Hi, how about a violet Bridgestone x reader, courting story maybe where violets kids feel like reader is replacing edmund? Thanks!
Promenading with Widows Part 1 (Violet Bridgerton x fem!Reader)
Part 1
The Masterlist
Author's Note: This is dedicated to @blueberrycoffee19. No author is perfect and bear in mind that asks are taken as guidelines. Please enjoy and Happy readings to you.
Summary: Violet befriends a mysterious stranger in the park. Lady Y/n arrives at the Bridgerton estate during calling hour, confusing Violet's children. For the first time in years, Violet skips Sunday mass. A meeting is arranged to clarify intentions.
Warnings: ankle injury, implied period typical homophobia, implied period typical sexism, discussion of spousal deaths, strong argumentative language (Anthony yells at Violet), brief religious guilt.
The morning mist had yet to settle across the Ton. Nevertheless, Violet decided to brave the slight chill in an effort to clear her mind. Having the innocent intention of supporting their mother, the Bridgerton children had all congregated back to the family estate for the anniversary of Edmund's death. With spouses and grandchildren in tow, the house was more crowded than ever, leaving little space for the woman to breathe.
Taking a single footman with her, she had fled to the town's lustrous garden, caring little that five in the morning was not an appropriate time to be walking along through foliage. Ordering him to man the carriage, she began a quick paced stroll, letting her frustration and annoyance empower her stride. Violet failed to notice the changing scenery, continuing onto an unmarked dirt path that weaved through the un-manicured trees.
Light weakly filtered through the leaves, casting an inconvenient shadow across the path, perfectly concealing a divot in the dirt. Violet's ankle rolled and she yelped as she fell forward. Catching herself on her hands, she hissed through clenched teeth. This was not the relaxing walk she had been hoping for. She tried to apply pressure to it and stand, only to collapse again with a groan. Violet finally took in her surroundings, and quickly came to realize that the route she was on seemed thoroughly neglected, with weeds and vines covering portions of the path. Bleakly, she wondered how long it would take for a search party to find her.
A twig snapped in the distance and Violet's heart hammered, she glanced in every direction to try and locate the culprit. In the far distance she caught sight of what appeared to be a woman's figure. Relieved she called out, "Hello!"
A startled gasp came from the woman, "Oh!, Hello there?" Lady Y/n could not track where the disembodied voice had suddenly emerged from.
"I am in need of your assistance, you see I've fallen!" she called to the stranger.
Lady Y/n's eyes widened, "I see, keep talking and I shall find my way to you!"
...
Y/n offered her arm to Violet, allowing her to pull herself up from the path. Unbalanced, she swayed slightly while trying to maneuver on one foot. Rather brashly, Y/n pulled Violet's arm around her shoulder, and brought an arm to her waist, successfully taking the weight off her injured side.
Dazed by the foreign contact Violet started to ponder aloud, "Where on Earth did you come from?" Y/n chuckled in surprise, causing Violet's cheeks to burn in embarrassment. While the situation they were in was precarious, that did not mean social graces would be abandoned. "Pardon me. I meant to inquire as to-"
Sending the brunette a sideways look, she interuppted, "From the other side of the garden."
Violet rebuffed, "There is another side of the garden?"
"You must be from the central Ton." Y/n hummed as she made a quick study of the woman as they walked. By her clothes, she could tell Violet was of high status, no doubt a Lady of some kind, or even Duchess.
Slightly irked, Violet chewed on the inside of her cheek before defensively responding, "Yes I am. Forgive me for not introducing myself. I am Dowager Viscountess Bridgerton." Despite her imposition, she managed to make the introduction with her head held high. If she hadn't felt sorry for the woman's pain, Y/n would have laughed at the irony.
"Should I address you as such, Dowager Viscountess Bridgerton? Or do you have an actual name?" Violet guffawed at the gall of this woman. She was somehow biting in a delightful way, and the smirk she adorned allowed her company to know her comment was in jest.
Violet found herself smirking back as she responded, "Violet, Violet Bridgerton."
"A pleasure to make your acquaintance Lady Violet."
...
Arriving at the gates of the garden, Y/n raised an arm towards Violet's carriage, waving it over.
Sniffing in posture, she nonchalantly questioned Violet, "I presume you shall make it home without furthering your injuries?"
Violet laughed at the teasing, "Perhaps you should see me home yourself..." She trailed off as the forwardness as her words registered. She stammered, "That is so I -I can properly thank you for you assistance- all that you've done for me." While blessed with many gifts such as beauty and intelligence, Violet had always been lacking when it came to navigating social relations outside of her home.
Even her one true friend, Lady Danbury, had been intricuintly tied to her family in some way. Violet never understood why she had such difficulty acquiring female friends. Perhaps it was the unwelcoming nature of other women in the Ton, too keen on gossiping and subtle social competitions. However, with this fine stranger she had met today, she knew she was not unwelcome. Her sudden nerves could only be attributed to feeling intimidated. She wanted this mystery woman to like her.
"Perhaps later in the day, I'm afraid I have some business to attend to, or you could join me on such ventures?" Y/n smiled and removed her hand from Violet's waist and allowed the footman to take over.
Violet released a breath she hadn't realized she was holding, "Sounds wonderful," as she was being ushered into the carriage it occurred to her that she did not know her strange savior's name.
She called through the open carriage window, "Forgive me for the overdue introduction, I did not catch your name," Y/n smiled up at her softly.
"Lady Y/n Y/l/n." Violet's smile faltered as it dawned on her. She had spent the morning promenading with the recently deceased Lord Y/l/n's widow who, intriguingly, was not in mourning attire.
...
Back at the Bridgerton estate, Violet changed into shorter shoes that pressed loosely around her ankles. The house had awakened in her absence and despite having their partners to keep them in check, it appeared as though the collective presence of her children caused them to revert to childish bickering.
"Daphne, you cannot claim to have been father's favorite, especially given that he is not here to testify on his own behalf," Anthony huffed, liking the tip of his finger a diligently flipping a page of the Bible.
