Absolutely Smitten

megan|she/they|xxiv|libra|queer|writer|requests:open

[can-youimagine]

Masterlist

🧸= fluff

🥀= angst

💋= smut (18+ only)

🍬= 100+ notes

✨= 200+ notes

🦄=300+ notes

🖋=author's favorite

Bridgerton Imagine

Criminal Minds Imagine

Good Omens Imagine

Harry Potter Imagine

Marvel Imagine

The Umbrella Academy Imagine

Real Person Fic

Wanna Request?

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I just started heated rivalry and I love how much people are just obsessed with hockey in this universe. I’m a casual hockey fan and could not tell you more than like three players

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Casual Pt. 2 (Derek Morgan x Reader)

Summary: Your father calls in a favor, much to your dismay. Though, it leads you to meeting someone who could get you out of your rut.

Chapter TW:  morally ambiguous smut, daddy kink

Word Count: 1011

“Hey, Pretty Girl,” Agent Morgan greets. “Hope I didn’t keep you waiting.”

You push yourself off the wall. “You’re worth waiting for.” He holds out his hand before leading you into the bar.

The first thing he notices when he walks in is the suits. Leaning in, he whispers, “Is there a reason you brought me to a government bar?”

“Well,” you retort, “I originally wanted to bring you home, but that seemed too forward.”

His eyebrows shoot up before he can compose himself, causing you to giggle. As you do, you glance over his shoulder to the entrance, where, lo and behold, Gareth is standing. Giving him a quick wink, you pull Derek to the bar with you, draping yourself on his arm.

You can’t stop yourself from thinking about what you’re doing. You need a good fuck to get back at Gareth. You need a rather inappropriate fuck to get back at your dad. Derek Morgan happened to be in the right place at the right time for you. And, as much as he doesn’t deserve that, you can’t bring yourself to stop. In any other situation, you could easily see yourself falling for him, but that’s not what you want.

Your lips ghost his ear as you whisper, “Would it be too forward to take you home now?”

He tugs you impossibly closer by your hips. “Let’s get out of here.”

Feeling Gareth’s eyes on you, you lead Derek out of the bar. He fumbles with his keys as he unlocks the car. “You’re a bit distracting.” He’s breathless as your hands roam his body.

“Are you going to do something about that?”

In what is most definitely not Derek’s proudest moment, he pulls you into the backseat of his car. You smirk as you hit the seat. “How’s the FBI going to feel if they find out one of their agents is committing lewd acts in public?”

“You’re just going to have to be quiet, so they don’t.” Pushing up your skirt, he groans, eyes rolling back. “No panties?”

“Wasn’t planning on wearing them for long anyway.”

Grinning, he pulls your core up to meet him, running his tongue through your folds. You bite your lip in an attempt to stifle your moan. You slide one of your hands under your shirt before Derek pushes it away. “Only I’m touching you tonight.”

“Whatever you say, daddy.” 

His grin widens. “Gonna be a good girl?”

With a smile of your own, you answer, “Not a chance.”

His eyes cloud with lust. “Front seat, now. We’re leaving.”

You frown but climb into the front seat, questioning what the hell he is planning. Your questions are answered when he pulls out a pair of handcuffs. “Gotta make sure you behave yourself while I drive. You live close by?”

You eagerly give him your address as he closes the cuffs. Though it seems like he’s made a fatal mistake. Your hands are in front of your body, meaning that, while it is not the most comfortable position, you are able to finish what he started. 

Your fingers dip under your skirt without him noticing. Lazily, you circle one around your entrance, giving him a chance to notice and stop you. When he doesn’t, you press it into yourself, letting out an exaggerated moan at the sensation.

That gets his attention. He grabs your hand. “Just couldn’t behave yourself, could you?”

“Gonna punish me, daddy?”

“No,” he answers, “I’m gonna let you finish.” With your hand in his, he leads your fingers back to your core, his own fingers taking control and moving yours to bring you to an orgasm. As you start to feel your orgasm washing over you, he pulls both your hands away. 

The seatbelt prevents you from chasing him, and you pulse around nothing. You let out a high-pitched whine. 

