, fleeting kisses when he thought no one was looking. But when they were alone?

It was ridiculous.

You had no idea where he had been hiding this side of him, but you loved it.

Like right now.

You were curled up in his bed, a book in your hands, completely relaxed as Remus lay beside you, his head resting in your lap. He had claimed he was reading, too, but really, he had spent the last fifteen minutes tracing slow, lazy circles on your thigh, humming softly to himself.

You smiled down at him, brushing his messy hair away from his face. “You’re staring,”.

He hummed, looking unbothered. “And?”

You grinned. “And you’re distracting me.”

His lips twitched. “Am I?”

“Yes,” you said, closing your book with a soft thud. “What are you thinking about, love?”

He tilted his head, considering. “How beautiful you are,” he said casually, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Your heart skipped. “Remus.”

He smirked. Smirked. “What? Am I not allowed to admire my girlfriend?”

You rolled your eyes. “Not when I’m trying to read.”

He hummed, running a gentle hand up and down you arm. “Mm. You can read later.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Oh? And what do you propose I do now?”

Remus sat up, shifting so that they were face to face. His hands found your waist as he pulled you closer, to his lap, pressing a soft kiss to your nose.

“Be kissed,” he murmured.

Your stomach flipped.

“Oh,” you breathed. “I see.”

And then he did kiss you.

Soft, slow, deep. Like he had all the time in the world just to kiss you senseless.

You sighed against his lips, wrapping your arms around his neck. “I think I like this plan.”

He chuckled, kissing you again, this time at the corner of your mouth. “I thought you might.”

You grinned. “You’re so soft when we’re alone.”

Remus groaned. “Don’t tell anyone.”

You giggled. “I won’t. But it’s adorable.”

He sighed dramatically. “Merlin help me.”

You kissed his cheek. “I love being your girlfriend.”

His arms tightened around you. “I love that you’re my girlfriend.”

You beamed. “I think I’m the lucky one.”

Remus snorted. “No, I am.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Remus, look at me. And now look at you. You’re sweet and smart and stupidly handsome, and you love me. I win.”

His lips twitched. “I do love you.”

You grinned. “And I love you.”

Remus sighed, pressing his forehead to yours. “Fine. We can both be lucky.”

You giggled, kissing him again. “Deal.”

Not the same.

The Gryffindor common room was buzzing with life, but in one particular corner, a very important discussion was taking place.

Remus sat on the couch, you tucked securely under his arm, your legs draped across his lap. James, Sirius, and Peter were sprawled across the furniture, with Lily sitting comfortably beside James, her legs crossed, eyes sharp with amusement.

And at this very moment, all of them were grilling Remus.

“I’m just saying,” James said, tossing a chocolate frog in the air and catching it in his mouth, “you’ve changed, mate.”

Remus raised an eyebrow. “Have I?”

“Oh, definitely,” Sirius jumped in, pointing a dramatic finger at him. “You’re all smiley now. And confident. And you let people touch you.”

Peter nodded furiously. “You used to flinch when Sirius so much as breathed near you.”

Remus rolled his eyes. “That’s because Sirius used to randomly tackle me in the corridors.”

Sirius smirked. “I still do that, but now you fight back.”

Lily leaned in, grinning. “They’re right, you know.”

Remus groaned. “Not you too, Evans.”

“Oh, absolutely me too,” she said, smiling knowingly. “You’re different. Happier.”

James nodded sagely. “A man in love.”

You laughed, snuggling closer to Remus. “I like him like this.”

Remus looked down at you, his heart flipping at the way you smiled at him like he had hung the stars. He pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “I am happy,” he admitted. “Really happy.”

Sirius gasped. “Merlin’s beard! Moony just admitted to being happy? Who are you?”

Remus rolled his eyes. “Shut up, Pads.”

Peter cackled. “You are different though! You talk more, joke more—you even initiate affection.”

James wiggled his eyebrows. “So tell us, Moony, what’s your secret?”

Remus sighed, looking down at you, who was staring up at him with the softest, sweetest expression. He couldn’t help but smile.

“She’s my secret,” he said simply.

The room erupted.

“Oh, gag—” Sirius groaned.

“That was so disgustingly romantic,” Peter whined.

James clutched his chest. “Moony, I think I might cry.”

Lily just laughed, nudging you. “You’ve ruined him.”

You grinned. “You say ‘ruined,’ I say ‘improved.’”

Remus chuckled, squeezing your hand. “I have to agree.”

Sirius made a choking sound. “He agrees?! Who are you?”

James threw an arm over Remus’ shoulder dramatically. “He’s in love, Pads. Let the boy live.”

Remus just smiled, pressing a kiss to your temple.

For once, he didn’t mind the teasing. Because, for the first time in his life, he was truly, ridiculously, wonderfully happy.

Later that night, when everyone had gone to their own forms, you both stayed behind, just the two of you.

It was late, the Gryffindor common room nearly empty except for a few students scattered around, quietly studying or chatting in hushed voices. The fire crackled softly, casting a warm glow over the room, and outside, the sky was painted with stars. It was the perfect setting for a quiet, peaceful night.

You sat curled up on the couch, a book resting in your lap, but your focus was barely on the pages. Not when Remus was sitting beside you, leaning into your warmth, his head resting lightly against yours. He was tired—exhausted, really—but he never wanted to leave your side.

You closed her book with a soft thud and turned slightly, taking in his relaxed expression. “You should go to bed, you know,” you murmured, gently brushing a strand of hair from his face.

Remus hummed in response but made no move to get up. Instead, he turned his head slightly, pressing a slow, lingering kiss against your shoulder. “Mmm… ‘m comfortable here,” he mumbled sleepily.

You smiled softly, your fingers gently running through his hair. “You’re practically falling asleep on me, Moony.”

“That’s because you’re warm,” he said, voice drowsy but affectionate. “And I like being close to you.” He nuzzled against your neck slightly, breathing you in. “Smell good, too.”

You let out a soft laugh, tilting your head as he pressed another lazy kiss just below your ear. “Is that the wolf in you talking?” you teased.

Remus chuckled against your skin. “Probably,” he admitted. Then, his lips curled into a small smirk. “Or maybe it’s just me being completely in love with my girlfriend.”

Your heart skipped a beat, and you bit your lip, trying (and failing) to suppress the giddy smile that spread across your face. Even after all this time, he still had this effect on you.

“Well,” you said softly, “I think I might just be completely in love with my boyfriend too.”

Remus lifted his head slightly to look at you, his warm brown eyes searching yours. His expression softened, full of something deep and unspoken. Slowly, he reached up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing tenderly against your skin.

“You are?” he asked, his voice quiet but filled with awe.

You leaned into his touch, nodding. “I am.”

A slow, loving smile spread across his face. He looked at you as if you were the most precious thing in the world, like he still couldn’t believe you were his. “Merlin, I love you,” he whispered, his forehead gently pressing against yours.

“I love you too,” you whispered back, your eyes fluttering shut as you savored the moment.

Then, before you could say anything else, he tilted your chin up slightly and kissed you. It wasn’t rushed or desperate—it was soft, sweet, and filled with so much love. His lips moved against yours slowly, taking his time, savoring you, as if he wanted to memorize the way you felt against him.

You sighed happily into the kiss, your fingers threading through his soft curls as you pulled him closer. His hands found their way to your waist, holding you gently, grounding himself in your presence.

When they finally pulled apart, he rested his forehead against yours again, your breaths mingling.

“You make me so happy,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

You smiled, pressing a tiny kiss to the corner of his lips. “You make me happy too.”

Remus let out a soft chuckle, rubbing his thumb over your waist in slow, soothing circles. “I still can’t believe you’re mine,” he admitted.

You cupped his face, looking at him with nothing but adoration. “I’ve always been yours, Remus.”

His breath hitched slightly at your words, his arms instinctively tightening around yours. He didn’t say anything, just held you close, his heart full.

And in that moment, with the fire crackling beside you and the world fading away, nothing else mattered except the fact that you had each other.

—— 🌙 ——

A note from the author:

Hello my lovely people!

This took a while to post because i was struggling with exam week at uni! Sorry!

Hope you liked it! This is officially the last part! But there will be one more just for bonus, just for you to see how their future turned out!

Thank you for all the love in this series! 🤍

See you soon!

Taglist: @iloveremmy @jjamjamie @breakawayfromeveryday @oursweetmoony @whimsical-mistakes @froggiedragon @sophie-0012 @deathmybride @nerdbirdsworld @wolfstarsprongs @mischievousmoony @httpvomitello @msfandomsblog @starofthedawn @malenk @diiyaa @theonyxstate @waitforiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit @theredvelvetbitch @ohheyitsrowan @a1ienmush @michtellch @weirdstartshere @arcane-fan @ilovejamespottersomuch @koolayee @lovelyteenagebeard @ill-be-okay-soon-enough @worldofsaturnsblog @lovelyygirl8 @myalchemicalgnomace (If you want to be tagged, let me know!)

[oopsiedaisydeer]

ᴍᴀʏʙᴇ, ᴍᴀʏʙᴇ ɴᴏᴛ… ᴀ ꜱᴇʀɪᴇꜱ

emotional tension, social anxiety, one-sided attraction?, unresolved tension, self-doubt, slow burn, angst, texting, fluff, coming-of-age, friends to lovers?

𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙩𝙬𝙤: 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙨𝙚𝙦𝙪𝙚𝙣𝙘𝙚 𝙤𝙛 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙢𝙖𝙜𝙣𝙚𝙩𝙞𝙘 𝙥𝙪𝙡𝙡, 𝘧𝘵. 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨!𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘩𝘺!𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

series masterlist here.

word count - 700ish

The next day felt strange.

You woke up on Saturday morning with a vague sense of something missing, a curiosity nibbling at you that you couldn’t shake. The party was behind you now, but for some reason, Matt’s presence lingered in your thoughts. You tried to push it aside, telling yourself it was just another random conversation. After all, you’d only talked for a few minutes outside the chaos. It was nothing. But still, there was that flutter in your heart that came whenever someone noticed you, even for the briefest of moments.

Sitting in your room, you grabbed your phone, staring at it for a moment. Matt’s contact, which you had only because of your class’s group chat, felt like an opening. You’d never texted him before, but now, with his number in your contacts…

Should you text him? It wasn’t like you had much to say. It wasn’t like anything you had talked about last night invited it, but still, you wanted to. So desperately, you wanted to relive that moment again, how good you had felt, how easy it had been.

Your finger hovered over the keyboard, erasing and rewriting the message until you finally settled on something simple, something casual:

hey, did u actually read that trilogy u were talking about last night or were u just lying to impress me?

You stared at it, reading it over and over. It wasn’t too forward, right? You’d barely spoken before, but to you, last night had been different. Less of a random encounter and more like... something worth holding onto, even if only for the briefest of moments.

With a deep breath, you hit send.

For a few seconds, you almost regretted it. Maybe it was stupid. Maybe it wasn’t even that funny. You threw the phone across the bed, and started putting your laundry away, desperate for something to do. The anxiety, which you had barely been managing to keep at bay, immediately flared up as your phone buzzed almost immediately.

It was Matt.

Ofc I read it. Unlike some people, I am not a poser

You blinked, a small laugh escaping before you could stop it. That wasn’t the response you expected. You could almost hear his teasing tone through the text, that familiar, easygoing confidence in his words.

If you want, I can lend it to you

You smiled to yourself, reading his message. It wasn’t a grand gesture. It wasn’t deep or meaningful. But there was something about the lightheartedness of it all, the ease with which you were texting, that made you feel a little less out of place in the conversation.

u mean I can’t just buy books? gotta step up my game, and actually read them too??

You sent the message, already imagining his reaction. Almost immediately, he responded.

Yep, no posers here I’ll be watching lol

Your heart did a strange little flip. It wasn’t much. It was just texting, just banter. But there was something about the way he messaged you that made it feel... real. Like you were both still in that quiet corner of the porch, talking without all the noise of the party drowning out everything.

You didn’t know where this would go, if anywhere at all. But you knew one thing for sure: this was more than you ever expected.

As you were about to put your phone down, your brain already accepting that that was all you were going to get, another message popped up.

Actually, speaking of that book I could use ur help with something for lit. You free?

Your eyes widened as you read it. He wanted your help? You paused, uncertain how to respond. Was it weird that he was asking you, out of all people? You didn’t know him well, but there was something about his tone that made it feel... normal.

sure !! what do u need help with?

You sent the message quickly, your curiosity piqued.

For a moment, the excitement was almost overwhelming, he was reaching out to you for something more than just a casual chat. You’d been talking about casual things so far, but this felt... different.

No response came.

You waited.

And waited.

Minutes passed. You checked your phone again, hoping. Nothing.

He was probably busy, something else having grabbed his attention. But the longer you stared at the screen, the more you felt the weight of your unanswered message hanging there.

Just as you were about to put the phone down, you saw the three little dots appear, signaling that he was typing.

But then, it stopped.

No new message. Nothing.

thank u rose for the dividers as always <3 @bernardsbendystraws

a/n: im always so scared to post shit i actually really like. anyways hmmmmmm what r our thoughts!! also pls feel more than free to send in asks about these two :>>

taglist: @backwardshatnick @sturnslutz @applecidersturniolo @kier-with-a-k @evansturn @bluestriips @55sturn @snoopychris @y3sterdaysproblem @cowboylikenat @throatgoat4u @mattswifeyy @marysongohmy @idefinitelyhateu @sweetshuga comment to be removed/added to this taglist!

till next time !!!

[whiterosesforher]

𓍼 ⋮ A LOVE TO LAST ( L.HS )

𝒾 : may I present to you dearest reader, ethan bridgerton, the gentle viscount, and your childhood best friend. 【 ˚⊱☁️⊰˚ 】

♯ 𝓱𝓮𝓮𝓼𝓮𝓾𝓷𝓰 𝔁 𝓯𝓮𝓶!𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓭𝓮𝓻 | 𝓌 : 𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞, 𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟, 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭, 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡, 𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐛𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐡, 𝐡𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥 𝐬𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭, 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐬, 𝐦𝐝𝐧𝐢.

disclaimer ‣ ִֶָ𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ🩷 this is a fanfiction inspired by the backstory of violet and edmund originally from the bridgerton series book and show. most elements are purposely altered. ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

❤︎ ... lady whistledown ; dearest readers, i hope you do indulge in this meaningful love story. ۶ৎ / 𝓌𝒸 ┈ • ┈ 14.2k💗

( ‧˚꒰🦪꒱༘⋆ ) write to lady whistledown ✒️៹

You sit in the drawing room, the faint hum of your mother’s words. It is late in the afternoon, and sunlight pours in through the tall windows, casting golden streaks over the pale blue wallpaper.

Your hands rest on your lap, clasped tightly, though you feel restless. You’ve been here for an hour, enduring yet another lecture from your mother about duty and expectations.

You are now 17 and just had your debut into the marriage mart, yet you are considered unlucky for you don't have much of suitors, like a wallflower hanging around the edges of the ballroom without a dance partner.

You are the only child to a baron and baroness, it is not surprising for you that your mother is trying hard to secure you a beneficial match.

“Violet,” she begins, her voice sharp, “you must remember that you are not just any young woman. You are a Ledger. Your actions reflect upon this family.”

You nod, though your thoughts wander. The heavy air of the room makes you yearn for the garden outside, where the roses are blooming and the scent of fresh earth and sunshine feels far more welcoming than the constraints of these walls.

“Are you even listening to me?” Your mother’s voice snaps you back to the present.

“Of course, Mother,” you reply, offering a polite smile. It’s a practiced expression, one you wear often when her sharp words cut into you.

Her eyes narrow, but before she can continue, the door opens, and the tension in the room shifts. Your father steps in, his presence filling the space with warmth.

“Am I interrupting something?” he asks, his tone light, though he’s fully aware of what’s happening.

“Not at all,” you answer quickly, relief washing over you.

Your mother sighs, rising from her seat. “You spoil her, you know,” she tells your father as she moves toward the door. “She must learn what is expected of her if she is to find a suitable match.”

As soon as the door closes behind her, your father smiles at you, his shoulders relaxing. “Don’t let her bother you too much, beauty,” he says, crossing the room to sit beside you.

“I try not to,” you admit, leaning slightly toward him. "But it seems my every move is scrutinized."

You paused for a moment, deep in thought before continuing with a sincere tone as you look up at your father, “I want to marry someone I truly love, Daddy. Not out of duty.”

“That’s because your mother worries for you in her own way,” he says, though you can tell even he doesn’t fully believe it. “But Beauty, if a marriage from true love is what you want, then that you shall get. Hold on to that.”

His words stay with you as the days pass. Your mother continues her efforts to mold you into the perfect young lady with less laughter, fewer whims, more poise. But your father’s encouragement reminds you of what you truly want.

It’s in the evenings, during the rare moments of quiet, when you feel most at peace. You often escape to the garden, where the scent of heather lingers in the air. You close your eyes and imagine a future that feels far away, one that is filled with love, laughter, and freedom.

But reality always has a way of pulling you back. Balls and promenading to attract suitors becomes a routine, each one blurring into the next. The men of the ton always speak of their estates, their wealth, their ambitions, but none of them speak to your heart.

Until one evening, when a letter sent to your father arrives, mentioning the death of an old friend reported by his own son that is now a Viscount, a name mentioned in passing sparks curiosity, and it sounds oddly familiar to you. Ethan Bridgerton. “Oh heavens! Send our sincerest condolences to Ethan! A Viscount after his father, a family friend,” your mother says with approval, her lips curling into a satisfied smile.

