#it's about how after everything ... after getting fourteen years to really think about his true feelings and overall view on life ... | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

abiiors · 5 months

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sfw alphabet ❣️ // matty healy x reader

a/n: there is one story in here that is based on true events from my life hehehe. also while we're here i'd like to say that i tried veryyyy hard to keep it strictly sfw but some innuendos did slip through lol cw: mostly fluff, very brief mentions of addiction. brief mentions of morning sickness, some angst but it's very tame overall wc: 5.6k

a = affection (how affectionate are they? how do they show affection?)

matty’s like if you fed a stray cat that one time five months ago—meaning, he’s going to be the most affectionate person ever if you show him even one act of kindness. it doesn’t matter what your relationship to him is, it’s just a given at this point that if you’re close to him, he’s going to go above and beyond for you.

you get your first taste of it when you show up to his house, on the verge of tears and a panic attack from the stress of an upcoming deadline. it’s three weeks into dating, you’re barely even sure if you should be bothering him with your silly little problems (even though later he would scold you for calling them silly little problems).

matty opens the door, takes one look at your face, and instantly pull you into a hug.

“oh, darling, what’s wrong?” his voice is full of concern and you suspect there’s a giant frown on his face.

“everything!”

a little giggle slips out of him and he has to press his mouth shut when you look up at him with a betrayed pout.

“everything? hmm, we gotta do something about that then, don’t we?”

and then that’s exactly what he does.

“should we light a fire?” matty asks once he’s got you a glass of wine (your favourite that he found out about and now always keeps on hand) “you love a good fire.”

“and we can read together?”

“anything you want, baby!”

and even though his face twists into an expression of instant regret as soon as he says it, matty still proceeds to make a fire while you set up blankets and pillows on the sofa. he knows exactly what’s coming though (no seriously, he fondly likes to call your kindle unlimited subscription the bane of his existence)

still, twenty minutes later, snuggled up next to you and cringing through every bad sex scene, he can’t complain. not when he gets to bury his head in the crook of your neck and hear you laugh at his reactions.

b = best friend (what would they be like as a best friend? how would the friendship start?)

loyal to a fault!!!

you can pinpoint the actual date the two of you became friends—years and years and years ago, practically decades at this point, at the ripe old age of fourteen, you got into your first fight.

you can’t remember how the fight started or who it was with. all you know if there were a few words, someone pulling your hair and the next thing you know, you were on the ground, trying to hit any vulnerable spot you could find.

the memories after that are fuzzy—you, school uniform undone, dried blood on your split lip, toeing the grass outside your school and trying not to look nervous. what if some teacher saw it?

you didn’t throw the first punch! what if—

“you look like you could use a fag!” a voice cuts through. it’s a boy you’ve sometimes seen around school. black hair (awfully straightened), a unibrow, thick black glasses, always surrounded by the same three boys.

“i don’t smoke,” you counter and go back to torturing the poor grass.

“i didn’t ask if you smoked, just said you look like you could use one.”

what. a. fucking. twat!

still, you aren’t much in the mood for an argument. “don’t wanna get in trouble.”

the boy shrugs. “you’re already in trouble, mate. but whatever.”

he’s about to leave when you grab his arm. “no wait. why are you being nice to me?”

at that, he grins. “are you joking? we all saw what you did to sam! biggest fucking bully in class and you looked like a badass putting him in his place.”

“wait, really? you really think that?”

“ask george,” (you don’t know who george is) “or ross or adam,” (you don’t know who they are either) “we all think you’re fucking cool.”

that makes you smile too. you hiss quickly though, smiling with a split lip hurts but he extends the cigarette to you once again.

and this time, you accept it gladly.

c = cuddles (do they like to cuddle? how would they cuddle?)

clingiest man in the whole wide world!!! he has to be attached to you at all times otherwise he’s gonna have that horrendously sad little pout on his face all day.

if you’re just at home, watching something on tv then his head is on your boobs (or in your lap but boobs is preferred though) while you play with his hair. every once in a while he nuzzles his face between them and says something that suspiciously sounds like “comfy”

he’s cute though! and it’s not always sexual. you love the fact that he feels so much adoration for you.

if you’re in bed though, you end up being the little spoon because he absolutely loves to flop on you and cover you with his entire body. he’s deliciously warm and smells so incredible (and he smells like home to you). you’ve lost count of the number of times you’ve fallen asleep like that—with his face buried in your neck, his stubble scratching the skin. and even when his arm falls asleep, he won’t make you move your head at the risk of waking you up.

d = domestic (do they want to settle down? how are they at cooking and cleaning?)

he is a brilliant house-husband (and that’s a title he’s claimed on his own).

“no, go sit down babe, let me take care of that for you” or “let me cook for you tonight” or “should i do the laundry while you finish your movie?” are definitely regular matty sentences arround the house.

the few weeks when he’s just gotten back from a tour and wants to do nothing but sleep all day long are probably the only time you do all the chores while he’s also in the house. he does get huffy when he realises you didn’t wake him up and ask for help.

“i could’ve hoovered,” he pouts but it melts away quickly when you pull him into a kiss.

“i know you could have, love, but you looked so peaceful sleeping i didn’t wanna bother you!”

he isn’t very happy about that but he silently vows to stay up and help you the next time.

e = ending (if they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

he doesn’t want to let go no matter how much the relationship deteriorates. he knows he can fix this and turn back time and bring back the spark. he knows the weekly fights are just a phase, he knows you love him so much!

deep down, he also knows he’s delusional.

you’re sleeping in two different rooms again, you in the guest bedroom, and he’s in your cold, empty bed. and there’s no way he can sleep that night judging by all the tossing and turning he’s done so far. your latest fight echoes in his head—all the nasty things he said, all the vile things you responded with.

just fuck off then, and don’t bother me again! those were your last words of the night before you slammed the door shut and the loud, defining thud echoed through the whole house.

when morning finally arrives, he knows he has to do it.

he knows he owes you at least this much. to break it off with dignity. to salvage whatever shreds of friendship and love that remain between you.

“we need to talk,” he says as soon as you enter the kitchen, eyes swollen and red and surrounded by bags. lips dry and chapped.

still, you nod. and matty extends you a steaming mug of coffee for the last time.

f = fiance(e) (how do they feel about commitment? how quick would they want to get married?)

he is so down to commit!

he’s started planning a proposal like a year into the relationship. he hasn’t bought the ring yet or anything! in fact, he’s not going to buy a ring at all. not when he plans on giving you his grandmother’s precious ring that she wore every single day until the day she died.

however, he knows the timing's not right. you’re both so busy and you’ve just started a new job. he has a few more tours coming up for the next two years. and well, he has his best friend’s wedding coming up soon, he’s not about to be the dickhead that proposes at someone else’s wedding.

so matty keeps the proposal contained to his day dreams.

he knows it’s going to be at home (he knows how much you despise public proposals) and he knows it’s going to be during the golden hour when you cuddle into him like a sleepy cat. he loves this routine—you, sleepy and gasping for a nap, plopping onto him when he’s just doing his own thing in the living room.

he loves how content you look in the dying light of the sun. how happy and beautiful and utterly perfect.

and matty knows, when he eventually gets down on one knee and asks you to marry him, that’s when it’s going to have to be!

g = gentle (how gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

so incredibly gentle!

you can’t remember a single time matty’s ever raised his voice at you. he used to be your pretty, dainty boy but he’s started working out now and he’s got muscles (which you find extremely hot. he’s also got a cute little bubble butt that you love to slap). it’s not that he’s unaware of his own strength but now he puts extra effort in being gentler if you two ever get into a play fight.

he makes sure to never fully pin you down (unless you ask for it 👀) or put his whole weight on you.

h = hugs (do they like hugs? how often do they do it? what are their hugs like?)

he loves them on most days.

his hugs are always the absolute best! it’s like being surrounded by all things matty—his cologne and aftershave, his arms, the softness of his shirt and the feel of his chin on top of your head. you think a hug from matty is the closest you’ll ever come to having a universal cure for every ailment ever.

on some days he gets quite overstimulated though. you can see it on his face when every single sensation becomes a bit too much and as much as you want to bundle him up, you try to give him his space. to let him calm down a bit. you can always just sit there and hold his hand if that’s all the touch he can bear for the moment.

i = i love you (how fast do they say the l-word?)

one month in, completely on accident!

you’re sick with the bubonic plague (a cold) and rotting in bed, surrounded by used tissues, half-empty cups of lemsip, and your trusty little comfort plush. matty’s in full nurse mode, despite you telling him that it’s nothing, you’ll be fine if he left.

it’s only when george calls him for something work related that he relents.

“let me check your fever one last time before i go,” he insists and you roll your eyes. but you have no other choice but to give in. it’s a 100 degrees, exactly what it was an hour ago. not too bad at all, but matty frowns.

“i’ll be back in a few hours, darling, you have to promise to call me if you need anything okay?”

“i will!” you croak out and wince when your throat protests. “now go.”

he holds his hands up in surrender and bends down to press a kiss on your head.

“don’t wanna get you sick matty,” you try to protest weakly but even then you know it’s useless. he’s going to do whatever he wants.

“go to sleep now,” he says, “i’ll see you soon. i love you!” and then he leaves.

ten minutes later, when it finally registers in your fever addled brain, your entire body goes cold. did he—

did you hear it right? no… it’s just the fever right? you’re sick! that must be it.

little do you know, matty had to sit down outside your room for a good two minutes before he could leave the house. and now that he’s in the studio, distractedly working on producing a track, he can’t stop grinning like an idiot.

j = jealousy (how jealous do they get? what do they do when they’re jealous?)

he used to get soooo jealous back when you were “just friends”! (he still is, he just thinks he hides it better)

the first time you really clock it is when you bring a friend to one of their shows. you know sean’s been a fan of theirs for a bit and frankly, you’re quite excited about introducing him to the band.

matty, however, is as far away from excitement as one can get.

he tries to mask his unease, and greets you with a forced smile. “heard you were our special guest, mate,” he nods in sean’s direction and puts his arm around your waist. “hope you enjoyed the show?”

if sean finds any of it weird, he doesn’t say it. he’s smiles bashfully and gushes about how much fun it’s been. you, on the other hand…

“matty…?” you say as soon as you get a moment alone with him.

he’s outside smoking a cigarette staring off into the distance. his jaw looks sharper than it usually does, his lips are pursed in a straight line. you take a deep breath, contemplating whether to address the obvious tension or let it slide. the distant city lights flicker in the background as you approach him, and he finally turns his attention towards you, exhaling a plume of smoke.

"alright?" your tone is a mix of concern and curiosity. when his eyes meet yours, for a moment, it feels like he's searching for the right words.

he shrugs, attempting a nonchalant smile. but you can see through it. so you fold your arms, giving him a knowing look.

matty sighs, stubbing out his cigarette. he leans against the venue's brick wall, avoiding direct eye contact. “thought we were going out for drinks later. just us two you know?”

ahhhh. so that’s what it is.

a tiny tendril of something shoots through your stomach, does something funny to your entire body.

“we are,” you try to stifle a smile. “do you not want to anymore?”

“what? no!” matty sputters, “i mean, yes! of course, i want to get drinks with you, i just thought…”

“you just thought?”

“well you brought a… friend.”

it becomes almost impossible to hide a smile then, and matty narrows his eyes. “you’re laughing at me,” he accuses and narrows his eyes further when you burst into a fit of giggles.

“he’s going home in a bit,” you manage to recover a bit. “you’re stuck with just me i’m afraid.”

that makes matty shake his head and you can finally see a tiny smile peaking through.

“just you… hmm,” he teases. “guess i’ll have to make do with that.”

k = kisses (what are their kisses like? where do they like to kiss you? where do they like to be kissed?)

his kisses always leave you a little breathless.

it doesn’t matter if it’s your first kiss of the day or if he’s been particularly affectionate or if he’s kissed you all over the face—you somehow always end up giggling like a teenager with a crush with your head spinning slightly.

l = little ones (how are they around children?)

so good, it gives you immense baby fever for the next few weeks.

it’s three months into your relationship when his mum insists you spend christmas with their family and you agree to it happily!

his entire family is there! his mum and step-father, his brother and his girlfriend, his dad, his step-brother who’s just had a baby. and that’s the moment you know you’re about to suffer from raging baby fever.

the whole weekend matty is absolutely adorable with the baby. you see him offer to take care of her and feed and change her, you see him making her laugh and smile, but it’s when you see him singing her to sleep, that’s when you truly lose it.

matty doesn’t even know you’re watching him, he's completely immersed in singing his own rendition of you are my sunshine while the baby stares at him with sleepy eyes. but it almost makes you weep when she clutches his finger in her tiny hand and starts to dose off.

the image lingers in the forefront of your mind even when you’re trying to sleep, being spooned by matty and under a cosy duvet. so much so that you have to turn around and bury your face in his chest to stop yourself from squealing at the cuteness.

he’s long asleep by then though. all he does is tighten his hold around you and you’re left to dream of a tiny baby with your eyes and matty’s curls.

m = morning (how are mornings spent with them?)

when you’re not getting off to… other things… mornings are usually very calm and chill. more often than not, one of you wakes the other with a steaming mug of coffee. if it’s a busy day and you don’t have much time to be lazy and cuddly, you just chat about your plans for the day while having coffee and some breakfast.

if it is a lazy day, however, breakfast usually turns into brunch in bed, followed by a nice, long bath full of bubbles!

n = night (how are nights spent with them?)

nights are just as sweet and way more cuddly.

both of you have a little ritual of reading in bed before going to sleep if you aren’t… otherwise occupied. still, he loves to just sit there and listen to you talk about your day or your work in general.

it always makes you laugh how excited he gets about any work gossip you might have for him.

overall, your nights together are so relaxing and sweet and genuinely make you appreciate him so much more.

o = open (when would they start revealing things about themselves? do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

in all fairness you knew much more about matty than he knew about you. he’s always been so open about his friendships and music and all his struggles, still, you knew hearing it from him first hand was going to be different. and you also expected it to take some time.

he doesn’t reveal it all at once though, he thinks he’s trying to make it more palatable for you if he talks about stuff bit by bit.

you’re special to him. he doesn’t want to scare you away by trauma dumping outright! it takes him a bit to open up completely, even when you show him nothing but support. but the more he shares with you, the deeper he falls in love. the more it becomes clear to him that you’re here to stay.

p = patience (how easily angered are they?)

anger isn’t the right word for it really! mostly he just gets annoyed sometimes—like a sweet little toddler with his cheeks puffed up it’s almost funny if it wasn’t so downright adorable. he can’t stay annoyed though! one kiss from you (even though it’s usually multiple in quick succession. a strategic attack really!) his annoyance melts away like butter on toast.

q = quizzes (how much would they remember about you? do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

matty’s like a walking encyclopaedia for trivia related to you and your relationship! he might not remember what he ate for dinner the night before, but he remembers exactly what earrings you wore for your music awards with him.

you do cheekily quiz him sometimes, and matty just smirks like an insufferable twat. “you can try all you want, love, you can’t best me at this game.” he grins.