Rolling her eyes, she stripped the book out of his hands, "He undeniably favored me, that is why I want to be the one to read the scriptures of mourning aloud after mass."
Sitting at the small table playing cards with his sister, Gregory piped up, "Why are we remembering him tomorrow when in fact the anniversary of father's death was two days ago-" cut off by Hyacinth, she answered "Because MaMa delights in Sunday services, now please, If you would only play your hand my winning would be immienent."
Feigning a yawn, he stretched out, "Sorry dear sister, it appears the game must wait till tomorrow."
She reached out to pinch him, but her hand was caught by Eloise, "It is not fair to play such games with him, Hyacinth," Gregory smirked victoriously, "He is not of your caliber of intelligence, I dare say playing with him is so unchallenging that you may as well be playing with a child."
Affronted, Gregory stood up, "If anyone needs me, I shall be in the garden practicing my archery,"
From her position on the couch, Violet finally felt the need to interfere, "Gregory, do take someone with you, I do not want a repeat of what happened Christmas Eve when you received the bow and arrow, and thought it brilliant to make off into the night to hunt pigeons." She looked at him pointedly and his ears burned with embarrassment.
Looking towards the other men in the room, he defended himself, "I killed eight pigeons-"
"And impaled your hand." Violet raised her eyebrows and the room quieted, "Francesca dear, would you and Lord Kilmartin accompany Gregory, I know I can trust the two of you not to encourage him beyond his capabilities."
"Of course MaMa," the couple smiled kindly and Gregory followed them out the room, Hyacinth trailed after them shortly.
...
A footman led Lady Y/n up to the parlor, announcing her presence to Violet, "The Lady Y/n Y/l/n."
Violet stood abruptly, smiling with inhibition. "Lady Y/n," she went up to her and put a hand on her arm, "I am so glad you took up my invitation,"
Playfully she nudged the other woman, "How could I deny the Dowager Viscountess Bridgerton?" Violet threw her head back and laughed. Benedict crossed the room and placed himself in front of Violet, "I assume my mother has somehow arranged for us to meet?" He suavely took her hand and placed a gentle kiss upon it. Violet's eyes bulged and she was about to ramble an apology, but stopped when Y/n eyed her over his shoulder.
"My apologies for your confusion, Mister Bridgerton. I am here to call upon Lady Violet," Y/n smiled warmly at the woman, "and invite her on a buisness outing."
Miffed, Benedict retracted but gave the woman a leveled stare. "Oh, that would be lovely, should I change for the occasion?"
"You look splendid as you are," Y/n intertwined her arm with Violet's, causing the woman to blush faintly, "Now tell me, do you like art, Lady Bridgerton?"
...
In the carriage, Y/n explained that Violet would be accompanying her to a private viewing of a new gallery that would potentially be on display in the royal palace.
Violet pondered, how was it that Y/n had that sort of connection, to preview art and decide if it met their formidable Queen's standards. She pursed her lips and decided to prod, "My deepest condolences on the passing of Lord Y/l/n, he was a domineering figure in this community." While the Lady had meant it as a compliment, Y/n knew all too well of his "domineering" nature.
"Yes, it was a great loss for the community," she answered diplomatically. Violet bit her lip, they were already two hours into their journey to the gallery. If she offended Lady Y/n, she would most likely face no repercussion, as the woman was obligated to return her home regardless. So, she pushed on, "and a great loss for you?"
Y/n met her eyes quickly, evaluating whether Violet could be trusted, "A great burden indeed," Violet hummed at the double meaning and let you continue, "It seems the only thing I have gained is a great deal of responsibility."
Violet was not sure she had ever met such a character like Y/n, who spoke in entendres and cleverly concealed her enjoyment of agency and independence. The woman was a cat, sweet looking to those who underestimated her, and formidable to those who saw through the guise. Violet liked what she saw.
Having gotten her answer, she changed the topic, "Is it tough being alone in the estate? After Edmund passed-" she restarted, "Even with the company of my children, I felt lonesome."
Y/n shrunk slightly against her seat, "I... Yes, it is rather lonesome..." She bit her lip, "In truth," Violet perked up, "the late Lord Y/l/n was a man who took up space. When he entered a room he consumed it, and when you get accustomed to such... life without it, while peaceful, is empty." She looked down at her hands, regretting the words as soon as they left her mouth.
Violet reached for her hands, she found it peculiar how touching this woman came so naturally to her, like their skins were meant to meet. Lady Y/n had soft hands, cold yet not overly icy, perfectly complimenting Violet's own, which had a tendency to run hot.
As she gazed upon her fondly she started to understand her strange savior, "I have noticed that it is particularly difficult for young women, such as yourself, to be married to older Lords. The language of love changes vastly between each generation."
Y/n barked out a laugh unexpectedly, "He did not love me, he had been pinning over Joanna Cowper since they were babes!" Violet blanched and her lips turned up at the sudden tone shift of conversation.
"You must be joking."
"He wrote her letters every morning and every night until the day he died. He admired her 'pious nature' and 'endless devotion towards sensibility', in fact he would often implore me to be the same."
Violet laughed, unable to imagine the unconventional widow behaving sensibly, "Oh, I cannot even fathom what that would entail for you."
"Lots of kneeling and begging for salvation." Y/n put her hands up in mock prayer and Violet laughed loudly. A shiver ran up her spin and she briefly felt sick with herself for laughing at something so blasphemous.
...
By the time they had arrived, the evening had turned to morning, and the two Ladies began inspecting each piece, passing comments between each other. The artist stood nervously in the corner, while renowned in his field, the possibility of being hung in the palace was no small feat.
Y/n turned to Violet, "So which do you favor?"
"I do so love the ones of valleys, however the depictions of roman battles are quite compelling," Y/n nodded encouragingly then looked over her shoulder at the footmen who stood against the wall. Understanding her silent command, they dismounted Violet's favorites and passed an envelope to the artist.
