Pluto

Account retired, please don’t request.

[infiniteimaginings]

✮𝘚𝘱𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘚𝘢𝘨𝘢 𝘐𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘹: 𝘔𝘈𝘚𝘛𝘌𝘙𝘓𝘐𝘚𝘛✮

Started: February 6th, 2024 Updated: May 5th, 2024

Author Intro: here

REQUESTS ARE CLOSED, I DO NOT WRITE ANYMORE

- I get busy, so please respect that I post like 8 times a month and already have a list of requests.

- You can send requests through the inbox, in comments, or you can message me ^v^

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[infiniteimaginings]

Bad news, in light of recent events. I’m gonna have to retire this account.

With the threats in my inbox, the hacking of my account (which was cause for my recent disappearance over the past week, apologies), and the rude messages, I owe you guys nothing.

I don’t owe you explanation to where I’ve been when I go on hiatus, because I’m an adult with a life. If this is how you treat all others on Tumblr, I feel sorry for them. If it’s just me, you guys suck.

I’m sorry to those who genuinely support me, but I am done. Thank you.

[infiniteimaginings]

HII HOW ARE YOU??

are you posting to a specific schedule or is it whenever? (Not rushing you girl I’ve been missing you for like 7 months however long you take to post is FINE😭)

Lord I was posting on a schedule then my wisdom tooth knocked my out for like two weeks 😭😭 I swear I’m trying guys, I got the ao3 curse on me or something because this is insane. Right now it’s kind of just when I can since I got busy but school will start back and I swear on life that I won’t disappear again for that

[infiniteimaginings]

How Was Your Date? (Max Thunderman x GN!Reader)

Summary: Max gets home from his date with you, and his family can tell how it went just from how he's acting, but they ask anyways. Pronouns: You/Yours, They/Them Warnings: None, Pure Fluff Word Count: 1.2k A/N: Max is my bias, my muse, I love him I fear!

The Thunderman family—your typical suburban neighborhood family. Well, they felt like that about two percent of the time. The parents were loving and caring toward their four children, always proud and always there for dinner, even if things got a little chaotic.

Their beautiful children, were a reflection of them in the best ways—well, most of them. Phoebe, Nora, and Billy were all helping out in the kitchen in their own ways.

Phoebe was setting the table using her telekinesis—still helping, nonetheless.

Nora was using her heat vision to cook the meatloaf just right while her mom worked on the sides for dinner.

Billy, rather than running around the house with his superspeef, was actually just sitting at the table—keeping things decent. He said he was tired, but everyone knew he never got tired. He just wanted to show his parents some grace.

A typical suburban family.

The only Thunderman not at the home was Max—though no one was really expecting him in the first place. He was never home on time, and even when he was, he’d usually stay holed up in his room to avoid socializing with his ‘goody goody’ family.

Barb and Hank, Mr. and Mrs. Thunderman, finally sat at the table with the kids, smiling. 

“Well, dig in!” Barb said cheerfully, ready to hear about everyone’s day.

But before anyone could even lift a fork, the front door opened—and with it came soft laughter and a slight cold breeze.

“It is *so* cold outside. How are you not freezing?” asked an unfamiliar voice as the door closed behind them.

The Thunderman family turned their heads toward living room. Through the entryway, they saw Max standing at the door with someone. The stranger was bundled in layers and still shivering, while Max wore just a T-shirt. He was angled just enough to block their face, so no one at the table could get a clear look.

Phoebe leaned forward, “Do you think it’s an accomplice and he’s hiding their identity?” she whsipered, straining her neck for a better view.

No one responded. The energy of the room felt different than usual. This wasn’t one of Max’s usual friends or ‘projects’. This was something different—something none of them could quite place.

Then it happened. A sound they hadn’t heard outside of Max’s lair. A sound they hadn’t heard so genuinely in years: Max laughed. A real, full laugh—his head falling back. As he turned slightly, they caught a glimpse of his flushed cheeks.

“Trust me, I’m pretty used to the cold,” he told you, zipping up the jacket you were wearing.

“I’m scared you’ll get sick, you shouldn’t have given me your jacket,” you pouted, placing a hand on his forehead.

His hair shifted under your touch, and he smiled warmly, gazing at you. “It’s fine. I didn’t want *you* getting sick.” he murmured, taking your hand off his forehead to hold and holding it to warm it in his. 

“I’m not taking this home with me,” you said, reaching for the zipper.

“Yes, you are,” he replied playfully, zipping it back up, “You already made me come home early instead of walking you back, so the least you could do is keep the jacket.”

You rolled your eyes and shook your head, turning it—only to lock eyes with the entire Thunderman family staring intensely. You froze awkwardly and raised a small wave.

Max furrowed his brows in confusion, tilting his head before his eyes slightly widened. You could tell a small lightbuld went off in his head as his face dropped in horror. His ears turned bright red as he huffed and straightened up with a hiss through his teeth. He followed your gaze to his family and stopped himself from expressing his embarrassment. 

He raised his hand stiffly. “Family,” he greeted awkwardly, clearly wishing he could’ve just walked you home.

Barb and Hank scrambled to their feet, nearly tripping over themselves in their attempt to greet you smoothly—which failed, especially when they saw you lower your hand and stifle a laugh.

“Hello!” Barb beamed, waving enthusiastically as Hank slung an arm around her shoulders. The other three kids reamined frozen and uncomfortable at the table.

Hank nodded at Max, “You’re home,” he said bluntly. Then, noticing Max’s alarmed glance towards you, he added quickly, “15 minutes before curfew…*that we weren’t able to set on you,*” he mumbled the last part under his breath.

Max shot him an unimpressed look before glancing back ar you to make sure you hadn’t heard. You clearly you hadn’t, judging by how you hugged his arm with a cheerful grin.