“oh yeah? that’s a lot of cockiness healy!”

“go on then, quiz me!” he challenges and you smirk back.

“what did i say before i kissed you for the first time? four years ago that is! i need it verbatim, babe.”

for a moment he looks speechless and the smile on your face widens. it was four years ago after all. you’ve had infinite kisses since then, there’s no way he remembers. definitely not verbatim.

matty stalks closer. “you said…” he drawls between one long stride and the next and then he’s right there in front of you, mouth hovering over yours. so close your lips are almost touching. the air between you two feels charged with lightning.

“you said, you wanted to do this, and i quote ‘since the first time you fixed my smudged lipstick with your thumb’.” and before you have the chance to even react, he’s crashing his mouth on yours, smiling against your lips.

r = remember (what is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

it’s been fondly dubbed as “the mayhem disaster”.

one morning you hear matty go, “no, no, no, mayhem!” you put your book aside, and sit up to listen the curses that follow.

“everything alright?” you call out, confused and curious.

“babe, can you come here a sec?” he responds, making you groan into your cosy cocoon you'd made for yourself. it rained all night before, and now the weather’s just the perfect combination of gloomy and cosy—perfect to cuddle with your boyfriend all day.

which is what you had been doing until ten minutes ago when matty had to get up to let mayhem out into the backyard.

you turn the corner into the living room only to freeze in your tracks and slap your hand on your mouth, still failing to stifle the loud gasp that leaves you.

in front of you sits matty, on the floor, his head in his hands and next to him stands mayhem. except his gorgeous black fur is now fully covered and matted with mud

behind him, you can see muddy tracks and stray leaves he's brought in.

“oh no…” you don’t know if you should laugh or cry at the scene in front of you.

“baby…” you coo softly, both at matty and mayhem, “what happened?”

“he ran straight for a puddle the second i let him out, didn’t you, you twat?” he scolds the pup making you tsk.

that makes him laugh though. shaking his head, matty gets off the floor.

“well, come on you, straight to the bathroom,” he points a finger in the vague direction.

when the two of you finally manage to get him in the tub, matty starts running a bath while you rummage through the cabinet for pet shampoo.

“be a good boy now,” you scratch mayhem behind his ear, grimacing at the mud that’s now under your fingernails.

you crouch down to his level, softly grabbing his face and about to start cleaning. but of course, he takes it as an invitation to play and begins nuzzling you with his head, trying to climb on you.

matty laughs, making absolutely no move to help you. mayhem, covered in mud, tries to climb on you as you try to set him back into the tub gently. but it’s far too late, you’re already covered in mud.

“fuck! my favourite t-shirt!” you whine, looking down at yourself in despair.

“it’s not even yours,” matty laughs while you scowl at him. “besides,” he waggles his eyebrows, “you can always take it off.”

“pervert,” you laugh at him and then proceed to take it off in one fluid motion and chuck it at his face.

your eyes widen when the t-shirt slides off his face, leaving a perfectly round muddy mark on his cheek.

“you got mud on my face, didn’t you?” he dips a hand in the tub and you know what’s coming. “didn’t you?!” he asks again before splashing a handful of water on you.

you squeal as he grabs your waist, pulling you closer, rubbing his cheek against your face, neck, chest.

“matty!” you laugh, trying to get away from him but he holds on tight. “get her, mayhem, get her,’ he giggles and the puppy covers you in wet kisses once again.

s = security (how protective are they? how would they protect you? how would they like to be protected?)

he’s always been protective of you, especially when you’re in public. he doesn’t have to worry about the fans being rude or agressive, but the same can’t be said about random photographers and tabloids.

you thought you knew the extent of his protectiveness. all of that changed the moment you found out you were expecting.

you thought you knew his mother hen tendencies inside and out, turns out you were absolutely dead wrong! matty hovers. so. much.

he’s there, holding your hair every time you find yourself throwing up. he’s there cancelling on appointments and on the boys on days he deems the morning sickness “too serious”. most of all, he won’t let you go up or down the stairs alone. at all.

“i’m pregnant, matty, not an invalid!” you whine one evening when you feel him hovering behind you as you make your way up the stairs.

“i know,” he drags it out as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “i’m just making extra sure.”

your eye twitches. “making sure of what? that the stair monster doesn’t get me?”

you kow he’s rolling his eyes without being able to see his face. “alright, smartarse. i meant more if you got dizzy halfway up or down the stairs.”

“i’ll sit down!”

he hmphs, completely dismissing that logic.

“baby, the stairs have a railing for a reason!”

he hmphs again. “didn’t know it was a crime to make sure my girls were safe!”

that makes you sigh. this is a petty squabble—it’s not your first, it certainly won’t be your last. once you reach the top of the stairs, you turn to face him with another long sigh. “look, baby, i appreciate the concern, but i'm not made of glass. i can handle a flight of stairs without a chaperone.”

“indulge me, okay! we can have this argument every time, or you can just ignore my presence when you’re going up or down the stairs. either way, i’m going to hover.”

“matty!”

but you know it’s useless. besides, his stubbornness is almost endearing. and between that and the pampering that comes with the protectiveness, you might as well just give up your stance now…

t = try (how much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

he puts in so much thought! it has been like this since date one—since he made sure to accommodate your likes and dislikes and food preferences in finding the perfect place to eat. even after all these years, he takes his time to plan out everything. even if it’s just an at home pamper day for you while he does all the chores.

u = ugly (what would be some bad habits of theirs?)

it’s a low hanging fruit but… the excessive smoking annoys you sometimes. especially because his voice is his job. you’ve told him multiple times to tone it down a little and it’s not like he doesn’t listen. it just… doesn’t always stick.

v = vanity (how concerned are they with their looks?)

depends on where he has to go and what the occasion is. he’ll be dressed to the nines if he has to accompany you to a party or an event but usually he’s fine being in soft comfy clothes that keep him cosy

w = whole (would they feel incomplete without you?)

yes!

this literally needs zero explanation.

x = xtra (a random headcanon for them.)

pots and pans clatter; great, banging sounds first thing in the morning in an otherwise serene kitchen. it wouldn’t be like this, not really but you’re both incredibly sleepy. two figures, one tall and hunched over, the other smaller, softer. cuddled into him. the kitchen is awash in the early morning light, too early if you were to be asked but you’re okay with it. you’re happy and content as long as you get to stay stuck to matty’s side.

he cracks an egg.

“a sunny side up? still want that?” he asks and then laughs to himself. it’s an inside joke to him because, in the end, you’re going to end up stealing the eggs on his plate (a soft scramble) and accuse him of putting more care into his breakfast. which is exactly why he does it; puts more love into “his” breakfast that is. he knows you’re going to end up stealing it.

“can’t have you changing your mind again, darling.” matty ruffles your hair affectionately and tugs at the claw clip holding them together. they cascade down your shoulders; messy, frizzy and big.

this early morning everything is a bit fuzzy; your head, your thoughts. “mmm,” you respond. a sleepy little hmm. it’s quite possibly a yes, or it could be a “hold on i’m still thinking” or even a “don’t really feel like eggs anymore”. in all your years together, deciphering your hmms has been his biggest challenge.

“alright then,” a pause. you cuddle closer simply because his t-shirt is soft and he is very warm. this early in the morning you have no sense of anything else but the familiar warmth and the sizzling of the pan.

“i’ll make some coffee for us,” you volunteer and move away.

the bubbling of the kettle almost puts you back to sleep; it’s soothing, rhythmic. but you keep yourself occupied. your favourite mugs are always hung side by side. his is comically large, in the shape of a pint glass; you always tease him about not being able to finish the coffee, about always finding cold remnants at the bottom of the mug.

yours on the other hand looks more like a bowl; soft pink with tiny daisies all over it. you like holding it in both hands and cuddling it close to soak up some of the liquid’s warmth. on days that are especially cold, matty calls it your “emotional support mug”. and it is.

“okay we have to time this,” you announce and carefully pour hot water into the french press. so now he has about four minutes to finish the eggs. that’s alright, four minutes is all he needs.

“get the plates for us, would you?” he asks, bumping his hip into yours. it’s partly to wake you up some more, partly because he’s not very coordinated first thing in the morning either.

you’re about to grumble. getting the plate means leaving your comfy spot and having to open the door, dig around, close it again; so much work really. but matty is quicker. he knows this grumble is coming and he knows a tiny kiss on your nose always does wonders.

unfair really, that he should know you that well.

“hmm,” you huff and start the trek to the cabinet. matty snickers at the way you drag your feet, like a child being told to clean her room. always a grump before you’ve had some food and caffeine.

“such a grump,” he teases, “c’mere.”

when you stop in front of him, two plates in hand, he immediately sets them aside and pulls you close. your eyes are droopy, soft and sleepy. there’s no resistance when he tilts your chin and kisses you sweetly; a lingering soft kiss.

then he holds the steaming mug of coffee in front of you.

it’s as if the aroma makes you come alive; you perks up instantly, eyes finally open and hands reaching to cradle the bowl-like mug, to hold it close to your chest. you don't just drink the coffee, you indulge in it.

“right!’ you speak after a few sips, and proceed to steal his eggs.

y = yuck (what are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

snobbiness is a big no no. he really hates it when people retend like they’re better than someone else just because they have more fame or success or money.

he would absolutely despise himself if he ever turned into that person. and regardless of who he’s with at the moment, he makes sure that they don’t possess that quality.

z = zzz (what is a sleep habits of theirs?)

so erratic it’s worrying sometimes.

you tried to figure out if he was a night owl or a morning bird but it’s genuinely so unpredictable that you had to give up after a few weeks later.

one thing remains consistent though, wherever he is, he won’t go to bed without talking to you and telling you he loves you! even if he’s on the other side of the world, calling you with sleepy eyes and drooping curls while you hold your morning cup of coffee. even if he’s just got back home at 2 am and you’re already fast asleep. matty makes sure to whisper a little i love you and place a kiss on your head before he goes to bed.

reblogs and comments are always appreciated <33

taglist: @scooby-doodoo @partoftheairforce @justgoatsbreakinghearts0855 @beachesgetpeaches @you-muppet @mcabister @alexmarie29 @at-her-very-foreign @hfkait @squishysoupy @sierraeslaprincesa @harrie-fic-center @alien-girl-violet @thereisaplaceintheheart @kennedy-brooke @lolidontknowanymore @theoriginalwhatsername @celestcies @sugarkane1001 @ari-turner @thewaywewereinsaigon @daphnesutton @beliefandsayingsomething @ros3chu @nothingrevealedeverythingdenied @zzzhealy @mattymybeloved @fck-off @indiaamars @sofaritsalrightt @k4tie75 @wondersecret @humptyhoran @indierockgirrl @hanbiior @moreyoulove-moreyouknow @rossgirly @if-my-heart-bleeds @little-lovely-darling @abriefnirvana @renitypoem @sinarainbows @lady-may-targaryen @love4agesss

add yourself to the taglist

#the 1975 #matty healy #sfw alphabet #matty healy x reader #matty healy x you #matty x reader #matty x you #matty healy fluff #the 1975 fluff #fluff writing

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jinnify · 14 days

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irreplaceable pt. 2 — park sunghoon

pairing: sunghoon x idol!reader and a little bit of jay x reader genre: idk tbh LOL warnings: none word count: one thousand four hundred fourteen now playing: killing me by ikon extended note at the bottom. part one.

It had been a little over a month since you had broken up with Sunghoon when he received news of you being in a dating scandal with one of your seniors. If he were honest, he’d say he hadn’t ever expected you to move on from him that quickly, but maybe it had just been him overestimating how much he mattered to you - instead, he sent you a congratulations message that you never even opened.

Sunghoon, of course, had immediately started talking to his crush as soon as you’d broken up with him, trying to distract from the strange string of emotions you had stirred up within him that night. It was never more than a couple of dates before he lost interest in her.

Sooner or later, Sunghoon deleted your number from his phone, seeing how you had been caught with your presumed boyfriend more than once. It had been a mystery as to who you were dating as celebrity media outlets had only released your name, but Sunghoon felt bothered by it nonetheless.

Months passed with no news about you, which led him to quietly pass the time without thinking about you until end-of-the-year practices started ramping up for the entire industry. Suddenly, Jay would arrive at practices with a warm meal in hand, much too familiar with the way you once did for him.

He tried to push away the many thoughts of one of his members and best friends dating his ex-girlfriend until he noticed a notification with your name on his lock screen.

Sunghoon swore he died a little inside. How could his friend do this to him? To not even speak to him before trying to pursue you. Sunghoon was heartbroken for more than one reason that day.

It took everything in him not to drag Jay out into the middle of the room and confront him for what he was doing behind his back. Instead, he went home without a glance back at the room filled with people. Sunghoon calmed himself down after an hour of pacing back and forth throughout his dorm room. He hadn’t been rationally thinking.

Would Jay really do this to him?

The breakup had taken a toll on you. You hadn’t been able to eat or sleep well, which led to a lack of energy when you had practices that resulted in poor performance on music shows. You were more than aware of how dramatically you were reacting to this ordeal given that Sunghoon hadn’t even liked you, but that didn’t stop your heart from breaking every time a random memory of him doing something nice for you popped up in your head.

You tried to convince yourself that you hadn’t ever felt anything for Sunghoon yourself - that your infatuation had come from how handsome he was and you would get over this little slump in no time.

You flopped around in bed, leaning over to look at your member’s alarm clock. 4:00 AM shown in red letters blinked back at you, taunting you with its horrendously bright lights.

This had been the third night in a row that you had been unable to sleep.

You felt your phone vibrate from under your pillow, alerting you of a text message. It took you a second to completely register who had sent you a message before you replied. Jay had asked if you were awake, wondering if you wanted to meet by a local convenience store. It only took you 10 minutes before you snuck out of your dorm, and were on your way to meet up with him.

You had never expected the level of true amity that would bloom between the both of you, but you were grateful to have had Jay there for you through one of the worst times in your life yet.

Neither you nor Jay was aware of the stirrup it would cause the next day when it had leaked that the two of you had met up late at night and after a stern interrogation from both of your managers, the situation had been cleared up without a problem.

The nightly outings with Jay continued whenever you couldn’t catch a full night’s rest, too preoccupied with your thoughts to give out. More and more of your fans had begun to speculate online, but your shared company never commented.

You had only recently started making Jay meals and dropping them off once you had started feeling better to repay him for all the money he had spent on your ice cream. Little thank-you notes littered the tops of the lids, cheering him on as you were both about to get very busy.

It wasn’t until Jay asked you to stop that you realized there was a problem with what you had been doing. Of course, Jay had kept the reason for his hesitation to himself but it didn’t take a genius to understand what was going on.