Violet spluttered, "Are you certain- I am not sure if they will be up to the Queen's-"
"They are beautiful Violet, you have quite the eye for this," Y/n winked and started towards the exit, with Violet trailing eagerly after her with flushed cheeks. For someone who's late husband had the ability to consume a room, the same was proving true to his wife. Violet felt as if she was in the belly of the beast and wanted to be nowhere else.
...
The roads were unnaturally empty in the Ton upon their return. Y/n commented on such, "I suppose most would be attending early morning mass," Violet's face fell. She had missed the service.
...
"Anthony, how many times must I apologize?" Violet paced as her son's face turned red with anger.
He smoothed a hand through his hair, "I came all this way, with my pregnant wife, to memorialize your late husband and my father and you are out galavanting with some conniving widow!"
"She is not conniving-"
Anthony took three long strides to tower over her, "Do you think she is actually your friend, MaMa." Violet backed away and let her face pinch up in distaste, she did not like this version of her son one bit.
"It is all a little too convenient that near weeks after her husband dies she is promenading with you, coming to our home and introducing herself to Benedict. You may as well have been associating with some common harlot-"
Violet snapped, "Anthony! you will not say such things in my house-"
"Oh, but it is not your house, Dowager Viscountess, it is mine, and as long as you are in my house, you will not see her again." He crossed the room and stared at the fireplace.
Pinching the bridge of her nose, Violet tried to explain herself, "You all arrive here, bombard me with your sudden appetite for immortalizing your father, whom we have been without for fifteen years, and expect me to act like that is a novel idea? I visit your father's grave everyday-"
"You didn't yesterday." He gripped the fire mantel tightly.
"I was preoccupied,"
"Is this friend of yours more important than family? More important than father?"
"I will not compare the two, it is completely different-"
He looked over his shoulder at her, "It really isn't... I do not know what is compelling you to abandon him like this but I hope it is worth it."
...
Alone in her room Violet sat, slumped over her Vanity. She was not sure how the day had gotten away from her so quickly. She had been peacefully sent adrift by Y/n only to be caught in Anthony's rip-current and dragged back ashore, unable to escape the land she's tied to. Violet knew Anthony would turn the woman away if she called upon her again, and she rather not Lady Y/n think it was on her account. She resolved to write a letter, warning the young widow of the situation:
Dearest Lady Y/n Y/l/n
I am writing to you because our acquaintance has made quite the stir within my family. I would not think it wise to meet again until the ill will curried for you by my children dwindles. Although we cannot meet in person, I hope writing to each other will nurse our blooming friendship.
Yours,
Dowager Viscountess Bridgertion
...
Six days later, at precisely twelve in the afternoon, a footman strolled into the parlor. "Lady Bridgertion, a gift has arrived for you from Lady Y/l/n." All chatter in the room ceased as Anthony had taken it upon himself to make everyone aware of the poisonous widow. The footman placed a small package on the table and exited swiftly, not wanting part in the drama that would inevitably follow.
Hyacinth approached slowly, "Anthony, it would be rude to return a gift..." His younger siblings all looked at him with curious, pleading eyes. Feeling his resolve crack, he kept the letter that accompanied the gift and handed the package to Hyacinth, who eagerly rushed to their mother.
"Well go on," he tiredly took a seat.
Violet licked her lips, Y/n had not responded to her letters, despite sending one each day since they parted. She laid awake most nights in anticipation. Pacing her room she would occasionally look out her window, wondering if this was the moment her correspondence would be returned. Now, the moment was upon her. She looked across the room. Selfishly, she wanted to open it in the privacy of her bedroom where no one could taint the precious gift from her friend. Regardless of her true desires, she began prying at the corners of the delicate packaging.
Inside was a book titled Precaution, Violet thumbed through the pages and quickly realized that there was discrete notes left on the pages, the young woman's way of secretly communicating with her. She closed it delicately and shrugged innocently towards her son. Bored, Anthony opened the letter:
Dearest Dowager Viscountess Bridgertion,
I searched long and far for a book that truly encapsulates the over zealous views of your eldest son. While he may think me cheap company, clawing at the rungs of high society to pull myself higher, I hope this book may help him make that determination. Of course, a woman as vile as myself thoroughly enjoyed reading it. I hope the gore, madness and lust brings you similar unsavory pleasure and persuades you to let me marry your Benedict... I only jest.
I do hope it is Anthony who reads this letter first, I await the day you narrate his expressions. Looking forward to your next letter.
Yours,
Lady Y/n Y/l/n.
Anthony rose and clutched the letter in a tight fist, "She must be dealt with, this is highly inappropriate," Hyacinth snatched it from his hand, nearly ripping it in two. She started reading aloud to the room and Anthony went after her. Their siblings erupted in laughter while they listened to Hyacinth. Violet hid her laugh behind a polite hand, cheeks warming at Y/n's brazenness.
Daphne giggled, "Anthony, you are the one who must apologize, you do know Lady Y/n is in the Queen's court and you have sufficiently earned the Queen's ire last season and now Lady Y/n's as well."
"I simply wish to know her intention with all this," He seethed. A hand cusped his bicep and he turned to see his lovely wife Kate coming to soothe him. He released a breath and she smiled at him, "I think it best that the Bridgerton children remain uninvolved, perhaps leave the investigation up to Penelope and I ?"
Heyy, could you make an Violet bridgerton x maid please??
Good luck, Maid! Part 1 (Violet Bridgerton x fem!Reader)
Part 1, Part 2, Part 3
The Masterlist
Author's Note: So, so many creative liberties were taken, if it is not to your liking feel free to request a part 2 with a more detailed ask (don't be shy!) Happy readings to you.
Summary: Violet is in need of a new maid, Eloise implores the help of Miss y/n. Violet turns to a friend as she digests the new feelings being spurred on by y/n.
Warnings: slight internalized homophobia, age gap relationship, SFW, no Beta read
Anthony stormed into the drawing room in a fury, causing the rest of the Bridgerton family to look up from their places and the mindless chatter to cease.