“I wanted to make sure he was home around dinner!” you explained. “My family doesn’t eat until later, and when he said you all eat early, I had to rush us back so he could eat.”

Barb placed a hand on her head and cooed, “Aw, that’s sweet, thank you.” 

“No problem!” you replied, scrunching your nose and shrugging. 

After a beat of silence and some awkward stares with the other family members, Max turned to you, hoping his family would take the hint. 

Thankfully, they did—for the most part. They still stared from the table, but at least they stopped hovering.

“I think..I will go now,” you said, suppressing a laugh, Max groaned, burying his face in your shoulder.

“Don’t laugh!” he whispered, pulling back with the most unintimidating glare. 

You held your hands up in surrender and he pulled you in by your waist, rubbing your noses together.

“Sorry! Sorry—they’re sweet,” you said honestly, cupping his face. “But seriously, I do have to go.” 

He groaned. “I know.”

You kissed his cheek and opened the door, shivering once again. Then you remembered—you were still wearing his jacket.

“Your jacket-”

“Just keep it until tomorrow.” Max interrupted quickly, leaning on the doorframe. “I *will* see you tomorrow, right?”

“Eleven o’clock sharp,” you hummed, pecking his lips before heading off. You waved goodbye as you walked away.

Max closed the door behind you, resting his back against it. He sighed, face flushed, a goofy smile spreading across his face. Even his family could see the glint in his eyes.

After a moment, he pushed off the door and headed for the tunnel, kicking the button for his lair.

“Max!” Nora called after him. “What about dinner?”

He turned lazily, grin softening. “I ate while I was out,” he shrugged as the lair door opened. 

No one knew if that was true, but they decided not to press too much on that part.

Barb called out, “Well, before you go—how was your date?”

He paused and met her gaze. His eyes glimmered and his cheeks darkened. 

“It was great,” he said simply, nodding before sliding down to his lair and leaving his family behind.

Dinner was fairly quiet that night, but soft grins lingered on each their faces.

The Thundermans—your typical suburban neighborhood family. Hank and Barb, loving and caring, always there for their four kids. Always proud. Always around—even when nights bring out unexpected news. 

And their beautiful children—reflections of them in the best ways. 

All four of them.

[infiniteimaginings]

Hellooo. Could you possibly write something for Klaus Baudelaire again? I don't really have a prompt, but something loveydovey : D

thaaankss

I Adore You (Klaus Baudelaire x GN!Reader)

Summary: You and Klaus are enjoying a moment to yourselves, just being together without any worries. Pronouns: You/Yours, They/Them Warnings: None, Pure Fluff Word Count: 1.0k A/N: Placed after everything happens to them. Nothing specified for where they are or what they're doing. There's just no caretakers, no Olaf, just them.

It was quiet. 

There was a stillness that had settled over the world, the kind that only comes when chaos has burned itself out. There was no noise of cars on uneven roads, no distant chatter of strangers with their hurried steps and hurried lives. No echoes of jingles or haunting laughter, no bankers coughing like the old engines pulling up to deliver bad news. Not even the echo of uncertainty that every so often haunted the Baudelaire orphans as if a shadow had followed them now.

Only a soft record played somewhere far off, its crackling barely brushing the air, as if the house itself was afraid to make too much noise—afraid it might awaken something from the past that would disrupt everything.

For the first time in what felt like a thousand chapters, the Baudelaires were safe. Truly safe. And what a peculiar, foreign feleing that was—safety. A word spoke so often and so empty before had now carried weight, warmth. It now was real.

They were hidden away in an unnamed place, tucked into a quiet unknown time, during an indeterminate season. There were no signs they needed to follow, or clocks they had to watch closely, no maps or letters. Just peace. Peace, and you.

Violey and Sunnt had ventured off somewhere with Beatrice II—off on a non-rickety trolley, laughing over something nonsensical or brilliant or both. The kind of moment that could only exist now, in this fragile pocket. While they were gone, Klaus remained behind, comfortably lost in a world of ink and thoughts, scribbling away in one of the many notebooks he never seemed to be without recently.

You approached quietly, careful not to disturb the rhythm of his mind, leaning over his shoulder to peek at the half-formed words he was putting to paper.

He smiled with looking, his voice hushed but warm. “Afternoon.”

“Afternoon.” you replied, your tone playful as you straightened your posture. “Could you help me put some books away?”

He had already been rising to his feet before you’d even finished speaking your request. “Of course.”

Your laugh came to you easily, as natural as your breathing. You knew the request didn’t truly matter. It could have been anything—moving furniture, catching a butterfly. He would have done it, simply because it was for you. He always would.

Together, you rolled a small cart of books across the room, your fingers brushing slightly. You ascended the ladder, your voice light as your step. “First book, please.”

Klaus handed you a hardcover, examining the title and author briefly. “Do they need to go in any specific order?”

“Not really,” you replied, nestling the book into place. “They all came from the same row.”

He nodded and continued to pass them one by one, eyes flicking up to you each time. “Were you researching something?”

You shrugged, “Not particularly. I guess I was just…curious. There are so many books here. I realized I probably won’t get through them all in a single lifetime—not unless I really try.”

He hummed, thoughtful, watching the way you moved, how you handled each book. And then he noticed the sweater you wore—his sweater. It hung slightly oversized on you, sleeves pooling around you elbows as you pulled htem up, but in his eyes it fit perfectly. Not because of its size, but because it was you, in something of his.

He lingered in that thought for too long, his fingers still on the spine of the next book, forgetting to pass it up.

You turned and tilted your head, eyes catching his. “You alright?”

He blinked, adjusting his glasses, snapping back into the moment. “Yeah—sorry. Just got lost in thought.”