He licks your arousal off your fingers before parking the car. “We’re here.” He turns toward you before continuing, “I’m going to take these off, and you are not going to try anything until we get to your apartment. Do you understand?”

With doe eyes, you look up at him. “Yes, daddy.” 

Derek knows this is not a good idea. He saw you looking around the bar. He knows that he is nothing but a rebound for you, but he doesn’t seem to care. As long as you both know this, then no one can be surprised. If no one is surprised, then no one gets hurt. 

He refuses to look around your apartment, refuses to get to know you any more than absolutely necessary. Luckily, that’s not a problem, because you are already naked by the time he closes the door.

You start to lead him to your bedroom, but he grabs you. If he sees any more of this place, then he’ll know too much about you. “Where’d you think you’re going, baby girl?”

“You don’t want to take me to bed?” Your tone may be innocent, but your eyes are dark.

“You think you deserve to be taken to bed? Treated like a lady?” He pushes you onto the couch. “You’re anything but.”

“Daddy,” you pout.

He’s already taking off his belt. “Open wide.”

For once, you don’t need to be told twice, mouth watering at the sight of his cock. You wrap your lips around his tip, smearing his precum with your tongue. Rather impatiently, he tangles his fist in your hair, pushing you to take all of him into your mouth. You gag, though that only seems to spur him on. You hollow your cheeks as he begins to thrust into your mouth at an erratic pace. Clearly, he was not as unaffected as he seemed. 

You stare up at him through your eyelashes, giving him the last bit of encouragement he needs to finish, releasing himself in your mouth. As he pulls out, he grabs your chin, pulling you to a standing position. 

You open your mouth, watching as he beams with pride at the mess he made, before swallowing. 

“Good girl.”

Tags: @ashrocker123

[can-youimagine]

Casual (Derek Morgan x Reader)

Summary: Your father calls in a favor, much to your dismay. Though, it leads you to meeting someone who could get you out of your rut.

Chapter TW: none?

Word Count: 941

A/N: It's so good to be back!! I've been working on this fic since college, and it has eight chapters as of now. I was waiting until I finished to post it, but I got impatient lol

Masterlist

You glance around the bullpen. It certainly looks different when there are people here. “Excuse me,” you say, grabbing the attention of a blonde. “I need to see Agent Hotchner.”

“I’m sorry, he’s in a meeting.”

You groan. “He’ll see me.”

“Ma’am, I’ll be happy to let him know you’re waiting for him, but-”

“I’m from Senator Healy’s office.”

Her eyes widen. “I’ll be sure to let him know. Please have a seat.”

Though you aren’t quite proud of your strategy, it never fails. “Thank you.” You sit in one of the uncomfortable chairs that seem to be in every government building, watching her walk up to an office with the blinds drawn. You should have guessed that was his.

He peeks through the blinds before sending the blonde and an older woman out of his office. Taking your cue, you head up to the office.

“Senator Healy?” he asks as soon as the door shuts.

You shrug, falling onto the couch. “It was the easiest way to get up here.”

He rolls his eyes. “That was my supervisor you sent out.”

“You’re welcome.”

He stifles a chuckle as he tries to scold you, “(Y/N).”

“Alright, I’m sorry, but I’ve only got like thirty minutes, so why did you want to see me?”

He sits next to you. “I need to ask a huge favor.” 

You eye him suspiciously. “You told me that when you asked me to come here. What is it?”

“I’ve got a case coming up, and I need you to watch Jack.”

“Why can’t Jess?”

He closes his eyes. “It’s not a normal case.”

“What is going on?”

“I’ve been assigned to an overseas case,” he explains, “and I don’t want to disrupt Jess’s summer. She’s got kids, and it would be tough for her to-”

“And it’s not tough on me?” you interrupt.

“(Y/N), please. I-”

You stand up. “I barely know him!”

“He’s your brother.”

You roll your eyes. “Half-brother,” you correct. “Besides, I haven’t spent more than ten minutes with him.”

“I know, and if you would give me a chance to explain-”

You let out a loud groan before leaning on the edge of his desk.