“Mother, I’ve fired Miss Smith- she has irrevocably disrespected our family name. I’ve heard talk amongst the staff that she has been selling old clothes and pocketing the money.”
Somewhat still startled, Violet looked upon her son with a grimace, “but what shall I do about the Kent’s ball tonight? I still need to get ready, and I hardly look presentable as is.” She pursed her lips in thought and turned her gaze to the rest of the room.
Before she could speak again, a very eager Eloise offered, “well that is simply unacceptable, you should have Miss Y/n help dress you tonight. However, dressing both you and I would pose a challenge to a timely arrival…So it would be most sensible if I did not accompany you tonight-“
Violet gently raised her hand, and smiled fondly at her daughter’s blatant attempt to weasel her way out of going, “That is a very generous offer, Eloise. Although, don’t let my acceptance be misconstrued, I am aware you look for any excuse to avoid these events.” Eloise shrunk slightly at getting caught but a closed mouth smile pulled across her face at her own victory.
“Thank you, Mother” she patted Violet’s hand and went to stand, “and not to worry, I will tell Miss Y/n of tonight’s change.”
…
Violet sat on her bed awaiting Miss Y/n’s arrival. She had only ever caught glimpses of the young maid. Eloise preferred to be alone most of the day and used her brothers as chaperones, so Y/n’s job had been significantly reduced, allowing her to spend the bulk of the day in the staff quarters.
She knew her daughter despised having social responsibilities, and with her upcoming trip to Scotland perhaps she would relieve her from forced outings until the departure. Such would free Miss Y/n to be the semi permanent solution to Miss Smith’s firing.
In quiet reflection, she smoothed her hand across the comforter, tracing the designs. As busy as she kept herself, she could not ignore the subtle emptying of her house. While winter brought shorter days to the Ton, days spent by herself seemed to drudge towards the sweet relief of sleep. Although she loved Hyacinth and Gregory, their company could become quite tedious when their insistent arguments became less amusing and more predictable. Benedict was rarely home and when he was he joined the sibling banter. No matter where she went, a dreadful feeling of isolation followed.
Lost in thought, she did not respond to the initial knock at her door, “My lady, may I come in?” The muffled voice of Miss Y/n broke her from her trance. She rose from the bed in a hurry, “Yes, please do.”
She stood with her hands clasped neatly in front of her, watching the door open with great anticipation. Miss Y/n’s face was revealed, and Violet’s mouth opened slightly. As if the world had slowed she watched Miss Y/n enter. Eloise’s maid was quite pretty. Her eyes held a wisdom that was uncommon for her age, and lacked the cruelty that usually accompanied it.
Time quickly caught up with Violet as Miss Y/n stood in front of her, awaiting instruction. Violet smiled awkwardly and lowered her eyes, which proved to be a mistake as she looked upon Miss Y/n’s figure.
Stuttering slightly, “let us start with hair shall we”, Violet motioned towards her vanity and in a few short strides took a seat.
“Yes, my lady,” with expertise and nimble fingers Y/n plucked the pins holding Violet’s hair up, causing waves of the light brown locks to cascade down.
Violet watched the young woman work through the mirror. She found herself entranced by the graceful movements of hands and suddenly envisioned them tangled in her hair, tugging her head back to expose her neck. She took in a sharp breath, surprised by the vivid imagery. Her eyes closed as she tried to ground herself. She felt her face get hot and opened her eyes quickly, and to her utter horror, her cheeks burned a bright red.
It confused her, how could the simple presence of Y/n make her imagination run errant? Violet sat dumbfounded, perhaps her loneliness had caught up with her. She made a note to spend ample time with Lady Danbury after this, she was obviously feeling a deficit in emotional intimacy if her mind was playing such tricks on her.
…
Once at the ball, Violet let Hyacinth and Gregory run off with the Kent children to the garden, while she herself made haste to Lady Danbury.
“Ah Violet, wonderful to see you.” Lady Danbury smiled lightly and looked out at the crowd of young people dancing, “interesting how they can touch and dance so openly, yet it would be the talk of the Ton if they were to hold gazes too long in the courtyard.”
Violet laughed absently still thinking about the way Y/n hands flittered through her hair, “Yes. Interesting indeed, Agatha.”
Lady Danbury glanced at her from the side, sensing her distractedness, reaching her hand out to Violet’s shoulder in concern she said “Violet, is something the matter…”
It was the clear affection from a woman so formidable to the Ton that made Violet realize she was in fact not in a deficit of any kind. What she had felt for Miss Y/n today was a rather unique, isolated experience.
“Actually…” Violet pursed her lips and looked over her shoulder briefly, “shall we tour the gardens?”
Catching on, Lady Danbury hummed in agreement, lacing their arms together as they began their walk, getting away from prying eyes. Once in the garden, Violet let out a sigh, unsure of how to phrase this.
“I felt something strange today,” Violet’s whispered words were almost carried away by the wind.
Ears peaked, Lady Danbury widened her eyes in questioning, “Should I presume this is about our earlier discussion of a certain garden being in bloom?”
With a guffaw, Violet nodded abashedly, “You always shock me with your blatancy, but yes, in a way it is about…that.”
In jest, Lady Danbury motioned towards the flora and fauna of the Kents grounds, “Well, have you found someone to tend your garden?”
Violet laughed, “Not quite, I am afraid things are quite complicated.”
“Do you like them?” Lady Danbury questioned.
“I am not sure…” came Violet’s quiet response.
“Do they like you?” she tried again.
“Good heavens, most likely not.”
“Hmm complicated indeed.” She finally agreed. “I can only advise you to pursue what makes you happy, but you must know what that in itself is, Violet.”
Violet nervously sucked in a breath of the cool night air, “What if it were something unspeakable?”
“Why, Violet, I’d be impressed,” she laughed and grabbed Violets hands in sincerity, “We have all done unspeakable things, however between friends the unspeakable can be spoken without fear of judgment.”
Looking into her friend’s eyes, she squeezed the other woman’s hands, “You are a good friend, Agatha. For now I have nothing of tangibility to speak of... However, I may ask you to tea in the near future if that would be alright?”