You accepted the apology with a smile and continued shelving. He watched you, the ladder creaking softly as you moved, and suddenly the words slipped out.

“I adore you.”

The book paused in your hands. You looked down at him, surprised, not because you hadn’t felt it, but because it had come so honestly. “That was sudden,” you said, cheeks warming softly, though you grinned through it.

“It was.” he agreed, still holding the ladder with one hand, like his grip on it could steady the tremble of his hands. “But it’s true. You…you’ve been the only constant in my life outside my siblings. The only one who hasn’t disappeared, or betrayed us, or left. You’ve always believed in me. Even when I couldn’t.”

Count Olaf. The countless guardians. Friends they had lost to fate or fear. It was all behind him now, but still etched into his mind, his soul. Through every misfortune, every near-death, every terrible ending, there was always you. A ligh in the long, dark, near never ending tunnel.

“I adore you,” he said again, steadier this time. “And all the strange, brilliant, infuriating, beautiful parts that make you who you are.”

You placed the last book gently on the shelf, hands resting on the wooden edge as you looked down at him, gaze tender. “I adore you too, Klaus. You’re just as much a constant in my life.”

His breath hitched at the words—because it didn’t seem possible. You had done so much for him, more than he could ever repay. The idea that you could think the same of him felt like a dream. But he didn’t speak the doubt aloud. He just looked at you, soft-eyed and silent.

“Please…” he said, voice barely above a whisper as he extended his hand to you. “Please continue to do so.”

You took his hand and climbed down carefully, your other hand brushing off his shoulders gently. “I never planned on stopping.”

A pause, then a quiet, “Good.”

It didn’t matter what time it was. It didn’t matter what season, or what corner of the world you’d found yourselves in. There were no villainous plans, no false identities, no mysterious letters to decode.

There was just you and him.

And finally, that was enough.

The Baudelaires were finally safe, and at peace.

[infiniteimaginings]

Can I get a Penelope Featherington x reader? Where Penelope gives up on Colin after he leaves and when he comes back he sees the reader with Penelope and realizes he's in love with her. And oh! The reader is Penelope's childhood friend. The reader can be female or male. It's whatever you choose. Or you can do my original character for it if you prefer. I know some writers don't do readers and just do OCs. The choice is up to you.

Thank you! ❤️

HarmonyVerenedez.

I've Always Been Here (Penelope Featherington x Fem!Reader)

Summary: Penelope has completely given up on Colin, moving on and confiding in you. You've never left her, and she realizes that. She realizes that you've done things no one ever has for her, and she learns other things about herself. How will she go about these feelings? Pronouns: You/Yours, She/Her Warnings: None Word Count: 3.2k A/N: I'm the worst, it's been a year, so sorry! College popped me in its mouth like a breath mint and swallowed me whole. Here's the Penelope story, sorryyyy, love you! Also Im sorry it's not exactly like the request, I had it written, didn't like the Colin part that I wrote because I forgot about it, realized how cute the story was, and then completely forgot about it. SORRY!!!! Tagging: @etherynn

The streets of London bustled gently with the murmurs of society, the rustle of silk skirts mingling together as ladies promenaded with potential suitors. Mothers, misty-eyed with pride, watched their daughters blossom before them. Gentlemen conversed in firm but low tones of business and politics, and children ran like wild against the soft winds.

The day, kissed by the sun, seemed determined to bless the ton with this peaceful day. Blossoms adorned every hedge, stretching toward the ligh in a flourishing pride. The lake shimmered as if strewn across with diamonds, and young couples glided across in their rowboats, their courtships unfolding along the ripples. It was, indeed, a most wonderful afternoon.

Such a beautiful day had demanded to be enjoyed, and many seized the opportunity. It was the heigh of the season, after all—an hour in which young ladies were expected to present themselves with grace and charm in the hope of being chosen. And so, they did as they were told.

Yet, behind a delicate lace curtain, one watched silently from her window. Her gloved fingers absenmindedly toyed with the delicate trim at her wrist.

Miss Penelope Featherington, the youngest of the Featherington household, had been standing iat her window since her dressing that morning. Her mother and sisters had long since departed for their daily pursuits, and and her father—as always—was not to be seen until the later evening. She, too, was expected to emerge from her chambers and mingle. She was, after all, a Featherington.

She had always done what was expected of her. But in those quiet corners of her heart and mind, she wondered—for what purpose? No suitor wished to call upon her. No gentleman had lingered in her company. Her fate as a spinster had, it seemed, been sealed by the cruel whims of society long ago. This was her third season, and with each passing week, she drifted further from dreams of matrimonial bliss and closer to the fate the ton found such amusement in: poor, overlooked Miss Penelope Featherington.

A knock at her bedroom door jarred Penelope from her thoughts. She inhaled sharply and turned. “Enter,” she said softly, patting down her dress and adjusting her gloves with practiced grace.

The door opened, and a footman entered, bowing his head. “A caller awaits you, Miss Featherington.”

“A caller?” she echoed, barely believing her ears. Her gaze dropped to the floor, unease curling in her chest. Her puffed sleeves felt too exaggerated, her usual shade of yellow far too farish, and her curls had grown unruly across her bow.

Then, from behind the footman, a familiar figure emerged with a grin and a wave.

“Only me!” you declared to her happily.

At the sight of you, Penelope exhaled in visible relief, a smile pulling at her lips. “I had not expected company,” she murmured, stepping forward as the footman withdrew himself.

You met her halfway, engulfing her in a fond embrace. “I found myself thinking of you over breakfast, and I thought—why not suggest a walk?” You gently took her hand before releasing it to perch upon the edge of her bed, adjusting the buckle of your shoe.