“I know that this is not ideal, for any of us, but I want Jack to be with you. I’m not sure how long it will be, but there’s a chance that it’ll go into the school year. You live in his district. Jess doesn’t.”

Sensing a lull, you point out, “He doesn’t know me.”

“I was hoping that we could fix that.” He still won’t meet your eyes. “He’s got a soccer game this weekend. It’s a low-stakes way for you to meet him. We’ll eat after, then we’ll all do something together.”

Completely fed up with the conversation, you push yourself off the desk. “There’s a vote this afternoon. We’ve been getting constituent complaints about it all day. I need to get back to Healy.”

“(Y/N), just think about it.”

You don’t give him an answer as you walk out of his office. He follows you out, causing the other agents to stare. You don’t bother to look behind you as you open the glass doors out of the bullpen. Unfortunately, you don’t bother to watch where you’re going either, and push the door open, right into a strikingly attractive man who seems to have been bringing lunch to the whole team.

You apologize, immediately dropping to the floor to help him pick up. 

He flashes a million-dollar smile that would make your knees weak under normal circumstances. “Don’t sweat it, sugar. Though, I have to ask, what made you so distracted that you couldn’t be bothered to look through a glass door?”

You smile, looking over your shoulder to where your dad is walking back towards his office. That seems to be enough for the mystery man to understand. He laughs. “Can’t say I blame you.” When he has as much of the food as he can save, he scribbles his number onto a napkin. “Give me a call if he gives you any more trouble.”

“And if he doesn’t,” you respond, reading the napkin, “Agent Morgan?”

“Call me anyway.”

The day is long, and you can feel that napkin burning a hole in your pocket. You stare at it for a minute, debating whether or not to call him. Before you can make up your mind, your dad calls.

“Yes?”

“Jack’s game is at ten tomorrow morning, the park across from his school. I already told him you’d be there.” He knows that you don’t mind disappointing him, but you won’t disappoint a kid, especially Jack, if you can help it. 

“Fine. Is that it?”

“I look forward to seeing you, too.”

As soon as he hangs up the phone, you have made up your mind to call Agent Morgan. He answers the phone with an almost rehearsed confidence and agrees to meet you for drinks that evening. 

Normally, you would stay in the office well after Healy left to get things in order for Monday, but not today. As soon as he leaves the office, you’re out the door. Unfortunately, your early departure doesn’t go unnoticed.

“Hot date?” 

You roll your eyes. Gareth Ritter truly will always be a pain in your ass. “Jealous?”

He smirks, stepping out of Senator Wheatus’s office. “Not one bit,” he states, standing next to you. He ghosts his lips over the shell of your ear as he finishes, “because I know that you’ll always come back to me.”

Shivering, you pull yourself away from him and grab your bag without a second glance.

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It's my 9 year anniversary on Tumblr 🥳

HOLY FUCKING SHIT

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Fanfiction Writers! How long have you been writing fanfiction!

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Voting ended onNov 17, 2025

Feel free to reblog to have more people to vote. Feel free to explain why you voted the way you did. DO NOT SENT ANON HATE FOR HOW PEOPLE VOTED.

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Going through my drafts and realizing u had a very self indulgent niche crossover fic so get ready for that people who watch policial dramas on Pluto lol

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Posted my first stardew fic on ao3 if anyone’s interested lol

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

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Marriage Bed (Benedict Bridgerton x Reader)

Summary: A loveless marriage is not the worst thing in the world

TW: SMUT (18+, minors get blocked), AFAB reader, a little angst

Word Count: 1942

Masterlist

You thought you would’ve entered a loveless marriage when your husband confessed his desires to you. On your wedding night, instead of spending the night in the embrace that your mother had warned you about, your husband confessed that he had no desire in women. He preferred to keep the company of men the way others keep the company of a woman. He married you to keep up appearances, and you had seemed trustworthy to keep his secret. 

However, your marriage was anything but loveless. He was a pure gentleman. Everything he did for you was out of love and respect, without the expectation of a favor in return. The physical aspects of love you received from his artists’ den. Men walked through the halls half-dressed and half-hardened in the name of art. Women, yourself included, felt more than comfortable in a slip or less. The guise of being a model was more than enough reason for them.