“A Bridgerton is a fine match,” she tells you. "They are a family of impeccable standing and tremendous wealth.

But you barely listen, still thinking of how familiar that name is, maybe because he's a family friend. A strange sensation stirs within you, for a reason you can't figure out.

And then it hit you, the last name Bridgerton, a family that is a close old friend to yours, the boy who irritated you to the ends of the earth when you were 8. Oh how you clearly remember the day you first met that wretched young man. You hate him, but you do feel bad for him, for the death of his father who was close to you and your family.

The Ledgers' country estate was abuzz with excitement that morning. The Bridgertons were visiting. A long-standing family friendship it is but these visits are quite rare.

You stood at the edge of the garden, your small fingers deftly moving as you arranged the handpicked flowers into the vase. It is the learning task your governess made you do today. A peaceful breeze carried the scent of the nearby lavender bushes, and the muffled sounds of conversation from the drawing room floated out through the open windows.

“Violet, dear, come meet our guests!” Your mother’s cheerful call interrupted your concentration. You left your vase reluctantly and smoothed out your dress before making your way back toward the house.

Inside the grand entryway, the adults had already gathered. Viscount and Viscountess Bridgerton stood near the fireplace, their warmth filling the room as they exchanged pleasantries with your parents. Beside them were their children, a crowd of faces, some shy, some openly curious.

“Lord and Lady Ledger, thank you for having us,” Viscountess Bridgerton said, her voice carrying a note of genuine affection. She gestured to the group of children around her. “And these, as you know, are our children. Billie, Ethan, George, and Hugo.”

Ethan. You noticed him immediately, a boy around your age, his dark hair slightly unruly and his grin mischievous, even as he gave a polite bow. His eyes darted around the room, restless and alive.

“Go on, children,” The Viscount Bridgerton urged. “Take some time to explore while we talk.”

With a collective cheer, the Bridgerton boys were off, their laughter echoing down the hallways as they raced through the house while the eldest sister remained. You hesitated, lingering near the adults, but your mother gave you a gentle nudge.

“Go on, Violet. You may also go play.”

Taking your mother’s advice, you returned to the garden, eager to enjoy the quiet once more instead of playing with them. Settling back into your spot beneath the shade of a willow tree, you resumed your flower arranging. The sunlight danced across your hands as you worked, content in the solitude.

That peace didn’t last.

As the sun climbed higher, you decided to fetch a drink from the house. Gathering your things, you made your way back toward the garden entrance. But as you stepped beneath the archway leading inside, a strange creaking sound caught your attention.

You barely had time to glance upward before it happened.

A cascade of white powder—soft and choking—poured down on you, coating your hair, your dress, and every inch of exposed skin. It took you a moment to realize what it was, well it was flour. You froze in shock, the vase you're hugging falling from your arms.

Laughter erupted above you. You craned your neck to see the source of the chaos, and there they were, the Bridgerton boys leaning over the balcony. Leading the charge was none other than Ethan, his grin wider than ever, his hands gripping the now empty bucket.

“Ethan Bridgerton!” you shouted, your little voice sharp enough to rival your mother’s scolding tone.

The laughter only grew louder. Ethan’s eyes twinkled with amusement as he leaned on the railing. “I think you wear white rather well, Miss Ledger,” he teased, his tone mockingly polite.

Your cheeks burned with indignation, though it was hard to tell if it was from embarrassment or fury. “You are absolutely insufferable!” you declared, shaking the flour from your hair as best as you could.

Ethan cupped his hands around his mouth and called down, “We’ll call it even if you come up here and try it on one of us!”

The audacity of him! You picked up a small stone and was about to throw it upwards to him but your Governess caught you in time and stopped you, lecturing you softly.

You stormed back toward the house, stomping your small feet, determined to find your mother and father and report this appalling behavior while your Governess followed behind, calling out to you while you ignored her.

Your brow furrowed, lips tightening into an unbidden sneer at the remembrance of the memory. You could still hear cackling of the Bridgerton boys as you stood there, cheeks burning, fists clenched. How utterly insufferable he had been.

“Violet, are you quite finished daydreaming?” Your mother’s voice snapped you out of your reverie. She swept into the room with the grace of a swan, her brow slightly pinched in disapproval. “You’ll have no time for idle thoughts this afternoon. There’s far too much to do before tonight’s ball.”

Ah, another ball. You sat up straighter, smoothing your skirts as if that would erase the petulant expression that had betrayed your thoughts only moments before.

“Yes, Mother,” you replied demurely, though you felt a pang of irritation at the constant reminders of your duty.

Your mother was already issuing orders to the servants bustling through the house. One carried a trunk of shimmering gowns to your room; another balanced a tray of jewelled hairpins and satin gloves. “Come now, Violet, let us get you ready,” she urged, her tone brisk but expectant.

You followed her upstairs to your chambers, where your maid had begun laying out a pale blue gown adorned with delicate silver thread. The fabric shimmered like starlight as it caught the late afternoon sun streaming through the window. “This will suit you perfectly, miss,” your maid said, smoothing the gown with practiced hands.

The preparations began in earnest. First, the gown, layers upon layers of skirts, petticoats, and corsets. You stood patiently as your maid and another servant laced the stays tightly, drawing your waist into the fashionable silhouette of the time.

“Breathe, Violet,” your mother instructed coolly, though the tug of the laces made it nearly impossible. You did as you were told, though you swore under your breath as the final knot was secured.

Next came the hair. You sat still as your maid worked swiftly, brushing, curling, and pinning each strand into place. Your hair was swept high, adorned with small pearls and a few artful curls left to frame your face. The faint scent of rosewater clung to the air as she finished, a gentle spritz ensuring everything stayed in place for the night ahead.

When it came time to choose your accessories, your mother’s discerning eye moved over the options laid before you. “Not the sapphires,” she said, waving them away. “They’re too heavy for such a delicate gown. The diamonds will do.”

You allowed her to clasp the glittering necklace around your neck, the cool weight of it settling on your skin. A matching bracelet and pair of earrings followed, their brilliance almost blinding in the late afternoon light.

Finally, your gloves were pulled on—soft, white silk that reached just past your elbows. You flexed your fingers to test their fit, feeling a sense of finality as the preparations came to an end.

Your mother gave you a once-over, her critical gaze softening into approval. “You’ll be the most beautiful girl at the ball,” she said.

You caught your reflection in the mirror. The girl staring back at you looked polished, elegant, every bit the young lady society demanded her to be. And yet, there was still a flicker of unease.

Tonight is another night of dipping your toes onto the marriage mart, waiting for offers of dances from gentlemen that could turn into suitors if luck is on your side.

The grand ballroom was a symphony of color and light, the hum of lively conversation mingling with the delicate strains of the orchestra. You arrived with your parents, your mother adjusting the hem of your gown as you walked through the crowded entrance.

The ton was out in full force tonight with their glistening jewels, perfectly coiffed hair, and practiced smiles everywhere you looked. Your father exchanged pleasantries with the hosts, and your mother ushered you forward with a whispered reminder “Stand tall and do not turn down any gentleman who approaches.”

You offered polite smiles and nods to those who greeted you, but inside, the familiar feeling of unease settled in your chest. Balls like these were meant to dazzle, to enchant, to connect young ladies like yourself with eligible gentlemen.

But for you, they had always been the same, just a long night of standing alone, sipping lemonade, and looking like as if you're guarding the table, while the rest of the ton danced.

As the evening wore on, you found yourself exactly where you had expected to be, standing by the refreshments table, watching the couples glide across the polished floor with sad envious gaze.

You held a glass of lemonade, its cold condensation dampening your gloved fingers, and sipped it quietly. Your dance card remained empty even after some time of being in the party.

The music swirled around you, a beautiful tune meant for twirling skirts and clasped hands, but to you, it only underscored your role as a wallflower.

You sighed, watching a young lady laugh brightly as her partner spun her in an elegant arc. It wasn’t exactly envy—no, more like a quiet resignation. You weren’t the kind of girl who turned heads or inspired dashing gentlemen to ask for a dance. You were the quiet one, the one who faded into the background.

The air inside the ballroom began to feel stifling, and you longed for a moment of reprieve. Deciding you’d had enough of being a wallflower, you maneuvered through the bustling crowd, clutching your lemonade as you made your way toward the terrace. The promise of fresh air was enough to spur you on.

But as you rounded a corner, your path abruptly collided with someone else’s. Your glass tipped in your hand, its contents spilling forward in a sticky cascade.

“Oh no!” you gasped, stepping back in shock. The man before you, dressed in an immaculate white suit, now bore a large, unmistakable stain across his chest.

He blinked down at himself, then at you, his expression a mixture of surprise and amusement. “Well,” he said lightly, “I suppose I’ve been baptized using a lemonade.”

Your cheeks burned with embarrassment as you immediately fumbled for your handkerchief. “I am so, so sorry! I wasn’t paying attention, I didn’t mean to—oh, let me—” You reached forward, your hands trembling as you dabbed uselessly at the fabric of his jacket.

“Please,” he said, his voice gentle as he caught your wrist. “It’s quite alright. No harm done.”

You stilled under his touch, your eyes finally lifting to meet his. Dark brown eyes stared back at you, warm and kind, with a spark of humor that made your heart skip. His face was striking, with sharp features softened by the faintest hint of a smile.

“I still feel dreadful about it,” you murmured, withdrawing your hand but keeping your gaze on his. “You must think me terribly clumsy.”

“Not at all,” he said, stepping back slightly to ease the tension. “I think it’s one of the more memorable introductions I’ve had this evening. If I'm being honest, I've grown tired of the flirty introductions of single ladies tonight encouraged by their eager mamas.”

You hesitated, unsure how to respond. “Introductions?”

He gave a small bow, his grin widening. “Ethan Bridgerton, at your service.”

The name struck you like a bell, and for a moment, the ballroom seemed to blur around you. Memories of a boy holding a bucket of flour, laughter echoing from a high balcony, rushed back to you.

“You,” you said, narrowing your eyes slightly as recognition dawned. “You’re the one who—”

“Dumped flour on your head?” he finished for you, his grin now bordering on boyish mischief. “I do believe that was me. Though, in my defense, it was rather funny.”

Despite your embarrassment, a small laugh escaped you. “I’m not sure I’d agree with that.”

“Well, then,” he said, gesturing to his stained jacket, “I suppose this makes us even. I dumped flour on you, you dumped lemonade on me.”

You tilted your head, a smile tugging at your lips despite yourself. “Perhaps.”

You suddenly realized, with a slight jolt of embarrassment, that you hadn’t even introduced yourself properly yet. Straightening your posture and clasping your hands lightly in front of you, you gave a polite, practiced bow.

“Violet Ledger,” you said, your voice soft but clear. “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Viscount Bridgerton.”

Ethan inclined his head with a smile, but before he could respond, the moment between you was abruptly interrupted. A group of young ladies, unmarried and eager, with their mamas trailing behind them had suddenly swept into the scene like a wave. Their eyes sparkled as they took in the handsome Viscount, his presence drawing attention like a moth to a flame.

“Viscount Bridgerton! What a surprise to see you here tonight,” one of the young women gushed, a dazzling smile lighting her face.

Another chimed in, “We didn’t expect to see you so soon after your family’s return to London. How delightful!”

The women surrounded him, their voices a symphony of pleasantries and gentle competition. You stood off to the side, momentarily forgotten, your heart sinking as the reality of your position settled in again. This was what always happened, wasn’t it? Ladies like them, with their bright smiles and effortless charm, were exactly the kind of women gentlemen like Ethan Bridgerton were drawn to.

Ethan, however, didn’t seem particularly charmed by the sudden onslaught. His smile, while polite, no longer reached his eyes. He glanced at you for a brief moment, as if searching for something. Then, in a voice just loud enough for you to hear, he leaned slightly toward you and murmured, “Let’s get out of here, shall we?”

Your eyes widened in surprise, but before you could respond, he had already begun to step away. He offered the ladies a gracious bow and a few kind words of parting. “Ladies, you’ll have to forgive me. I find myself quite parched after the journey here.”

The mamas behind the girls exchanged a flurry of glances as they urged their daughters to follow him, but the group hesitated just long enough to allow Ethan and you to slip away.

He gestured toward a side door leading out onto the terrace. You followed, your heart pounding in your chest, unsure whether it was from the attention you’d just received or the audacity of his actions. The low murmur of the crowd faded behind you as the cool night air embraced you both, a stark contrast to the stifling atmosphere of the ballroom.

As the door closed behind you, Ethan turned to face you with a grin, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Well,” he said, brushing an imaginary speck of dust from his jacket, “I daresay I haven’t made an escape that dramatic since my childhood days.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head in disbelief. “I think you may have just caused a minor scandal in there.”

“Oh, undoubtedly,” he replied, his tone light and amused. “But I assure you, Miss Ledger, it was entirely worth it.”

The two of you stood side by side on the terrace, gazing out over the moonlit gardens in a peaceful, companionable silence. The cool night air was a relief from the overwhelming noise of the ballroom, and for a moment, neither of you felt the need to fill the quiet.

Finally, you gathered your thoughts and spoke, your voice soft and tentative. “Viscount Bridgerton—”

He turned to you, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he interrupted. “Ethan.”

You blinked, caught off guard. “Huh?”

“Call me Ethan,” he repeated, his tone warm and easy.

For a moment, you hesitated, glancing at him uncertainly. But his expression was earnest, and you found yourself nodding. “Very well... Ethan.”

The name felt foreign on your tongue, but also strangely natural, as though it was meant to be spoken in this moment. You adjusted your gloves, casting your gaze down briefly before meeting his eyes once more.

“I wanted to offer my condolences,” you said softly, your tone sincere. “For your father. My family received the news in a letter this morning. I’m so sorry for your loss.”

Ethan’s expression faltered, the light in his eyes dimming just slightly. He nodded, the corner of his mouth lifting in a faint attempt at a smile, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Thank you,” he said quietly. “It’s been... a difficult adjustment, but I suppose it’s to be expected. My father was a great man. Filling his shoes is no small task.”

You nodded solemnly, not entirely sure what to say. “It must have been hard to inherit the title so suddenly.”

“It was,” he admitted, his gaze drifting back toward the gardens. “But as the eldest son, it was always expected of me. I just didn’t think it would happen so soon.”

The weight in his voice was unmistakable, and for a brief moment, you glimpsed the burden he carried—one that went far beyond the responsibilities of being a viscount. You wanted to offer some kind of comfort, but words felt insufficient.

So instead, you reached out hesitantly, placing a gentle hand on his arm. Unruly for a lady who's all alone with a man, but you couldn't care less. He looked at you then, and the sadness in his expression softened into something quieter, something more grateful.

“Thank you,” he said again, his voice low. “Truly.”

You offered him a small smile, hoping it conveyed everything you couldn’t put into words.

Ever since then, you were never able to get rid of the man. A beautiful friendship blooming between the two of you.

Ethan had been nearby, escorting a dance partner to her seat. As she departed, he turned to you, his smile playful.

“Miss Ledger, are you always this determined to blend in with the curtains?” he teased, glancing at the floral drapes behind you.

You blinked at him, momentarily stunned, before you chuckled softly. “It’s called being observant, Viscount Bridgerton. You should try it some time, I bet it would help in making you wiser.”

“Ah, but you see,” he said, stepping closer, his eyes bright with amusement. “The observant ones always have the most to say. They simply haven’t been asked yet.”

You laughed lightly, surprised at his wit. “And what would you like me to say then, my lord?”

His grin widened. “That you’ll grant me the honor of this next dance, of course.”

The following week, your paths crossed again during a morning promenade in the park. Ethan had joined you unexpectedly, claiming he needed a distraction from the paperwork piling up on his desk.

As you walked along the gravel paths, he pointed out the ducks waddling near the pond, remarking on how they seemed far more organized than the members of Parliament.

You laughed, shaking your head. “You truly have a talent for finding humor in the most mundane things, Ethan.”

“And you,” he replied, his tone softer, “have a talent for making even the dullest promenades feel like a grand adventure.”

The morning sun casts a golden glow across the stables as you made your way toward your horse, the light filtering through the wooden beams and glinting off the rows of neatly arranged saddles.

Ethan was already there, his sleeves rolled up and his jacket slung casually over a nearby post. He greeted you with a bright grin, one that always seemed to make your heart beat just a little faster.

“You’re late,” he teased, his tone warm and familiar. “I was beginning to think you’d left me to ride alone.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at your lips. “I’m not late; you’re just too early. Honestly, don’t you have anything better to do than loiter in the stables?”

“Nothing better than helping my favorite partner in crime prepare for a ride,” he quipped, grabbing the saddle and hoisting it effortlessly onto your horse’s back.

You chuckled, though the flutter in your chest was impossible to ignore. He moved with an ease that spoke of years of riding, his hands deft as he adjusted the straps and tightened the girth. Watching him like this, so at home and so...him, made you forget for a moment how much he’d come to mean to you.

As you worked together, the conversation turned light and aimless, a pleasant back-and-forth of teasing and shared stories. But then, as he led your horse out into the sunlight, the topic shifted.

“So,” Ethan began, his tone casual as he patted the horse’s neck, “have you noticed how everyone seems to assume we’re something we’re not?” He laughed, the sound soft and carefree. “It’s ridiculous, really. Can you imagine? You and me?”