“A walk?” Penelope repeated, her gaze flicking once more to the window. You hummed in affirmation, already rising again with a brighter expression.

“It is a most exquisite day,” you added, hopeful.

Penelope nodded, but her gaze remained distant, fingers once again finding the lace at her wrist. Her silence was not customary—not between the two of you, who usually strolled with arms entwined, laughing over absurd futures your mothers imaged for you. In jest, you had even vowed to live in a castle of your own design. Silly notions—but comforting ones.

You approached her quietly, placing a hand onto her shoulder. “Pen, is something the matter?”

At your words, she froze, then composed herself with a blink and a brittle smile. “Of course not, truly.” Her laugh was soft and slightly forced. “I simply do not feel inclined to walk today.:

You paused, concern creasing your brow. “Does this have anything to do with… Colin?” You asked, glazing at her in your side view.

Penelop laughed, but the sound held no humor, “Certainly not.” she said too quickly, her fingers wringing together. “I simply tire of wandering about, the pitiful figure of yet another disappointing season. The other girls collect suitors like blossoms; I, it seems, only collect pity.”

“And do you intend to lock yourself away until the Season’s end?”

“I just might,” she said, quiet as a sigh.

You clicked your tongue and stood. “Absolutely not. You shall promenade with the utmost confidence. Let the ton see that Penelope Featherington is no one’s object of ridicule.”

Penelope clutched the fabric of her gown. “Not whilst I look like this.”

“Then change,” you said without hesitation.

A wistful laugh escaped her lips. “There is little else in my wardrobe, I’m afraid.”

You frowned in thought. “Might your father offer funds for a new gown? Or I could perhaps question my mother—she would not mind.”

But before you could elaborate further, Penelope's eyes lit with sudden inspiration. “You are brilliant,” she whispered, throwing her arms about you in a warm embrace.

You blinked, bemused but pleased. “What have I said?”

“I cannot walk today, but tomorrow—I shall be ready,” she said with a mischievous grin, ushering you out with unexpected urgency.

You tried to respond, but she was already closing the door behind you.

“Apologies!” you called faintly through the wood, half-concerned you had somehow said the wrong thing. With no reply, you sighed and made your way into the street, later joining a small group of acquaintances for the day’s promenades.

As you passed the Featherington residence once more, you glanced up toward Penelope’s window. It stood empty, no girl to be found.

The following morning dawned, just as radiant as the last. Your maids dressed you with ease, your hair was styled, and a fresh breakfast awaited in the dining room. You exchanged pleasantries with your family, listening to the morning’s gossip.

Just as your plate was removed, a footman approached. “Miss Penelope Featherington awaits you in the drawing room, Miss.”

You stood, heart fluttering with curiosity. “Thank you,” you expressed, nearly skipping to greet her.

“I was thinking,” you began as you entered the drawing room, “we ought to take a picnic today. The weather is—”

But your words faltered as your eyes met the figure before you.

A vision of elegance stood in place of your dearest friend—her red hair falling in soft waves past her shoulders, a pale green gown adorned with delicate gemstones that shimmered with quiet grandeur.

“Penelope…?” you breathed, eyes wide as you stumbled ever so slightly on your own feet.

She turned, a small smile on her lips. “Do I look so very different?”

You shook your head, still entranced. “No—it’s not that. You look…”

“You dislike it?” she asked, faltering slightly.

“Breathtaking,” you said at last, a smile blooming across your face, your eyes shining.

Penelope blushed, her hand pressing gently to her stomach as if to steady the flurry of emotion. It wasn’t something she had heard often, and this was the first time she had been complimented so genuinely. “Do you truly think so?”

You stepped forward, taking her hand and twirling her. “You have always been beautiful. Today, the world shall see it as I do.”

Her cheeks turned pink, and she looked away with a soft laugh. “It feels… different. But perhaps different is what I needed.”

“Indeed. Now,” you said, offering your arm, “shall we reveal the new Miss Featherington to the world?”

She hesitated—but only for a breath—before she slipped her arm through yours. “Let us.”

You brought her to a charming café, where you secured a table on the terrace. Two teas were ordered and delivered with the efficie,ncy your father always championed. It was a random thought, but anything to distract you from rolling your eyes at the society around you suddenly drooling as if they had never seen the woman in front of you before.

You stirred your tea thoughtfully, the clink of porcelain light against the background hum of Society. Across the square, a group of young gentlemen passed, their eyes lingering upon Penelope with unmistakable interest. Penelope had begun to stir hers idly, eyes trailing tothe group of young men, their gazes far too lingering.

You followed her gaze and scoffed, scrunching your nose in distaste, your nose, “They look at you as if you were a sugared sweet—or worse, meat on a stick.”

Penelope’s eyes widened, and a laugh escaped her, though she modestly dabbed her lips with a napkin. A blush softly rose to her cheeks.

It was the beginning of something new. And the ton, as it always did, had begun to take notice.

“That’s a rather indelicate metaphor.” She stated to you, crossing her palms over her lap.

“And they are quite the indelicate bunch,” you murmured, voice low and tone clipped. “I should not mind putting them in their place.” You raised your teacup to your lips, sipping softly, posture straight as a candlestick.

Across from you, your close friend’s lips twitched—part amusement, part something fonder. “You would truly do such a thing?”

Without hesitation, you set your cup upon its saucer with a gentle clink and furrowed your brow. “And why should I not?”

There it was again. That peculiar fluttering beneath her ribs. Penelope pressed her palm lightly to her abdomen, as though some delicate life stirred within her. She smiled faintly, brushing away the sensation like a stray thread. “Thank you,” she whispered, her gaze drifting to yours as she brought her tea to her lips.