It’s never hard to know who is new. The shock on their face is evident, even if they try to hide it. No amount of planning can prepare anyone for walking through that door. Though the den attracts people from all walks of life, you are a bit surprised to see “Mr. Bridgerton,” you greet.

“Lady Granville,” he offers with a tight smile, his eyes pointedly trained on your face. “How are you this evening?”

“A bit chilly,” you respond, with a chuckle. “I never would have expected to see you here.”

“And I never would have expected to see a married woman dressed like - well -” he gestures to your exposed figure. 

In just your slip, you do not have the heart to tell him that it is still early in the evening and you are sure to lose it by the time he leaves tonight. “Mr. Bridgerton! You should know better than to comment on a woman’s appearance,” you jest.

“I thought that you, I never would have, I didn’t mean to in-”

“Relax,” you laugh. “We are here to enjoy ourselves, are we not?”

“I have to admit, I did not know quite what I was signing up to enjoy when I arrived.” His blush from the moment he walked in has made that quite clear. “Your husband only told me it was a chance to work on my art. Where might I find him?”

“Oh, Mr. Bridgerton, I do not believe that you should see him right now. He is a bit occupied.” Benedict Bridgerton had to be the first man who did not know what went on here, what your husband did or rather who he did. “I can lead you to the artists’ lounge, though if you were shocked by what I am wearing, I cannot promise you any sense of comfort in there.” 

He follows you, drinking in all the sights and sounds of the place. Open doors reveal acts that even the most rakish of rakes would be embarrassed by, but you walk through completely unbothered. You lead him to the artist’s room. A woman stands in the center of the room, while men paint around her. “Enjoy,” you say as you leave. 

You make your way through the house, still thinking about Mr. Bridgerton. You had seen him at balls, of course. But, there was something about seeing him here, where his status meant nothing. He looked vulnerable when he came in, but somehow managed to walk into the lounge the same way that he would walk into his own bedroom.

You try to shake him out of your head as you walk into a bedroom. Mr. Handleton was no stranger here. He was kind enough. What was more important was his prick, and he knew that as well as you did. “Welcome in,” he greets. The woman in his lap is too preoccupied to worry about being rude.

Your slip pools at the foot of the bed. You waste no time making yourself comfortable between the two of them. Still, you cannot manage to forget about Mr. Bridgerton.

Across the building, Benedict is trying to get you out of his head. The way your slip clung to your body was pure sin. He tried to be a gentleman, after all, he was a guest of your husband, but you made it damn near impossible to do anything other than gawk. He supposes that that is what he is here to do, to gawk. The woman on display in front of him is a clear indication of that. He should be gawking at her the same way he did at you, but there is something about you. 

Dearest Reader,

Sins of the flesh are the vice of the Ton, but only to those who know how to find it. Beneath the gilded guise of the season’s balls is a den of debauchery. Though this author is far too sophisticated to partake in such a childish romp, there are rumors of women of the night who are able to get you as high as you could ever desire. Though, even high society has its own lustful desires. Miss Charter and Mr. Everettson engaged in a hasty marriage ceremony over the weekend. One can only assume the worst, and a shame, too. Oh, the former Miss Charter was such a lovely, unassuming woman.

Let the Granvilles be an example for them and any young couples, eager to defile their names. No child in nearly two years and never a stray eye on the ballroom floor. Yes, the extreme example of holding true to your honor. 

Lady Whistledown

You walk into the gallery, draped over your husband’s arm. A few nods and polite smiles are exchanged before the two of you separate. He spots an acquaintance to speak with, and you see Mr. Bridgerton. 

“Beautiful,” you comment, walking up behind him. There is a portrait of a woman, tangled enough in a sheet to still be tasteful enough for public viewing. “I lost track of you. Did you enjoy your evening?”

“Very much so,” he answers. “Even though it was not what I expected, I am eager to return.”

“We are always eager to have you,” your voice drops to a whisper. “I am eager to have you.” 