In a fit of anger, you messaged Sunghoon’s number, still having his contact saved in your phone. It was a wordy message, filled with obscenities you wouldn’t have ever repeated to his face, but you were rightly upset that Sunghoon had the gall to be angry at his friend for comforting you as any normal person would have.

Who did he think he was to dictate his friend's actions?

If Sunghoon were honest with himself, he’d admit that he knew Jay dating you shouldn’t have bothered him as much as it did. He hadn’t even actually dated you - his friend was more than validated in his right to pursue you.

He didn’t completely understand what bothered him more, the fact that it was Jay who was dating you or that you had moved on. He knew he should be happy for you, especially since he knew how hurt you had been when you broke up, but he couldn’t find it in himself.

He often caught himself daydreaming now, imagining how it must be for you and Jay on your dates. The glimmer in your eyes that had once been only for him to see was now shining for someone else. There was a sickly feeling in Sunghoon’s stomach, one he knew he shouldn’t be feeling.

After a while, he started avoiding Jay as much as he could. Sunghoon hadn’t expected the misery that would accompany him after your breakup. There had been an intense guilt that had started eating Sunghoon from the inside out. Couldn’t he just be happy for his friend?

Awards shows came quicker than he would have wanted. Sunghoon had managed to suppress his feelings long enough to get through practices, but he had no idea how well he’d hold up if he came across you with Jay. On top of that, you were upset with him over his reaction to your relationship.

It was only the beginning of award season, but Sunghoon had already seen too much. The smiles shared between you and Jay did not go unnoticed, and he hated it.

He hated just how much he wished your smiles were directed at him.

Sunghoon’s intense stares didn’t go unnoticed by you either. They were difficult to miss when you could feel his eyes burning into you whenever you stood to applaud his group. It was an intense feeling to know that you were being watched with such disdain, but there wasn’t much you could do. Jay tried to comfort you as much as he could through text messages whenever he was in his green room.

After one particular performance by your group, you ran into Jay and his members, excitedly congratulating them all with hugs as Sunghoon distanced himself as much as he could. Again, you felt his stern stare, hesitantly turning to him you gave him a thumbs up and a smile.

You figured keeping things civil wouldn’t hurt, despite being annoyed with how he was acting lately. Unsurprisingly, Sunghoon didn’t return the small gesture instead he looked away from you almost entirely.

Yes, you hadn’t expected much from him but it still hurt. You didn’t understand where this hostility came from. The last time you had physically seen Sunghoon he looked like he was on the verge of tears, yet now he stood looking miserable at the thought of your presence.

The thought hadn’t even been processed in your mind before you were walking toward him, escaping your member's hold on your hand.

“Sunghoon, can I speak with you?”

EXTENDED NOTE. ok she's not done but I really really struggled with her so I just cut it off here 😔 I promise the next part will be nicer and probably fluffy <3 also jiji I thought I was gonna post this yesterday but I didn't ansorrriiiiii

#enhypen #enhypen sunghoon #enhypen x reader #enhypen fic #enhypen oneshot #enhypen imagines #enhypen scenarios #enhypen angst #sunghoon x reader #sunghoon fic #sunghoon oneshot #sunghoon imagines #sunghoon scenarios #sunghoon angst #📁 enhypen: sunghoon

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jedimandalorian · 8 months

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Fifth Letter to the Church of Ezrabine at Tumblr:

Behold! Today I will share with you my findings from another of the ancient sacred texts, the book Star Wars Rebels: A New Hero by Pablo Hidalgo.

The book is written from the point of view of our hero, Ezra Bridger, a fourteen year old Force sensitive street rat from the planet Lothal.

In his own words, Ezra Bridger tells us (and tries not to admit to himself) his first impression of and his own true feelings for Sabine Wren:

“Sabine is the weapons expert of the team. She’s a real know-it-all and not afraid to show it. She’s an artist, and that’s someone you don’t meet every day on Lothal. She’s really talented, too. It’s like the Empire wants to paint over everything with its boring shades of gray, black, and white. Sabine puts the color back. I think TIE fighters look a lot better after one of her paint bombs has gone off. Yeah, I guess you can say I really admire her. That is, I admire her work. Let’s be clear: she’s gifted. I mean anyone with a good eye would say so, right? I have no idea what she thinks of me. Not that I care…”

“She’s a real know-it-all and not afraid to show it.”—Ezra Bridger, about Sabine Wren.

You know who else thought this way as a young boy with regards to a girl he liked and eventually fell in love with? Ron Weasley.

I am talking about Ron Weasley, who had a crush on, fell in love with, and later married Hermione Granger. This is a scene from when Ron and Hermione were around 13-14 years old in Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban:

"That is the second time you have spoken out of turn, Miss Granger," said Snape coolly. "Five more points from Gryffindor for being an insufferable know-it-all."

Hermione went very red, put down her hand, and stared at the floor with her eyes full of tears. It was a mark of how much the class loathed Snape that they were all glaring at him, because every one of them had called Hermione a know-it-all at least once, and Ron, who told Hermione she was a know-it-all at least twice a week, said loudly, "You asked us a question and she knows the answer! Why ask if you don't want to be told?"

(Weasley got detention for telling off Snape on Hermione’s behalf. Sadly, the film version did not get this scene correct.)

“Yeah, I guess you could say I really admire her” is an admission of truth.

“That is, I admire her work” is Ezra trying to convince himself that this is all he admires about Sabine. 😉

“I have no idea what she thinks of me” is also true.

But that “not that I care” is Ezra deceiving himself. He does care, and he will continue to care more and more as they grow up together and grow closer to each other until Sabine becomes the person he cares about the most in the universe.

In Ahsoka Season 1, even after years of being apart, Ezra still admires Sabine and still has strong feelings for her.

“I missed you.” Eman Esfandi delivered that line in a hoarse heartfelt whisper as if Ezra wants to say “I love you” to Sabine. I am looking forward to when he finally does tell her.

The story of Sabine and Ezra is far from over. The Ahsoka series is just introducing adult Ezra, Sabine, and their complicated relationship to the live action audience.

Their song is not yet written. I will ship them until it is, and forevermore.

I have spoken.

#sabine wren #ezra bridger #star wars #ahsoka series #sabezra #ezrabine #star wars rebels #Pablo Hidalgo #ron weasley #hermione granger #severus snape #Harry Potter and the prisoner of Azkaban

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m1ssunderstanding · 4 months

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Get Back Rewatch 55 Years On: Day 19

Linda looks so good in this sort of not-quite-right preppy style. I think it fits who she was as a person in this time so well, and that’s one of the things I love about Linda is that she just dresses up as herself. You know? Like she wears things that are true to her and she doesn’t care if that means a mini-skirt in January or hairy pits on stage. And that confidence and introspection and happiness is so, so attractive.

And that is why they love him. (you know, besides the fact that he’s a piano prodigy or whatever) So secure. BDE off the charts.

Linda talking photography with whoever that other photographer guy is.

George: what could it be, Paul? John: jumps to answer for Paul like it's 1964 and they're at a press conference.

What do we think? John cut himself shaving? Or is it a hickey?

It ends up that John’s meeting must’ve fallen through at 1:30, so Paul is the only one gone. And it seems to me that John purposely plans this time when Paul’s gone to talk to George and Ringo about Klein. George: er, what did you want to talk about? John: er, well, just that I saw Klein, you know. . . . but I want to tell you all at once, you know, so it’s not . . . Sure, John. Cut to 1971 John talking about “doing a job” and “maneuvering” to get those two on the Klein boat. smh. sad.

But, really, for a guy who admits to having been a manipulator since primary school, he’s so easily manipulated. John. A man who you just met cannot know you as well as a man you’ve known since you were seventeen. No matter how he flattered you, it’s just not possible. The way he said it with such conviction, too! He sincerely believes this bullshit.

“Old Brown Shoe” is not my favorite lol but I’m so happy for George. To me, it sounds like it’s about leaving old roles, old patterns, old relationships, the beatles, behind in favor of something more exciting and fun. Good for him.

I know this is a “yeah, duh” comment, but Billy is such a gifted musician. Instantly catching on to the stylophone, jumping on guitar the minute George is on piano. So impressive.

Ugh, the tone of voice John takes with George. They’re all messing around, as they constantly do, including George, when John decides it’s time to focus. He says, “George, come on,” in literally the most condescending voice. As if George has been the only one derailing everything out of his own immaturity and John’s finally losing his patience. I can’t. He’s not fourteen, anymore, John.

One more quick Linda appreciation because she's so cool and so pretty and I love her so much.

I wonder if they actually did have a “tune up” as George Martin put it, after teasing him that they wouldn’t. It just cuts off from John being like “remember Bob Wooler” to them doing a take of “Don’t Let Me Down.”

John singing “I need you” at Paul (who is very passionately shaking that maraca). Not I want you. I need you. And making These Faces as he plays the guitar. Like, to be clear, those are not singing faces. He's not singing while he's doing that. He's just doing that. He looks so horny and in so much pain. Bro. How do you do that with God and everyone watching?

At which point, Paul decides he needs to get completely out-of-it stoned, and the most unwatchable one minute and seven seconds in all of Get Back occurs. “Grease Paint” my beloathed.

Oh, okay, George just constantly cleans his guitars. I think I remember reading an old beatlemania era article that said while John and Paul treat their guitars as tools, George loves and cares for his.

And then we pan out as John says, “Allen Klein’s here,” and sings, “I want you so bad” in the same breath. What are our thoughts? Does John sincerely think he’s helping everyone by getting Klein? Or is it more selfish?

#paul mccartney #the beatles #john lennon #mclennon #ringo starr #george harrison #get back

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miraculouslbcnreactions · 6 months

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Adrien is Marinette's Therapist, NOT her Boyfriend and it's Gross

Mental health struggles are no joke and, if you have those struggles, then you absolutely need a partner who will support you through them. That's why, at face value, Adrien supporting Marinette with her PTSD and anxiety is very sweet. It's what a good boyfriend should do. The problem is that Adrien is being written like her therapist, not her boyfriend.

Adrien has his own struggles with depression, loss, and paternal neglect. Yet none of these struggles are brought up once Adrien and Marinette get together. Instead, the relationship is all about her needs and struggles even though this season ends with Gabriel's take down, meaning that focusing on Adrien's issues would have made more sense from a narrative perspective. How much more powerful would the final have been if Marinette really understood Adrien, Emilie, and Gabriel's relationship?

But why do that when we can make everything about Adrienette instead? Why bother to mention Emilie when Marinette is a much better point of conflict between Adrien and Gabriel? After all, if we did that, then Adrien would have a life outside of Marinette and that would be, well, sigh, let's get into it, shall we?

In Derision, we learn that Marinette apparently doesn't have some form of anxiety or ADHD or any of the other things that people have theorized over the years. No, vanilla-Marinette is a totally relaxed, go-with-the-flow non-planner who only started planning after Chloe, Sabrina, and Kim gave her PTSD. Does this insult her character and make no sense? Yes, but let's not get into that. Let's just accept the retcon and look at the fallout of Adrien knowing that his new girlfriend has massive trauma that's mainly focused on romance and controlling situations.

The very next episode is Intuition. In it we see Marinette calling Adrien to show off her ability to do things without planning (or, at least, with less planning) and it's clear from context that this is an exercise that they're doing:

Adrien: Well... (his phone rings) Fancy that! Marinette! I like spending time with Marinette. (picks up his phone) Marinette: (on-call) Guess what I'm calling for: nothing! Can you believe it? I'm calling you randomly, totally out of the blue, for no reason at all! Adrien: So you didn't write down everything you might need to say to me based on everything I might say to you? Marinette: Not at all! Well... I did. I really tried not to, you know, but it was too hard! Anyhow, I limited myself to fourteen possible conversations, including this one! Adrien: Congratulations! Marinette: (on-call) Thank you! Adrien: And did you prepare questions for science class? Marinette: (on-call) Not-a-one! Not even for the live video conference we're doing with Max's mom on the super awesome Tsurugi space jet! I, Marinette, will improvise questions, unpredictably, without planning anything!

In the context of the show, this conversation is deeply concerning and I don't know wtf the writers think they're doing. There is no way in hell that a 14-year-old should be guiding his girlfriend through a therapy session or therapy exercise unless he has the guidance and approval of a trained mental health professional.

Seriously look at what Adrien is doing in this dialogue: Marinette tells him that she's called him without planning and he doesn't just say "that's great!" Instead, he asks if that's true, congratulates her for her mild improvement, and then prompts her to talk about another situation where she would plan things out. In other words, he's asking about the therapy homework that he's clearly given her or that they've decided on together. It's also clear that this isn't their first discussion on the topic because he's very comfortable knowing what to ask about to see if she's done her homework right.

Why was this homework chosen? Who knows! It certainly wasn't picked by someone with training! A therapist wouldn't tell you to avoid planning for a school assignment (something that we've never seen Marinette overplan before, but once again, we're ignoring the retcon). This scene would arguably be inappropriate for an established adult relationship, but a nascent teenage one? Absolutely not.

My SO and I have both done therapy and seen wildly unbalanced relationships. This conversation threw massive red flags for us on both fronts. This is not what a healthy relationship looks like. This is not a give and take. This is why you need a therapist to at least guide you through this type of situation or you will set yourself up in roles where person A is not getting their needs met because the relationship has an established dynamic where person A is the giver and person B is the taker.

This is especially true for a young relationship that's just getting its feet off of the ground. They're supposed to be in the honeymoon phase! More established relationships are better able to handle phases where one person needs more support than the other which absolutely happens and is totally normal. However, when those things happen, it's vital for the supporting partner to have their own support since they can't get it from their partner.

Miraculous denies Adrien this suport. In the very next episode, we get this:

Adrien: I've always seen Marinette acting funny in my presence. I thought that was just the way she was. I thought it was sweet. I thought it was just her charm. But now that I know it's because she loves me and she freaks out about telling me, I feel bad. Because it means that this whole time she's been uncomfortable around me, and I haven't done anything to help her. Kagami: But you didn't know. Adrien: It doesn't take away from her suffering. I just wish she could feel more at ease when she's with me. Otherwise, one day, it'll be too late and she'll give up. Kagami: What can I do to help, Adrien? Adrien: Thanks, but it's not up to you or anyone else to help. I'm the one who's gotta do something.

No! Adrien, you are not equipped to deal with this solo. Ask Kagami to help! Ask Alya to help! Ask Marinette's parents to help! There are times when it's okay to involve others in your relationship and this is one of those times! This isn't even a relationship issue! It's a mental health issue! I know we're flipping gender roles here, but it's not somehow cute or healthy just because a guy is trying to "fix" the girl for once. No one should try to take on that task. This is what therapy is for.

If therapy is not an option for financial or other reasons, then yes, sometimes you have to struggle through and loved ones can help, but in TV land? Especially aimed-at-kids TV land? Show the ideal scenario! At the very least, show a support network! And I mean actual support, not Kagami asking to help and Adrien shooting her down! Writers, you are making Gabriel's dislike of Marinette valid! You are making it so that she is dragging Adrien down! Stop doing that!