Your heart sank, the words hitting you like a cold gust of wind. You forced a laugh to match his, hoping it didn’t sound as hollow as it felt. “Ridiculous,” you echoed, though your voice faltered ever so slightly.

Ethan didn’t seem to notice. He was already climbing onto his horse, the sun catching the golden strands of his hair as he settled into the saddle. “They’ll talk about anything, won’t they? It’s absurd. You’re my closest friend, Violet. I couldn’t imagine it any other way.”

Your grip tightened around the reins of your horse as you climbed into the saddle, your fingers trembling slightly. His words replayed in your mind, each one cutting deeper than the last.

Closest friend. Nothing more.

You smiled anyway, because what else could you do? “Yes, absurd indeed,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

He glanced over at you, his expression soft and unassuming. “Are you all right?”

“Of course,” you said quickly, too quickly. You tugged on the reins, urging your horse forward. “Come on, let’s see if you can keep up with me for once.”

Ethan grinned, the same easy smile that always lit up his face. “You’re on.”

And just like that, the moment passed, but as the wind rushes and the landscape blurs around you, the ache in your chest remained, showing you the reality of how you expected something more from nothing.

At another ball, you found yourself at the edge of the dance floor again, but this time, Ethan’s gaze found yours across the room. He was engaged in a conversation with a group of gentlemen, yet his attention seemed to waver as he glanced your way.

You have been sneakily avoiding him after that day, always finding an excuse to be busy just so you could turn his invitations down. You did what you had to do. You had already fallen deep for the Viscount, and he's nowhere near reciprocating your feelings. He made that clear.

The strings of the orchestra swelled, and all of a sudden, someone swept you to the dancefloor, and you found yourself in Ethan’s arms once again, gliding across. His touch was gentle, his movements effortless as he led you through the steps of the waltz.

“You’re avoiding me,” he remarked, his voice low and just for you.

You glanced up at him, searching his face. “Am I?”

He nodded slightly, his expression unreadable. “Do you find my presence disturbing now?”

“I suppose I do,” you lied, feeling the warmth of his hand resting lightly on your waist. You do not want to tell him the real reason.

As the music continued, you felt a shift in the air between you, something unspoken yet palpable. Then, as the dance neared its end, he leaned in ever so slightly, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Violet,” he murmured, his tone both hesitant and sincere, “I think I feel something more for you.”

Your breath caught, but before you could respond, the music reached its crescendo, and the dance ended. The partners switched, and suddenly, Ethan was gone, replaced by another gentleman.

You moved through the motions of the next dance, your mind racing and your heart pounding. The moment the music ceased, you turned, scanning the crowd for Ethan’s familiar figure.

He was walking away, his tall frame weaving through the throngs of guests. You quickly stepped forward, attempting to follow him, but the sea of people seemed to conspire against you.

“Miss Ledger, how lovely to see you,” someone greeted, blocking your path.

You forced a polite smile and nodded, excusing yourself as quickly as you could. But by the time you reached the edge of the ballroom, Ethan was nowhere to be seen.

Sighing, you stood still for a moment, the crowd swirling around you. The evening’s events replayed in your mind, leaving you with a mix of exhilaration and uncertainty.

Where had he gone? And why had he chosen that moment to reveal his feelings?

The morning light streamed through the windows of the drawing room as you carefully played a simple melody on the piano, the gentle notes filling the air. Your mother, Baroness Vivian Ledger, stood behind you, silent but watchful. Her gaze lingered on you for a moment before she sighed deeply, breaking the quiet.

“Violet,” she began, her tone calm but firm. “What exactly is the nature of your relationship with Viscount Bridgerton?”

You froze for a moment, your fingers hovering over the keys. Turning to face her, you blinked in confusion. “What do you mean, Mother?”

She folded her arms, her expression unwavering. “You’ve been promenading together, dancing at countless balls, and I’ve seen the way you two look at each other. Do not play coy with me, Violet. Why hasn’t he called on you yet?”

Heat rose to your cheeks as you quickly turned back to the piano, your hands fidgeting with the keys. “Why would he call on me?” you muttered, attempting to downplay the fluttering in your chest. “We’re just friends.”

Your mother let out a soft, disbelieving laugh, shaking her head. “Just friends? Don’t be ridiculous, a gentleman doesn’t spend that much time with a lady, nor look at her the way he looks at you, if he only sees her as a friend.”

Before you could respond, the doors to the drawing room creaked open, and a servant stepped in, bowing slightly. “Miss Violet Ledger, you have a caller.”

Your heart leapt to your throat as two footmen entered carrying extravagant bouquets of flowers, bright colors with delicate arrangements. They placed them carefully on the table. It was heathers, your favorite flower, filling the room with their sweet fragrance.

And then he appeared. Ethan Bridgerton stepped into the room, impeccably dressed and wearing his usual polite smile. His eyes flicked to yours, warm and steady, before he turned his attention to your mother.

“Baroness Ledger,” he greeted with a slight bow. “It’s a pleasure to see you.”

Your mother’s face lit up with genuine delight. She had always been fond of Ethan, treating him almost like a son during the times the Bridgertons had visited your family. “Ethan, my dear boy,” she said warmly, gesturing for him to sit. “Come, you two have a seat. I’ll have refreshments brought in for you.”

Ethan offered a nod of thanks as your mother ushered you both to the couch and sat beside each other. Your mother lingered for a moment before retreating to the other side of the room, a clear signal that she intended to give the two of you some privacy while still keeping a watchful eye.

“I hope the flowers are to your liking? They're your favorite, Heathers,” you stared at him, utterly dumbfounded. “You’re calling on me?” you blurted out, disbelief clear in your voice.

Ethan turned to you, his smile softening into something more personal, more earnest. “Of course I am,” he replied simply, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

Your heart raced, and for a moment, you struggled to find words. Everything about this felt too surreal to be true.

“Well,” you managed, your voice barely above a whisper. “I didn’t think—”

He chuckled softly, leaning in just enough for his voice to lower, though not enough to cross the boundaries of propriety. “You didn’t think I’d call on you after all this time?” You blinked, at a loss for words, as his gaze held yours.

“But you made it clear to me,” you said, your tone soft but tinged with disbelief. “You would never see me as something more than a friend, and last night after telling me that you actually hold deeper feelings for me, you just… vanished.”

Ethan’s gaze softened, a flicker of guilt flashing across his face. “That’s true,” he admitted, leaning slightly forward. “And for that, I owe you an apology. It wasn’t my intention to leave you wondering. But, Violet” his voice steadied firm, “I left because I already knew what I had to do.”

Your brows furrowed as you tried to make sense of his words. “And what was that?”

“To court you,” he said simply, his lips curling into a faint smile. “I knew from the moment we met that you were unlike anyone I’d ever known, yet I kept denying it, wanting to preserve our friendship. But last night, as we danced, after weeks of you ignoring me, it became clear to me that I want more than just your friendship, Violet. I want your partnership, your trust, your love. I wasted no time this morning because I knew I needed to see you and make my intentions clear.”

Your breath hitched at his words, and you were certain he could see the way your hands trembled slightly in your lap. Before you could respond, Ethan reached out, taking your hand gently in his.

“And so,” he continued, his expression sincere and unwavering, “I am here now to ask for your hand in marriage.”

The room seemed to fall silent, the weight of his proposal filling the air. Your heart raced, your mind spinning. Marriage. It wasn’t just an idea or a possibility, it is here now, being offered by a man who had somehow become everything you’d ever wanted. A marriage of love match.

“Yes,” you whispered, your voice trembling but certain.

His smile broke into something brighter, almost relieved, as if he’d been holding his breath. “You’ve made me the happiest man in all of England, Violet.”

“Ethan? Why me?” you couldn't help but ask, the question escaping your lips before you could stop it.

His smile grew even wider, and he let out a soft chuckle, his brown eyes glimmering with warmth as they fixed on yours. “Why not you?” he replied, his tone light but full of conviction.

You blinked, caught off guard by the simplicity of his answer. Before you could respond, “Violet,” he started, his voice growing softer but no less certain. “At first glance, you seem quiet and boring if I'm being frank. But the more I watched, the more I realized how wrong that was.”

His words made your breath catch, and you felt the familiar warmth creeping into your cheeks.

“You aren’t just quiet, Violet,” he continued, his tone deepening with emotion. “You’re thoughtful. You observe, you listen, and you understand things most people overlook. Your mind is a place of quiet wisdom, and your heart—” He paused, his gaze softening as he searched your face. “Your heart is deeper than the ocean. Once someone has the privilege of knowing you, truly knowing you, they realize just how extraordinary you are.”

Your lips parted, but no words came out. The sincerity in his voice, the intensity of his gaze, it was all warming.

“I admire how you care for the people around you, even in the smallest ways,” Ethan continued, his voice steady but full of feeling. “The way you remember the things that matter to them, the way you make them feel seen, even when you don’t say much. How your kindness isn’t loud or showy but so deeply rooted in who you are.”

He took your hand then, holding it between both of his, his thumb brushing lightly over your knuckles. “And I admire you because, when I’m with you, I feel like I’ve finally found something I’ve been searching for my whole life.”

You felt your chest tighten, your eyes stinging with unshed tears. His words were unlike anything you’d ever heard, his love unlike anything you’d ever experienced.

“So, why not you?” Ethan said again, his voice quieter now but no less resolute. “Why wouldn’t I choose the woman who’s shown me what it means to truly love and be loved?”

Your voice broke as you finally whispered, “Ethan…”

He lifted your hand to his lips, pressing a tender kiss to your fingers. “You’re everything I’ve ever wanted, Violet. Everything I never knew I needed.”

Before you could say another word, the door to the drawing room opened, and your father stepped inside. His eyes quickly swept over the scene, Ethan holding your hand, the bouquet of flowers on the table, and the unmistakable atmosphere of a momentous occasion. Right behind him is your mother, who stood up from being seated in the other side of the room, her sharp gaze instantly assessing the situation.

“What’s this?” your father asked, his tone curious but warm.

Ethan stood immediately, straightening his coat and offering a respectful bow. “Baron, Baroness, good morning. I hope you don’t mind my calling on your daughter.”

Your father’s gaze flickered between the two of you before landing on Ethan. “I take it this visit is of a particular nature, Bridgerton?”

Ethan nodded, his confidence unwavering. “It does, Lord Bridgerton. I’ve come to ask for Violet’s hand in marriage. She has already given her consent, and I would be honored to receive yours as well.”

Your father paused, his expression unreadable as he regarded Ethan. Then, slowly, a smile crept onto his face. “I must say, Bridgerton, you’ve caught me by surprise. But I can’t say I’m displeased. You’ve been like a son to us for years, and I can think of no one more fitting to marry my daughter.”

Ethan’s shoulders relaxed visibly, his smile widening as he extended his hand. “Thank you, sir. I will do everything in my power to make her happy.”

As the two men shook hands, your mother stepped forward, her sharp eyes softening as they settled on you. “Is this truly what you want, Violet?” she asked gently.

You nodded, your voice steady as you replied, “It is, Mother. Very much so.”

Vivian’s lips curled into a faint smile, her voice losing some of its usual edge. “Then I’m happy for you, my dear. You’ve made a fine choice.”

With a nod of approval, your mother returned to stand beside your father, her expression soft yet resolute.

“Then it’s settled,” the baron declared, his smile broadening. “We have a wedding to plan.”

Ethan turned back to you, his eyes shining with affection and excitement.

Ethan gently tosses you onto the bed, making you laugh. He licked his lips as he stood by the edge of the bed, watching as your chest heave up and down in anticipation, "You know," he said softly, "This is our honeymoon. I can finally do whatever I want to you,” he gives you a mischievous grin. Tonight is the night after your wedding, a memorable occasion that officially bound you and him as husband and wife.

He yanked his top free with impatient, fumbling hands. The fabric strained against the hurried movements, a few threads snapping as he tore the shirt open.

The buttons popped loose, some scattering to the floor, but he didn't stop to care. He shrugged the garment off his shoulders in one swift, almost frantic motion, tossing it aside like he was so eager to get rid of it.

Slowly, he leaned forward, one knee sinking into the mattress, followed by the other. His movements were deliberate, almost predatory, as his hands pressed into the bed to steady himself. The mattress dipped beneath his weight as he crawled forward, and hovered on top of you.

Ethan cupped your face gently with one hand “I’ll be gentle, just follow my lead, alright?” you nodded your head in response and he kissed you carefully as if you're a fragile thing.

It was slow and romantic, but you needed more, so you let out a muffled soft moan, pulling him closer by the back of his neck and you felt his lips curl up into a smile while kissing you more eagerly now.

Your breathing got heavier as he licked and explored the insides of your mouth, shoving his tongue further to taste you, his warm breath mingling with yours, making you dizzy.

Your combined spit soon started dripping down your chin. His warm hands caress your sides in a way that it ignites a fire inside you. The both of you leaned back to catch your breaths, a string of saliva connecting your lips.

He dipped his head down to pepper kisses all over your skin. He's had enough of you being fully clothed in your white dress, “Can I take this off you?” he asked to which you lazily nod.

He helped you out of your corset and dress, leaving you with nothing but your underwear. His eyes twinkled once he set his gaze upon your exposed plump breasts.

Out of nowhere, you were shying away from his hungry gaze, your hands quickly covering your breasts in embarrassment, cheeks blushing profusely. However, he was still quicker than you, grabbing your wrists and pinning them above your head swiftly using one hand.

“Don’t, don't hide your pretty body from me. It's beautiful and I'm here to worship it.” He whispered, erasing every doubt in your head. You can only nod in response, staring into his eyes while your foreheads touched each other, as if in an unbreakable trance.

You feel the excitement and arousal bubbled up in you, your thighs instinctively pressing up against each other as your underwear soiled.

Ethan smirked, “You’re wet, aren't you?” he asked, forcing your legs apart using his strong arms, eliciting a loud whine from you. You never expected intimacy would feel this good.

He dipped his head again to nuzzle on your neck, licking the skin with his warm tongue before sucking on it, purposefully leaving marks.

Your back arches and he took advantage of this to attack your neck more, grinding the bulge on his pants against your covered core. Oh how you love the things he's doing to you right now.

He trails wet kisses down until he reaches your chest, sticking his tongue out and licking up your cleavage. You were almost certain your heart clawed out of your chest from how hard it's beating, and he only looks up at you with those eyes you love so much all while pressing the most tantalizing kiss right on your left nipple, silently telling you that all of you, even the most private parts, now belongs to him.

You couldn’t take your eyes away from him even if you try to, you watch every bit of his movements down your body. He envelops your nipple using his soft lips. He swirls his tongue around it and sucks hard, his other hand coming up to play with your other breast.

The moans coming out of your lips only encouraged him more as he shamelessly sucked your tits like a hungry man, lustful eyes looking up at you, corner of his lips smiling. He delivered a strong squeeze to your boob just to see your pained expression.

He switched his mouth, sucking the other one and playing the wet breast using his hands. He circles the swollen nipple before pinching it right after. You whined in pain at his harsh play on your mounds, making him tweak your nipple gently to soothe it.

Grazing your nipples with his teeth as he started alternating between the two in a fast manner had you whimpering and squirming underneath him. When you continued to squirm around, he firmly held you in place, gripping your waist.

“Stop moving, darling,” He instructed, hands sneaking down from your waist to your panties. For a moment, you had no idea what he was about to do, but an audible gasp left your lips when he ripped your underwear with such ease, immediately throwing the torn fabric away.

He placed his head in between your legs, kissing your inner thigh. He sucked in a breath as he heard your sweet helpless whimper. You grab a fistful of his hair, pulling on them and crying out when he pushed your legs up to bite and suck harshly on the soft flesh of your inner thighs. You are sure that you'll wake up tomorrow with your thighs and legs decorated in purple red marks.

Ethan is shameless when it comes to his possessive nature, even mumbling the word ‘mine’ nonstop underneath his breath. He stopped as he reached up to your private part, taking a deep breath and inhaling the aroma of your wetness, “Goodness, you smell so fucking delicious, darling.”

You propped yourself up using your arms to peek down at your husband, the sight of him staring in awe at your core, smelling it while licking his lips. He then purposely blew hard on your soaked cunt, surprising you and making your body jolt at the unfamiliar sensation.

“Ethan please,” you pleaded desperately, “Yes, darling? What do you need? Say it.” He asked breathily, dark eyes still fixated on your pussy as he whispered directly on it, “How beautiful.”

In a desperate attempt, you took advantage of having his hair fisted on your hand and pushed his head into your pussy, bucking your hips forward to shove it on him. He growled and immediately started lapping at your pussy as if it's his last meal. You throw your head back, eyes closed at the euphoria you're feeling.

“Fucking sweet pussy” Ethan groaned, going completely feral, not holding back as he devoured you, licking, sucking, biting, and slurping on your folds, while holding your legs apart to make sure you remain bare and open to him.

His nose nudged on your clit as he slipped his tongue in your clenching hole, wiggling the wet muscle around your walls. “All mine,” he groaned with each lick, sending vibrations on your cunt.

The last straw was when he slurped your folds before biting your clit gently, sending you over the edge with a loud scream, eyes rolling back and legs shaking as he teased you by torturing your poor clit more.