The feeling did not fade—it lingered, uninvited but insistent, growing more frequent as the weeks passed. It stirred when you brought her florals from the hedges, claiming they reminded you of her. It sparked when you requested her for the first dance at each ball, as though it were your sole priority. It fluttered again when you spoke of her virtues during quiet nights in her bedchambers.

These were not new gestures—indeed, they had been the rhythm of your friendship for years. You had always brought her flowers. A blossom plucked on your walk from your lessons to her estate, a token of affection as habitual as breath. Yet now, the bloom felt foreign in her hand, as though it bore a new weight, a new meaning.

At balls, her card had once been sparsely filled, and your name had not even graced the page—it had simply been assumed. Tradition. Now, gentlemen clamoured to sign her card, their names crowding the page. Yet yours remained at the top, steadfast.

As you took her hand for the opening dance, Penelope’s grip tightened. Her eyes drifted to the men who watched her with interest, their stares bold, their smiles eager. And still, she thought only of the feel of your hand in hers. Of how no stranger’s touch could rival the familiarity—and safety—of yours. She had realized that she did not want any other’s embrace. Only yours.

Your shared sleepovers had been a longstanding ritual, a place of laughter and warmth. But this night was unlike the others. The two of you had retired early, lying face to face in the quiet, shadows of candlelight flickering on the bed curtains.

Penelope had whispered, scarcely audible, of a yearning—to be someone else. Someone bolder. Louder. Thinner. More easily loved.

Your eyes softened, more than she had ever seen them, at least more than she had remembered. A frown tugged at your delicate features. You murmured, “I wish you might see yourself as I do. Perhaps then you would not speak so cruelly of yourself.”

The words stilled her tongue. She merely nodded and turned onto her side, blowing out the candles and then feigning sleep. You bid her goodnight in a voice barely above a breath, and did not turn away. She could feel your gaze upon her back, and it warmed her to her core.

But later—when that warmth shifted, when it settled in her chest rather than her stomach—she knew it had changed. It burned, flickering beneath her heart, swift from the emotions swirling through her.

It was a modest salon gathering, music wafting through the air. A gentleman played the pianoforte with flair, though slightly too much flourish, and you stood beside him, a hand on his shoulder, singing.

The room hushed itself into silence.

You were unaware of the attention you commanded—the bachelors loitering at the doorway, the ladies whispering praise, the lean of bodies forward in awe.

“She ought to sing for royalty,” someone whispered. “Her voice could fill an opera house.”

You noticed none of it. But Penelope did. She saw the flutter of your lashes on a high note. She noticed the way that one of the men had stared at you as if he had just seen his entire future blossom in front of him.

She sat among a cluster of women, her tea untouched, her pulse like a snare drum. Envy curled slow and warm within.

When you finished, the room erupted in applause. You curtsied—modest, glowing. Compliments flowed. Gentlemen kissed your gloved hand, offered you trinkets and flattery.

You dismissed them all, instead turning to Penelope. “What did you think?”

She smiled, soft and shaky, shifting to make room for you. In that moment, pride bloomed in her chest—you had interest only for her in that moment. The thought startled her, and she blinked, covering it with gracious words and flattery of her own.

Hours passed—though they felt more like days, each thought loud in Penelope’s mind. You paced her room, selecting a book, speaking of an unimportant event after one of your lessons.

The red-haired woman felt terrible about not listening, but her ears felt as though they were ringing.

You noticed. Of course you did. You always did.

The mattress dipped beside her, and when she turned, you were close—too close. Your brow raised, your eyes questioning. “Penny?”

“Forgive me,” she murmured with a sheepish chuckle.

“Your mind is elsewhere.”

That silenced her laughter.

She turned fully, voice more solemn. “You make things seem lighter than they are.”

Your head tilted in quiet confusion.

Her eyes flickered between your own—and then to your lips.

You parted yours to speak—but before a syllable escaped, you felt soft lips collide with yours ever so gently you didn’t even know if you could even call it a full kiss.

It was sudden, warm, barely there, and yet trembling with words she could never say, that she could never figure out. Her hand grazed your cheek, her fingers hesitant of what to do, but certain of the emotion, the intention. The kiss was not rehearsed, it was raw, honest, aching.

Before you could find it in you, she pulled back quickly, breath ragged. “Oh,” she gasped, retreating on the bed. “I should not have—I must not—”

“Penelope?”

“I must go.” She did not wait for your reply. The door clicked behind her as she fled.

You sprang to your feet, calling her name in a hushed whisper, mindful of the hour. You slightly fumbled with the door before your feet lightly rushed to the main floor. Down the stairs, past dim sconces, until you saw the door to the calling room slightly ajar.

There she stood—still, rigid, arms crossed, her back to you.

“Penelope,” you said again.

She did not turn. But her shoulders tightened.

“Why did you run?”

“Because I should not have done it,” she replied at once. “It was foolish. Reckless. I have ruined everything.”

You stepped closer. “You kissed me.”

“Yes. And I am dreadfully sorry.”

“I am not.”

She turned then, slowly. Her eyes glistened. “You do not understand. If anyone were to see—if they knew—”

“Let them.”

She fell silent, stunned. You continued, your voice steady. “Let them know you care for me, as I care for you.”

Her lip trembled as she swallowed with a gasp. You took her hand.

“Do not hide from this, Penelope. Not from me.”

The room was bathed in golden candlelight, and as you approached the window, moonlight fell across you. You looked radiant—serene and certain.

“I did not mean to kiss you,” she said, voice breaking. “I mean—I did. But I did not expect… this. I don’t know what I expected. But it wasn’t this.” She wished her heartbeat would slow down, then maybe she would be able to breathe

Her hands clutched her chest, as if trying to hold herself together.

“Penelope,” you whispered, cupping her cheek, “the world is not ending.”