“That would be perfectly fine, my dear, shall we head back to the party?”
so close that you can feel your enemies breath on your neck
and you shiver with hatred and… anticipation?
turn around and look deep into your enemies eyes, letting your gaze drag down to their lips, your eyes intense with desire. push your enemies up against the wall.
make out with your enemies.
your friends, who are still close, are super uncomfortable and kinda grossed out
A Breaking Down of Negotations (Writing Snippet #6)
[Hero] was tired. They were so tired of being told what to do and what to wear. What to say and how to say it. Where to be and who to hurt.
They were tired of others telling them who they were.
But they remained silent. They did as they were asked and wore what they were told. They let themself be named and defined by others because it didn’t matter. Playing nice got them exactly what they wanted, so it didn’t matter that nobody truly got to know who they really were.
Now, it mattered.
[Villain] sat across the meeting room table, not even attempting to hide their satisfaction. The mayor sat next to [Hero], sweating like a pig along with the rest of their pencil pushers. But today wasn’t a day for war between the three parties. No, today they were discussing peace. The price of that peace?
[Hero].
“So it’s settled then,” the mayor concluded without ever asking [Hero] for their opinion, “[Hero] will go with you-”
“Surrender themself completely to me.” [Villain] smirked, shooting a glance to [Hero]. [Hero] suppressed the urge to roll their eyes as they maintained a neutral expression.
“…surrender themself completely to you… and you’ll stop attacking the city?” the mayor carefully continued.
“I won’t so much as speed,” [Villain] promised, but it was lies, all of it lies. People like them never stop; they’re never satisfied.
“Then I think we have a deal,” the mayor looked dizzy with relief, the rest of the officials visibly relaxing as well. [Hero] could feel their indifferent mask quickly slipping into irritation.
“Don’t be too upset [Hero],” [Villain] smiled at them, “I won’t treat you unkindly.”
“You won’t be treating me anyway,” [Hero] angrily muttered to themself as they stood from their seat.
“[H-Hero]! Where are you going?!” the mayor asked, surprised as [Hero] began stalking toward the door.
“I’m leaving.” [Hero] snapped as they shot daggers at the mayor from over their shoulder, causing them to shrink back. “I’ve not once been addressed in this conversation, so it obviously doesn’t involve me.”
“W-Wait!” the mayor began to panic, “But the deal!”
“You mean the deal where you sold me off to a lunatic without so much as glancing in my direction? That deal? The one I have never once expressed my approval for despite being the main bargaining chip?”
The mayor began sputtering, desperately trying to find some way to salvage the situation, no doubt. Honestly, it was pathetic.
“[Hero] is in their right to be upset,” [Villain] remained smiling, “You did just try to sell them off like cattle. But, really, you should treat your savior better than that,” [Villain] admonished the mayor, who looked about ready to pass out.
“But in any case, I think we both know the inevitable conclusion of this.” [Villain] turned their full attention onto [Hero]. Their patient confidence attempting to worm through [Hero]’s reserved anger.
“And what would that be?” [Hero] asked.
“You’re room is already prepared [Hero].”
“Then it will be home only to dust.”
[Villain] smiled faltered only briefly, [Hero] wondered how long until their delusions were finally broken.
“[Hero]…” [Villain] spoke, their voice low and dangerous, “I know this is upsetting, but if you love this city, you’ll agree.”
“And who decided that?”
“Because if you don’t, you know what will happen.”
“No,” [Hero] began to correct them, “I mean, who decided I loved this city?”
Silence. Complete and utter silence filled the room as all eyes stared at [Hero]; even [Villain] seemed surprised.
“Because I don’t, by the way.” [Hero] tilted their head to the side, “I never have.”
“Then why…” the mayor finally spoke up, their voice barely above a whisper.
“Simple.” [Hero]’s gaze remained locked on [Villain], “Because I want to see scum like them suffer. I want to hurt them so badly I can barely contain myself sometimes. Everything in me screams to fight, to make them suffer as they’ve made others suffer. I’m not a hero. I’m not a good person.”
“Buuut…” [Hero] finally released [Villain] from their gaze, letting their eyes roam across the city officials trembling in their seats, “Pretending to be one does make things easier, I suppose.”
[Hero] grasped the doorknob, looking toward’s [Villain] one last time.
Hero tugged uselessly at their handcuffs once again as the villain pulled a chair to sit across from them.
“Don’t be so dramatic, Hero. Once my plan is complete you will be free to go.” Villain plopped down onto their seat and put their feet on the dinner table. “In the mean time, let’s play a game.”
“I’m not playing any games with you. I won’t be complicit in my own kidnapping.” Villain nearly laughed at Hero’s dramatic monologue. Their hero always seemed to pull out their big, fancy vocabulary when they wanted to make a point.
“Hmmm. How about we play scrabble?” Hero scoffed and pulled at their handcuffs once again.
“I would rather drown in a pit of a thousand snakes than spend another minute in your drab company.”
Villain slammed their hands onto the table and made a fake gasp. ‘How rude’, they thought to themselves.
“That’s a bit dramatic, even for you…” Villain licked their lips and thought for a moment. “What if we both take some of that failed truth serum from last month? Obviously it wasn’t useful then because it can’t compel someone to talk, it can only force them to speak the truth when they do wish to speak. I’ll play 20 questions with you and for every one of my questions you answer, I’ll answer one of yours. It might even help you figure out my identity.”
Villain knew this was a risky play, but they were bored and Hero was being adorably stubborn once again. So here they were, agreeing to drug themselves and maybe give away their identity just for the sake of Hero’s attention.
“Awww, thank you!” [Hero] gushed over the fluffy pool of darkness.
“Thank you?” [Villain] asked, trying to hide their confusion. They knew [Hero] was superstitious. They had checked multiple times. Yet when confronted with a universal symbol of bad luck, they were nothing but smiles and thank you’s.
“Black cats are adorable and a symbol of good luck! I’ll make sure to take good care of her in the future.” [Hero] smiled, their eyes glittering.