Adrien deserves love and support, too. Adrien deserves to be romanced. Adrien deserves more than a kiss and an "I love you" that he had to fight to hear! He never even gets one of the presents from Marinette's chest. She did more to woo him before they got together and it's such pathetic writing.

The fun of getting these two together is letting them do all the stuff they've always wanted to do! Let Marinette bring him macrons! Let him bring her roses! Let her enhance his wardrobe! Let him write her poems! Let them be a healthy, balanced, sickeningly-cute couple! It's fine if she's nervous at the start and takes a while to act normal, but this show takes it to a level beyond teenage jitters and it's not funny or cute. It's concerning.

All of these issues start with Derision's romance-based-PTSD retcon and it was the worst thing they could have done for the Love Square. It poisons the rest of the season and is why I just can't ship these two in canon even though I love what they could have been. They have established such a horrifically unhealthy dynamic that I can't see this ending well unless they get couple's therapy in the very near future and that's not even touching on the baggage that will come from the lies and still unresolved Ladynoir trauma.

As soon as Marinette has romance-based PTSD, she was incapable of being in a relationship until after she'd learned to manage her PTSD. (PTSD cannot be cured, btw, you just learn how to manage it and the symptoms can lessen.) The writers apparently knew that. It's why they gave her a therapist to support her as she worked through her issues and got to the point where she can say "I love you". His name is Adrien. Isn't he cute?

#ml writing salt #ml writing critical #ml season 5 salt #adrien deserves better #suffering through a rewatch of season 5 for love of my so #ml intuition #ml derision #ml perfection #marinette deserves better #I just wanted a cute romance not whatever the writers think they're doing

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theresthesnitch · 9 months

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Remus should have fought harder for Sirius and Harry!

No, but... how do you know he didn't? Canon is absoluely silent on it. What we know is that Remus didn't see Harry again until he taught at Hogwarts. Canon tells us nothing about what he was doing during this time.

We also know that Dumbledore had Hagrid pick Harry up from Godric's Hollow on October 31 and fly him straight to the Dursley's house. Hagrid tells us that he went straight there on the bike he borrowed from Sirius Black. Harry was placed with his aunt and uncle, by Dumbledore's order, and kept so completely unaware of magic that he didn't have a clue that magic--magic that he could do, by the way--was real until a giant burly man knocked on a shack in the middle of the lake on his birthday.

Harry was hidden by the most powerful, well respected wizard of the time. Sirius was blamed and put in Azkaban without a trial. This is already a terrible starting pace to *finding* and *rescuing* them, even if Remus had the capability to do so.

Remus is not Harry's godfather, he's got no means to care for Harry, and he's got once a month that he knows without a doubt that Harry is in more danger with him than without. Perhaps he knew that Harry was with his aunt and uncle, but no one suspected that the Durselys would abuse Harry as they did. Even if they hated magic, no one expected them to turn him into the boy in the cupboard under the stairs. That's perposterous. It's unthinkable.

Remus has no power. He's a kid with a wand and very little else. He doesn't have a name, he doesn't have money, he doesn't even have a clean bill of health. If he's going to try to get Sirius out and Harry back, he's going to go to the most powerful wizard he knows. Which, after the War, is Dumbledore.

Dumbledore received numerous awards for whatever it was he did during and at the end of the war. He received honors. He was the only one that Voldemort ever feared. he was given designations and authority, and no one really questioned him.

So Remus goes to him and pleads for his help. Let Sirius out, he demands. You know Sirius would never do this to James. He would never do this to Peter. They were his friends. Dumbledore says I didn't think he would either, and yet their dead. Remus says give him a trial, because there must be an explanation. Dumbledore tells him that Sirius laughed hysterically on the way to Azkaban. Sirius confessed, he says. "It's my fault their dead," Sirius says, because he believed it to be true, and they accepted his confession.

Remus begs, but Dumbledore tells him it's settled. Who is Remus to fight Dumbledore? Perhaps he tires, perhaps it's hopless. Or, perhaps, he asks to have contact with Harry. Even if he can't care for him, because no one would trust the boy who lived with a werewolf, let him at least have contact with Harry. Harry deserves to know his parents. Dumbledore tells him no. It will be too confusing for the boy. It will be dangerous if you bring death eaters with you. It's better for him if he grows up believing he is a member of that family. it is better for him if he doesn't have contact with you.

Remus has los everything, and the only person that he thought might help him has turned him away.

Remus has nothing left. He has no one left. No one will listen to him if Dumbledore is against him, and everyone is celebrating while Remus can only think of what he's lost.

What did he do for the next fourteen years? Personally, I think he left the country. Traveld the world as a magical creature exterminator for hire. He had nothing left in England. Why would he stay? Perhaps he didn't even keep track of the years--what do they matter anyway--until he gets a letter from Dumbledore asking him to come back.

He has nothing else. Why not return? Perhaps it's safe for Harry to know who he is, now. He just has to get on the train the morning after the full moon, but it's fine. he can sleep all the way there.

#remus lupin #thoughts from snitch #I'm not saying that Remus had it worse than Sirius #I'm just saying you can't discount that he tried #remus lupin deserved better #this is probably absolute madness #it's 1:30 am and I'm procrastinating writing #and I'm publishing without rereading it #I'll probably regret that tomorrow

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bingqiufics · 1 year

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I wonder if you have read anything like this:

Luo Bing-ge, reincarnated as his younger self and be like: 'I'm gonna get revenge on Shen Qingqiu! I'm gonna let him paid >:))....... Wait, who the fuck is Shen Yuan???'

Basically, it's a BingexYuan fic, but I started to think I'm hallucinating that fic exists since I can't find it anywhere TT, please help!!!

You might be looking for:

Try Again by PrinceJakeFireCake (51K, Complete, Mature)

OG!Bingqiu (Bingyuan) & Liushen (implied)

(Canon Divergence, De-aging, Endless Abyss, Depression, PTSD, Courting, Identity Reveal, Courting, Slow Burn)

Luo Binghe, heavenly demon lord with three hundred plus wives, wakes up fourteen-years-old again. He quickly realizes that the man who looks like Shen Qingqiu is not the real deal. He is really contemplating putting everything behind him and leaving the sect to raise sheep.

If it's not the fic you're looking for, try checking out our Shen Yuan Reveal and De-Aging tags.

Also, here's other Bingyuan fics featuring De-aging :

You are My Place to Stay by handa__dake (70K, WIP - 16/?, Explicit)

Bingyuan & Bingqiu

No System AU, A/B/O, De-Aging, Mpreg, Possessiveness, Lactation Kink, Alpha!OG!LBH, Omega!SQQ)

Shen Yuan is a broken Omega. But after his death, he gets the chance to become the normal omega he always wanted to be. That is living as Shen Qingqiu.

Luo Binghe was a Demon Lord who had more than 600 wives. But once he wakes up one day, he goes back to the early days when he was only 10 years old. Not! That's not what confused him! But the fact that the Shen Qingqiu in this world is an Omega!? How?!

And their paths met.

The grabbing hands always grab what they can by Hazel_23 (26K, WIP - 16/?, Teen)

Bingqiu, Bingyuan & 2BingQiu

(Canon Divergence, Hurt & Comfort, Threesome)

One day, the original Luo Binghe has a qi deviation and shrinks into his 15 years old self. As if this wasn’t enough, Xin Mo sends him somehow into a parallel universe where he finds his other self and decides to warn him how bad Shen Qingqiu is and what will he do in the future.

OG.LBH: He let you sleep into the woodshed and gave you a wrong cultivation manual. LBH: Shizun let me stay in the room outside his bamboo house and gave me private lessons. OG.LBH: He sent you to fight with a much stronger opponent! LBH: Shizun risked his life to save me! OG.LBH: Whaaat? ( ╯°□°)╯ ┻━┻

(Set after the Dream Demon arc)

Like swallows in spring (I'll always come back to you) by chia (chiateablend) (14K, WIP - 1/2, Mature)

Bingyuan & Bingqiu

(Fantasy AU, De-aging, Hurt & Comfort, Mutual Pining, Flirting)

Ten years ago, Shen Yuan had held out his hand, his voice steady as he offered a boy before him a taste of what he'd never known before: true kindness.

Now, as he finds himself caring for the child he'd found floating down the river, he couldn't know he was repeating the same mistake. Because always, those that had the least fought the hardest to keep what was theirs, and damn it all if Luo Binghe wasn't going to repay his debts.

... Well. As soon as he actually remembered who he was, that is.

A Transmigrator and a Time Traveler Walk Into the Bamboo House by VeryCharismaticDragon (98K, Teen)

(Time Travel, Fix-it, De-aging, Partial System Reveal)

Over a year after Shen Qingqiu's death, Luo Binghe consults his servant's servant, concurrently his disgraced martial uncle, for a way to bring the love of his life back. Shang Qinghua sends him in the direction of a certain time-traveling artifact, which supposedly brings one to the day they first met their soulmate. Odd, though, that the artifact ends up missing the destination by just a few years…

A story in which post-Abyss Luo Binghe relives his disciple days, while juggling his secrets, traumas, and some unexpected revelations about the man he loves on top of that.

recced by @souein

Hope this helps!

#svsss #pidw #bingyuan #bingqiu #deaging #shenyuanreveal #masterpost #identityreveal #2bingqiu

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honeybeezgobzzzzz · 1 year

Text

𓃮 Even the Sun Influences the Tide: Chapter Fourteen

Even the Sun Influences the Tide: After the death of your foster brother, King T’Challa, you had spent much of your year of mourning in isolation. When your mother gathers you and your sister to end your mourning period, you encounter the newest threat to Wakanda: Namor. You don’t know what to think of Namor, but you do know one thing: he probably shouldn’t be making trips to see you at your beach hut.

Warnings: Couples First Fight.

To Note: Namor/K’uk’ulkan x Fem!Reader, I Tried To Make The Yucatec Maya & Xhosa Translations/Traditions As Accurate As I Can Get.

Word Count: ~2.0k

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You had been wandering around the caves, your fingers trailing across the beautiful murals K’uk’ulkan had painted, when you came across them. And by them, you meant the deep water diving suits. To be honest you had stared at them in confusion for a good five minutes, scratching your head, before you realized what they were. But why did K’uk’ulkan have these? One conversation later with your man/god, and you learned that the suits came from the Surface World. You quickly decided to not think about how he had gotten possession of them.

K’uk’ulkan all to easily distracted you with an offer of your first glimpse of Talokan in person. So you found yourself stuffed in one of the chunky suits, carefully fitted and double checked for a seal, and then being tugged through the water. There wasn’t much you could do in the suit. You felt clumsy and heavy in it and were sure that you were just along for the ride.

“Are you sure you are okay, In k'iino’?” K’uk’ulkan asked for what you felt was the thousandth time. Twisting your head within the suit while the earrings he had given you jangled, you looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

“My current status hasn’t changed in the ten minutes since you last asked me, Ulwandle lwam (My sea),” You replied, your voice drifting through the deep water. K’uk’ulkan gave you a look. “I am currently wishing I had the ability to stand the water pressure down here because it is beautiful.”

“We haven’t even reached the outfields of Talokan.” He gruffly said, though still pleased that you were enjoying the sights of the underwater realm.

“My words still stand and you know it.” You huffed as the lights on the diving suit came to light when you descended into darkness. Even with the bright lights blasting their way through the darkness, you still couldn’t see anything. “I’m hoping that Talokan has lights because I can’t see anything.”

K’uk’ulkan smirked at the soft comment that you had muttered more to yourself that him. If you had been impressed by the humble murals he had painted within his home, K’uk’ulkan looked forward to seeing how you were going to react once you saw the true majesty of Talokan. Following along the strong current that ran by the great underwater city, K’uk’ulkan gently tugged you away from the stream and through a school of fish to emerge at the fringes of Talokan. It was a little disorienting, the change of pace, and you felt yourself rattling around in the large suit. But the moment you righted yourself and took in your first view of Talokan, you found your breath stolen from your chest.

“Ancestors,” You whispered, taking everything you saw. There were fields of crops being tended by the talokanil, children playing games, people just going about their day like normal. While you were rendered speechless, K’uk’ulkan smiled and tugged you along to give you the grand overview of his beloved city. Your mind was racing and your eyes were captured by the bright glowing lights that illuminated the city. The closer you looked, the more your mind was convinced that the glowing lights were made from vibranium. "Ch'ah Toh Almehen, those lights,” You commented. “They’re made of vibranium.”

“Yes. In the depths of the ocean, I brought my people the sun.” Your lips twitched, he really had given his people everything. A new home, protection, light. “They are called sastun, we use them for our rituals.”

“How does it work?” Your mind was having a hard time wrapping around the idea that vibranium could just glow by itself. The boots of the dive suit landed on the pyramid the sastun floated above and you leaned your head back. “The light refractory…”

“We create our own plant and obsidian based fibers in the leaves to harness the glow of algae.” K’uk’ulkan explained. Your face scrunched and you turned your entire body towards him.

“You gave your people fiber optics!?”

Back in the cavern, you held your hands clasped against your chest as your mind raced. After having a wonderful and extraordinary time viewing Talokan, you thought of your own home. You needed to go back. Talk with your mother about K’uk’ulkan, convince her and the other elders that an alliance with the Talokanil would benefit Wakanda. She wanted to keep vibranium out of the hands of the other nations, but now that Wakanda wasn’t the only source… It was imperative that Wakanda and Talokan worked together.

“In reina?” Letting out a breath, you turned to look at Zyanya who had been quietly keeping watch. “Ba'ax k'abéet a ba'al?” (Need anything?) Another guessing game… you had been pacing around and staring off into space for the last half hour, so perhaps she was asking if you needed something? Well you needed to speak with K’uk’ulkan… you might as well ask for him.

“K’uk’ulkan,” You replied, your mind scrambling for the few words you had been taught over the last ten days. They were just simple one word phrases that you could use to indicate what you wanted, but it was better than not being able to speak a word of Yucatec Maya. “T’aan (Message),” You said, hoping that she would understand your want. Zyanya blinked before nodding and making a follow gesture. You steeled yourself and followed her. Zyanya took a different path, heading down one you hadn’t explored before.

Your stomach twisted in knots and for the first since meeting K’uk’ulkan, you were nervous to talk to him. The last thing you wanted was for him to think you were running away, or abandoning him and his people. Certainly not after the ceremony which you still questioned its purpose… though you were starting to have your suspicions. Never mind that, what you needed to do was smooth over your mothers ruffled feathers.

Following Zyanya, she brought you to a cavern that had several warriors standing about, with Attuma speaking to K’uk’ulkan. You didn’t catch the quick words departing K’uk’ulkan mouth, but Attuma bowed his head.