She scoffed, not out of humor, bur of nerves. “I am aware.”

“Are you?” you teased gently. “Breathe.”

She shook her head. “You do not seem to care for your reputation.” Her eyes blinked back tears that she had not been hiding very well as she backed away. “And that,” she said, voice tight, “will destroy us both.”

“Then we shall run.” Your voice was desperate, hand reaching for her before stiffening in the air.

She stared. “You would run?”

“For you?” you said, “Without hesitation.”

Her laugh was hollow. “You would leave everything—”

“Rather than lose you?” You interrupted. “Yes.”

The silence that followed was heavy, meaningful.

“They would never accept us,” she whispered, now fearful for those who might see them through the window.

You didn’t deny it, you stepped closer and simply said, “Then they never will.”

She laughed again—this time with a bitterness that stung. “And what then? Are we to live in the shadows? To skulk about in corridors and gardens like phantoms for the remainder of our lives?”

You tilted your head, thoughtful, then smiled with quiet mischief. “I quite enjoy corridors. Particularly those that lead me to you.”

Penelope’s lip twitched—half a laugh, half a tremble. And you looked upon her with such unguarded sincerity that the words spilled from you like a whispered devotion: “I wish for nothing more than to have you entirely to myself. It would be my highest honour to court you—openly, earnestly—should you permit it.”

She blinked once. Then again. “You would truly court me?”

“In truth,” you said with a soft laugh, “I believe I already do. I merely lacked the courage to speak it aloud—to set it into the soil of this world until now.”

Penelope’s mouth parted, but rather than reply, she moved—her hands reaching for your face with a reverence that trembled yet persisted. And when her lips met yours, it was like a breath drawn after nearly drowning—brief, electric, real.

You parted just enough to meet one another’s eyes, the silence now reverberating with the weight of what had bloomed between you.

“I fear what lies ahead,” she whispered, cradling your face, her gaze flitting across your features. “What becomes of us? Of our names?”

“Then we shall create new ones.” You told her with a grin, the moment settling into something soft and sacred. “Let us build a life where the only truth that matters is this—you and I.”

[infiniteimaginings]

WOAH HEY GUYS !! i did NOT mean to disappear, college genuinely swallowed me whole and I couldn’t do any of my typical hobbies like usual. So sorry sorry for that extremely long hiatus (it’s been a year, scold me, kindly).

Thank you for everyone who checked on me! I’m super duper good! I’m rested, no work, I’m free!

Shame on you to everyone who came to my inbox being rude about their requests. I stated my hiatus and why, tumblr is not my job it’s a hobby.

I’m getting back to writing and will be sending out stories slowly but surely! Thank you!

(ignore any dates on the list, they will not be accurate)

[infiniteimaginings]

Just here to say I'm in school lol! I haven't posted anything because I’m being a good student. I haven’t figured out a good schedule since I have class, work, and homework.

[infiniteimaginings]

Okay, this is the last little talking post before I start posting stories again.

The schedule has been updated and all requests have been added to the list. Requests are still closed so this list will not be updated until we get closer to the bottom (when you see how many there are, you'll see why).

The link to the upcoming posts (with dates of when they'll be posted) is: HERE!

Have a good day, can't wait to post again. Love you guys lots!

[infiniteimaginings]

Hello world!

I know I know, I have been on such a long break, so sorry, so sorry! But, I have very very good news.

I AM RETURNING!!!

There have been changes to the schedule of posting (which won’t be updated until Sunday) but instead of twice a week it’ll be once a week, just because I’m busier than usual and will stay that way for a while.

Requests will stay closed until I’m caught up but the first post after my break will be August 2nd! The Penelope story!

Love you guys bunches!! Bye!

[infiniteimaginings]

Hi everyone!

I hope you’ve missed me, cause I’ve missed you guys so so very much!

As much as I wish this post right now was something sweet to get back into it, unfortunately it is not. Don’t worry though, I am going to send out an announcement within the week that is much happier and full of information you all will love!

This post specifically is because I apparently have to repeat information I’ve covered multiple times already. When I say do not send me more than 5 requests a day, I mean it. It is extremely overwhelming and it drains me to see you filling up my inbox without any consideration for my time. Which therefore causes me to not want to write here, extending my breaks, which no one wants. I don’t want to not write for tumblr, I love writing here, and people want to read the requests I make. They won’t be able to do that if I decide it’s too much.

Im going to show pictures and a screen recording of the requests sent today from one singular person.I’ve only got requests from this person. They have done this before, but they weren’t anonymous, and that’s how I know it’s the same person who did it last time because it’s the same character each time (and how they separated each one sentence prompt into a separate request)

I don’t understand why some of you guys believe it’s okay to do this AFTER an author tells you multiple times in their own announcements and to your personal messages that it’s not.

I am not a robot. I don’t know why anyone would send a request saying “request where [blah blah] happens”. I am a person, just like you, and this all stresses me out.

If you do what this person has done and I know who you are, I will tell you to stop one single time. If you do it again, you will be blocked. I don’t want to block anyone, I don’t. I want everyone yo enjoy content and feel comfortable and happy to read whenever they want, and to be able to request. But if you actively refuse to understand why I need you to not do something like this, you will have to be blocked for my comfort and for the account as a whole.

Thank you for reading this announcement, happier news is on the way.

[infiniteimaginings]

Hi, my friend who asked for a request for a Henry Danger character on valentine's day was upset, she didn't like the changes to the plot (after I helped her with it) or the add ons, it wasn't what she asked for, I hope you understand it's just my friend has a disability she's been dealing with......I hope you understand.

I’m responding to this quickly because I’m about to lose service.