Eyes widening, he clears his throat. As a couple enters the room, he turns to you. “May we speak somewhere a bit more private?”

“Lead the way.” 

He leads you through the maze of connecting rooms until he finds an empty one. “Was that…normal?”

“Which part?”

“All of it, I suppose.”

You shrug. “For the most part. People were a bit more wary of you, since you were new, than they would normally be, but with time, they will come to trust you, just as Henry did.”

“And, about Lord Granville. I am not sure how to tell you, or really what I saw, but I believe-”

Cutting him off, you laugh. “That he had a prick in his mouth or in his ass? That he and his ‘business partner’ were fucking on the card table? Believe me, Mr. Bridgerton, there is not a thing you could tell me that you saw that I would not believe.”

Mr. Bridgerton is taken aback. You can practically see his brain spiralling in his skull. “I was not going to be quite so crass.” As he composes himself, he develops a new set of questions. “Has he always been with men?”

“I assume.”

“And never with his wife?”

You shake your head.

“So you are,” he gestures at you, hoping you will understand him.

“A virgin? Heavens no. His gatherings have benefits for the both of us,” you answer with a wink. “Though, you should not think your looks are the only thing that brought you there. Henry only invites people he considers trustworthy companions. I’m sure you understand that your discretion is more than implied by your visit.” He nods. “Our place is a place of pure pleasure. In my marriage, I have come to realize that pleasure is more than physical. Intellectual, emotional, artistic pleasures are just as important. I know that your artistic passion was beyond fulfilled as you and others got to paint whatever you wanted, together. No fear of outside voices. And, if you choose to come again, you are welcome to explore what the others can feel like.”

Dearest Reader,

It is a shame what passes for art these days. What today’s artists need most is inspiration. There are only so many ways that one can paint a landscape before it becomes as boring as the paint on the wall. The Queen can commission as many artists as she wants, but until there is some inspiration, I fear there is no use. No portrait would ever capture her dead stare as her life crumbles around her.

Lady Whistledown 

“Mr. Br-”

He cuts you off before you have the chance to greet him. “Benedict.”

“Then, Benedict, it is good to see you again.”

He greets you, using your name. It feels strangely intimate coming from his mouth. “I couldn’t stop thinking about our conversation. In all truth, I couldn’t stop thinking about you, and if I remember correctly, you gave me permission to explore pleasures other than art.”

“I did.” Your heart flutters. You know where this is going.

“Good,” he responds before pulling you into him. Before you can gasp, his lips attach to yours.

“I didn’t think you would take me out here, where anyone could see,” you quip as his lips trail down your neck.

“It does not matter where I take you, simply that I do.” He undoes his belt, freeing his length, before pushing your slip up enough to expose your mound. “A shame someone this gorgeous cannot be appreciated by her spouse.”

“A blessing that you are here to appreciate me yourself.”

“And appreciate I will.” His tip rubs against you, receiving a generous coating of your slick before he plunges into you. He stretches you, he fills you, he makes you see stars. He is everything you need him to be and nothing that you have ever had before. 

He pulls out of you abruptly, already spilling his seed into his palm. “You,” he gasps through jagged breaths, “are truly something else.” His fingers replace his prick, coaxing your orgasm to come nearly as forcefully as his own.

“As are you.”

Dearest Reader,

The role of a woman is not confined to the whims of her husband. She is just as capable of acts of infidelity as her husband. I do not report rumors, only facts. All that I can tell you now is that a wife of high rank, who seemingly won the marriage mart of her season, has been spending a suspicious amount of time with a well-known bachelor in the Ton. 

Your husband folds the pamphlet. “You’re getting sloppy.”

“I know, but he is just so,” you sigh, “amazing.”

With a smile, he admits, “I do have good taste, but you, my dear, need to be more careful. For both of us.”

And, furthermore, gentle reader, the role of the rake can be reformed, or rather, contained. It seems as if the brothels have been missing their favorite family, with the eldest being married and the younger two having their focus elsewhere.

Lady Whistledown

“Why did you do it? Why could you not have held out for just a bit longer?” Benedict whines. 