He laps up your juices happily, making sure to catch every drop on his mouth. Even if your legs were already shaking in his hands while he holds them up, your cunt clenching around his tongue. He shoved it as deep as he could.

He couldn't stop, it's like he's trapped in an enchantment, or perhaps he's just really too pussy drunk to even stop and give your poor cunt a rest.

With his movements getting rougher, you took it upon yourself to snap him out of his trance and push his head away with all the remaining strength you have. Successfully prying his head from your swollen overstimulated core and closing your legs to prevent him from diving back in.

His mouth all the way down to his chin glimmers with your essence as he gives you a playful grin, almost laughing at the state you're in.

His big bright eyes observed you, wanting this image of you to imprint on his brain. You looked like an absolute goddess brought down by heaven for him. A flower he is to help bloom more and to cherish forever.

You, his now wife, laid there bare to him, body having slight trembles of aftershock from the orgasm he just gave you, your cheeks tinted with natural blush, skin sweaty, lips parted while panting, eyes closed, and your hair a mess on the pillows on your head.

What a heavenly sight, and Ethan’s raging hard on is a testament to it. But he’s nowhere near done with you yet, for the show is only starting. Now that he finally tasted you, he is more than eager to know how you would feel wrapped around his length.

As you felt him move around, your eyes snap back open curiously, only to see him getting rid of his last piece of clothing, his pants and drawers in one go, discarded onto the floor with no care.

Your eyes widen at the sight of his manhood, slapping his abdomen with how hard it is, the tip is red and leaking so much precum, it shows just how much he's been waiting for this moment. You sit up clumsily even if your legs were still shaking just to get a closer look of it.

Your shaky hand slowly reached out to it but stopped mid air, hesitating, you really have no idea what to do. So you looked up at your husband, “Ethan, may I?” you asked shyly.

Thank god your husband was able to understand you without making you say it out loud because you might just die in shame, “Of course, darling. Go ahead.” He smiled down at you and you could've sworn he got more handsome with his hair messy and sticking to his wet forehead, lips pink and glistening with your juices and that stupid gentle eyes he has on right now.

He took your hand and guide it to his length, wrapping your hand around the thickness of the base, “Start slowly, move your hand up and down,” he instructed and you followed, moving your hand up and down in a slow pace.

He groans softly as your hand pumped his cock, he offered you a satisfied smile, his eyes half-lidded as he enjoys the gentle stroking. "You're going to make me cum so much, darling... I can feel it already.”

Encouraged by his words, you gained more confidence and started pumping him faster, "Shit... you're gonna make me bust like this?" He groans loudly, throwing his head back against the rock as you pump his length aggressively. His hips lift slightly to meet your strokes, his length hardening like steel with each pump of your hand. "You wanna see me nut, baby?”

You nodded, your eyes eager which only had his length twitching on your hold. He sucked in a sharp breath as you leaned down to press a gentle kiss on his tip before trailing kisses down the rest of his length.

You swirled your tongue before taking him inside your warm mouth, a loud guttural moan escaping his throat when he saw your lips envelop his length and hollow your cheeks sucking him in so desperately.

“Shit, play with my balls,” he commanded, guiding your hand to massage his balls while your mouth eagerly sucked half of his length. Suddenly he grips the back of your head, shoving you down, his length hitting the back of your throat making you gag, “Fuck yes, choke on my dick, darling.”

The sight of you gagging, your eyes wet with tears as you look up helplessly at him. You moaned around his length, the vibrations shooting straight up his cock.

He’s sweating profusely all over, taking big deep breaths while looking down at you. His eyes lustful but filled with fondness. But before he could even reach his orgasm, you took his length out of your mouth with a wet pop, a string of saliva connecting your lips to his length.

“What’s wrong, darling?” He asked, caressing the top of your head, “Need a second to breathe,” you admitted softly while panting, sitting up to recollect yourself.

He smiled understandingly at you, a gentle smile that contrasts his sinister words, “That’s fine, but I'm nowhere near done with you.” He said and your eyes widened, his voice sending a shiver down your spine.

“W-wha–” You tried to ask but he cut you off as he slammed his lips against yours again, licking the insides of your mouth with his tongue before pulling back, “You think I’d let you go now that I got a taste of you? Without feeling that sweet cunt grip my length?”

“But–” you protested but he shushed you with his finger, leaning his face so close that your warm breaths mingled, “Shh, you can take it. Trust me, yeah?”

His tone is seductive, wooing you to trust him even though you already knew that the moment you say yes, he'll pounce on you like a wild animal. But deep inside, you wouldn't really mind, right?

“Yes,” you whispered so quietly it was almost inaudible. He pushed you back down, his body caging you in. Your body responds to him fast, legs spreading wide and wrapping around his waist, his hips grinding against yours.

Ethan asked, grinding the tip of his cock up and down your folds, your juices lubricating his length. “Ready, darling?” he asked and you gave him a nervous nod in response, your hands pressing on his chest to brace yourself.

He didn't waste any time, he entered your needy hole, his length pushing past your hymen and splitting you open. He immediately bottomed out. Your back arched, your eyes shut tight, while you screamed at the uncomfortable pain. You tried soothing yourself by clawing at his chest.

Ethan moans out loud, giving no care about the servants around the mansion who could all probably hear the coupling. The way your walls clenched his huge size, “Jesus darling, you feel so good,” he sighed in relief.

He gave you some time to adjust before teasing you again, “Look, darling,” he helped you raise your head a bit to make you watch where you both are connected. He pulled back all the way to the tip only to slam back in harder as you gasped. His hand pressing your lower stomach where the outline of his cock is prominent, “It reached so deep.”

“You’re so big,” you cried out, and he only laughed softly at you, “You love it, darling.”

He started ramming into your hole, making your breasts bounce and jiggle with each thrust. He reached forward to suck your left boob once again with no gentleness. Growling and grazing his teeth on the sensitive nub while fucking you like a wild animal.

“Mine, all mine, my beautiful wife,” he mumbled while he sucked your mounds.

“Goodness– Ethan!” you panted heavily, hands moving to grip the bedsheets as he abused your pussy, pushing so deep and hard as if he's shaping your walls into that shape of his cock.

You felt pure bliss, like you're in heaven, and just when you thought it couldn't be any better, Ethan reached his hand down to use his thumb, rubbing your clit in tight circles that made you cry out and squirm on his hold.

“Don’t you dare move. You're gonna lay there and take what I give you.” he sternly said as his free hand gripped your hip in a bruising hold, holding you down and preventing you to squirm away from this touch.

“Good girl, stay still for me, yeah?” He coo before pushing himself impossibly deeper, you swear you could feel him in your womb now, his hips flush against yours while still circling your clit.

Ethan kept mumbling about how good you feel around him, it was addicting how he seems to lose his mind over fucking you.

The room echoed with the sounds of wet skin slapping, and the combined moans and groans from you and him. Everything feels so hot and your nostrils were overwhelmed by the smell of sex.

You felt another coil in your lower stomach that's about to snap and you could no longer hold it, “Ethan, I'm gonna–” you warned him but before you could even finish, the coil snapped and your juices came gushing out all over his length, soaking his abdomen and balls.

You arched off the bed and your eyes roll to the back of your head so hard. You cried out, tears rolling down your cheek that he immediately licked, the taste of your salty tears knowing he's the cause of it in a good way pushed him closer to the edge.

Your spent pussy pulsated while he continues to aggressively pound you, trying to reach his own high. With one final thrust shooting ropes after ropes of cum inside your womb.

He stills inside you while filling you up, his length twitching while you both tried to regulate your breathing.

When he pulled out, his load came dripping out of your fluttering hole. You whimpered at the sudden empty feeling. But your husband was quick to scoop up his cum and shove it back inside you using his fingers.

Ethan rolled over to lay beside you, turning his body to the side to wrap you in his arms, pulling you close, “Are you alright, darling?” he asked in concern, giving your forehead a gentle kiss.

Your body was engulfed in a profound warmth, Ethan being so sweet and caring after fucking you into oblivion. He whispered sweet praises into your ear making you laugh softly.

And you fell asleep in that position, drifting off while your husband whispers sweet nothings into your ear, soothing you and making sure you feel secured and safe.

16 years into the marriage, and the Bridgerton mansion brimmed with life. Laughter echoed from every corner as well as the occasional scolding of multiple governesses trying (and failing) to impose order. You stood by the grand staircase, a hand resting protectively over your swollen belly, your other hand gripped the banister as you surveyed the chaos with an amused smile.

“Atticus!” Your husband’s voice boomed as he stepped out of the study, his tone caught between exasperation and pride. “How is it that you can manage the accounts better than half the estate staff, but you cannot get ahold of your siblings that are on the verge of turning the house into a battlefield while I'm busy?”

Atticus, now a strikingly handsome and serious young man at sixteen, appeared from around the corner with a calm expression, though his lips twitched in amusement. “They need to keep busy, Father. It’s an essential part of their education.”

“Perhaps,” Ethan replied dryly, “but I doubt orchestrating another impromptu chasing game qualifies as productive.”

Atticus shrugged and turned, nearly bumping into Caleb, who was sprinting down the hallway with a mischievous grin.

At thirteen, Caleb was all energy and unpredictability, and he carried himself like a boy constantly on the verge of some grand adventure—or disaster. “Out of my way, Atticus!” he shouted, clutching a poorly folded map as if it contained the secrets of the world. “I’m exploring!”

“You’re going to explore a broken vase if you’re not careful!” You called, shaking your head but unable to hide the smile on your lips.

Not far behind, seven-year-old Giovann charged after Caleb with a makeshift sword, his laughter ringing out like music. “You can’t explore without a knight, Caleb! I’m your protector!” he declared, wielding the wooden sword with as much ferocity as a child could muster.

Benjamin, at fourteen, strolled into the drawing room, humming softly as he carried an armful of paper and brushes. His kind and artistic nature stood out starkly amidst the chaos, and he settled himself by the window, carefully setting up his materials. “Mother,” he said brightly, glancing up at you, “I think I’ll paint the garden today. Dorothea’s been complaining that the roses don’t look vibrant enough.”

“You’re going to paint the garden again?” Dorothea’s voice chimed in from the doorway. At eleven, she exuded poise and wit, her beauty and sharp intellect often leaving her siblings scrambling to keep up. She arched a brow as she crossed her arms, a knowing smile on her lips. “Why don’t you paint Caleb tripping over his own feet instead? That would be far more entertaining.”

Benjamin smirked, dipping his brush into the paint. “I’d need to create a series for that, Thea—it happens far too often to capture in just one painting.”

“Very funny,” Caleb shot back, his head poking into the room just long enough to glare at his older brother before he vanished again, Giovann still hot on his heels.

Dorothea shook her head, her long dark hair swaying elegantly as she moved to make you sit beside her in front of the piano, “Mother, I don’t know how you manage all of us,” she said softly, though there was a hint of teasing in her voice.

You chuckled and gently stroked your daughter’s hair. “I manage because I have to. And because I wouldn’t trade any of you for the world, even when you drive me mad.”

Ethan appeared beside you then, his arm wrapping protectively around your waist as he surveyed the scene. “Do you think this little one,” he said, nodding towards your rounded belly, his hands caressing it ever so softly, “will be just as much trouble as the rest of them?”

You let out a sigh, leaning against him. “I have no doubt about it.”

Ethan smiled, pressing a kiss to your temple. But the soft moment was quickly interrupted by the disturbance of your restless children.

A loud and jarring sound from the piano made all of you jump. Both you and Ethan turned your heads in alarm to see Giovann standing by the piano, gleefully slamming his little fingers across the keys with no concern for melody. Dorothea, who had been tidying her music sheets, froze, her expression darkening as her blood pressure spiked.

“Giovann!” she yelled, her voice sharp enough to cut through the chaos. She stormed toward him, her posture rigid with irritation. “What do you think you’re doing? Do you know how long it takes to tune that piano?!”

Giovann, entirely unbothered, shot her a cheeky grin. “It’s not my fault you’re always playing boring old songs, Thea.”

That was enough to send Dorothea chasing after him, her scolding echoing throughout the room as Giovann scrambled out of reach, still laughing. “Come back here! I swear, Giovann, I’m going to—!”

Sighing, you shook her head fondly while rubbing your temple. Ethan chuckled, leaning closer, “And to think, you said this baby would be just as much trouble. I’m starting to wonder if it could possibly be worse.”

Meanwhile, Atticus had settled on the couch, a picture of calm amidst the commotion. He lazily reached for a macaron from a nearby snack plate, casually biting into it.

“Hey!” Benjamin’s dismayed voice rang out. He stood by the window, his unfinished painting of the snack plate now ruined. His brush dropped to his side as he whined, stomping his feet, “I was painting that!”

Atticus only smirked, unbothered by his younger brother’s frustration. “Too bad,” he said with a shrug, continuing to munch on the macaron with no remorse.

Benjamin huffed, his face falling into a pout as he picked up his brush again, muttering something about “barbarians ruining art.”

Before he could retreat fully into his sulk, Caleb came bouncing into the room. The boy tackled Atticus without hesitation, snatching the macaron right out of his hands.

“You–” Atticus protested, glaring at his younger brother.

Caleb grinned mischievously, holding the half-eaten macaron like a trophy. “What’s yours is mine, big brother.”

Atticus lunged after him, sending the two into a playful scuffle as they tumbled onto the floor, much to Benjamin’s dismay.

“Could you not wrestle in the middle of the room?” Benjamin groaned, setting his palette down and crossing his arms. “Some of us here are trying to work!”

Caleb only laughed, dodging Atticus’ grab and tossing the macaron up in the air before catching it in his mouth. Atticus groaned in defeat, flopping back onto the couch.

You turned your head to glance at your husband, lips twitching into a smile, “You see? This is what you started, they all got that stubborn teasing manner from you,” you teased.

Ethan laughed, “I don’t know, darling. I think we’ve created something rather perfect.”

Ethan rose from his seat, brushing his hand on your chin. He turned to his eldest son with a warm smile, “Atticus, come with me. I’ll need your company for some hunting practice.”

Atticus nodded, standing from his chair. The two grabbed their shotguns and headed out of the mansion. They strode along the estate grounds, and their path took them past a patch of vibrant flowers just outside in front of the mansion, where Ethan stopped abruptly.

“Wait here a moment,” Ethan said, kneeling by the flower patch. His hand carefully selected a few sprigs of heather, the delicate blooms swaying lightly in the breeze.

“Your mother’s favorite,” he murmured with a fond smile, holding the flowers up to inspect them, “They’re quite lovely, are they not?”

Atticus, crouched a few steps away picking his own flowers, glancing up as he smiled briefly, “Dorothea would be jealous if we returned with nothing for her.”

As Ethan stood, a low hum buzzed past his face that he tried to swat away, but it only agitated it, stinging him in the neck before flying away. “Ugh this bloody–” he muttered as he caress his stung neck.

Atticus glanced curiously while still picking flowers, “What is it, father?” he asked but got no answer. This made him stop his movements to look up at his father.

Atticus stood up, his own set of flowers in hand. “Father?” he asked, noticing Ethan’s unusual stillness.

Ethan didn’t respond.

“Father?” Atticus repeated, his voice more urgent now. Ethan turned to face him, but something was terribly wrong. His face had grown pale, his lips slightly parted as though he couldn’t quite catch his breath. Veins bulged along his neck as his chest heaved in an uneven rhythm.

“Father!” Atticus shouted, dropping the flowers to the ground and rushing to his father’s side. Ethan staggered, his legs buckling beneath him as he collapsed onto the grass.

Atticus knelt beside him, his hands shaking uncontrollably as he gripped Ethan’s shoulders. “Help! Somebody help!” he screamed, his voice echoing across the estate grounds.

A shout that reached the insides of a mansion, reaching you and disrupting your focus from reading a book, sitting on the couch. You know your children's voice so well, and Atticus’ urgent shouts alarmed you. It made you rose swiftly despite the weight of your pregnancy.

You immediately hurried out the door, heart pounding so fast in your chest as you followed the sound of Atticus’ panicked voice outside.

The sight of Ethan lying there in the grass made your heart stop. For a moment, your mind refused to accept it—this couldn’t be real, it couldn’t be happening.

Your chest tightened, and it felt as if the air around you had vanished. You tried to breathe, but all you could feel was the sharp sting of panic gripping your lungs. You ran to them in a hurry.

As soon as your knees hit the ground hard, you didn’t notice the pain. All you could focus on was Ethan’s face, pale and strained, his lips parted as he struggled to breathe.

“No, no, don't leave me,” you whispered, your voice shaking as your trembling hands reached for him, holding his body in your arms. His skin was clammy and cold under your touch, a jarring contrast to the warmth you’d known your entire life.

“Ethan,” you choked, your voice breaking. “Breathe, please, just breathe.” The words felt useless, hollow, as though saying them could somehow force air back into his lungs.

Your tears blurred your vision, but you didn’t care. Your fingers brushed his face, his hair, his neck, desperately searching for something—anything—that might save him.

You were powerless, and the weight of that realization crushed you. It clawed at your chest, making it hard to breathe yourself. Your mind screamed at you to do something, but what could you do? You were helpless. Completely and utterly helpless, “No, no, no, no, no.”

When his hand rose weakly, brushing against your cheek, your heart shattered into a thousand pieces. It was such a small, gentle gesture, yet it carried the weight of everything he couldn’t say. His lips moved, but no words came, and his eyes, filled with a pain you couldn’t take away, stared into yours.