I apologize that she was unhappy but as I said in my a/n there were too many specific details that I wasn’t going to add because I make the reader as general as possible for everyone to be able to enjoy it. Along with that, most in the request were unnecessary to the point that I couldn’t find room to add them even if I wanted to.

Along with this, I made that request four months ago. I would have added the proper details but you guys were sending multiple requests rushing me, so I put out what I had. If you had an issue, you could’ve messaged me. I always respond, no matter what.

I am not trying to be rude, and I wouldn’t put it in a public post if I knew who you were but neither of you were respectful of me when I was just starting out with requests. If you want a new one without all of those details you can definitely send in a new request and when I’m off my break I will write it better for you.

This goes to everyone: I want everyone to be happy but if you don’t respect me and my time, you’re not going to get the results you want.

Thank you. My break will end in July.

[infiniteimaginings]

Take as long as you need, do whatever you have to to get into a better place.

Sending lots of love x

Thank you for understanding, it means a lot

[infiniteimaginings]

I’m so sorry to disappoint you all, but I am pausing any further postings due to personal reasons.

I hate to do it, but I can’t put these stories out right now. I’m really sorry, When everything is better there will be story after story after story, but right now I just can’t do it.

I hope you understand how apologetic I am, thank you.

[infiniteimaginings]

VIOLET BRIDGeTtON PLEASE PLEASE

A Courtship? (Violet Bridgerton x GN!Reader)

Summary: You court the dear Violet Bridgerton and she is surprised, but quite flushed at the idea. Pronouns: You/Yours, They/Them Warnings: Slight angst Word Count: 4.8k A/N: I've had this idea for months. Months. I love this woman with my whole heart. There will be a part two because this got too long. Tagging: @etherynn @theonefairygodmother @ignaciocv

The Bridgerton home was a home that everyone wished for. The structure itself was beautiful, multiple floors, dozens of rooms, chandeliers, paintings of the family. It wasn’t the structure itself that the people of society were necessarily jealous of, no, it was the family themselves.

The Bridgerton family were blessed with handsome sons, beautiful daughters, all from a gorgeous, loving pair of parents. They were blessed with talented children in the arts, in the mind, and even in the heart. 

When the new season arrives for daughters to find husbands, mothers are already preparing their own children for the Bridgerton daughters arrivals. Daphne was the diamond of the season, she was almost engaged to a prince, and she is now a duchess. Eloise consistently gained the attention of each suitor on the floor, and Francesca was named the ‘Sparkler’ of the season for her intelligently beautiful compositions on the piano, which everyone knew the meaning of. The Bridgertons were a family that could not be out-charmed.

That wasn’t the only reason that society was jealous of the Bridgertons, they were jealous because the family seemed to love each other so dearly. Whenever they were seen out in the gardens, at the lakes, at balls, they were all laughing with one another, dancing even. Not many families can reflect such a powerful bond, that is why everyone is jealous of the Bridgertons, because they have each other.

It was an early afternoon where the birds were chirping, the sun was shining warmly through the windows, and everyone was ready for the day. The family were all in their day clothes, already having eaten breakfast and practiced any compositions, writings, and or drawings they wanted to complete that day. Due to that, the Bridgerton home was lively and bustling with laughter as it typically was in the day. 

Gregory and Hyacinth were up to their usual troubles, swiping sweets from their siblings plates, discussing future plans that were way too far out for them to worry about, and playing games that they couldn’t understand how they were losing to each other.

Anthony was teasing Colin for his activities at the prior party quietly, away from their mothers sharp ears across the room. Though they hid their whispers and scolding, anyone could see how Anthony gently hit Colin in the back of the neck before shaking him by his shoulder with a gracious smile.

Francesca was practicing one of her pieces, creating a peaceful background to the activities at hand. This was also known as her not wanting to involve herself in the activities of her siblings, which everyone was quite fine with. Kate was enjoying the music as she sat on the bench with Francesca, enjoying her cup of tea as she listened to the melodies. 

Two others who weren’t invested in what was happening with the rest of the house were Eloise and Benedict, who constantly looked as if they were planning something. Eloise would point to something in her book and Benedict would chuckle, rolling his eyes as he looked away. The brown haired girl would close her book and smack her brother in the shoulder with her hand and he simply laughed harder. No one knew what they were talking about, but everyone knew that it was just how they were.

Watching all of the Bridgerton children happily tending to themselves within the same room, within the comfort of each other brought a smile to someone's face. That someone was Violet Bridgerton, the mother of each and every one of those beautiful children. She had her hands rested on her lap, her eyes shifted from the couch across her where Benedict and Eloise sat to the piano where Francesa and her daughter in law Kate didn’t speak, but enjoyed each other's company. She watched her youngest children run across the room, almost knocking into their older brothers who stopped their conversation to grab hold of them and join in on the excitement. 

Violet Bridgerton loved her family, and they all loved her dearly as well. That’s why they fit together, that’s why they always worked.

It wasn’t unusual for the Bridgerton home to receive visitors, so when the footman walked in no one paid him much mind. The only person who turned their head was Violet, as she had been the one to pay more mind ever since Daphne's first season.

The footman stood tall as he entered, hands at his sides, the door now open. “My lady,” He greeted, not looking anywhere in particular, “a noble has arrived to call upon you.”

The Bridgertons focus was now set to the footman before they all looked at one another, more specifically they all looked at Eloise, the girl who has yet to find a husband. 

The brown haired girl looked around for a moment before turning to look at the footman, “Me?” She asked hesitantly, grabbing hold of Benedict to hide herself from whoever may have walked through the door. The brother, in response, shoved her from him with a teasing smile, causing the girl to only pull him even more to shield herself.

The footman didn’t look at Eloise when she spoke, he looked at Violet for a moment before speaking. “For the Viscountess Violet Bridgerton.” He announced slowly, no clear expression on his face.