“Why could you not have been ready to commit earlier?” you tease. “We have made our bed, and now we must lie in it.”

“I will lie in any bed with you.”

“And I with you.”

[can-youimagine]

Mother Knows Best (Anthony Bridgerton x Reader)

Summary: The ton is no stranger to a scheming mama

TW: SMUT (18+, minors get blocked), AFAB reader, oral (fem receiving)

Word Count: 1520

Masterlist

Dearest Reader,

The role of the father cannot be understated. The entire well-being of the family depends on him and his ability to choose a horse. Though, there is one time a year that the mama’s power overshadows his.

The season has just begun, and already mamas are planning their next moves, how they are going to secure a future for their daughters. As the season unfolds, I can only imagine what they come up with this year.

Lady Whistledown

You were skeptical when your mama pushed you to the dance floor. The way she leaned into Lady Bridgerton was a clear indicator that she was plotting something. Skepticism is just a feeling. You have no proof that she is up to no good, and you pray you never have it. You have seen what these mamas have tried to do to get the Duke’s attention. Surely, your mama would know better than to try to have you compete for his attention.

Smiling politely, you walk through the crowd, fetching the lemonade your mother had asked for. Though you soon realize, you are not alone at the table. “It appears they have developed quite a thirst.”

You chuckle. “With the whispering and laughing they are doing, they may need an extra glass.”

“What do you suppose they’re planning?” Lord Bridgerton asks, hiding his smile behind his glass.

“Nothing good, I’m sure.”

He nods. “You don’t suppose they are trying to,” he leans in, “start something, do you?” He has a dangerous glint in his eyes.

You spare a glance to your mamas. “I believe they might be.” As you turn back, your eyes reflect that glint in his eyes. “What shall we do?”

“We could make this easy for them,” he suggests, handing a glass to you. “Or, we could see how far they are willing to take this.”

Dearest Reader,

For all the young women who had hoped to become a duchess by the end of the season, I have disappointing news. However, if you were still holding strong to the notion that The Queen was correct in naming Miss Bridgerton the diamond of the season, you will be overjoyed by the news I am sharing with you. The Duke and Miss Bridgerton spent the better part of the evening attached. Yes, the most desired bachelor of the season seems to be taken.

Lady Whistledown

“Spending your time with a woman every night is hardly an honorable way to live.” 

Anthony tries to push aside his mother’s comments. He wants to correct her. Everything he was doing was for protection. Protection of his family, of course. He had to ensure that Daphne was more than comfortable in her future life. Protection of himself as he kept himself confined to the sides of the ballrooms, keeping him away from eager mamas and difficult conversations. But his highest priority was protecting his love. There were no women of the night, like his mother implied. There hadn’t been for a while. The woman in his bed had been there for months, and his heart lay there with her. He spends every moment of every day dreaming about her. She is not a woman of the night. She is a woman of the morning, the afternoon, the evening, of all of his waking and resting moments.

A gentle tap on his window pulls him from his thoughts. “I missed you,” he pushes the window open before helping you in, “so much.” 

He does not give you a chance to collect yourself before his lips are on yours. He is gentle, though you can feel the need in him. His hands hold you tightly against himself, and you feel that familiar length rub against your thigh. 

“Anthony,” you breathe, “whatever is bothering you?”

“Nothing.” He steps back just enough to take in the sight of you. Swollen lips, disheveled hair, desire in your eyes. “Nothing can bother me when I am with you.”

Your smile lights up the room. “Then, it is a good thing that I never plan on leaving.”

“It is a good thing I’ll never let you,” he responds. His arms wrap around your waist, pulling you impossibly close. “You must spend forever with me.” With a practiced ease, he tosses you on the bed. “You are the only one I ever want in my bed.” He pushes your dress up so that it pools around your waist. “And I cannot wait,” he continues as he lowers himself, “until everyone knows,” he throws your legs over his shoulders, “that you are mine.” 