“No, Ethan,” you pleaded, shaking your head as if denying it could stop the inevitable. “No, please. Please, don’t leave me.”

His hand dropped to the side, lifeless, and you froze. The silence that followed was deafening, drowning out the world around you. You shook him, called his name again, “Ethan? Ethan!” your voice growing louder and more frantic, but there was no response.

A sob tore from your throat, raw and unrelenting “No! Oh god! Please,” your entire body shook as you cradled him, pressing your forehead to his, as though holding him close might somehow bring him back. The world felt like it was collapsing around you, and the pain—oh, the damn pain—it’s unbearable. It ripped you, leaving you hollow and broken.

When you turned your head, you saw them, your children, standing at the entrance of the house, their innocent faces filled with confusion and fear. A fresh wave of agony surged through you, but you forced it down. “Atticus,” you rasped, your voice trembling. “The children… take them inside. They… they cannot see this.”

He didn’t move, his face pale and stricken. “Go!” you cried, snapping him out of his daze. He stumbled to his feet, his steps unsteady, and hurried toward the others, herding them away.

You turned back to Ethan, your tears falling freely onto his still face. The love of your life, the man who had been your world, was gone. And you didn’t know how you were supposed to survive without him.

The maids ushered you inside the house distant murmurs of servants and the echo of footsteps as they moved about in quiet urgency. Ethan's body was taken care of, and a doctor was already called to confirm his death. You sat at the bottom of the staircase, your body trembling, your mind a storm of disbelief and anguish.

The maids’ hands rested on your arms, trying to steady you, but their touch felt distant just like everything else.

Your tears blurred your vision as you clutched the bannister for support. The weight of Ethan’s absence was unbearable, suffocating, pressing down on you until it felt as if you couldn’t breathe.

His laughter, his voice, his presence, everything is gone. Every memory of him felt like a dagger to your heart, and the pain was suffocating. You gasped, your sobs uncontrollable, your chest heaving as you rocked back and forth, overwhelmed by grief.

“Ma’am, please,” one of the maids said softly, her voice trembling with concern as she knelt beside you. “You must rest.”

But you couldn’t rest. How could you, when the love of your life had been ripped away from you? When the last memory of him was the light fading from his eyes?

And then it hit, a sharp, sudden pain in your abdomen. It was so intense it took your breath away, and your hands flew to your stomach instinctively. The maids stiffened, their faces pale with alarm.

“My lady!” one of them cried, her voice shaking as she grasped your shoulders.

You tried to speak, but the words were swallowed by a fresh wave of pain. It was unlike anything you’d ever felt before—an ache so deep it seemed to pull you apart, and yet it paled in comparison to the gaping hole in your chest.

Your breathing became erratic, your sobs mingling with gasps as you clutched your stomach. “No,” you whispered, shaking your head, tears streaming down your face. “Not now.” But your body had other plans, and the pain intensified, rippling through you with each passing moment.

The maids surrounded you, their voices frantic as they tried to calm you, their hands gentle but firm as they guided you away from the stairs. “It’s the baby,” one of them said, her voice filled with urgency. “She’s in labor. Quickly, someone fetch the midwife!”

Luckily, the children weren't here to witness all of this. They're all taken care off by Atticus on the other side of the mansion, keeping them away from this traumatic scene.

The realization sent another wave of emotion crashing over you. This was Ethan’s child—the one he would never meet, never hold, never name. He wasn't able to live up to the birth. The thought was unbearable, and you cried harder, the tears falling faster as the pain in your heart joined with the pain in your body.

“It hurts,” you choked out, your voice barely above a whisper. The maids tried to reassure you, their words soft and soothing, but nothing they said could touch the agony that consumed you.

The sharp contractions made your legs give out, and you collapsed to your knees, your body trembling as another wave of pain tore through you. “I can’t do this,” you sobbed, shaking your head as the maids worked to lift you. “He’s gone, and I… I can’t do this without him.”

But you had no choice. The baby was coming, and your body refused to wait for your grief to subside. As the maids helped you to your feet, your heart shattered all over again. Ethan should have been here. He should have been the one holding your hand, whispering words of comfort, and waiting to meet his child.

Instead, you were left with a hollow ache and a pain that would never fade. And as the contractions grew stronger, you clung to the only thought that gave you strength– this baby, this piece of Ethan, was all you had left. You had to keep going for the both of you.

The air in the room was thick with tension and urgency, the voices of the midwife and maids blending into a blur of noise as you lay on the bed, soaked in your own sweat and trembling. Every muscle in your body screamed with exhaustion, the contractions relentless and unforgiving.

You clutched the sheets, gasping through gritted teeth as another wave of pain wracked your body. It was unbearable, almost blinding, yet it still couldn’t drown out the ache in your chest—the hollow, consuming void left by Ethan’s absence.

“Just one more push, my lady,” the midwife urged, her voice steady but insistent.

Your breath hitched as you braced yourself, every ounce of your strength pooling into this final effort. The pain was overwhelming, but you forced yourself to keep going, your thoughts consumed by a single, agonizing truth, that Ethan would never see this child. He would never hear their cries, hold them, or whisper their name with love.

Tears streamed down your face as you let out a guttural cry, pushing with everything you had left. Time seemed to stand still for a moment, the room holding its breath, and then—

A sharp, piercing wail filled the air.

“It’s a girl,” the midwife announced, her tone warm and triumphant as she held up the tiny, squirming infant.

You collapsed back against the pillows, utterly spent, your body trembling from the effort. The maids bustled around you, wiping your brow and whispering soothing words, but their voices barely registered. All you could hear was the sound of your baby’s cries, sharp and desperate.

The midwife approached, carefully placing the newborn in your arms. You stared down at her, your breath catching as you took in her tiny features—the delicate curve of her nose, the soft flush of her cheeks, and the way her tiny fists curled against the blanket. She was so small, so fragile, and she looks just like Ethan.

Your tears came faster now, dripping onto the blanket as you cradled her close. “Heather,” you whispered, your voice trembling as you ran a finger gently along her cheek. “Her name is Heather.”

The room fell silent, the weight of your words hanging heavy in the air. The midwife and maids exchanged glances, their expressions softening with understanding.

You swallowed hard, your chest tightening as a fresh wave of sorrow washed over you. “My favorite flower” you murmured, your voice barely audible. “He died with them in his hands… for me.”

Your tears blurred your vision as you pressed a kiss to Heather’s forehead, your heart breaking and mending all at once. She was a piece of Ethan, a reminder of the love you had shared and the life you had built together.

Heather stirred in your arms, her cries softening into tiny, contented murmurs. You closed your eyes, the exhaustion finally pulling at you.

The drawing room was quiet, save for the faint rustle of leaves outside the window. You sat on the couch, staring out into the vast, empty garden. The sunset light filtered through the window, but it felt cold to you. Everything did. You’d been sitting there for hours, unmoving.

This is the first time you actually left your room, for you have been non functional since the day your husband died. Even detaching yourself from your children, suffering with the grief paired by your post-partum depression.

The sound of cautious footsteps broke the silence, and you knew before turning who it was. Atticus. Your eldest.

He approached slowly, his tall frame carrying an air of hesitation. "You look well," he said softly, his voice gentle as if afraid to disturb the fragile stillness around you.

You didn’t turn to him but blinked slowly, registering his words. You responded in a voice that was distant, detached, and empty. “I slept. I bathed. I went for a walk outdoors. I saw the children. I made myself useful in embroidery.” Each word was recited mechanically, as though you were listing chores you had completed, but there was no life behind them.

Atticus gave a tight-lipped smile, though you couldn’t bring yourself to meet his eyes. “Perhaps you could join us today for a family dinner,” he offered cautiously, his tone carefully measured.

You shook your head once, your gaze dropping to your hands, and your eyes closed tightly against the swell of emotions that were always lurking, ready to suffocate you.

“I know this is hard,” Atticus began again, his voice cracking just slightly, betraying his youth and the burden he now carried as the man of the house. “I know you miss him—but we all miss him.”

The words pierced you, a fresh wound on top of the endless ache. Before he could continue, your trembling voice cut him off, fragile and breaking. “Please.”

Atticus hesitated but tried again, his concern for you outweighing his fear of upsetting you. “Mother, I think—”

“Atticus,” you said as you looked at him for the first time, your eyes wet with unshed tears. “This is it. This—this is my best. I’m doing my best.”

The weight of your grief spilled out, your words trembling as your voice broke. “Every day, I get up. I get dressed. I feed myself. I try to breathe in and out.” You paused, your chest heaving as you tried to steady yourself, but the tears came anyway, hot and relentless.

“I force myself to stop by the nursery,” you whispered, your voice shaking as you gasped for air, “But all I keep thinking about is how sorry I am for little baby Heather, because she will never know Ethan’s laugh. Or the way he smiled. Or how it felt to be hugged in his arms.”

The tears fell freely now, and you covered your mouth with a trembling hand, the pain suffocating. “All I could think of,” you choked out, “is how sorry I am for thinking that this baby did not do me the kindness of killing me so that I could be with my husband.”

You looked up at Atticus then, your eyes brimming with sorrow and a deep, unbearable pain. Your voice softened into a whisper, the words barely escaping your lips. “Ethan was the air that I breathed… and now there’s no air. So don’t ask me to do better,” you said, your voice breaking once more. “I’m doing my best.”

Atticus’ expression crumbled as he stood there, unable to respond. His eyes glistened with unshed tears, and he looked down at his hands, helpless and aching for his mother. He wanted to say something, to comfort you, but there was nothing he could say that would fill the void Ethan left behind.

The silence stretched between you, heavy with grief, until finally, Atticus nodded once, his shoulders slumping in defeat. Without another word, he turned and left the room, leaving you to stare once more into the void, clutching your broken heart as tightly as you held onto the memory of your husband.

Servants flitted about, adjusting gowns, fluffing skirts, and arranging jewelry on the vanity. You stood beside Dorothea, your hands gentle as you fastened the final pin in her hair. Her dark locks gleamed, swept into an elegant updo that framed her youthful, radiant face.

It has been eight years since the passing of Ethan. And today, your daughter is on her second season in the marriage mart.

Your daughter sat poised, her eyes sparkling with a mixture of anticipation and nerves. The soft pastel blue gown she wore was a masterpiece, flowing like water and adorned with intricate lace. It suited her perfectly.

You glanced at her through the mirror, pride swelling in your chest. “You look flawless, my dear,” you said warmly, smoothing a strand of hair that dared to fall out of place. “Today is your day. I just know it.”

Dorothea turned to you, her lips curving into a small, grateful smile. “Thank you, Mama. I truly hope this season will bring what I’m looking for.”

You could see the longing in her eyes, the same longing you had once carried when you were her age. A love match. A marriage not of convenience or obligation but of true affection. It was rare, yes, but you believed your daughter deserved nothing less.

“You will find it, Dorothea,” you assured her, your voice steady and filled with quiet confidence. “I have no doubt.”

The peaceful moment was interrupted when the door to the room burst open with a dramatic thud. “Dorothea!! You. Must. Make. Haste!” Elisa's voice rang out, sharp and authoritative, as she stormed in, punctuating every word with an exaggerated stomp of her foot.

Both you and Dorothea flinched at the sudden intrusion, but when Elisa came into view—her cheeks flushed with urgency, her hands on her hips like a soldier commanding an army—you couldn’t help but laugh.

“Elisa!” Dorothea exclaimed, half in shock and half in amusement.

“What?” Elisa shot back, her tone exasperated. “You’re going to make us late! Again! Do you want every member of the ton to think we Bridgertons have no sense of time?”

Her mock scolding sent Dorothea into peals of laughter, and you joined in, shaking your head fondly at Elisa’s theatrics.

Over the years, Elisa had become as much your child as the others. Though she wasn’t born into your family, you adopted her and loved her fiercely. She also fit right in with her spirited, unapologetic nature.

Dorothea stood, her gown flowing gracefully as she stepped toward Elisa. “Alright, alright, I’m coming!” she said with a grin.

Elisa crossed her arms, satisfied, though a playful smirk tugged at her lips. “Good. You’ll thank me later when we're not late to the ball and the ton won't stare and silently judge us.

You watched them both with a smile that only grew as they teased each other. It wasn’t the life you had once envisioned when Ethan was still by your side, but it was still a life full of love and joy. Your children who are each unique, lively, and wonderful in their own way were your everything.

As Dorothea moved toward the door, you called out softly, stopping her for just a moment. She turned, and you reached for her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“Good luck, my darling,” you said, your voice tinged with hope and pride. “May this season bring you everything your heart desires.”

Dorothea’s smile softened, and she nodded, her eyes shimmering with gratitude. “Thank you, Mama.”

The other children joined you as you descended down the stairs with Elisa and Dorothea. The boys immediately offering their arms to link each of the ladies in the family. Atticus coming to escort you with a smile.

Ethan may have been gone, but his legacy lived on in each of your children. And as long as they were by your side, you knew you could carry on.

[night-night-stories-before-bed]

The window is always open

Warning ⚠️; None, just fluff and fatherhood

Pairing; None, Damian Wayne & Gn!Vigilante!Reader (Father figure$

Summary; You always leave your window open in case one the batkids would need to come in for emergencies. Yet, Damian use it all the time.

Credit @cafekitsune

Note; my doctor scare the living shit out of me, so I wrote this to calm me down.

Note 2; I’m dying, wtf was that bug? Why did a part of a draft updates here??? I am so sorry y'all! I do not know how that happened honestly 😂

You stood in front of your door, hand on the doorknob, knowing something was amiss. You frowned and listened attentively. You heard a soft sound, like little footsteps, from your kitchen which made you relax as you knew who it was. You unlocked the door and got inside, taking off your coat and boots.

- “Damian, I thought we spoke about it already. The window is open but only for emergencies and I doubt stealing my take-out fall in that category,” you gently scolded as you entered your kitchen.

You switched the lights on and crossed your arms staring at the teen as he hate your take-out. Damian stared back at you, not giving a single fuck.

- “Nah, but avoiding an angry Bruce,” Damian replied and you sighed.

- “What did you do this time?” You asked, leaning your shoulder against the wall.

Damian rolled his eyes and offered you no reply. You sighed and went to make you some food, giving some to the kid to decide whether or not to tell you why he ended up running away from his father. But Damian said nothing as long as you cooked, not even as you sat down.

You ate in silence, eyeing Damian up and down. No bruised, no injuries and no signs of him being hurt. So why was Bruce angry after his son? At some points the sound of a notification caught your attention and you knew who it was before looking at it. Bruce was asking you if Damian was at your place and you reassured him that he was and to not come, that Damian was sleeping here.

The bat left you on read.

Yeah, that wasn't good.

- “Bruce ain't coming to get me, right?” Damian asked with a small voice and you shook your head.

- “Nah, I told him to not come and that you were sleeping at my place tonight. I’ll take you to school in the morning, don’t worry,” you reassured Damian and he nodded at that.

You two finished eating in silence and cleaned the dishes before you sat back down and helped Damian with his homework. Not that he needed help but he did need the company you realized and you couldn't bear the silence anymore. So, homework it was.

You were glad to be out of school, the new subjects seemingly more boring than they were in your time, and somewhat harder. Maybe it was the wording, you thought.

Before you realize it, they were done and you allowed Damian to watch the TV with you for a while. You knew he wouldn't sleep anyway, so where was the harm?

The teen picked a series you ignored all about and, just for you, played it from the start. You enjoyed listening to Damian explaining what was going on when things confused you, the series was clearly one of his favourite subjects and you wondered if he had no one to talk with about it. It wasn't long before Damian ended up snuggling against your side, tucked under his blanket, slowly dozing off. You wrapped an arm around his frail shoulders and he sighed.

- “We got into an altercation, with Bruce I mean, and it’s my fault,” Damian ended up admitting as he yawned. “I think he want to send me back to my mother.”

- “Oh, Damian, don’t be say that. Your father love you very deeply, he just sat on a stick and never got it out,” you replied, passing your fingers through his hair. “Besides, you really think I would allow him to send you away like that? He’ll have to fight me before being able to take you to the airport,” you tried to reassure him and Damian snorted.

- “He’ll kick your ass,” he pointed out, sighing and closing his eyes.

- “Bolt of you to assume he’ll win. I too have contingency plans!” you declared with a smile.

Damian chuckled at that and his hand found your shirt. You looked down and watched as he clenched his fist tight on the fabric as if he feared you would disappear. You pulled him closer to you, stroking his shoulder.

- “I promise sweety, Bruce is not going to send you away,” you swore and Damian buried his face against your side.

- “But I… disobeyed. I went out alone without him and I told him I hated him. Why would he keep me?” Damian asked with a little voice and it broke your heart.

- “Damian, your father love you and he heard way worse from Jason, Dick and even Tim. Trust me, his only thoughts must be that you are getting “into that age”, and I bet he wasn't angry, but scared. I would have snapped too knowing you went alone playing vigilante. You know how dangerous Gotham can be,” you scolded him and Damian groaned.

You hoped you understood what you didn't say; Bruce had lost Jason once, the scar hadn't healed even if Jason was back from the dead. It wasn't hard to see he was terrified the same thing would happen to his actual son.

- “C’mon, you’ll see. Tomorrow Bruce would have calmed down and you two can speak. Before long you’ll be laughing about tonight,” you promised and Damian said nothing.