“Tene Tin na'atik (I understand),” The large Talokanil spoke before turning his broad shoulders. It was at that moment that the warriors and K’uk’ulkan realized that you were standing in the entry way.

��Apologies if I am interrupting,” You spoke, your eyes glossing over Attuma as he sized you up. Your gaze landed on K’uk’ulkan. “I need to speak with you if permissible.” K’uk’ulkan raised his eyebrow at you, wondering why you were speaking in such a formal way.

“In biin (I’m going),” Attuma rumbled as he and the other warriors headed for the exit, when he reached you, he respectfully bowed his head. “In reina,” Your eyes caught his dark ones and you gave him a respectful chin nod.

“Attuma,” You greeted, your eyes following his large body as he and the others passed. You waited patiently as they left, and then five seconds more for privacy, all the while K’uk’ulkan looked at you with a raised eyebrow and tilted head.

“You speak so formally, In reina,” K’uk’ulkan drew out, his eyes washing over your body and posture. Something had made you uptight. You cleared your throat, thinking about how to start this conversation. “What is it, In k'iino’?”

“I need to go home,” You stated, deciding to just get right to the point. Immediately K’uk’ulkan’s face changed, shifting from attentive to narrowed. Displeasure flowed through his veins along with a touch of possession. You were his yatan and yet you wished to go home? Was Talokan not your home now? What use did you have by going home?

“Are you not satisfied here, In reina?” He questioned, his voice coming out a little harder than he meant. You sighed and went to further explain, but K’uk’ulkan wasn’t done speaking. “Have you’d decided that our way of life is no one you wish to live?”

“What?” You questioned, stepping forwards to face him without the large gap of space between you. “Ch'ah Toh Almehen, that is not what I am saying. I need to go home and figure out this mess, with the Americans and—“

“I will not have you in a position of vulnerability, Y/N,” K’uk’ulkan flat out rejected. “Neither will I allow the Americans to ever be in the position to entertain the idea of using you against us.”

“Ch'ah— They won’t—“ You sighed out in frustration, feeling as if he wasn’t listening to you. You were trying to protect him, his people. “I am trying to help why are you not letting me? I’m not going to stay there, I already agreed to stay when I did that ceremony. Why aren’t you letting me help!?”

“Because you are going to get hurt,” You almost rolled your eyes.

“I will not,” You retorted. “The Dora Milaje would never let that happen.”

“We both know that you would run off the first chance presented.” K’uk’ulkan countered, stepping closer to you, his eyes dead of emotion now. “Not even the best warriors would keep you safe because you do not listen.”

Gritting your teeth, you forced yourself not to let his lack of emotions get to you. But it already had.

“I can take care of myself,” You said, one last attempt to get him to just listen to you. K’uk’ulkan had already made up his mind on this topic, you were not going anywhere with the American’s on the loose and searching for any way into Talokan, let alone with the Wakandan’s not cooperating.

“Can you?” K’uk’ulkan offered. “The answer is no, in reina,” Your heart dropped in your chest. “I will not risk it.”

You jerked around in a circle as Xhosa curses spilled from your lips in rapid succession. Emotions were running rampant throughout your body twisting together in a noxious tornado of hurt and anger.

“Do not do anything you may regret, In k'iino’,” K’uk’ulkan called as you stormed away, the skirt and beads of your dress flapping behind you. You couldn’t help the childish return of giving him the middle finger over your shoulder. As you stormed through the halls of the many caverns, tears began burning at the edge of your eyelashes. You furiously wiped at your nose and then eyes, feeling frustrated and stuck in place.

It was midafternoon, but by the time you walked off all the anger and rage you felt, the dimmed lights in the corridor told you that it was nighttime. You came to a stop in the middle of the hall and took in a shuddering breath. Ancestors why were you so upset? It wasn’t like he was being mean to you. Just emotionless. Out of everyone in your life, you expected him to listen to you, because he had been the one to make an effort to… but now he wasn’t. And that hurt.

You closed your eyes and leaned your head back, willing your tears to stop falling down your face and dry up against your lashes. Sniffing one last time, you slapped your cheeks before hearing the sound of foot falls. You turned around to see Tlalli emerging from a turn to your left.

“In reina,” She greeted you, bowing her head. “Cena,” She then murmured, holding out her hand towards the way she had come. Cena. The word you had come to associate with dinner. You wiped your eyes one last time, and nodded. Following the blue skinned woman, you were led back to familiar blue halls and then the room that you considered yours. Zyanya was already waiting for you, fiddling with a set up of different dishes. She flashed you a bright smile and bowed as you approached.

“In reina,” You managed a smile in return, clapping your hands together at your breast and bowing your own head.

“Níib óolal (Thank you), Zyanya, Tlalli,” You murmured. Then you glanced at the space opposite where you usually sat. K’uk’ulkan had a habit of sitting with you while you ate, it was the rare occasion you saw him actually consume food. Sighing, you spoke your next question already knowing the answer. “K’uk’ulkan?” Both woman gave you sadden gazes.

“Ma'taali'teeni’, In reina,” Zyanya answered softly. Sorry. You were left to eat by yourself.

Date Published: 6/4/23

Last Edit: 4/5/23

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#k'ul'kulkan #namor #namor x y/n #namor fanfiction #namor of talokan #namor x reader

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sercezgazety · 5 months

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He thought about writing a letter, it’s not like he didn’t. West was his roommate, after all, and well, maybe he fucked up a lot of times and in so many ways that words can’t even begin to describe it, maybe he got what was coming to him, and Dan’s only regret is that it happened so late. True. But he was still, well. At times, it’s hard to say what he was to Dan, exactly. An abuser, Dan’s lawyer used to claim, at least while the trial lasted. Any sympathy Dan might have felt for that monster was just Stockholm syndrome. Yet another proof that Dan was a good person, capable of so much compassion, and look how West went and twisted it.

He does that. He manipulates people, takes their kindness and uses it for personal gain, the prosecutor said, and everyone was nodding, so it was probably true, Dan assumed back then. Now, he knows that for a fact; yet another sign that he got better.

But it was even more difficult to say what Herbert was to him in these first months that followed the trial. Dan had more important shit to sort out, losing his medical license, having to move to another town because Arkham’s become unlivable, then another county, then a whole different state because everyone here has seen the footage. He had to cut his hair and grow a mustache so that people wouldn’t stare. The mustache sort of turned into a beard. It’s all just as hazy as the trial itself, and that’s probably because Dan spent really little time being sober. So yeah. Not his proudest moments, though come to think about it, there were very few proud ones. Maybe getting kissed by Meg for the first time. That one homerun that let his team win for the first time in a year back when he was fourteen. Graduating from high school perhaps, because graduating from the university sure as hell wasn’t it. There was West by his side by then, he’s even in the one and only picture from that day that Dan has, and he’s scowling at the camera, pale controlling hand clasped over Dan’s shoulder as if holding him in place. Fucking West tainting every little success of Dan’s and making every failure three times worse than it could have been without him; West dragging him, kicking and screaming, wherever West goddamn pleased, and Dan’s pretty sure there indeed was some creepy pleasure involved. Shoving a hand up a living human being’s ass and turning him into a puppet, managing to control him like that for years? Must have been a way to compensate for the absolute lack of control West had over those corpses of his. Maybe Dan looking a bit like one nowadays is just West’s parting gift. That, and losing the license, along the deposit on the house, not to mention all of his friends and self-respect. Everything. Dead fiancée, cat killed, car crashed, panic attacks and a huge scar across Dan’s abdomen. Asshole was pretty generous, wasn’t he.

But Dan manages on his own pretty well, it turns out. Finds a job at a pharmaceutical company, and it’s pretty concerning how little they care about him being a disgraced doctor and all. They say he knows the market. At least now, he’s not losing patients. It pays good money, and what if he can’t look in the mirror without cringing? That’s certainly not something new. When it comes to contributing to someone’s substance abuse, he has experience, and at least this time, the stuff’s not glowing. It’s been tested, and nobody would allow for it to be sold if it were really harmful. He’s amicable, funny, and when he smiles, he still has some of the sway he used to hold over women — the middle-aged ones, at least. With the guys, he can talk about the last game, cars, or barbecue techniques, who gives a crap. Anything. They like him, and he likes the normalcy. He’s not half bad at doing what the management tells him to do, even if at times they complain he lacks initiative. He rents a house, an entire house just to himself, and after a couple years, he probably could afford buying it, but nothing really feels that permanent. There might be something better somewhere else.

His sense of humor changes slightly. He cracks jokes by the water dispenser and everyone at the office laughs most of the time, except for those moments when they fall silent or just chuckle nervously and leave in a hurry. One time, in the men’s room, he says something about dropping the soap, and he can’t stop laughing until everything hurts and there are tears streaming down his cheeks. Everyone just stares, and he can’t catch his breath for so long he ends up choking and almost hurling. Bent over the sink, and yes, he appreciates the irony. It makes him wheeze even harder.

Besides, what would he write, exactly? Sorry it ended this way? He’s not. Why in hell would he be. He is sorry he let West in when he came knocking at his door that night, oh, that’s for sure. Sorry he didn’t listen to Meg and didn’t stop for a second to consider that perhaps West arriving at his porch, having already brought all of his things, was something odd. What the hell was he thinking when agreeing to this? West made the decision about moving in long before consulting Dan, and Dan didn’t find it alarming at all. So yeah, Dan’s sorry, really sorry for all the deaths he contributed to, for the larceny, animal cruelty and corpse desecration, those are things that really haunt him at night. And they should. The stuff West had him do was fucking horrifying.

So no, if he were to write a bloody letter, it wouldn’t be about oh, how sorry he is for how things ended. He’s glad, actually. He’s not going to apologize for the world becoming a slightly safer place without Herbert West in it.

[continue reading about Dan being in complete denial about so many things here]

#reanimator #re-animator #danbert #herbert west #dan cain #daniel cain #my work here is done (have I started writing yet another angsty re-ani fanfic? of course i have)#cw shitty jokes about dropping the soap

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sombersynth · 1 year

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STEDDIE FANFICTION REC MASTERPOST PT. 6

Red Eye by Alinafewwords, 65 k, teen “Can I get a hot, medium dirty chai?” “How dirty do you want it?” “Excuse me?” Steve Harrington is a struggling college student. Eddie Munson is a hot barista. Somehow things will work out.

Black Out Days (Fairground Nights) by OonionChiver, 139.1 k, explicit ‘I think,’ Steve says slowly, reaches for Eddie’s abandoned, untouched beers. ‘You don’t know me very well.’ ‘I don’t know you at all, man. I don’t really want to.’ Steve’s throat works. It’s subtle, but Eddie sees it. He hides it with a swig of beer, but when he sets it down, his smile isn’t quite so bright. Twice as sharp, though. ‘The self-centred asshole who can only be decent to a single human being, I get it. It works for you.’ Then he takes a thick, heavy breath. The alcohol is hitting him, Eddie can tell. ‘And I am being civil. I’m here, aren’t I? You have any idea how hard it is for me to be here?’ ‘In a bar?’ Steve doesn’t answer.

It’ll be Fine by Dusk Light (I’m Telling You, Baby) by Anonymous, 14k, teen The van is running, Steve realizes, and Eddie wouldn’t start it if he was just coming out to smoke. It sobers him up almost immediately. “You leaving?” Eddie gives him a smile, sad around the edges where it reaches his eyes, says, “Yeah,” and Steve knows he doesn’t just mean for tonight.

This is Your Home. These Are Your People. by Oaeas, 21.4 k, teen “Your heart’s racing,” Steve noted, quietly. Eddie laughed. It was more of a shaky exhale, lashes fluttering as he struggled to keep his composure. “Stevie,” he whispered, fingers cradling Steve’s side like he was precious. “Yeah, no fucking shit.”

Too Good to be True by Ayes, 45.3 k, explicit When Eddie sees Steve in a gay bar, he decides to seduce him and break his heart as revenge for what an asshole Steve was in high school. Steve, who was only at the bar to support Robin, is taken aback by the attention but finds himself under Eddie’s spell. And Eddie, to his growing unease, discovers that Steve Harrington is actually everything he’s ever wanted.

Sanctuary by SpicedSage, 47.5 k, explicit After Steve Harrington goes missing, Eddie Munson gets exposed to the secret dangers of Hawkins, Indiana in 1985 instead of 1986. Will a different first meeting lead to a change in his fate?

Dirtybadwronggood by 3MinsOver, 8.3k explicit Steve doesn't like Eddie Munson. He's a loud, obnoxious freak. But there's something about him he just can't shake. Maybe Eddie can fuck it out of him.

Everything is Doomed; Nothing Will be Spared by 4MinsOver, 10.3 k, explicit Post vecna-battle, eddie is surprised by a late-night visitor who's looking for comfort in all the wrong places.

Throw Me One by Adure, 41.9 k, explicit Steve and Eddie are friends with benefits with the important caveat - no kissing, ever, under any circumstances; modern AU

Every Ribbon That You Used to Tie Yourself to Me by Judasofsuburbia, 63.7 k, mature “You keep telling yourself that, Eds." “Eds?” “Cute, isn’t it?” Eddie’s breath stops and his chest tightens. He’s never had a friend give him a nickname before. It is cute, which is not cool to say, so of course, Eddie spits out, “No.” Steve smiles and leans forward right into Eddie’s ear. He whispers, “You’ll get used to it.” or: it's summer 1981 and wayne munson has sent a fourteen-year-old eddie to camp in hopes that he can exist like a regular kid for once. eddie meets steve harrington on the bus and the two start an unlikely friendship. hawkins high doesn't know how to deal with that. a supercut into eddie's high school years and how steve continues to orbit him whether he wants him to or not.

Lovesick in Loch Nora by Redoaktree, 62.6 k, mature Even though Eddie's name has been cleared legally, he's still very much on trial in the court of public opinion. Dealing drugs isn't a lucrative occupation anymore, and getting a legitimate job in a town who still considers him a killer isn't much of an option, either. Eddie is beginning to think skipping town and starting over somewhere no one knows his name is the only chance he has left. Steve has another idea. AKA: Steve gets Eddie a job as an anonymous columnist at a local newspaper.

STEVE'S FIRST BRUISE by Cairparavels, 47.2 k, not rated eddie’s new roommate sure does get into a lot of fights. a spider-man!steve story. or 6 bruises of steve’s + 1 of eddie’s.

#steddie #steddie fanfic #steddie fic #steddie fanfiction #steddie fic rec #steddie fanfic recs #steddie fanfiction recs #steddie angst #steve x eddie #steve x eddie fic #my fic recs

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unicyclehippo · 1 year

Note

For wn prompt, wash

[for @possibilistfanfiction not the outside pov i have promised or any outside pov we have discussed but a secret third pov (dyke)]

you should have listened to your brother.

the thought makes you shudder and you ignore it valiantly for the better part of the morning—hop out of bed, don’t think about it, pack breakfast, don’t think about it, get ready for work, don’t think about it—but then, asshole that he is, he calls you as you’re driving. you think about ignoring him but as much as he ticks you off—and you know that the first or maybe last words out of his mouth are gonna be, when are you coming home, ray—it’s been three weeks since the last time you spoke and you miss him.