Ok. So near-universal symbol of bad luck.
Although, as [Villain] watched [Hero] giggle and smile at their new friend, maybe [Villain] was the one who got lucky.
The much-requested third part to Supervillain falling in love with a self-destructive Hero!
part one part two
Supervillain wrestled them back into bed, clicking a new pair of cuffs onto Hero’s wrists and latching them to the bed.
Hero tugged on the cuffs, bracing themselves for a slight shock. None came.
“That tactic obviously didn’t stop you,” Supervillain said in answer to their look. “And I’m not going to let you hurt yourself anymore.”
“Right,” Hero snorted, “because you’re an expert on not hurting me.”
Supervillain sat back in their chair. After a moment, they said, “do you want to tell me why you’re so eager to hurt yourself?”
“What are you, my therapist?” It was supposed to come out snappy, but Hero’s voice gave out mid-sentence and they barely croaked the rest of it out. Unsatisfied, Hero levelled them with a glare, deliberating moving as far away from them as they could without the cuff pulling taut.
“A hero who can’t take care of themself isn’t much of a hero at all,” Supervillain replied. “I’ve fought you before, you know that I will hurt you if I must, we both get that. What I don’t get is why you think it’s okay to hurt yourself.”
“I don’t!” Hero shouted. “I don’t do anything I can’t take, and I never do anything actually bad! I don’t get what the big deal is, I don’t get what you think I’m doing wrong, and I don’t get why you care so much.”
Supervillain moved, sitting down on the bed. “I think,” they said after a slight pause, “that I’ve made myself clear on this point. You won’t convince me of anything, since you- do you really think that you’re not hurting yourself?”
Hero shifted. Looked down, studying their cuffed wrists, the black and blue bruises circling them like a bracelet. “I don’t do anything I can’t handle.”
Supervillain’s jaw tightened. They ran a hand through their hair, standing up. It took all of their self-control not to grab Hero right there- but what would they do after that? Wrap Hero up and keep them that way? It didn’t seem like such a terrible idea
“At least you admit you’re hurting yourself,” they muttered, more to themself than to Hero.
“I don’t-”
“I swear,” Supervillain said, “if you go back and deny it one more time, I think I’m going to snap. I don’t know how to convince you of something you don’t believe, so until you do believe it you’re going to have to take my word for it.”
“Like I’d trust you,” Hero scoffed.
“What, and you trust yourself a whole lot more?”
Hero’s laugh cut off sharply, their face dropping in a heartbeat. “I trust myself when it comes to helping the city,” they said, voice low but even.
“Then your sense of trustworthiness is shit,” Supervillain replied. “And until I’m certain it isn’t, I don’t think you’re going anywhere.”
There was no response. Hero didn’t even look at them, just glared into the distance.
Supervillain left the room.
It went like that for the next few days. Supervillain came in with whatever meal they had- usually soup, one of Supervillain’s favorite things to make. More often than not, Hero would argue about how they were fine.
They didn’t need to be taken care of, they could take care of themself.
Meanwhile, it was almost worse not to have Hero active. While Supervillain didn’t need them hurting themself even more, there was a conspicuous number of smaller mob bosses vying for power in the unexpected lull.
They had expected that little annoyance. They hadn’t expected the anger bubbling up in them as day after day passed by and no one came looking for Hero.
The news covered it, of course, even if they didn’t make a big deal- another thing that made Supervillain’s blood boil. No, they covered crime statistics and talked about the weather, like they didn’t even care.
Their plans proceeded without opposition, however, and so they did their best to ignore the sour taste in their mouth as day after day passed by without anyone asking about Hero.
Almost anyone, that is.
“So, Supervillain,” Villain drawled one night, leaning on Supervillain’s car. She smiled, all teeth. “I heard last time anyone saw Hero was with you. Know anything about their, ah, sudden absence?”
“We all had beef with them,” Supervillain said. “I know as much as anyone else.”
Villain chuckled. “You don’t have to hide anything, everybody gets it.”
A chill started to shiver up their spine. “Gets what?”
“I think it’s cute, personally. I mean, we all have our obsessions! So I get it.”
“If you’re saying I’m obsessed with Hero, you’re not nearly as good at reading people as you think.”
“Don’t bother,” Villain laughed. “If it feeds your sadistic streak, by all means keep them as long as you want. You’re talking like they’re still alive, so I guess they are- and I’d hate to be them.”
Supervillain relaxed ever so slightly. “Yes. You would. Now, I have work to do. Run along.”
Villain backed up, hands up, before turning and slipping into the darkness.
Apparently, Supervillain was mistaken. Someone had noticed.
“You’re not naming our cat Toaster Oven,” Supervillain said.
Hero looked up from where they were cradling the kitten to their chest. “Well excuse you, I thought she was my cat.”
“I got her for you, and I reserve the right to veto names.”
“Morgana. Cupcake Caddie. Armadillo.”
“You’re not naming your cat Armadillo.”
“But Cupcake Caddie is on the table?”
Supervillain groaned, and Hero snickered. They had a looser pair of cuffs on their hands, but their feet were free, and they were curled up in a wide chair with a blanket.
And- most importantly- they were in the main room.
“Spatz?”
Supervillain sighed, looking up from their book. “German? Really?”
“I could just call her Sparrow, but I thought that ‘spatz’ kind of sounds like a kitten trying to growl.”
“I don’t think you’re pronouncing it right.”
The kitten was napping, the only time she stayed still enough to hold her for any significant period of time.
Initially, Hero refused to touch her.
“You’re trying to bribe me, and it won’t work,” they said.
“I’m trying to make sure you don’t die of loneliness before I put you back in your apartment,” Supervillain said. “If she helps you get better, then you get out of here sooner. There’s no trick here, Hero. Take the cat.”
It took a few minutes, but eventually Hero reached out and took the small form into their hands. They couldn’t help themselves, she looked so soft and adorable- “She’s cold!” Hero said indignantly, trying not to disturb the kitten by shouting. They cradled her close, trying to warm up her tiny body. “You bastard!”