Against you, you felt the teen relax, his body going limp against you and his breath became deeper. You smiled, realizing Damian was succumbing to exhaustion. You pulled his blanket higher, wrapping it correctly around him. You leaned down and kissed his hair, wishing Damian a good night with a smile, knowing he would be fine once morning came.

[vidals-harkness]

circle sewn with fate, unlock thy hidden gate (part 1)

summary: your perfectly 'normal' friday morning got interrupted by the mad search for a coven with a witch who's reputation precedes her.

fic type: angst

pairings: agatha harkness x teen!reader, teen x teen!reader

word count: 1.6k

series masterlist | masterlist

You sat at the kitchen island and watched your mother go off her rocker and ballistic about…well, everything. It was entertaining, to say the least, but it was also nothing short of absolutely irritating.

“Coming in here after all that time, thinking she’s gonna…” she muttered angrily. “Look at my front door!”

“Well, if you weren’t such a hopeless lesbian and just, I don’t know, talked to Mami, we wouldn’t be here, would we?” You scoffed, annoyed.

“What?” She rounded on you, before yet something else caught her eyes. “Ugh! Whose shoes are these?”

“Probably the guy you kidnapped,” you shrugged, nodding at Teen, who stood at the closet entryway, trying to undo the tape from his mouth.

“Okay. She’s unstoppable,” she said, pausing for a moment.

“No, she’s not, you’re just being stupid,” you said, rinsing your bowl and putting it away.

“And you’re giving me attitude?” She scoffed.

“Oh, tragic,” you rolled your eyes, walking over to grab a broom, ready to sweep the mess up.

“The house is yours, random boy. Be sure to tell the vengeanceseekers I said hi,” Agatha said hurriedly, gathering some stuff. “Y/n, grab stuff we can use to survive on the road—“

The boy bunny-hopped to the doorframe, and spent a moment taking off the tape around his mouth before blurting out, “Take me to the Witches’ Road!”

Both you and your mother froze, looking at each other.

“Come again?” The older woman said, brow raised.

“The Witches’ Road,” the boy repeated. “I want you to take me there. Please?”

“Is this twink for real?” You asked, eyeing your mother.

“Hey!” He protested, only to receive a shrug in return.

“The Witches’ Road doesn’t exist,” Agatha said, crossing her arms to face him.

“You’re lying,”

“Am I?”

“That’s just what real witches say to keep the amateurs out,” he replied. “The Road will give you the thing you want the most,”

“And what could you possibly desire? Free glitter eyeliner for life?” You snorted, leaning on the broom.

“Dude, what is your problem?” He said, irritated.

“Hey, I’m my mother’s daughter,”

“The road does give you what you desire,” Agatha interrupted. You already sensed the cogs turning in her brain and it made you sick. “If you make it to the end,”

“And I can. I will,” he said indignantly.

“Hmm,” she hummed thoughtfully, casting you a sideways glance which you reciprocated with a scowl. “The Road is no place for a kid,”

“I’m 16!” He protested. “Oh, sorry. Teen,” she replied mockingly. “I don’t know where you heard about The Road…Books, the Ballad, legend, lore…But it will kill you,”

“Didn’t kill you,” he countered.

“Cause she’s a stubborn bitch,” you huffed under your breath.

“Well, I’m exceptional,” she said simply.

“That’s my point,” he said.

“No, please don’t fuel her humongous ego—“ you sighed.

He rolled his eyes and added, “Okay, so, confession, I know an egregious amount about you. I’ve been obsessed since I first read up on your Salem days,”

“So not only are you a twink, you are also a creep, fantastic,” you nodded sarcastically.

He rolled his eyes at you, continuing, “One of my favorite “you” eras,”

“That’s a good one,” Agatha nodded appreciatively. She looked at you and said pointedly. “At least a omeone appreciates my work,”

“That’s why I came here last night,” he said. “That’s why I saved you from the spell you were under,”

“If you’ve got the goods to break a spell cast by the Scarlet Witch,” Agatha said, eyeing him curiously. “Why do you need The Road?”

“I mean, I’ve studied, don’t get me wrong,” he said, making her smile tightly in acknowledgment. “But that can only take you so far. I wanna blast, to shield, to levitate—“

“So you want a shortcut,” she interrupted. “The Road promises that what’s missing awaits you at its end,”

“Oof,” you chuckled. “That’s rough, never meet your heroes, Teenie,”

“Shut up,” he snapped, turning back to Agatha. “Power is what I’m missing. Sounds like it’s what you’re missing, too,”

You paused and watched your mother nervously. She was a strong woman, crazy every now and then, but she wasn’t stupid, was she? She couldn’t possibly take up on this offer with some random kid she kidnapped under a spell.

“Nope. Too risky. No time,” she said finally, about to walk off again.

“If you wanna run, fine,” he shrugged. “But these people who are coming tonight sound serious. You really think you can outrun them with no magic at all?”

“Twink’s got a point,” you sighed. While yes, it was an idiotic thing to do, the Road was safer than the Seven, without a doubt. At least there, death would be quick and painless and devoid of any nightmarish methods.

“Who are you?” Agatha asked, squinting at him.

“My name is…” his words distorted, and you saw his lips vanish completely, only to reappear again after he had finished.

"Say again," your mother demanded, eyes squinting slightly at the sight of it.

"I'm..." there it was again. Distortion, something scribbled over his lips.

Your mother and you shared a look. 'Something's up,'

"Interesting..." she mused, eyeing him curiously. "I'm driving,"

You groaned. This woman was on a whole different level.

"I don't like this, Mom," you muttered, catching her by the wrist. "I really don't,"

She shook your hand off her. Ouch. A glare graced her sharp blue eyes. "Trust me,"

"When was the last time those two words meant anything to you?"

"When was the last time you weren't so suspicious?"

"Whatever," you huffed.

Of course it was like this. Power, power, power. You couldn't remember the last time she'd stopped, paused, asked you 'how was your day, baby?' but she wasn't that kind of mom...was she?

Fix it, fix it, fix--

You shook your head. Stupid voices. This is what happened when Death and Chaos raised a child. There was nothing you could fix. Not when the thing you wanted to fix was...

...sitting at a makeshift car.

"Need your pills, Mama?" You scoffed, walking right past her, grabbing the keys, only to have them snatched from you by Agatha.

"You’re driving," she tossed the keys in Teen's direction, much to your dismay.

The crisp Westview afternoon beat down upon you, with sharp sun gleaming over suburban rooftops, casting sharp shadows over the empty streets. It was quiet, normal, calm--

"Miss Harkness! Miss Harkness!"

And there it went, right as you were enjoying it. Teen.

"What do you know about covens?" He asked, enthusiastically.

You rolled your eyes. "Calm your ass down, fanboy,"

"Y/n," Agatha warned before walking and continuing, "Just that they’re drawn together by mysterious forces of fate, and that they’re the truest form of sisterhood and--"

"Oh, my God. Are you taking me to meet your coven?" He gasped, interrupting her.

She shuddered. "No. Those harpies are dust. But we do need a coven to access The Road,"

"Right. Of course, that makes sense," he muttered.

"Wow, it can understand common sense," you gasped sarcastically. "Well done, Junior,"

"Fuck off," he huffed. He caught up with Agatha. "It is the Witches’, plural possessive, Road,"

You glared daggers into the back of his head as he sat in the front of a Subaru, Agatha beside him. Jealousy, ugly and burning, twisted in your chest. What was she trying to do, palling up with this random kid she kidnapped on a Thursday evening in delirium? Had she no sense? No dignity? No grief?

Your fingertips tingled, and the voices rose. Fix it, fix it, fix it. Fix what? Fix a relationship like porcelain? Fix this power-hungry woman with a thirst for nothing else?

"So where do we just find a coven?" Teen asked.

"You call yourself a witch?" You scoffed. "You got some homework to do, Twinky,"

"Wherever you are, a coven there shall be," Agnes shot you a look through the mirror.

"That’s beautiful,"

"Hardly," you scoffed.

"She's right. It’s definitely not," Agatha shrugged. "But it is the Covenstead Rule. Within any three mile radius, there will be a collection of witchy enough people to form a coven,"

Teen fished around in his pocket and held out a worn journal. "Can you actually jot that down for me?"

"Ooh, where's the unicorn fluffy pen, Twinky?" You teased. "Gushing about your dream guy from class in your diary?"

"No," he gave you a pointed look. "There’s a pen in the glove compartment,"

"Oh," Agatha had that look in her eye as she got the pen. "Okay. Of course. Will this be…" she promptly flung it out the window.

"I'll remember it," he shrugged. "So, with a Covenstead, it’s unlikely we’ll find witches as high profile as you--"

"Yeah, there’s no such thing, Teen," she interrupted. "You know, but all we need is a bit of talent. Even the most downandout witches, when in close proximity with each other, bring out a magical spark,"

"A spark you seem to have lost," you muttered as the car stopped. Here, the energy felt strange--buzzed like a frat party, but calm like before a storm. Your eyes landed on it: Madame Calderu's.

A psychic. You hated psychics. Know it alls who had no notion of personal space or intellectual personal space.

"You think there’s a real witch in there?" Teen asked as Agatha did up her hair.

"Nah, probably some ugly fucking harpy," you scoffed, shoving past him.

"We’ll see if she knows the secret handshake," Agatha shrugged. On seeing that he was believing her, she groaned, "No,"

A grin spread over his lips. "I feel really optimistic about this,"

The shop was dim, lit primarily by the candles of the space. It smelt of incense and essential oils, and it made you want to throw up. Trinkets hung from every place, and it made your chaotic thoughts more chaotic than usual. The lights glinted off the surface of the crystal ball--which warped the floral tablecloth it was placed over.

And right then, a voice.

"Welcome to the curious,"

@eletricheart, @misty-melody, @mmemalwa, @skittlebum, @lexietargaryen, @natashasmuse, @angelbeingatitspurest, @skittledemon, @wandasreallover , @gaylorvader, @lovelyy-moonlight, @lizziescutiepie, @rosierogie, @lanadelreyaesthic, @circe143, @babybeeelle, @kafkas-left-titty, @delusional-4-fake-people , @filmedbyharkness , @nothecoffeemachine03, @believe-in-magic13 , @liloandstitchstan , @scarlettwidow09, @pixelfaery, @darkexil, @agatha-harknesses-housewife

hi bao buns! sorry this is SO overdue, i've been swamped with work, motivation problems, and now studies. i figured it'll be exhausting to write out such huge chapters for every episode, so i might break them down into parts <3 thank you for your patience!

love, jace.

[bwat5-blog]

A Look At The "Nothing Character" Who Broke Our Hearts: Isha

**Spoilers For Arcane**

I must say, there was a time not so long ago that if someone were to tell me there was a whole tag devoted to the hatred of a cute, tenacious, brave little girl character who died tragically trying to emulate her hero, I would have found the idea completely insane. However, since becoming a part of our little community....

Before we get into this a bit let me say, I am not formally educated in writing/literature/creative story telling or any of that. So what I discuss and list will as usual be the research I could find on my own with sources provided. I know for a fact through some of my interactions on here there are some very educated people in this area, so if any of you see this and care enough, please chime in! I'd love to learn more.

What Is The Complaint?:

"Isha isn't a real character!"

"Isha did nothing except get blown up!"

"Why was this kid even in the show?"

"Isha's only purpose was to give Jinx a reason to be happy then take it away!"

You get the idea. Overall people seem to hate the character because they feel she really wasn't one. They see her as being more of a singular plot device with no real information or depth given and not having any real purpose. While it is true we don't learn a ton about her, I completely disagree as to the worth and impact of her character on the story. In doing some digging, I came across the following term:

Catalyst Character-

Per Reference.com: "A catalyst character, also known as a catalytic character, is the character in a story who causes the protagonist, or main character, to move toward some kind of action or transformation. This character is usually the person that spends the most quality and influential time with the protagonist."

Okay, rather or not you agree or think it matters I'd hope at the least that that explanation is fairly clear. So moving forward, why do I think this applied to Isha? Because she is in all aspects a MASSIVE agent of change in the narrative. I understand not liking her. That is totally individual. But to imply she didn't matter is complete and utter nonsense.

The Ventilation Chamber Battle:

The brawl between Vi and Jinx has come to a head. Vi sits atop Jinx with one gauntlet around Jinx's throat and the other poised to kill her. Jinx is telling her to do it... she's glad that Vi is the one who is going to end her. When out of nowhere Isha leaps between them pointing a gun at Vi. '

Concrete Impact:

Stops the fight cold

Jinx immediately screams no betraying her actual fear for Vi's safety

Snaps Vi out of the fight where it appears she was quite possibly pulling back her hand to finish the fight

Isha's presence is what makes Vi get in front of Caitlyn's rifle leading to their separation and what occurs for them afterward.

Jinx clearly is "seeing" Vi again for the first time when Vi leaps to stop Caitlyn

2. Life With Jinx:

We return to Jinx after the time skip. It turns she has been living quietly in hiding with Isha since the battle. She is staying out of the bloodshed, focusing on her relationship caring for the young girl. She seems more at peace than we have seen her the entire series, even declaring "Jinx is dead" when Sevika comes to demand she get involved.

Concrete Impact:

It's strange to say for something I list under concrete but just the obvious and clear effect she has on Jinx herself. We see it expressed in many ways, such as Jinx saying Isha reminds her of Powder, Jinx saying she doesn't want to screw up what she has with Isha when in Silco's office, and so on. I feel like we could do an entire analysis post on Isha's effect on Jinx mental/emotional state but that is for another time.

The fact that Isha is masquerading as Jinx during the occupation is HUGE. We have to remember, Jinx is not actually getting involved at all before the events of the rally. The people of Zaun have made her their symbol because of what she did, and because Piltover has made Jinx their symbol of why they are doing what they are doing.

It is only because Isha went to the rally and got arrested that Jinx rejoins the fight.

3. Jinx Comes To Stillwater:

Isha has been arrested along with a large group of Zaunites during the rally. Sevika limps back to the hideout and tells Jinx who is immediately extremely upset. We see her seriously glitching in full for the first time since the time skip. She and Sevika mount a rescue mission, and because of Isha. Jinx rejoins the game since the occupation began.

Concrete Impact:

Without Isha being taken Jinx doesn't get involved which quite literally changes the trajectory of the entire story. Meeting Vander again and everything that stems from that would be impacted which quite literally could effect every character in the story. It is too much to list or "what if".

4. Reuniting The Family:

In the wake of meeting Vander and rescuing Isha, Jinx goes and finds Vi in the fighting pits, telling her what she has found and together with Isha they set off on a journey to find him. Leading to the all-too-short reunification of their family, with their newest member of course.

Concrete Impact:

Of course to state the obvious, they wouldn't be here if it were not for any of the things we have already been over.

When Jinx and Vi start to fighting, once again it is Isha's involvement that stops it cold.

Seeing Jinx's care for Isha is what helps Vi start to see her sister in a new light.

It is Isha's bleeding from getting whacked that draws Vander to them. Vi immediately leaps to save her life and Jinx can see the Vi she knows is still there as well. Also being thrown into Vander's path like that leads to his regaining control and the scene we see above.

5. The Commune:

After their family is reunited Vi, Jinx and Isha take Vander to the commune to meet with Viktor. Hoping his healing gifts can save their father. Of course, it all ends in soul rending tragedy with Vander losing control and Isha sacrificing herself to save her new family during a Noxian attack.

Concrete Impact:

Isha brings Jinx's gun. Without the gun the plan to save Vander could have gone a hundred different ways.

Isha pocketed those stones. If she hadn't done so once again it is impossible to list all the ways that incident could have changed in the end.

The impact on the story from Isha's sacrifice is so far beyond "making Jinx sad" it is mind-boggling. It stops the attack in its tracks. Without Vi getting injured saving Jinx from the explosion, Caitlyn and Jinx may have never found even that microscopic bit of common ground between them we see. There is so much more and that is to say nothing of the impact on Jinx mentally/emotionally

Conclusion:

So again this is not a true deep dive or anything. And I do understand the complaint that we really don't ever learn a ton about her. But I absolutely do not understand or agree with the complaint that she is meaningless/unimportant/inconsequential to the story. Her actions and presence drive a massive amount of change in the course of season two, and without her it very likely could have all ended quite differently. To close, below is an English translation of Isha's farewell posted to reddit for you to enjoy. (I have no way of knowing if it is accurate so if not forgive me).

Child, don’t fear the thorns; walk barefoot, And you’ll find something precious. Look at this darkened sky; see how beautiful the fireworks are. There’s no need for so much sorrow. People flourish and wither, But even stubborn rocks and debris will bloom.

Part the mountains, Let her see me. Tell the stars, Hurry and shine on me. Blow away the dark clouds, With a stroke of blue. Even if the world is full of desolation, We can look up and see the moon.

While we still have the hearts of children, Even as lone blossoms among millions, we must bloom. Don’t be troubled or sad. Don’t forget: Even if tears fall, we must keep running, Run to where even time can’t find us. Be the birds that soar at the edge of the sky.

Part the mountains, Let her see me. Tell the stars, Hurry and shine on me. Blow away the dark clouds, With a stroke of blue. Even if the world is full of desolation, We can look up and see the moon.

While we still have the hearts of children, Even as lone blossoms among millions, we must bloom. Don’t be troubled or sad. Don’t forget: Even if tears fall, we must keep running, Run to where even time can’t find us. Be the birds that soar at the edge of the sky.