‘hey. didn’t think you were gonna pick up.’

‘thought about it.’

he sits with that for a second, then clears his throat. ‘off to work?’

‘yeah.’

‘how’s that going?’

for a second, you consider answering shortly again but instead you say, ‘i have a new student.’

‘kid or adult class?’

‘adult.’

you hear him smile before he says, teasing like you’re fourteen again and just admitted to having a crush on sophie perez (a year older than you and so much cooler), ‘is she pretty?’

‘oh come on marco.’

‘what! i’m just asking,’

‘you’re just being nosy is what you are.’

‘sorry, sorry,’ he laughs. ‘but that’s totally a yes, by the way.’

you roll your eyes. there’s not really a word for what beatrice is. pretty, yes absolutely. but it’s sneaky, the ways in which she’s really stunning, and even after three sessions teaching her how to surf you still feel kinda knocked around by her. she’s so composed that you feel awkward, listens so intently to your instructions and advice that for a second you feel like the only person in the world. and you’ve seen her smile two and a half times—the half had been an accident, you turning at just the right moment to witness it, but it wasn’t for you and it wasn’t exactly happy, so you don’t think it counts as a solid third smile. (she’d been looking at nothing in particular, an empty spot on the beach, eyes gone wistful.) the first time you met her, spoke with her after coming out of the surf, after her lingering on the outskirts of your lessons, grief had welled up in her chest, under your tongue, in your eyes so profoundly that you’d had to turn away and run your fingers through your hair, dig your heel into the sand, feel the water pool around your ankles. the ocean takes everything away that you’re not ready to feel, holds you up, weightless, and you know two minutes into talking with her she wants the same thing.

none of which you particularly want to tell your brother so you just say, ‘yeah, she’s pretty.’

‘single?’

‘i haven’t asked.’

‘you should.’

‘should i?’ you pull neatly into the park at the boardwalk, your favourite for no particular reason other than this was the same one you chose the first day you came here. the engine quietens. you pull the keys from the engine, toss them into the little waterproof bag you’ll take down to the sand with you. ‘what happened to, it’s time to come home?’

he’s quiet for a minute. ‘i miss you. i’m not gonna pretend that’s not true, or that i don’t worry about you all the time. and with all the shit that’s been going on lately… i want you nearby. but asim said, and i guess he might be right, that i’m being overprotective. and an ass.’

you have thought that about him before. twice, this morning. but hearing him say it, warm and tired and a little ashamed, makes you want to take the first plane home and hug him until all the weird, unsettled, lonely parts of you find their place. it also makes you feel a little old and sad and resolute too, and that’s too many feelings for four a.m.

‘i think about it all the time,’ you tell him, because he was open first and it makes it easier to admit. ‘coming home, i mean. it’s hard out here. but i love it. my life, the beach.’ he laughs at that, which is fair. you could have said one or the other; the beach is your life, after all. ‘i have to go before the waves get tired.’

‘yeah, yeah. talk later?’

‘yeah. anytime.’

#ITS NOT FINISHED BUTNI HAVE TO WORK SORRY #warrior nun #SORT OF??#avatrice #again sort of it’ll get there eventually

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unwantedtomost · 2 years

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regret & the aftermath — steve harrington

steve harrington x fem!reader, billy hargrove x fem!reader

word count: 1510

summary: after a whirlwind of a relationship with steve, one night might be the end of it all.

warnings: under aged drinking, mentions of smut

a/n: i don’t know what this is but i haven’t finished something in a long time so here you go. also on a stranger things kick right now. kind of on a billy kick right now because dacre was in the elvis movie. part two anyone?

You still thought about him when you touched yourself at night.

Even though you were the one to fuck everything up. You still thought about him, and little did you know, he was still thinking about you too.

You had been dating Steve Harrington on and off since you both were fourteen. You would break up every few months and a have a fling here or there, but it was never anything serious and you both would fin each other again. The first time everything completely blew up was your junior year.

Nancy fucking Wheeler had ruined everything.

You don’t know what it was about her that allured Steve so completely. You could see it in his eyes the weeks leading up to your first long-term break up. He was entranced by her. If you were a hundred percent honest with yourself, you thought that maybe you and Nancy could’ve been really good friends if she hadn’t taken your boyfriend.

After a really bad fight, Steve had broken up with you for good.

You had never felt true heartbreak until that night. Even though you had bad fights in the past, you knew this one would stick. You knew with everything in you that in the morning he wouldn’t call and ask for you back. You knew that the next Monday at school he wouldn’t through his arm over your shoulder and act like nothing had happened. You knew it and you were right.

You fell into a pit of depression for the rest of the year.

You had fooled around with Tommy H despite his messy relationship with Carol for some of the year but other than that there was no way to distract yourself from your feelings. That is until Billy Hargrove showed up.

The moment you saw Billy walk into school you knew he would be trouble and you loved it.

When the new school year started you began to have a no fucks attitude about you. You genuinely were getting over Steve and your anger about the whole situation, but there was still a part of you that held onto everything and you hated it. When you saw how much Billy affected Steve, you knew you had to have him.

You stuck your nails into him before any of the other girls could. You planned to eat him alive.

You knew Billy would get with other girls when he pleased but you didn’t really care. You were using him and he knew that. The part of concern you did feel about him fucking around with other girls washed away every time you were with him. When you were around you got all of his attention, no matter who was around.

Before his first full week at Hawkins High even passed, everyone knew Billy was yours.

You could see it in Steve’s eyes how much he hated seeing you two together. You didn’t know why he hated it so much. Maybe it was because he always thought in the back of his mind you would always be there waiting for him when he was ready to come back to you. Maybe because even though he knew he ended things he still loved you and didn’t want to see you with Billy. It honestly was all of the above, but the biggest thing was that he saw that you were getting better. He kept his distance after the break up not because he didn’t want to see you but because he saw how bad everything affected you. He knew that his presence would only make everything worse. No much how he still wanted to be in your life, he knew he couldn’t. When Billy showed up he hated it because he worried about you. He knew that this thing with Billy would only set you back.

Steve bit his tongue on the whole thing. He knew that he couldn’t complain to Nancy about it and he couldn’t voice his concern to you, so he just kept quiet.

It wasn’t until Halloween of your senior year that he was going to do something.

You were all at the party that night, anyone who could was there. He watched you and Billy be all over each other the entire night and it made his blood boil. He didn’t consciously know it but he had been counting how many drinks you had, and something about watching you get sloppier and sloppier made everything so much worse.

He was genuinely about to walk up and clock Billy until he was pulled into the bathroom by Nancy. All of his thoughts about beating the shit out of Billy all went away when Nancy said “it’s all bullshit” and sufficiently ended their relationship.

It took about a month after until you and Steve were back together.

Things seemed to go back to normal pretty quickly. Steve still gave Nancy longing glances and you and Billy would engage in hungry stares, but it was you and Steve and everything made sense again.

As much as you felt that you and Steve truly would stay together and get married one day, you still tried to keep your hooks in Billy. You would never even let him kiss you but you went for many light night drives with him. His hand would stay on your thigh the entire night. When you pulled over at a park, he would kiss your neck and his hand would creep up higher. You would always stop him and after a while he started expecting it. Billy knew he would never be able to be with you intimately ever again but he didn’t mind it. You were a bright light for him in his life and he intended to keep you around, sex or no sex.

He loved you, he would never say it to anyone or even let himself be aware of it, but he did.

There was one night when you drank too much at a graduation party and tried to sleep with him but he stopped it. He knew how much you would hate yourself in the morning. There was no way he was going to let you do that.

After that one night of intended indiscretion, things with Steve got good again. Then he started working at Scoops Ahoy and things changed again.

Slowly, you saw something in the way he looked at Robin that reminded you of how he felt with Nancy. You didn’t feel the exact same way about it, but the anxiety about it all made you feel nervous. After weeks built up you two had gotten really bad again. One night you two had the ugliest fight ever. Even worse then the one right before your break up six months earlier.

You still remember that night clearly. It was carved into your brain in a way that would never let you forget it. It didn’t help that there was a scar on your thigh from that night. The moment would forever be etched into your skin, haunting you.

After Steve stormed out of your house at two in the morning, you immediately called Billy. You were only a little shocked that he answered. He was at your house in minutes. Then you went for a long drive.

You ranted to him like you had done so many times before. It was raining that night and it was hot out, so his car started to feel sticky after a while. It only got worse when you kissed him.

Now, completely topless, you threw your leg over so you could straddle him in the driver’s seat. When you were adjusting yourself you had scratched your leg, leaving a small mark on the inside of your thigh near your knee. That night still makes your stomach churn and your pussy throb. You completely regreted it yet it was the best sex you had had in your entire life.

You found yourself drinking a lot after that night. Steve saw that something was wrong but he thought it was just because of the fight. But one night you showed up at his house in the middle of the night completely hammered. You not only actually threw up that night but you metaphorically word vomited your secrets to him.

He let you stayed the night and nursed you back to health, but after your hangover was cured, he broke up with you. You actually thought it was for good this time. Soon, you both would be going off to college and there was no way either of you could fight the battle of a long distance relationship together.

Almost a year later, you still thought about Steve all the time. It didn’t help that your younger brother was best friends with Dustin Henderson so you still had to see him more than you’d like.

You still loved him with your entire heart and he still loved you, but neither of you knew how to move on from this. Or if you even could.

Maybe it really was over for good.

#steve harrington #steve harrington smut #billy hargove x reader #billy hargrove #billy hargrove smut #stranger things #stranger things smut #stranger things part 2

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waterlilyrose · 1 year

Note

hi!!! I love your writing and your fics so much, I get so happy everytime you post😊

If you want, could you please write a little something about mary not being as forgiving or approving of anthony after the featherington ball and having him convince her that he loves her and to let them get married? idk I just really love when he has to sweat a little lol and I truly feel like mary would be worried giving everything that happened and what kate told her just before about them being intimate.(hope my english was fine, it’s not my first language!)

have an amazing week💗

Link to A03 Story

Kate's accident and subsequent recovery had provided Danbury House a week of much needed reflection. Seeing her eldest sister unconscious and with no guarantee of waking had caused Edwina to cease allowing her own hurt feelings to control her any longer. Lady Danbury had not mentioned a plan to do damage control at all. And Mary herself had spent her time at Kate’s bedside thinking ‘how did I get here?’ In truth, how did any of them get here? Mary had been dubious about returning to England so they could find Edwina a husband but Kate had insisted it was their best chance of success. In India, they had the respect that had come of the late patriarch being a servant of the royal household and little else. In England, they had Mary’s lineage to lean on and even the scandalous daughter of an Earl was still a connection to the gentry that Miles had not had. Mary hadn’t wanted to but Kate had insisted and Kate was normally so sure and forward-thinking that Mary just...went along with it. Mary had gone along with rather too much since Miles had breathed his last. The death of the man she had thrown away her birth family for (quite easily actually because she’s come to loathe her parents by the time she was even fourteen) had left her lost in an ocean of despair. Kate had taken on the family burdens and, when Mary wasn’t quite so despondent anymore, the reins of responsibility had never been handed back. Because Mary had never insisted on Kate handing them over.

So they had come to London, been taken in by Lady Danbury and tackled the social season. Mary was aware of the whispers that followed her and her daughters wherever they went when she showed herself for the first time in nearly twenty years. But that had been overshadowed when the Queen, in a fit of generosity or maybe a desire to stir up the season for herself, named Edwina the Diamond. Suddenly the Sharma family were in hot demand and Edwina was considered the prize of the season. And it was what had caught the attention of Lord Bridgerton.

Was the prospect of an English nobleman marrying her youngest daughter enough to sweep Mary away with silly dreams and ambitions? Had Aubrey Hall’s splendour blinded Mary to the lack of spark between Edwina and the viscount? Had the idea that Kate had proven herself the rock of the family stopped Mary from seeing what was plainly between Kate and Lord Bridgerton? Mary should have listened. Edwina should have listened. They all should have listened to Kate. Because Kate warned them from the very beginning that Lord Bridgerton wanted a viscountess rather than a wife. Mary wanted to smack her own head now – Kate had always told the truth so why did they doubt her?

Well, no, that wasn’t true. Kate hadn’t told the truth about her dealings with Mary’s parents and the dowry she had secured with all their conditions. Kate hadn’t told her the times that she had spoken unchaperoned with Lord Bridgerton (Mary had a feeling that those meetings were too numerous to even count). And Kate had not told her that what she felt for the Viscount was not just distaste and distrust but passion, desire and even love.

You and the entire household had already proven yourselves the poorest of listeners. Is it any wonder she felt she could not be honest?

So when Kate was awake and keen to pack for her return to India on the night of the Featherington ball, Mary decided that she was going to rectify at least one mistake. She was going to ask Kate to be honest with her and she was going to listen to what her eldest child said.

The outcome proved more heartbreaking than Mary could have ever anticipated. The sight of Kate in tears at her gentle questioning as to whether she really wanted to leave inspired further confessions to spill out of her crying child. And to hear Kate declare that she felt so grateful that Mary had not cast her out to beg her bread the moment Miles had died left Mary feeling almost dizzy with remorse. How did this happen? How did Kate feel like Mary loved her less than Edwina?

A nasty memory came back to Mary of that appalling wedding day – of her feeling of being punched in the chest at realizing that Kate had kept another secret from her and of Edwina weeping at the realization that her fiancé would rather look at her sister during their vows than at her.

“Go – anywhere else Kate!” She had said that.

I wasn’t picking one over the other! But...they needed space. I needed time to think. And so...I stayed with Edwina. And Kate left. Where did she go? Who was with her? Was she...was she all alone? Oh no…

The intention didn’t matter – the outcome did. Mary staying with Edwina was clearly saying to Kate “I pick this one” and that was that.

Mary had reassured Kate the best she could that, while she hadn’t exactly been the most present of parents in the last few years, she loved Kate with everything she had. And then Kate told her what she had once again missed.

“He was going to ask me to marry him. The Viscount. And I could not allow it, Mama. He was going to ask me out of mere obligation, some misguided notion of duty after the two of us...” Kate trailed off, suddenly looking like she had said too much. Mary inhaled deeply. She understood what Kate was hinting at all too well.

So…Lord Bridgerton had no compunction wooing her youngest daughter, proposing to her in front of them all, getting to the altar with her and, when Edwina found out the truth, trying to implore her to go ahead with the farce of a marriage…and then going on to bedding her eldest daughter when that didn’t work!

Another memory came screaming back to Mary – of Mary sitting in a window seat at the royal palace as Edwina spoke with Lord Bridgerton about whether or not to continue with the wedding she had just ran out of. He had spoken some nonsense about duty and the roles that Edwina and himself played (Mary had not failed to notice that he avoided any use of the word ‘love’). When Edwina had raised the question of Kate’s role in their futures, he had paused before speaking: “The thorn easily removed from the blossoming flower of our lives.”