Hero gave another indignant gasp, holding her closer in spite of themselves. “Monster.”
It wasn’t the same jab that it had been before, and Hero almost kicked themselves afterwards for using the insult- the legitimate description- as a half-joke.
Supervillain smiled. “I’ll pick up some food for her on my way home.”
“Kittens have to have a special kind of food! You can’t just pick up cat food!” Hero called on Supervillain’s way out the door.
Then they were gone, and it was just Hero and a very squirmy kitten.
“Khoshekh? Chagga? Spork?”
“She’s too cute to be named Spork.”
“She’s exactly cute enough to be named Spork. I’m still partial to Spatz, though.”
Spatz opened her eyes, stretching. Hero scratched under her chin, and she started purring again. She stayed there for a few moments, until Hero’s hopes of her going back to sleep were dashed as she jumped off them and started clawing at the arm of the chair.
Hero watched her run around. They loved her, they had since Supervillain handed her to them the day before, and it was starting to concern them a little bit.
They didn’t want to leave her behind.
Would she be safer with them? What if they forgot to feed her, or they got hurt and couldn’t take care of her, or they died and nobody knew about her and she died?
Hero shuddered.
Okay, then they wouldn’t die. And they wouldn’t forget to feed her. They weren’t leaving her with Supervillain, who obviously didn’t love her as much as they did.
Though Supervillain did seem to like her… it was kind of cute, until Hero remembered exactly who they were and why they were in this predicament in the first place.
That was a problem, too.
Supervillain left the next day, locking Hero in the house. “Don’t forget to feed her,” they said before leaving. “And don’t forget to feed yourself, too.”
“I would never forget to feed her,” Hero said. They couldn’t deny the other point, since they regularly forgot to eat.
Even if they forgot, Spatz would start yowling if she got too hungry. That’s how she woke Hero up that morning, didn’t stop pestering them until they got out of bed.
Little monster.
“You’re just like them,” Hero admonished her, while putting food into her bowl. “Always making me wake up and do things when I just wanna sleep.”
She purred, rubbing against their leg.
Hero sighed, heart swelling up with the urge to scoop her up and cuddle.
This was a problem- but maybe the best problem they’d ever had to deal with.
Hero watched as Villain stopped dead in his tracks, putting his hands up while a black cat walked past him in the midst of their brawl.
“Nope, that’s enough for me today. See you next Friday.”
Hero blinked, watching as Villain began to gather up his scattered weapons.
“No way, get back here,” Hero hissed, sprinting at Villain and ignoring the cat as he tackled him to the ground, the cat hissing and running away.
“Do you have any idea what you just did!? You’d better go home and like- Bathe in sage or something, because you’re about to have absolute shit luck!” Hero straddled Villain, snickering.
“Seriously? A little black cat is all it took to stop the big bad Villain? You’re so pathetic!” He threw a punch, Villain catching it and straining to stop it from hitting.
“Fuck off!” Villain looked embarrassed, shoving Hero off forcefully to get to his feet.
“You sure you’re gonna be there next Friday?”
Villain looked at him, eyes narrowing.
“…why wouldn’t I be?”
“Oh, no reason.”
Villain looked at their calendar, gritting their teeth as they realized what day it was. They had sworn to Hero that they were going to be wreaking havoc in the town square, but…
Friday the 13th wasn’t their cup of tea.
He’d have to disappoint.
He tossed his suit back into the closet, deciding instead to take the day easy and go out for some food.
Hero watched from afar as Villain left their apartment, smirking when they noticed he wasn’t wearing his suit. But, what they saw next left them speechless and…a little worried.
Villain locked their door…and unlocked it, locked it, unlocked it, and locked it one last time before stuffing their keys into their pocket…and testing the door once, twice, three times.
Oh.
This suddenly wasn’t funny anymore. But- They had a plan! Hero made himself put aside the man’s villainy to remember what heroes did- which was was help.
Later that day they presented himself to Villain while in their civilian clothes, unbeknownst to the evilness that was their paranoid enemy. It was in the middle of a local diner, Hero boldly sliding into the booth across from Villain to smile widely.
“Hey, couldn’t help but notice you sitting all alone. Mind if I sit with you?” Villain made a face, obviously wanting to reject Hero. “…It’s better to sit in even numbers?” He added, nervously. Villain looked relaxed at this, which made Hero’s heart sink while Villain nodded.
“Sure, why not.” For the first time they got to see Villain up close without all of his gear and they could see the dark bags under his eyes, his dry and cracking hands, and the blue and white eyeball charm on a necklace around his neck.
“What are you going to get?” Hero asked, opening the menu.
“Number seven,” Villain told him without looking, making Hero glance at him over the menu.
“Hating you is easier than loving you,” the villain shrugged. “Soon as I get these pesky feelings sorted out, I’ll be unstoppable.”
The hero opened their mouth to say something, but their words caught in their throat. They carefully threw the flowers they had gathered behind them and off the rooftop.
“I agree,” the hero said, swallowing the lump in their throat.
so close that you can feel your enemies breath on your neck
and you shiver with hatred and… anticipation?
turn around and look deep into your enemies eyes, letting your gaze drag down to their lips, your eyes intense with desire. push your enemies up against the wall.
make out with your enemies.
your friends, who are still close, are super uncomfortable and kinda grossed out
"I know it's easy to say you despise me and all, but you may wanna think twice about actually locking me away yaknow," the villain suggested with a smile; all teeth, like a wolf being charming.
"I can assure you, when the time comes there will be no hesitation on my part," the hero stated.
"Oh?" The villain replied, as if amused by the certainty of the heros reply, "without me, what of you? What do you think will happen when the city no longer requires your services anymore, hero?" The villain stepped closer, "whether you like it or not, your only famous because of me, and without me? You're nothing," they took another step closer, "now just think of what we could do together,"
“Maybe id finally get some god damned sleep for once and my girlfriend wouldn’t have to worry about me dying every other night. Curb your self importance, Villain”
“You’re dead to me,” Hero hissed, shoving Villain off of them and walking away. Villain watched their retreating figure, nausea building in their stomach.