Don’t keep searching; Just give me a hug. Let’s quietly forget, For this is good enough for me.

[gracie-eilish]

Can we have a lil spoiler of what the new series is about?? I'm exciteddd

here’s some sneak peeks!!! hopefully it doesn’t spoil it too much!! if you are able to figure out what the story could be about, pls don’t spoil it in the comments for everyone else!! this fic will be out soon!!

ch. 1 🌿

You pouted. “Dance with me.”

Billie let out a breathy chuckle, but before she could respond, you were reaching for her.

Her entire body tensed as your fingers wrapped around her wrist, gentle but firm, pulling her toward you. Billie barely had time to react before you were guiding her into a slow, easy spin.

It was effortless. It was gravity.

It was you.

“See?” you murmured, smiling up at her. “Not so bad.”

Billie swallowed hard, her heart slamming against her ribs. “Yeah,” she breathed, staring at you like you had hung the stars in the sky. “Not so bad at all.”

ch. 2🌹

You smiled, letting yourself lean back into her. Billie let out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding as you settled into her lap, resting your head against her stomach, looking up at her with that same dreamy wonder that had made her fall in love with you in the first place…

…Billie traced lazy patterns on your arm as the evening air cooled, her fingers trailing the soft curve of your shoulder, up to your jaw, over your cheek. You sighed, nuzzling into her touch, eyes fluttering closed…

…she just whispered, “You’re so beautiful.”

And when you hummed sleepily in response, Billie couldn’t help but smile.

The stars blinked to life above, casting silver light over the meadow. The wind played with your hair, and Billie ran her fingers through it, watching over you as you drifted off in her arms.

She didn’t move for a long time.

ch. 3🪟

The answer was immediate.

“Like I don’t belong here.”

Like you belonged in the woods. In the flower fields. In Billie’s arms…

... “Is there someone you’re thinking about?”

Your heart skipped.

You hesitated for only a second before nodding.

She smiled knowingly. “Then maybe you already know where you do belong.”

Your chest ached. You wanted to see Billie more than anything. To hear her laugh, to feel her hands steadying you as you twirled barefoot in the grass. You wanted to see the way her eyes softened when she looked at you, the way she got that dreamy smile when she thought you weren’t paying attention.

ch. 4 🐎

She sat down in the grass, right where you had been the night before. The earth was still warm beneath her, as if it hadn’t quite forgotten you yet. Billie let out a slow breath, running her fingers through the blades of grass. It felt wrong without you here. The flowers didn’t smell as sweet, the breeze didn’t hum the same melody. Even the river, which usually sang so softly, felt quiet.

She closed her eyes and let herself remember. The way you had fit against her, the way your lashes fluttered when you dozed off, the way your lips had parted ever so slightly, making her stomach twist with the urge to press a kiss there.

… Then, suddenly—

The sound of trumpets.

ch. 5 🎉

“Are you enjoying the celebration, my love?” your mother’s voice was gentle as she tucked a strand of hair behind your ear.

“I am,” you assured her, offering a small smile. “Everything is so beautiful. The food, the music…

She beamed, giving your hand a squeeze. “Only the best…”

You tried to focus on the joy around you….

…And yet, something felt off.

There was an underlying tension in the air.

Your parents, though elated, kept glancing at each other, their expressions flickering between happiness and something… else.

ch. 6 💚

… at the top of the hill, looming over the town with an almost ominous presence. It had always been majestic, but now, under the strange green fog, it looked… sick. The towers were dark, the windows shrouded, and the whole place felt hollow, as though something had drained it of its life. She could feel it in her bones, an unshakable dread creeping through her, but she had no choice...

With a new sense of urgency, Billie mounted her horse and urged it forward, faster than she ever had before. She galloped through the empty streets of the town, the once-joyful cobblestones now cold and lifeless beneath the hooves of her horse. Her heart raced, but it wasn’t fear that pushed her onward—it was you.

ch. 7 🩷

Billie stood in the doorway, her chest rising and falling rapidly, her usually steady hands gripping the frame as if she needed it to hold herself together.

And then her eyes found you.

She stumbled forward, not trusting her legs to hold her. The moment she saw you lying there, so heartbreakingly still, her knees nearly gave out beneath her.

“No,” she whispered, shaking her head. “No, no, no—”

Billie moved without thinking, collapsing onto the floor beside you, her trembling hands reaching out to hold yours. You were warm. Thank god, you were still warm.

Her vision blurred as she let out a shaky breath, her fingers clutching at your hand like a lifeline.

ch. 8 💐

And for the second time that day, she lost her breath.

…bathed in soft candlelight, … gown a breathtaking shade of blush, so pale it was nearly white. Tiny wildflowers—ones you used to tuck into Billie’s hair when you lay together in the meadow—were stitched into the fabric, sparkling alongside delicate embroidery that trailed down the skirt like vines. …but it was the tiny flowers woven… that made Billie’s heart clench the most…

coming monday 3/3✨🌸🫧🌿

[amethystfairy1]

First, I just wanted to say how much I am in LOVE with TT. Your characterization is absolute perfection and every time a new chapter comes out I do a little happy dance. I cannot rave enough about TT. So, it seemed a good idea for me to give TTSBC a shot. I only had one problem. I’m not a huge fan of explicit romance, it’s a big turn off for me in a lot of fiction *sighs in repulsed aroace*. For TT, is a small enough part of the fic that I can get passed it, and mostly started later on so I’m already invested enough that I’m willing to put up with it because again, TT is hands down the best fic I’ve read, but for TTSBC it felt a lot more prominent in the first few chapters I read. This is far from a complaint, I still really want to read it, if TT is any indication, I’m sure it’s amazing. So, I come bearing a question. Are there any specific, more romancey chapters I can skip (especially near the beginning) while still getting the plot?

I'm so glad you enjoy TT so much!!! And that you enjoy my writing so much you're willing to give TTSBC a shot despite the issue with explicit romance!

Hmmm...I'm really sorry to say, but TTSBC is a much more romantically driven storyline than TT. There are plenty of non-romance stories and plot points within it! But yeah, a lot of the stories center around a ship and their interactions and characterizations are what forward the plot...especially because it's a Hot Guy and Cute Guy AU, and Scarian is cannon to TTSBC, so unfortunately I don't think I can exactly reccomend any to skip while still getting the plot, the two are just far to intertwined.

As far as specifically non-romantic stories in TTSBC I think you could still read and pick up on the context that might at least help you get your foot in the door...there's...

"Light of my Life" "A Nice Long Walk" and "Just Fine" which are about Cleo and Bdubs found family

"Blessings in Disguise" "Free Fall" and "All We Know" which are about the Empires found family.

"Pesky Birds" "Little Spark" and "Feathers and Flares" which are all about the Oddball found family. In these oned Doc and Etho are dating or married, but the story focuses much more heavily on them adopting all their wacky lil gremlins, not necessarily on their romantic relationship with each other.

And basically anything where Pearl or Cub is the main tagged character, because in TTSBC Pearl is ace and Cub is aroace! Some of their stories are "Lonely Moments, Left Alone" "Bestest Friends" "Always Watching" "All Ears" "Skulk-Vein Blues" and "Sunlit Coincidence"!

All of these stories don't predominantly feature romance!

Hmmm, other than that, I'd also say you should take a scroll through my Hermit-a-Day May series! A lot of the one-off stories I did in TTSBC about different hermits are just character studies and don't focus on romance!

But like I said at the start, TTSBC is a romance driven plot, so unfortunately a lot of the stories that are crucial to the plot are all romance heavy...so I can't exactly recommend any of them to you. But hopefully you will enjoy the ones above! It might be a bit out of context, but I hope you can pick up on the setting and world and hopefully get into TTSBC where you can!

Thanks so much!

[typewritingyip]

I've been avidly keeping up with your Arcturus series, and I just wanted to comment that you do a fantastic job of letting dread or anticipation linger while still progressing the plot and keeping your story engaging. Plot points like the slow descent toward overuse, the threat of exposure of the meaty core of these mechas, and the tension of characters that are secretly organics fighting on a battlefield where allies casually wield weapons that only target organics are AGONIZING and I am loving every new installment!

Oh my god this made me cry.

It has taken me almost ten years to be willing to just write and release what I’m writing, wherever little me had found the courage to do so, it was wiped away at some point.

Arcturus is the longest thing that I’ve written and released, almost the longest thing I’ve ever written.

To know that there are people like you out there that are enjoying my story, enjoying how I’m writing it, it means more than I can put to words.

Thank you for being so kind, for your words, they truly mean so much. This is the first time in a very long time where I don’t feel ashamed of what I’m writing down on the page, where I feel confident enough to talk about it, where I’m not hiding a page of writing under notebooks for class. I have the time and the love to write. To share it.

And to you I will always be grateful. It truly means so much.

(Next part will be out sometime tonight)

[almacambiondaughterofsaleos]

Bojack Lays It Down Flat On Stolas

I think a lot of people have made comparisons between Stolas and Bojack for good reasons because both are assholes who keep using their tragic backstories to absolve themselves of their actions and keep repeating the same mistake that makes people alienate themselves from them. The difference is the narrative knows Bojack is wrong and makes him pay for his mistakes, while Stolas is constantly babied and treated as tragic going through everything. I can imagine if Stolas befriended Bojack he would at first side with him and let him crash at whatever new place he managed to get but soon realizes what an ungrateful, whiny privileged asshole he is.

This would be post series Bojack where he's lost his reputation and had many friends distance him and just had Mr. Peanutbutter backing him. However, I could see him after a season worth of dealing with him telling him the ugly truth about what type of person he is and wouldn't sugarcoat it. It would also come out because Bojack realizes he's not so different from Stolas and hates it. He really doesn't want the bird in his life, especially if he can't admit he's a pos.

______________________________________________________________

Bojack: You know when I first let you crash here I thought it was because life treated you like crap and you needed someone to help you, but now I realize that it's only because your actions led you to this.

Stolas: What are you saying? You can go blaming what that harpy of an ex-wife and her brother did to me on myself.

Bojack: I can say you allowed yourself to be stripped of your powers because you valued dying for your boy toy rather than living for your kid.

Stolas: But I had no choice he would have died if I hadn't of done anything.

Bojack: You still broke your promise to never leave her and caused her stay in your ex's and brother in law's clutches. And this all started because you had to get your dick wet instead of actually being man enough to divorce. Dude, if you really cared about your daughter you would have long left your wife instead of staying together so you can stroke your martyr complex.

Stolas: Don't judge me I tried the best I could for that girl all these years.

Bojack: If that's what you called trying I hate to see what you do when you don't give a damn.

Stolas: Shut up and give me more absinthe.

Bojack: Also dude get a job and buy your own groceries. I am tired of cooking and getting booze for a pompous brat like you. In fact, I just want you to get the fuck out of here and you can wallow in your own issues because it's not my responsibility to give a hoot about you.

[potatomountain]

So I'm going to take a page out of your book to reply to this because omg the live feedback? The tags? I am SOBBING [happy tears okie]

So spoilers beneath the cut!

First-

-Those that voted to have MC transferred were: Chan, Minho, Felix, and Changbin.

Felix's reasoning was that he thought she would be happier in another Precinct. Changbin was worried about the group as a whole and well, Chan and Minho wanted her gone for selfish reasons 🤭

- Chan locked the door so no one would bother them [habit when he's scolding his team]

- Chan admitted to what he did for plot purposes and because he wanted her to know how bad he wanted her. The man is also not thinking clearly [he's beyond fucked]

- the skz do not know about the drunken night, they are unhappy with the way Chan got her transfered and the way he's been handling things. And oh boy Minho and Chan will get their Karma 🤭

- Mingi is a gentleman for his Princess hehe. And yes, that IS a halazia reference.

- in all seriousness, the "feeling less" was personal for me as well. I'm not stranger to trauma, no where NEAR mc's incident but I am familiar with the way it can destroy someone.

- mc is a woman who had only herself for everything, especially in an emotional compacity. So having people that feel her pain with her, she feels like she is burden because she was taught not being her absolute best all the time means she is less, and means she is undeserving of attention/love. So she isn't just overcoming the Incident, but also the way she was raised and the betrayal of the SKZ unit still.

- as for the last line, I'm referring to the above note. Mc see's indulging in comfort as being selfish and entitled, actually indulging in what she wanted despite the fact she knows she is causing them pain.

For your tags! I absolutely prefer them typed up like above because it's easier to reblog and just :') i can show off all the amazing and nice things you guys say it makes me so so happy. I do feel so so appreciated right now from your reblog and it means so much you remembered 🥹🥹 I'm happy you've enjoyed my other works as well. The Case series might be my pride and joy but I love all of my pieces!

C:IU Chapter 1

Act One: Chapter One

Masterlist | Next

Pairing: Poly 0t8 Ateez x fem reader AU: Mafia/detective Genre: 18+ poly romance, action Word Count: 3.5k Summary: "Not the same" Warnings: 18+, mentions of drunken sex, attempted kiss, triggers, panic attack, suggestive AN: Dividers and banner made by me @potatographics. Usual beta readers tagged in masterlist! No editing done!

There was a sense of nostalgia as your phone rang for the dozenth time in the last five minutes, knowing who it was before looking at the screen. With a smile you brought the screen to your ear, nearly avoiding one of the bystanders on the sidewalk. “Hi Ji.” “Finally you pick up! Where are you? You said you would be here ten minutes ago!”

You laughed at the frantic voice on the other side, having missed him. “The distance was a little more than I thought so I left later than I should. I’m walking up now, is he in?”

There was a moment of silence, some shuffling, and then a sigh. “He is and he’s more frantic than I am! He thinks you stood us up.” “Now why would I do that?” You mused, stepping up to the S.K Unit. “He knows I just love him.” The bitterness was still there, no matter what.

Even if you were the one who opted for this. Who asked for this meeting.

Well you did that out of bitterness too.

“I’m here and coming in.” You announced before hanging up and pushing into the familiar precinct.The familiar uniform at the desk, staring up at you in shock before they scrambled to greet you.

Now you didn’t think you looked that different. Was it the outfit?

You weren’t in your old fitted suits of black and white. Hair was colored and shorter, and you were wearing more makeup than you used to but that last bit was a habit by now. Was it the low cut top? The tight mini skirt or the lace stockings? 

You’ve been wearing such things for some time now you hadn’t realized that your old unit would gawk at your appearance. And boy did they gawk.

The second you stepped back in the familiar room with lined desks, heels clicking to a stop with finality, your old unit looked in your direction. Most of them at least.

It was your old Captain who you stared down, capturing his gaze with your own and tilting your head curiously as his eyes skimmed down your length. He swallowed hard.

Good, rub it in his face what he lost.

Smiling sweetly, you finally turned your attention to Jisung and Changbin that flanked you, the latter swooping you up into a hug. “God Damn you look amazing!”

Playfully you swatted at his arm, smile turning coy. “Yeah? I don’t have as many restrictions with my current work so I’ve really branched out. Believe it or not, I do have a gun on me, and not my purse.” You gave a little twirl just to show off the fit some more.

“It’s in the boots right? Otherwise-” Jisung made a face, shaking his head before he pulled you into a hug. You leaned into him happily, truly having missed him since you had barely talked to him since the night of the club.

It had been so long, and so much had happened, you felt a little bad for ignoring them but it hadn’t been safe. 

As if you had time anyways, even your sweet lovers complaining they didn't get to see you.

With a sigh you pulled away from them both, smiling and waving at the two youngest that were in the room, just to have one attached to your waist in the next second. “Hey there Innie. You doing well without me?”

“No.” He buried his face into the crook of your neck, showing his age as the youngest.

“It hasn’t been the same without you. Are you going to come back? It’s been months.” Seungmin chimes in from right behind Jeongin, an expression on his features you weren’t used to, like a kicked puppy.

“She’s not.” Chan finally barked out before you could answer, his tone enough to get the others to back away and clear the way for him to approach you. “You asked to meet. Business or pleasure?”

When he looked like he wanted to bend you over the nearest object and probably hate fuck you, you couldn’t help but play coy. “Business and personal. Can we talk in your office?”

With a sharp nod he turned on his heel and headed to his office, pushing the white sleeves up to his elbows, a sign he was agitated. Good.

Stepping into his familiar office he immediately shut the blinds, motioning for you to take a seat while he shut and locked the door. You opted to stand, a fact he didn’t mention as he moved over to his desk.

“Personal first, if you don’t mind.” You kept your tone cool and nonchalant, finding it funny how the tick in his jaw and flex of his muscles no longer excited you like they used to. How many times had you fucked yourself to the mental image of his fingers inside you, his arm flexing under your own hands as you held on?

Now you imagined another hand, another arm- many of those. Some that you could vividly remember how they felt on your skin, and others you could only think about. Perhaps you'd get the courage to make those fantasies a reality soon, not liking the anxiety that bubbled up in your chest when you often thought of physical contact in that way.

I'll get over it; you told yourself for the nth time in the last several months. The fact you were here now, facing down the man that broke your heart and had betrayed you to an extent you never thought you would recover from, was proof to you that you could get over that other thing.

“Personal as in about the last time I saw you?” Chan's tone was clipped and to the point, a sign he was struggling to keep his emotions in check. “What is there to say?”