It had shocked her then and it left her feeling slightly sick now. And still she had said nothing.

Why? Why didn’t you speak up then? Why did you allow Edwina to even consider marrying that man after that? Why did you permit such talk about Kate? You said yourself at the dinner with your parents that you had two daughters but you do not act like one – is it any wonder that Kate feels so alone in all of this?

Mary sat beside Kate and waited for her daughter to speak again. And she did. And it was devastating.

“He does not love me, Mama.” Kate whispered before her face crumpled into tears again. “And I...I could not allow it.” Kate held out her arms to Mary for a hug and it reminded Mary so much of when she would fall over and scratch her knee. Kate, only six years old, running to her with tears on her face, “Mama! The ground hurt me!”

Mary could do nothing but cling to Kate tightly as her daughter wept her heartbreak into her shoulder. And, as Mary whispered soothing words into Kate’s hair for the first time in far too long, she felt hatred for Lord Bridgerton. His conduct with Edwina had been woeful but maybe it was understandable that he wanted a life guided by duty and nothing else. But Mary had always known that Edwina’s sullenness mainly stemmed from being lied to by Kate and disappointment at a dream evaporating. With Kate weeping in her arms and clearly thinking that love was not to be her own because she believed she did not deserve it, Mary knew this was true heartbreak. She suddenly wished that she was back in that art gallery with Lord Bridgerton and had lashed him with her tongue when she had a chance – as it happened, Mary was feeling too preoccupied with her own failings to make him squirm about his own.

They all attended the Featherington ball that night and Mary felt true stirrings of pride as Edwina and Kate took to the floor to dance together. Her two girls were as one again and their bond was healing. Even if it would never quite be as it once had, that might not necessarily be a bad thing. The last bond was built on falsehoods and fairy-tales – this one could be built on truth and honesty. Yet Mary was not at Kate's side constantly and therefore could only watch as Lord Bridgerton and Kate took to the dancefloor.

It was a very unpleasant experience for Mary – she was aware of the dancefloor emptying as the other members of the ton refused to dance alongside such a scandalous pairing (Mary made a promise to herself that when she had seen both her daughters into a good life, she would retire to the countryside – London was too full of people like her parents and she was done with that nonsense) before the Queen intervened. Apparently the sight of Queen Charlotte smiling upon the handsome couple dancing and Edwina's own lack of bitterness was enough to make even the Cowpers' tow the line. There was a distinct air of farewell between Lord Bridgerton and Kate as the song finished and Kate left him on the dancefloor to watch the fireworks in the garden.

Mary watched the fireworks that night with Edwina by her side but Kate was absent. Mary almost wanted to hunt her down to make sure she was well (truly Mary's chaperoning of Kate had proven pitiful thus far) but Edwina advised against that. Kate knew that the Sharma family were going forward as a true unit – now she needed room to breathe.

When Kate appeared at Lady Danbury's carriage for their departure back home, Mary could not fail to notice that a change had come over Kate. Her eyes were twinkling, she appeared a little flushed and she looked like she was actually biting her lip to stop herself beaming. It was both heartening and disconcerting to see. As soon as they arrived at Danbury House, Edwina and Kate departed for their bedroom in a hurry. Mary made a promise with herself to tell Kate one more time that if she wished to stay in England she would find their support and, whatever Kate's decision, Mary would accept it even if it broke her heart to do so.

The next morning dawned brightly at Danbury House as Lady Danbury and Mary sat at the breakfast table waiting for the girls to re-emerge. Mary was just eating some toast when Kate and Edwina came into the room. They seemed to be almost trembling with nervous energy.

"Mama, Kate has some news." Edwina announced, looking at Kate with encouragement in her eyes. It was truly heartening to see how far they had come from the ruins of their bond after the wedding.

Lady Danbury and Mary both looked at Kate.

"I…will not be departing England."

Mary's heart felt like it was about to burst…and then it felt like it was freezing in her chest at Kate's next words.

"Last night, Lord Bridgerton asked for my hand in marriage. And…I have given my consent."

Mary was saved from saying a word by Lady Danbury's apparent pleasure.

"Well, at last, a potentially happy ending!" Lady Danbury looked most pleased and Edwina smiled at Kate. There was devotion and support in her eyes but Mary also detected a tiny hint of regret too. Hopefully that would fade to nothing in time. Lady Danbury kept talking: "The Queen's support means quite a smoothing of the path and a subsequent marriage will give this a much needed air of respectability."

"Mama?" Mary refocused her eyes on Kate who she now realized was staring at her in an almost imploring manner.

"Forgive me." Mary said with what she hoped was a light carefree tone of voice. "I was…somewhere else for a moment. This is…quite the turnaround." Mary swallowed down a lump in her throat. "You deserve such happiness, my darling. And anything that keeps you close can only be the greatest blessing." Mary was aware that she didn't say 'congratulations' - for she didn't know if she could with conviction. So instead she stood from the table and hugged Kate tightly. It was only two minutes later before Mary excused herself with one of her headaches. "Such momentous news…I need a moment." Mary gave Kate a smile that she knew didn't reach her eyes and departed for her bedroom quickly. Once inside, she sat down heavily on her bed and tried to remember how to breathe.

Lord Bridgerton was going to marry Kate. She knew, of course she knew, in the eyes of society that such a move would fix a lot of damage. It would give Kate and Lord Bridgerton the air of respectability and Edwina's connection to the Viscount via her sister's marriage would grant prestige. Kate would be elevated and the talk would die to nothing in time.

So why…why did the prospect of having Lord Bridgerton as her son-in-law after all make her feel slightly ill?

Maybe because he got away with everything he did far too easily? Maybe because, even if he had chosen to not marry Kate at all, the consequences for such conduct would be negligible for him anyway? A season or two of people giggling behind their hands and it would all be forgotten for him. He was handsome, rich and titled – people had short memories when such factors were involved. Maybe because she had seen the heartbreak on Kate's face that was normally always so strong and sure. Or maybe because deep down Mary knew that she had not done enough to protect her daughters?

She remembered holding Miles' hand as he took his last shaky breaths. "Look after my girls, Mary. If you are my moon, they are my stars."

Mary felt tears of regret escape her eyes.

Oh Miles, I am so sorry.

Then she wiped her eyes viciously. Enough crying. Enough wallowing in self pity. Enough!

Her outburst at her parents at the appalling dinner held by Lady Danbury was proof of an existing spark. There was fire in her still and, even if Lord Bridgerton had dodged most of the hardships of playing two sisters against each other, that fire could still burn.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The preparations for Kate’s wedding were quick to get underway. The Queen had given her approval but was certainly not going to finance the wedding this time. All the better really – Mary got the distinct impression that the Sharmas had endured all the focus of the ton that they could handle. A nice wedding that was done quietly would be just the thing.

So the duties of Mary were fairly minor – she was to attend Kate to the modiste, help her choose what she wanted and arrange for Kate’s own Haldi ceremony. She did this with aplomb – it had been a magical moment at Madame Delacroix when Kate, against the traditions of the expected standard white dress that Edwina had worn, insisted with heartening determination that she wanted a traditional Indian sari for her wedding. She would arrive at the altar to become the new viscountess wearing red and gold proudly.

“Even with the funds to do so, it can take upwards of a year to travel to India.” Kate mused. “I doubt Anthony can leave his estate that long. So if I am to live in England, my heritage will be honoured here. My children will know their Amma married their Papa in a gown that my birth mother had worn. My mother left me her bangles – maybe I can pass on an item to my own daughter one day.”

Madame Delacroix had risen to the occasion beautifully and Edwina had actually burst into tears at the sight of Kate standing on the platform before the mirror in her beautiful scarlet gown with gold decoration. Mary had needed to clutched her chest too – little Kathani had grown into the most beautiful of women and Kate’s evident joy made everything around her seem so much more lovely.

But Mary’s newfound ire had prevented her from having nearly anything to do with the Bridgertons. In fact, she avoided them at every opportunity. Lady Danbury had to chaperone Kate and Edwina as they promenaded with the Bridgertons, Mary claimed a headache when Lady Bridgerton had invited them all to tea at Bridgerton House and had actually made sure to remain out of the house on various shopping trips whenever Lord Bridgerton came to call on Kate.

Mary knew she would have to face that man eventually but the peevish part of her mused that Lord Bridgerton could probably do with not getting what he wanted. He had gotten everything else from the Sharmas – he couldn’t have Mary’s well wishes too!

Thwarting him would have been rather good fun if it only impacted him but alas everything linked to Lord Bridgerton seemed to fall on Kate also. Many times Kate had tentatively asked Mary if she would like to go this place or do this activity – Mary felt guilty declining anything that was not exclusively meant for ladies. And the look of terrible disappointment that flashed across Kate’s face before the mask of understanding replaced it sometimes made Mary want to declare she would do anything to make Kate’s life easier. She knew that Kate had done enough to make Mary’s lot easier in the past so it was payback time. But her resentment of her future son-in-law burned too hot within her. For all her quietness, Mary knew she could hold onto a grudge rather ruthlessly.

Mary could not get away with it forever and it was the night when she took to her bed at two in the afternoon with ‘a migraine’ to avoid dinner held at Bridgerton House that night when Mary’s bluff was finally called. She received a call to her room when she heard her daughters and Lady Danbury returning late that night. Lady Danbury came into the room without even bothering to knock.

“I am calling my doctor tomorrow to examine you.” Lady Danbury announced.

Mary, who was sat in an armchair by the fire in her nightgown, merely blinked. “A doctor?”

“Indeed. I think it is wise to have you examined by a professional. Your headaches are occurring at a frequency that is rather alarming. Only this week, I think you have suffered no fewer than twelve. A medical professional will be able to prescribe you something and get to the root cause of the trouble.” Lady Danbury stepped forward with her cane tapping on the floor ominously. “They might even be able to diagnose why these persistent headaches only seem to occur when we have to attend something with the Bridgertons.”

The look and tone that was directed at Mary left her in little doubt that she was rumbled. So Mary sighed and put her hands in her lap. “I did not think anyone would even notice that I was not there. I haven’t exactly established myself as a forceful character in the past few years, have I?”

“Your absence was noted – I believe even the happy bubble of the heir’s engagement has not been enough to not alert the Bridgertons that you have not been in their company a whole week. It is starting to cause embarrassment and Lady Bridgerton has been a member of the ton too long to not recognise an insult when she sees one.”

“I am sorry if the Bridgertons have taken offense-”

“No, you are not.” Lady Danbury interrupted. “Causing offense to the Bridgertons was probably what you wanted to do in the first place.”

Mary looked at her old friend and knew the niceties and lies would avail her little. “No, I’m not sorry. Making them uncomfortable is actually pleasant for my ears to hear.” Mary looked at Lady Danbury with unwavering calm. “I spent months of my life trying to ingratiate myself with them when Edwina was being courted. Months of polite smiles, chaperoning meetings and discussing the weather with Lady Bridgerton until I was actually at risk of a real headache. There is nothing more to say to them – I’m not going to stand in the way of this marriage so my attendance doesn’t mean overly much.”

“It is not the Bridgertons that your absence is hurting – it is your daughter. It is Kate.” Mary looked at Lady Danbury in alarm as the matriarch sat in the chair opposite her. “I was observing Miss Sharma this evening and it hurt even my heart to see her look so defeated. She kept looking at the seat you were meant to occupy at the dinner table and at one point had to excuse herself for some air. She came back with rather red eyes.”

It was like a slap in the face to Mary in the way nothing else had been. Her intent had only been to vex the Bridgertons – she hadn’t considered that Kate would get hurt too.

She is marrying the man. She loves the man. Of course you refusing to engage with him would hurt her deeply.

Mary’s eyes burned with tears. Was she ever going to get this right? She had let Kate take control of everything and it had nearly crushed her eldest with the weight of responsibility. She was trying to make Lord Bridgerton feel uncomfortable for his choices and Kate was feeling abandoned once more.

“I don’t want to make her miserable. My grievance is with him, not her!” Mary moaned as she rubbed her eyes.

“Where those two are concerned, one person’s misery is the other person’s pain. Why do you think he defended your family so angrily against your parents? Forgive me, but it was not for you or Edwina’s benefit. He lost his temper and years of good training the moment they turned on her. He will not tolerate a slight against Miss Sharma and she will feel likewise though she will probably let him get a tongue-lashing where deserved.” Lady Danbury spoke entreatingly to Mary. “She needs her mother. The whole point of most of her life’s challenges was because she felt she couldn’t turn to you. Now whether you mean to or not, you seem to be abandoning her again.”

“I’m not! I never would! But-” Mary stood up from her chair and began to stride back and forth. “Lady Danbury...Agatha...I can’t trust him!” All pretences of rank and social convention were now lost and Mary spoke from the heart. “I was blinded by his attention to Edwina and got swept away with the romance of it all. I fell for the person he created and I believed him as that. I did not see that he was playing a part and I did not see that Kate wasn’t just being too harsh but telling an uncomfortable truth. I didn’t see how unsuitable he was and more damningly I didn’t see what he was doing to Kate. When I did see the truth, it broke me to see Kate so eaten up. And I don’t care what you say – he did that! He lied to one of my daughters, got her to believe the lie, made out as though my other daughter was some kind of bitter spinster when she got in his way and then after making a world of promises to Edwina, realized that he’d chosen the wrong woman, the wrong sister, and tried to back out of it all. Yes, Kate shouldn’t have begged him to carry on knowing what she did about his true feelings but she had no choice! And then the wedding happened...and I should have condemned him then but I didn’t. And after that...he took liberties with her, Agatha! Lay with her and then made her feel that the only way forward was to escape across the world. And now he’s proposed and suddenly I’m meant to say ‘Oh well, things happen – all is forgiven’?” I cannot forgive. I cannot forget. And I don’t know what to do!”

Mary was nearly hyperventilating by the end of her rant but it felt good to say it outloud. Lady Danbury stared silently as though taking in her words. She was not actively disagreeing so...that was something.

“I understand your feelings.” Lady Danbury eventually said. “Many Mamas would; even if they did not voice them. A man courting one sister then declaring undying for another? And at the same time? It was not his finest hour. Or for any of us really. You think you got swept away – well, I can admit that Lady Bridgerton and myself got a little carried away too. My godson and her daughter were a successful union that we had a hand in getting together. Did success go to our heads? Clearly a little. And while Lord Bridgerton does hold the most culpability, none of us came out of it completely faultless. The past is regrettable but sadly cannot be changed. The present can be. Or at least moulded to suit our purposes a little better.”

“So what do I do?” Mary implored. “You know everything or at least more than most. How do I make this right?”