“You’re dead to me,” Hero hissed, shoving Villian off of them and walking away. Villain watched their retreating figure, nausea building in their stomach.
——————————————-
“I— This— it wasn’t just to mess with you, Hero. I swear I wouldn’t do that. We weren’t making fun of you. It wasn’t like that. Hero come back! Let me explain.” Hero’s walking turned to running as they sprinted away. Villain watched them turn the corner and disappear from their sight.
“What do you care what they think of you? They’re just some random hero. And we got them and all the information we need about Other Hero. Thanks to you. You did good.” Other Villain and SuperVillain laughed and clapped Villain on the back before leaving the empty restaurant.
Guilt and shame consumed Villain. What kind of monster would do that to someone? How could they have been so stupid to think this would end any differently than it did?
Finding Hero’s civilian identity and flirting with them as a spy had been one thing, they’d been willing to do that. But things hadn’t gone as planned. Hero had been awkward and nervous in an innocent way that Villain hadn’t been willing to mess with. So they befriended their unsuspecting Hero.
It was all so much worse this way. Memories flashed through their head as they felt their own heart begin to break.
Three weeks later:
“It was a joke, Hero. I didn’t mean anything by it. We always tease each other. I didn’t mean it. Hero come back!” Villain would have run after their nemesis if they could, but the handcuffs confining them to their cell prevented them from doing so.
Villain sighed and shut their eyes after they realized they couldn’t see Hero any more. Of course Hero wouldn’t speak to them again after what they did. Shit. They’d really ruined everything this time.
When their team broke them out of prison, Villain would need to come up with something really big to get Hero to forgive them.
Villain ran their hands through their hair and paced around the room. Anger and fear coursed through their veins. Hero was missing.
Hero was missing and it wasn’t their fault this time. They didn’t know who had them or if their nemesis was even alive anymore.
“ It’s gonna be okay, boss. Maybe Hero’s on a vacation or something?” Henchmen’s attempts to calm Villain over the course of the last hour had all been fruitless. Villain was inconsolable.
“What if Hero’s dead? What if Supervillain has them? What if they gave up heroism and didn’t tell me?!” Villain sunk back against the wall and cradled their head in their hands. “I’m supposed to protect them! I’m their nemesis that’s my job.”
Warning the later part of this story Will prob be a little inappropriate
“Are you just going to stand there pouting all night?” Villain threw herself dramatically down onto the couch, pulling Hero’s restraints down with her.
Hero righted herself on the couch and tried to scoot away from her nemesis, but Villain was having none of it.
It had been quite an ordeal for Villain, to capture her favorite crime fighter. Hero’s earth powers worked from a distance and were very effective, so even getting physically close to her had been the product of months of planning.
The second she’d clamped the power suppressing bracelet onto Hero was when Villain noticed the shaking. Then the quick intake of breathe. Followed by a full body shiver as Villain hands trailed over her wrists and stopped at the start of her hoodie sleeve.
“Hero, it’s very rude to move away from people like that. You might make me think you don’t like me.” Villain pouted as she changed her mind and let Hero pull the restrains as far as possible. Till she was practically perched on the opposite side of the couch.
“As if I care what you think of me. You’re a frickin kidnapper!” Villain smiled at that, she was glad that Hero’s fire hadn’t been damped by her power suppressors.
She could hear her nemesis’s anger, but Villain saw her wide eyes and fidgety hands for what they were: fear. Her nemesis was scared right now. Of course she was scared, Villain knew that being dragged to a mansion in the woods, without her powers, must be stressful. But she would never hurt Hero. No, not her hero. She meant too much to her.
Which really was the reason she had kidnapped her. She would have just left the immovable bracelet on and bolted if she didn’t care. That had been the plan at least, to leave and make Hero chase her for once. Villain had planned the whole thing, including how she would make Hero say please before finally removing the power blocker.
But Hero had shivered. She had literally shook at the innocent feeling of human touch and now was staying as far from Villain as physically possible. That wasn’t normal. That couldn’t be healthy. Villain needed to know that her quick talking hero was alright, before she’d let her go back into the cold, unfeeling world.
Villain had sworn to herself, on the day she first met Hero, that she would protect her. Hero had been an awkward, quiet little thing back then, very different from the clever, quick talking, still a little bit awkward savior she was now. They had both been so young when they met, still in high school; even then Villain had been enchanted by her counterpart. Villain still felt compelled to keep an eye on her.
“No need to make this last longer than it has to, Hero. You can consider this kidnapping like a wellness check.”
“I’m tired of always chasing after you,” Hero said, turning their back to Villain and walking away.
It was a risky tactic but Hero knew their Villain well and they needed the opportunity to talk to them.
“Hey! what the hell?!!!! You don’t just walk away from me! That’s not how this works!” Villain ran to Hero and yanked their shoulder around to face them.
“I told you, I’m not going to chase after you anymore.” Hero wondered if Villian looked annoyed under that mask of theirs. They were attention needy and occupied too much of Hero’s time but Hero found themselves thinking about Villain often in their free time. Maybe if Hero had set some boundaries and fought Villain less, they would have been able to forget about them. Unfortunately they hadn’t, so it had come to this.
“That makes no sense. It’s literally your job to stop me!” Villains arms flung to Hero’s shoulders as they tried to appeal to that do gooders better nature.
“I’ve spoken to The Hero Organization and they are going to start picking up more of the slack around the City. I’m not going to be fighting you anymore.” It was hard to maintain eye contact with Villain while they said this, but Hero did it. They kept their voice even and apathetic, as if they couldn’t be bothered to tell their nemesis that they cared too much about what happened to them to keep fighting.
“No!” Villain’s hand moved down to dramatically land on their hips. “You don’t get to just leave m—this!”
“Goodbye Villain. This will be the last time I see you.” Before Villain could even respond, Hero had flown away; leaving the Villain staring up at an empty sky as it began to rain.
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