You relaxed your expression to try and appear as bored as possible. “Oh I don't know. How my best friend and the man I loved and admired sabotaged my career so they didn't have to make any personal sacrifices to their morals?” Venom still dripped in your words as your stare turned cold. “We can start there.”

“That's not the case-”

“Oh? Then what was it? I know I confessed, Chan. And then the next time you talked to me you were transferring me out. Doesn't matter why, you handled that like a fucking child.” You cut him off, sneering at the tick in his jaw. 

He barked out your name, much like he used to when he felt like you were overstepping orders or infringing on his authority. You just rolled your eyes at him, locking your hips and placing a perfectly manicured hand on the curve. “I didn't have a choice in transferring you.”

“Funny, it sounded like you suggested the transfer. Or well, you listened to Minho about it.” You snapped out, the calm and collected air around you falling fast. “But by all means, tell me how you had no choice but to transfer me. No choice not to confess. No choice not to talk to me after I did. No choice but to break me into a million pieces by ignoring me and my feelings until it was convenient for you.”

Toe to toe with him now, he was no longer keeping a cool head either, anger twisting his handsome features into a sneer. “You don't know anything. I played by the rules as much as I could. But you never think about that do you? I didn't want to keep quiet! Fuck I couldn't keep my hands off of you when you were drunk and I hated myself for that!” 

While he pushed his hair out of his face, you were flabbergasted, staring up with wide eyes. “What… what do you mean? What did you do, Chan?”

He turned away, clenching his jaw hard enough the veins on his neck bulged out. “You kissed me. Left a hickey. Felt so fucking good grinding up on me. I didn't fuck you. But I-” Mr. Stickler for clear consent and rules couldn't meet your eyes as he admitted, to him, his greatest sin. “You tasted so good, Trouble. Fuck I can still picture you coming on my tongue- on my fingers. The sounds you made, the way you begged-” He lifted his gaze to yours, a heat there you were unfamiliar with.

One step closer, and you took one back. You would have found his admission hot before, the idea you had such an effect on him that he broke his own rule, but that was before.

Before that red wolf. 

You told yourself this was beforehand and it wasn't the first time you had done such things drunk, so why did it matter.

It mattered when your name fell from his lips like a heated plea. When he reached out and grabbed your hip, pulling you flush against him. It mattered when he leaned in as if to kiss you, his eyes on your lips. “Is it really impossible to go that route?”

Panic welled in your chest at how close he was. You didn't want him to touch you- you didn't want to be touched.

It was the sting of your palm that brought you back to your senses, a red mark clear on Chan's cheek as you were now several feet away from him, back against the door and breathing a bit erratic. 

He didn't move aside from glancing at you. You could see the pain in his gaze, the confusion. Perhaps now he would finally realize how much he had screwed up.

“This was a mistake.” The thought of sticking around, alone in this office, had your chest tightening more by the second. Fumbling with the door, you were tripping over your feet to get out faster.

A chorus of your name echoed around you, different levels of concern and panic. You would have run right out if not for Chan grabbing your wrist. You struggled, turning to smack him again.

Jisung swooped in for the figurative rescue, pulling Chan off you and stopping your hand from connecting again with his Captain's jaw. “Hey hey, let's talk about this.”

“I'm trying.” Chan hissed out, the tick in his jaw back. “Why did you-”

“You touched me.” You cut him off, short breaths had your chest heaving. “You don't have the right any more Chan. I told you, you lost me. I wanted to make it clear what you fucking did is unforgivable, but I wanted to work past it so that we can work together. Because despite you being an entitled, self-absorbed, goody-two-shoes asshole… you and this unit are good at your fucking jobs.” 

Shaking off Jisung's hold, you stepped back, surprised to see the two youngest flanking you and stare down Chan. Seungmin even put an arm in front of you almost protectively, another thing you did not expect. They were the last two to join and you had a friendly working relationship with them but you weren't as close as you were with Jisung or Hyunjin.

Where was the latter? And Minho? And Felix? Two of those you wanted to see more than anything.

“She has a point, Captain. about you being a self-absorbed asshole that is.” Seungmin drawled it out so easily, sparing you a concerned glance. “You don't talk to us. You make decisions without explanations, ones that affect us all. We lost the vote to keep her here, but you never told us she didn't know about it. You told us there wasn't much of a chance otherwise. It was her or us.”

“Even I regret my vote.” Changbin added on, stepping up to his Captain, placing a hand on his shoulder. “We've been a mess since she left. Hyunjin acted out until you had to suspend him. Felix has been like a shell of his former self. Minho is too busy talking to the higher ups and moving between other precincts. We haven't met our quota in months-”

“I get it.” Dejectedly, Chan's whole demeanor fell. “I fucked up.”

Some of the tension slipped out of the room then, but you were still far too tense, stepping back. “You clearly have shit to figure out. Ji, let me know when this unit is level headed for a job.” The shaking of your words gave way to your panic, but you didn't stick around to let them poke at it.

Jeongin walked you out however, silent as he fell into step next to you. You didn't protest, mostly because he didn't ask any questions. He was there as you signed yourself out and walked out the front door, only pausing when you did.

The last thing you expected stepping out of the S.K Precinct was the tall, lanky man holding a bundle of your favorite flowers in his hand, pacing as if he was nervous. “Mingi?”

His head shot up, those boba eyes you adored brimming with concern, brows pushed together even deeper at the sight of the man next to you. “Princess?”

Tears welled up behind your eyes as you stepped closer, but Jeongin was right there. “You know him?”

“He's my boyfriend.” You replied without a second thought, chest tight with emotion that was reflected on Mingi's features. The way his eyes widened a tad more, brows shooting up at your admission, and the hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his full lips.

Recognition flashed across Jeongin’s own sharp fox-like features. “The one who hit Chan?” 

“Yep. What are you doing here baby?” You stepped up to him, glancing down at the flowers with a silent question.

He handed them over to you, leaning down and pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. The way you stiffened wasn't lost on him, but he didn't address it. “I heard you were coming to see that fuck face so I came to pick you up. I got her from here.” Mingi nodded over at Jeongin, effectively dismissing him.

He hesitated a moment before turning on his heel. “Alright just- don't be afraid to reach out. We don't stand with Chan on this.” He was back inside the next moment.

Alone with Mingi, the flowers now in your hand, he smiled down at you but it was still a little tense. “Boyfriend? Really?”

Rolling your eyes at him, you instead buried your nose in the flowers. “Do you really want to question that after you brought me flowers?”

“No… you're right. Let me take you home then?” He asked, moving his arm around you but not touching. He must be able to tell how on edge you were.

You were trying to forget.

“Who says I didn't drive?” You retorted, automatically defensive from his care. It made you feel weak, like you were fragile. You knew that wasn't their intent, what they thought; you knew they were just respecting your triggers. Yet it pissed you off anyways.

“The fact you lack a license, Princess. Now for my own piece of mind I'd like to take you home.” 

You hated how easily he calmed your thoughts, proving he didn't think you were fragile but he needed it. “Fine- lead the way.” With a resigned huff you let him lead. 

Moments later you were in the passenger seat of his car, much like Wooyoung's, it looked a bit rundown on the outside but had a slick, luxurious interior. “Are these your undercover cars or something?”

“Yeah. I'll have to show you my baby though. She purrs like a kitten, made the modifications myself.” He slipped into the driver seat with ease, chair pushed back and one hand on the wheel. “Buckle up Princess.” Was the only warning you had before he was slipping into traffic with a harsh swerve.

It didn't surprise you that he was a car guy, at times taking notes of black stains on his fingertips that would last a few days. You never asked, mostly because it was in passing. You also weren't surprised he was a reckless driver.

What did surprise you was when you realized he was not heading downtown to the Pink Boa apartments you had been staying in the last few months. “Mingi? I thought you were taking me home?”

“Yeah, back to Captain's place.”

“That's not home.” You protested, pinching the bridge of your nose. 

He glanced over at you incredulously. “Of course it is. It’s home for all Pirates.” 

The surety of his words had you stumped, so instead of answering you glanced down at the flowers again. 

Right after they officially accepted you into the Pirates, you demanded to go to work. You had reached out to Haru and she set you up with one of the apartments she kept her girls in. Your legal address was still next to Mingi, this was just considered a burner apartment, one that you didn't need to stay in but you did anyways. 

Haru had been right about a woman's touch after such incidents, burying yourself into work to also keep her from probing. Were you running from what happened? Ignoring It? Yes.

It wasn't because it happened, but you hated the way it changed you. Your desire for the others was still strong, but the moment you thought of them touching you, your mind would slip. The creepy drunk men hitting on you? Also making your skin crawl.

Your ability to do your job was affected. Your relationship was strained. You felt… less.

So you pushed through it, pretending you didn't break down alone in that apartment. Pretending Yeosang didn't see any of it. You pretended the others didn't have a reason to be worried. Pretended you couldn't see Wooyoung or San because of work, despite living in the same building as them. 

Mind racing with anxiety, wondering just how you were going to face them, you didn't realize the two of you were already pulling into a garage under the stone and metal building on the river that was home to your Captain and his lover's.

Your lovers.

It had been a little over three months since you had been here, avoiding meeting them in person as much as possible. And when you saw them, physicality was out of the question. Not that it wasn't comforting when San rubbed your back or Wooyoung held your hand, but you would always find yourself guilty that this was all you could handle.

Mingi getting out of the car and rushing around to open the door for you gave you little time to prepare. Would you ever be?

Hesitantly, you took his hand, trying to keep yours steady. Mingi once more didn't say anything, but there was pain in his eyes and his jaw clenched. 

It hurt that your pain hurt them, a concept you were so unfamiliar with. Your pain is something they didn't like to see. They feel hurt with you, they share your anger and sadness.

It made you want to run.

“Please don't ask Mingi.” You knew he wouldn't, but you still pleaded with him.

His gaze shot up to meet yours, not even hiding the depth of his pain. His full lips fell open repeatedly, gaping like a fish as he scrambled for words. “Before… before we go in…”

You tensed up unintentionally, which resulted in a choked groan falling from Mingi's lips.

“Fuck Princess- before we go in… can you please not look like I'm walking you to the guillotine or something? If it helps, this is about work okay?”

Averting your eyes, you moved past him with a heavy breath. “I'm sorry. I'm trying. I'm really trying Mingi.”

“Did he do something? That Chan fucker? If so I'll drive right back there and break his fucking neck you just say the word Princess.” He followed you, the door shutting behind him as you both made your way to the stairs.

“He… he tried to kiss me. And I just-”

“He what?” Mingi stepped in front of you with a stormy expression. “Fuck- Princess. Then we can take a minute. Let's sit on the steps. I can hold you if-”

“Please.” The word was out before you could stop yourself. Before the guilt could eat you up. “Just for a minute.” 

As he set the flowers aside he sat on the stairs and pulled you onto his lap sideways. Feeling his shaky breath on your neck oddly calmed your nerves. Even as you replayed the events of the precinct over and over until it no longer spiked your anxiety, he held you and kept you calm.

It brought you a twisted sense of pride to know that Chan was just as fucked up as you were right now. S.K was in tatters, but so were you. Maybe taking a page out of his book and being an entitled and self-absorbed asshole would help.

Then you could seek comfort in Mingi's embrace without the soul crushing guilt of the pain you caused him.

Taglist in the Reblogs! Masterlist | Next

[thekittyokat]

you ever just have a lot, a LOT of feelings all at once about a character and not even remotely enough words or brainpower to FORM the words to describe everything you're feeling. so it feels like you may explode. yeah

[todayisafridaynight]

[nemo-of-house-hamartia]

Ngl, I am not watching the second seasons of the Rings of Power because I honestly did not appreciate the way they handled Galadriel's character and her relationship with Celeborn.

I may be IMMENSELY biased, because Galadriel and Celeborn were always my favourite couple within the Universe of Tolkien, second only to Faramir and Eowyn and Beren and Luthién.

But I hate to see how they completely discarded the man that gave Galadriel her name.

Like, Alatáriel is Celeborn's Epessë for her. She was known around Middle Earth with the name her beloved gave her, because it was the most beautiful of her names.

And he was handwaved away, in favour of whatever chemistry they wanted to create between her and Halbrand.

Like no.

No.

As much as I appreciate the dynamic (because it truly is one of my most favourite), the fact that they did this to Galadriel and Celeborn just didn't sit right with me.

They are THE couple. Silver and Gold, Moon and Sun, Lord of Lorien and Lady of Light.

Like nope.

I do not judge anyone that ship Galadriel with Halbrand, the more power to them for doing so, and I truly hope they enjoy their ship and have all the fun.

But for me, personally, the absence of Celeborn was a complete deal breaker.

^^^^^THESE TWO ARE THE ONE I WILL DIE FOR ON THIS HILL ALONE IF I MUST.

[rootbeermilktm]

finally live blogging it.

(watching @BlueberryTV on YouTube. she has MASTERFULLY cut together the dsmp streams into like episode long videos. i am a psychotic purist when it comes to watching all content in order and Blueberry TV has SAVED MY LIFE with this channel. out here doing the lords work i tell you. she’s got everything sorted into seasons, even fluff vs plot playlists if you don’t want to watch all the filler. (i’m most definitely watching all the filler.) i’m currently on what she’s got down as season 2, which starts post- manburg/pogtopia war. hog hunt just barely happened before my most recent binge under the cut.)

^fr check out this channel if you want to get into the dsmp. or honestly if you want to revisit or watch from perspectives you haven’t seen yet.

from my most recent binge:

The prison is so scary it’s giving me a sinking crimson dread feeling in my gut.

Dream calling the dsmp family when recruiting punz, saying before lmanburg there were no wars cause no one to have wars with everyone one unit one family, speaks to his motivation/values. As things have progressed he’s grown more and more alone and he’s trying to force everyone to be his family bc that’s what he craves. The way he’s trying to force things tho pushes them away more and more. He feels like azula to me in that moment, “what choice to I have? Trust is for fools. Fear is the only reliable way”. Not to compare mcyt improve to the greatest piece of media ever created but yk food for thought lol. He’s self destructing trying to force everyone to be his family bc he wants power and to feel in control but ultimately he does not want to be alone.

What tf is dream planning????!!!

Omfg dream is hunting down Tommy!!!!! Ahhhhh!!!!

Omg that is so scary dream was only an HOUR behind Tommy when he left exile!! Imagine that in an animated show. A few episodes ago we have Tommy leaving, trekking his way through the forest. Maybe we see how his trail gets messed up but we don’t really know that it matters yet. And then he finds technoblade. Then in this episode dream tells punz he had come back an hour later and we see short flashbacks to dream finding the place in a distorted dark/yellowy lighting with a quick, deep, minor string instrument sound all horror movie like and the music is all scary. And as Dream keeps describing it we see him talking and keep flashing back to the previous episode with Tommy leaving and flashes of dream tracking him like a hound. Shots of Tommy are from behind, further away and shots of dream tracking are close up on his hands/what he’s tracking and also his face/mask. Until we get to where the trail is lost. Fucking terrifying.

Techno and Tommy are so brothers. They bicker relentlessly but immediately when he logs on techno says “let’s go check on Tommy” and I’m delusional and am saying it’s not just check that he’s not causing trouble but also check on him emotionally and shit. <3

Again I am delusional but hear me out. Tommy and techno go back to logstedshire to get dogs and bamboo. Tommy is disassociating wandering off, sometimes he comes to and calls out for technoblade who is looking for dogs. We know techno is more hands off. He’s not great at comforting, my hc emotions make him uncomfy but he still cares yk. Tommy says “I’m alone” SOMEBODY SAVE ME GOOD GODS HES ALONE AGAIN NOOOOOOO. Okay but then techno spots dream (I hc he’s like actively looking for clues as to where Tommy’s gone), Tommy is still all confused and fucked up about his dependent relationship with dream and is like do I go see him do I stay away, and here’s where I’m (more) delusional. Techno knows dream is looking for Tommy. He. Does. Not. Want. Him. To. Find. Him. He knows he’s an abuser but Tommy is lost and having a panic attack so canonically techno is asking Tommy what he sees to try and find him before dream gets to him but I hc that he’s also doing the grounding thing where you name things you see/hear/feel/etc. Techno is intentionally calming Tommy down from a panic attack by helping him ground himself. Im crying.

Again delulu but techno is trying his best to help his brother but he’s way in over his head. Tommy has a hard time making his own choices without dream so techno is trying to let him decide not to see dream on his own until it’s clear Tommy can’t make that decision and techno has to take it away from him and make him hide. And also take away his armor so he’ll be invisible but the thought of being invisible/no one can see him/alone is so triggering for Tommy so he keeps his boots even tho it’s risky!!

Tommy panicking and spilling invis all over trying to hide from dream rip.

W hiding spot where Tommy could SEE dream.

And Tommy finding out lmanburg thinks he’s dead! I MUST know how he feels about that.

i am this close to live blogging my experience with the dsmp. this is my first time watching it and let me tell you avoiding spoilers whilst still engaging in fandom is harrowing. i am also this close to watching everything i’ve already seen just for the fun of it. i am having the time of my life out here with these damn mcyt role players from the year 2020. the thoughts i have, the way my brain is consumed every time i watch a new bit of lore.

[theriverbeyond]

i feel like in the cosplay community everyone is always working on a New Project. but idk. i like my cosplays. i don't have any desire to dress up as anyone but the characters I already have cosplays for. what if i don't have a new project. what if i don't want one.