“By doing what I advised your daughter to do on many occasions but which she didn’t feel capable of – you need to be honest. Luckily you have the opportunity” Lady Danbury stood up so Mary and herself were on the same level height-wise. “Lord Bridgerton pulled me aside at Bridgerton House after the dinner and told me, in supremely unwavering terms, that he would be calling at Danbury House to talk to you and only you tomorrow morning. And if you refuse to see him, he will take up residence in my drawing room until his wedding day if need be. Anthony Bridgerton is not famed for his patience I am afraid.”

“So he thinks he can force me to talk to him?” Mary said harshly. “And what should I say?”

“The truth. Lay it out for him why you are acting this way, why your opinion of him is not especially high and your reservations about him. Even if by the end of it, he is left weeping with remorse, at least you will have said your piece and he will have to either convince you of his worthiness or you can tell Miss Sharma exactly what he is really like and she can decide accordingly. But either way, you’ll all know where you stand.”

“Surely such a forthright talk would provoke a scandal-”

Lady Danbury thumped her cane on the floor in irritation. “Mary, stop hiding. You are not a coward; you never were. You’ve been negligent in recent years – there’s no point denying that. But you are still the Mary Sheffield who refused to marry some nobleman her parents had picked for her simply to gain their non-existent respect and a quiet life. You are still the Mary Sheffield who packed a single trunk, paid her footman all the pin money you had saved for a year and rode off towards the nearest ship port with only a letter left for your parents to find that effectively said ‘Farewell – I won’t be writing to you’. You are still the Mary Sheffield who threw in her lot with a widower with a young daughter and a rather humble fortune without a qualm. Many have called it foolish; the whole ton have deemed it scandalous but even I can’t deny it was brave. Heartbreak and grief has robbed you of your confidence in the past – don’t let it rob you of the opportunity to demand the best for your daughter and get the answers you need.”

Mary inhaled shakily and straightened her shoulders. Lady Danbury had a solid case and not one Mary could fight against.

“I will be at breakfast tomorrow. And I will receive him whenever he calls. You have my word.” Mary promised.

Lady Danbury nodded in satisfaction. “I will only be in the next room when you talk to him. I would not want to be far away.”

“I can defend myself ably, Lady Danbury.” Mary assured her.

“I know. That’s why I want to be close. You are about to make the esteemed Anthony Bridgerton squirm. I want to be close enough to hear it.”

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Breakfast the next morning was a quiet and slightly tense affair. Kate looked sleep-deprived and like she had little appetite, Edwina seemed pensive and unsure what to do as she sipped her chai, Mary wasn’t sure what to say so said nothing (old habits were sometimes hard to break) and Lady Danbury read her correspondent letters as though she didn’t have a care in the world.

The breakfast table had only just been cleared away when the footman came in.

“Lord Bridgerton is here to see Lady Mary Sharma.”

Edwina and Kate both looked taken aback and nervous at the announcement. It made Mary’s heart hurt.

“Thank you, I shall receive him here.” Mary said calmly.

The footman did not even have the opportunity to bow and go back down the stairs before there was a commotion and seconds later a determined Lord Bridgerton came into the room. It seemed as though he wasn’t prepared to wait to be politely introduced.

“Lord Bridgerton!” Lady Danbury greeted him as though he barged into her drawing room every day. “Quite early for a house call, isn’t it?”

“Forgive me but this could not wait any longer.” Mary saw how his eyes fell upon Kate and immediately softened as though the sight of her was a gift from God. He turned from Kate and his eyes settled on Mary – determination settled into his features. “I must request a meeting with Lady Mary. Alone.”

Mary inhaled deeply and nodded. “Lady Danbury? With your permission?”

Lady Danbury nodded and began to usher Edwina and Kate out of the room. “Miss Sharma, Miss Edwina, let’s afford them some privacy.” Kate looked back several times as though nervous of leaving her fiancé and mother together but eventually they were gone and Mary and Lord Bridgerton were standing alone in the room together.

Lord Bridgerton was clearly trying to hold himself in the same dignity as he normally inspired but it surprised Mary how poor a job he was doing at it this time. He did not appear like the head of a prominent family – he reminded Mary of a nervous young boy who was trying to not show fear and failing badly.

"Thank you for receiving me, Lady Mary. I have been most eager to speak with you. We have not spoken since the art gallery and…so much has happened since."

"Indeed." Mary replied. "I have needed some time to myself. I have been thinking over things that needed contemplation."

"Such as the betrothal?" Lord Bridgerton asked.

"Mainly. But also my own choices. My own behaviour. And I have been thinking greatly about my late husband." Mary sat down on the sofa as she pictured Miles – she would always long for him and miss him.

"My mother still deeply mourns my father." Lord Bridgerton said gently. "Maybe some kinds of grief never fully fade. I…I wish for all of you that he was still here. I wish I could have known him. We might have got along rather well-"

At that moment, Mary couldn't contain a bark of disbelieving laughter. Lord Bridgerton went still as though shocked but Mary couldn't keep silent.

"Oh yes, I would have loved Miles to have been here for this. To see the man who wooed one daughter with a total lie, who proposed to her and wanted to trap her in a loveless marriage. I would have loved to have seen his reaction to the realisation you have toyed with Kate's heart like a marionette puppet. And to see how the cure to the disease you spread was to decide to marry one daughter while discarding the other. Oh yes, he would have adored you."

Mary had seen that the 'even-tempered' character that Edwina had once believed in was so far from who Lord Bridgerton actually was that it was rather farcical. So she expected some kind of explosion in response to her biting contempt and sarcasm. But, while it was evident that he clearly wanted to stamp his foot and declare her words unfair, that did not come out and instead he hung his head in shame.

"You are right." Lord Bridgerton said hoarsely. "I behaved appallingly. And Kate's father would have demanded satisfaction if he were alive – I have demanded it for far less. I can only hope that he watches me from above and I regain his good opinion by devoting the rest of my life to making Kate happy. And I will provide Edwina with a handsome dowry – the ton is much more forgiving when money can be exchanged."

Mary wanted to tell Lord Bridgerton that just because he had possession of her eldest daughter didn't mean he could buy her youngest too. But Mary wasn't so stupid as to let her anger get the better of her in that way – money was indispensable and needed in this life. Principles were normally the privilege of the rich because those principles rarely needed to be tested. Edwina had suffered enough.

Lord Bridgerton strode forward and sat down on the sofa facing Mary. "Your husband is not here but you are. And your opinion matters. Kate is much like me – family for her is everything. And you are her Mama. Your disapproval is understandable but wounds her to an extent I cannot bear."

"You speak of not being able to bear wounds that she endures? You have caused her more pain and tears than I ever thought possible. Even if we remove the whole damnable affair with Edwina out of the picture, you've still reduced her to tears, made her feel like nothing and made her want to leave the continent for a chance to avoid you. You tore my daughters apart – you called her a thorn to be removed!" Mary was gratified to see Lord Bridgerton wince as though just slapped – it saved her the trouble of actually doing it. "And now you expect that conversation never to be mentioned again and for me to smile sweetly while you get your way once? Why would I want to give you another chance?"

"Because me and you are exactly the same." Lord Bridgerton said firmly after swallowing down what seemed like a lump or maybe bile.

"You are a titled privileged man with good-looks and riches beyond even my parents' wildest dreams. My family are penniless and have had to rely on the good graces of Lady Danbury to even survive a season. We are nothing alike."

"Not our circumstances but our conduct. Because we both hurt Kate – you by just letting her take on all the duties of your family and me by my denial of how I felt for her. And we are doing exactly the same now – overcompensating in an attempt to make it up to her. You doubling down and refusing me another chance is like me throwing everything at my disposal at her feet in the hopes that she'll realise how deeply sorry I am. For both of us, some might accuse us of too little, too late but we have to try, don't we? Because otherwise the damage we've done is irreparable and…I don't think I can live with that. And you probably can't either."

Mary's hated how on the money Lord Bridgerton's words were. But it was true – she probably was going overboard to make up for it all. But better late to the party than not come at all?

"Just tell me why. Why did you act as though she was a hindrance? Why did you pursue Edwina if you knew it was a mistake? Why? Just why?"

"Because I'm a fool. I thought I could have a loveless but civil marriage with Edwina who was lovely but would inspire no romance in me. I would have denied her nothing but what she wanted. She would have had dresses, jewels and children but never an impromptu kiss just because I could. Calling Kate a thorn…" Lord Bridgerton closed his eyes as though repeating those words in the cold light of day made them sound worse than they already had been "she was the thorn in my plans. The nice passionless loveless union I craved for the sake of peace was at risk because of her. Because she was everything I'd ever wanted and her presence in my life would mean I would never be free of that love. Imagine if you had married someone your rather awful parents had wanted and your late husband had been forever present in your life from the sidelines? No matter how nice and kind the man you married would be…every time your eyes would have fallen on the man you loved, it would have been a thorn in your side or maybe a stab wound to the stomach about how you could never ever be anything else to him. And, for all my cruelty, surely it was better to want Kate to leave our lives than to keep her close and end up begging her to be with me in secret? Better to be a cold-hearted bastard than plead with my sister-in-law to be my mistress. My father had taught me at least some speck on honour."

Mary stared at him, both grateful and rather shocked at his honesty. But the time for lies and politeness was done.

She continued on. “And after the wedding? Even as we tried to do damage control, you would not leave Kate alone for even a minute. You would look at her with such heat in your eyes it would have made Lady Hamilton blush! I know the truth – I know you lay with her before her accident. And you proposed only with the objective of doing the right thing-”

“I didn’t!” Lord Bridgerton interrupted. “Very well – yes, I lay with her and yes, I came to propose straight after but not because I lay with her. I came to propose the morning of the accident because, for the first time in my life, I wanted to be selfish and not have to worry about the repercussions. I knew I loved her – I didn’t have to like it. But then she wasn’t at the house that morning and then I found her in the park. And I saw the accident happen. Have you not wondered why I was there so early in the pouring rain? I bought her home and I saw the scene in front of me – Kate unconscious and maybe close onto death, you looking speechless in horror, Lady Danbury looking grave and Edwina weeping in fright and remorse. I did that. I did all of that. It was more than I could bear. And when she woke a week later, I was so relieved I cried. My mother told me then that true love was worth it. Worth the pain, worth the anguish and worth the uncertainty of life.”

“Then why was Kate so distressed and keen to leave that night?” Mary demanded.

“Because it’s still me at the end of the day that had to propose. And I made a mess of it as is clearly my way. I tried to mix flowery adjectives with talk of duty and the result was a disaster and probably almost an insult. Kate rejected me as she was quite right to do. I had decided to follow my heart but I had been following my head for over a decade. So the result was a mess. If it is before the Featherington ball you saw her, I’m not surprised she was so disappointed and upset.” Lord Bridgerton inhaled. “Apparently the method she needed was just to tell her that I love her beyond reason and, no matter what she decided, I would love her forever. Even if she returned to India, love is not dependant on proximity. Once she knew this and she said she loved me too, I tried again and this time my proposal was met with affirmation. I know I should have asked your permission but I didn’t with Edwina either and, quite frankly, Kate's response was the only one that mattered.” Lord Bridgerton looked at Mary pleadingly. “All I am asking for is a chance. One chance to prove my worth. And if I ruin this chance too, you may spend the rest of my days making me miserable. And I doubt Kate would blame you at all.”

Mary stared at him. “You know as well as I do that once you are married to Kate there is little any of us can do to get her away from you. Even if you were a beast of a husband, which for all your faults I doubt you would actually be, you would have all the power to do what you want.”

Lord Bridgerton shook his head gently. “Do you think Kate hasn’t already considered this? She’s decided that I am apparently worth a second chance. And I would never, not ever, do anything to cause her to want to leave me. I’m going to annoy her and maybe make her lose her temper at times but that is love sadly. You can’t like each other every minute of every day. The people who claim you can are either lying or insufferable. But I am going to treat her like a Queen because she deserves it. But even a Queen needs her mother at times. So let’s try. If only for Kate’s sake. She loves us both and we’ve done enough. Let’s try and make her world a bit better rather than hurting her in our desire to have the last word.”

Mary stared at the young man in front of her and looked for a sign he was lying. And she couldn’t really see anything. She’d fallen for his lies before but she hadn’t exactly looked very hard either. But she detected no half-truths this time – just a desperation for one chance. Something within Mary began to thaw and, while she was nowhere near trusting him completely, she felt slightly less contemptuous than she did last night.

“One chance. For Kate. One. And there will never be another, I can promise you that.” Mary warned.

“I’ll take it. I just need one chance.” Lord Bridgerton said eagerly.

“I will begin to attend events with your family again. I will be civil. And you will have your opportunity to make it right. Just as I will have my opportunity to be there for Kate after too long absent. I’m not promising you a glowing friendship – but I won’t be hostile. Take it and run because it’s the best I can provide right now.”

“It’s enough.” Lord Bridgerton said with relief. “It’s more than enough.”

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The chapel at Aubrey Hall was beautifully decorated with many flowers as the wedding of Lord Bridgerton and his new Lady took place. The onlookers were as modest as the setting with only the Bridgertons, the Sharmas and Lady Danbury in attendance. They had the added surprise of the Duke of Hastings accompanying his wife this time - “I’m eager to meet the woman who made Bridgerton more of an idiot than usual” was his explanation for which Mary secretly agreed with.

The past three weeks since Mary’s reluctant truce with Lord Bridgerton had been slightly tense but clearly enough to make Kate happy. Mary attended every meeting with the Bridgertons that Kate and the family was invited to and it made Mary’s heart ache to see the look of relief in Kate’s face whenever Mary cordially greeted Lord Bridgerton. But Mary made the effort to hold Kate close and clutch her hand in support when they were out in public. She tried not to be too overboard though – that was what got her into that mess with Lord Bridgerton after all.

She was unable to refrain from kissing Kate’s cheek and wiping a tear at the sight of Kate in her wedding finery though she was sure that even Lady Danbury looked slightly overcome to see Kate ready to marry the man she loved so deeply (Lady Danbury would just blame the pollen from all the flowers in the church and Mary was not brave enough to contradict her).

Yet Mary’s first moment of true peace came over her as she sat in her pew at the church and the vows were spoken to repeat by the vicar. Kate looked almost a bit disbelieving that it was all actually happening but Lord Bridgerton…even Mary could not deny that he looked like a man in love. His eyes did not stray for even a moment from Kate and he spoke his vows with such fervour that Mary did not doubt he truly meant to love her until the very end.

In that moment with Edwina squeezing her hand next to her, she knew – it was going to be okay. And her heart began to forgive what had been badly done before. It would take longer to forgive her own mistakes but that was often the way – your conscience could sometimes be your biggest critic.

As the vicar declared finally that Lord Bridgerton and Kate were now husband and wife, Mary looked up at the stained glass window above them. And sent a message to her husband.

He made mistakes. But I did too. She loves him and he loves her. I was enough to sustain us – let us give them a chance to let it sustain them.

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