His face meets your most intimate part, a part of you only he has seen, that he has touched. He is like a starving man at a feast. His tongue traces you, expertly flicking over the spot that makes you moan in the least ladylike way. He relishes in it. His fingers plunge into you, making you jump, and he moans in approval against you. He feels your walls flutter around his fingers. “That’s it,” he whispers. “My love, you are perfect.” With a few more curls, his fingers push you over the edge, and that is all he needs. Watching you come undone. Listening to your moans. He could die a happy man.

You curl into his arms, while you catch your breath.

Dearest Reader,

A scandal is horrible for everyone involved. Except, of course, this author. Everyone wants nothing more than to know who has done what with whom, and it is precisely my job to tell you. Even though I do not have all the details, it seems as if a desirable young woman has fallen more than ill. Her absence has been noted by many a suitor. Anyone calling on her has been denied. 

Her sudden return to the season even more so. One can only assume that her haste to marry has something to do with her “illness.”

Though I am in the business of entertaining the ton, I am not going to tear down a young woman’s reputation without irrefutable proof. Be wary, gentle reader.

Lady Whistledown

Your mama drones on about the latest Whistledown as you walk through the park. You are half listening. Something was bothering Anthony, you only wish he would tell you.

“Ah, Lady Bridgerton,” your mama greets.

You spare a glance at Anthony, who holds out his arm. He senses your panic and asks for your hand, while both mamas try in vain to hide their grins. 

“Of course, my lord,” you answer, still not quite sure what he is up to. He waits until you are a suitable distance from your families to explain himself. “I intend on marrying you. Tomorrow, I will bring flowers by and dance with you that evening. The next morning, I will bring more flowers and ask for your hand, if you will let me.”

“Anthony,” you gasp, “of course.”

“Then it is settled. I will be able to call you my wife in due time.”

You try to take in the moment, to accept that he has finally chosen you above all else, but in spite of yourself, you ask, “Why now?”

With a sigh, he answers, “Because, my love, I have come to the realization that I can no longer hide you. And, it seems it would make our mamas quite happy.”

You glance behind you at the two women who are watching you with the intensity only a mother can watch her children. “I thought you wanted to see how far they would take their schemes.”

“What can I say, they can be quite persuasive.” 

Dearest Reader,

The season has yet another surprise in store for us. Lord Bridgerton has taken a bride. I do not need to tell you who it is, though. Her name can be heard in jealous whispers throughout the Ton. Yes, the new Lady Bridgerton is causing quite the commotion, as mamas scramble to find a suitor for their daughters.

This author would be remiss if she did not offer a word of warning to the young bride. Lord Bridgerton has always been a rake. It is near impossible to tame a rake, especially one who had company in his bed after the proposal. Lady Bridgerton, I hope you are up for the challenge.

Lady Whistledown

Folding the pamphlet, Anthony chuckles. If only Lady Whistledown knew. “Eloise, it is merely a gossip column for bored women.”

“I should hope so!” she huffs, turning on her heel to show Penelope.

“I am proud of you,” Violet says once the two of them are alone.

Anthony nods with a smile, still relishing in the marriage.

“Though, you should’ve married her a long time ago.”

“I was simply not ready for that commitment.” With a lopsided smile, he adds, “After all, you heard it, I’m a rake.”

“A rake would never keep the same woman for months on end, let alone marry her.”

His smile falls. “How did - I mean, we never - I -”

“A mother always knows.” She laughs. “She also always knows how to push her child to do the right thing.”

“Then, thank you, mother.”

[can-youimagine]

Something may or may not be coming this afternoon….

[can-youimagine]

Crazy seeing fics written by ai. Like queen the point of fanfic is fan creation

[can-youimagine]

Had to explain to my fiancé what it was like to be on tumblr when miku binder Thomas Jefferson was posted

[can-youimagine]

It appears I’ve made a mistake

[can-youimagine]

please send me requests!! all of my wips are years old and I've lost the plot

also go ahead and send it even if its not on my fandoms list, I've got to update my blog

[can-youimagine]

Making my bf watch gravity falls for the first time and having such a time listening to his theories

[can-youimagine]

francis or fred wrote the journal and stan is summoning the axolotl god

[the-tree-line]

the problem with having a decade old tumblr blog is that there are posts on it from a decade ago