The Bridgerton children all went back to their typical tasks, a little quiet since they had a visitor, but they did not mind the visitor at all. It could’ve been anyone, Lady Danbury, any of the neighbors, or simply her friends. It didn’t necessarily concern the children, so they continued with their afternoon.

Violet clapped her hands and stood with a smile, “Please, send them in!” She spoke happily, walking from the couch to the center of the room to be able to greet the visitor.

Surprisingly, it wasn’t a known person on a personal level who had walked into the Bridgerton drawing room, it was someone Violet had only ever spoken to for a few moments at balls or other parties. 

You were a noble who was well known within society for your estates, businesses, your family lineage, and overall your general charm. There were no rumors about you, but there were also no praises within Lady Whistledown nor from the queen, you were simply a sharp noble who kept up with expectations.

Though it was a bit surprising, Violet still greeted you with a gentle smile and sparkle in her eyes. “How unexpected!” She announced, causing her children to turn their heads to the door where you stood with a soft expression. “It’s wonderful to see you, Noble.” She spoke as she curtseyed, greeting you.

Her children all followed suit with a collective, “Good day”, all bowing and/or curtseying to greet you.

You walked in a little further, facing Violet as you bowed, “Good day, Viscountess Bridgerton.” You spoke softly, soon turning to face the others before greeting them as well, “Good day, Lord and Lady Bridgertons.”

After greetings ceased, Violet tilted her head a bit, “To what do I owe the pleasure?” She asked, gently turning her body as she awaited your response. 

You finally remembered that you hadn’t expressed why you had found yourself at the Bridgerton home, you bowed once more as a sign of apology, “Dearest Viscountess-” You began to speak, but Violet soon filled the room with her laughter, waving your words off politely, “Oh, please, call me Violet.” 

You nodded, taking a bit of a deep breath. You could feel your heart pounding in your chest as all of the Bridgerton eyes were on you, something you should have expected, but you did not account for. “Dearest Violet, I’ve come to inquire if…” You trailed off, seeing if you could find the right words to let this visit go smoothly.

“If?” She asked expectantly, shoulders raised high, polite smile still gracing her face.

She was met with no answer for a moment before you let out a shuddered breath and stood tall, your eyes only meeting hers. “If I might seek your favor in courting you.” You finally spat out, your voice stronger than you expected, but as long as you didn’t stutter, you didn’t mind.

The room filled with silence. Francesca abruptly stopped playing, the children all stopped their giggles to stare at the doorway, any conversation was paused at the sudden announcement.

Anthony walked to stand next to his mother, getting a good look at you, “Court?” He asked, brows furrowed in a bit of confusion. 

Kate quickly stood from the piano and walked to Anthony, grasping his arm gently, “Anthony, I implore you.” She mumbled into her husband's ear before turning to smile at you, “I apologize.” She spoke on his behalf, trying to stay as polite as possible.

You bowed gently to her, “There is no need for that Viscountess Bridgerton, I do understand why he would ask.” You assured her, standing straight as you made eye contact with the man of the house who you had yet to answer. “To answer your concerns, Viscount Bridgerton, indeed. I wish to court the Lady Violet.” You spoke, turning to the subject of the matter, the subject who held a shocked expression on her face.

Violet couldn’t even respond, she could feel her face warming but she was unsure if that was because she was flustered at the sudden position she was in, or if she was flattered. Before she could open her mouth to speak, someone else weaved their way into the conversation.

“You’re asking her?” Gregory asked from the side of the room, voice filled with confusion as he stood next to his sister. 

The room seemed to murmur with agreement, typically if you were courting a dowager, you would go through the eldest son to ask for permission. Anthony seemed just as confused as Violet, so it seemed you didn’t ask him.

You let out a nervous laugh as you finally noticed all the eyes boring into your figure, all you could do was stand awkwardly as you tried to think of an answer for your choices.

Violet noticed your sudden pulse of anxiety and clapped her hands, “Children, could give the noble and me a moment, please?”

Anthony began to shake his head, “Mother-” 

Kate gently tugged at Anthony, “Of course.” She spoke quietly with a nod, looking at Anthony sharply as she led him out the room.

Gregory and Hyacinch were ushered out by Colin who followed behind, Francesca stood from the piano quickly and quietly to walk out the door. Eloise stood with a slightly impressed expression and Benedict did the same, holding out his arm to her to which she took, the two walking out, turning their heads ever so slightly to observe you a bit more.

Soon enough, you and Violet Bridgerton were alone in the drawing room, sure that all of the children were listening at the door. You didn’t mind, you just couldn’t handle all of their eyes on you at once.

Violet laughed a bit, turning to sit on the couch, “I beg your pardon for my children’s behavior, we are all deeply involved in each other's lives.” She spoke softly, turning her head to see you standing in the same place stiffly. “Please, come sit.” 

You nodded with a tense smile, walking to the couch and sitting a respectable amount away from her, turning to face her. “They’re remarkably kind to be as protective as they are.” You responded to her, thinking about how even the youngest was concerned for the break in societal norms.

“I love them dearly.” Violet stated a bit awkwardly, placing her hands in her lap as she looked down at them. “Um, I do not wish to be impertinent, but why are you asking me, initially?” She asked you, looking over at you hesitantly, a bit scared to look at you fully.

You paused for a moment to gather your words before you adjusted your clothing, “I wanted to inquire directly, as I was unsure of your interest.” 

“In you?”

“In a caller who holds interest for you.” You specified, taking a deep breath. “I would never want to place you in a situation where I inquired of another if you were comfortable with someone courting you.” 

Violet hummed, her eyes crinkling as the corners of her lips gently upturned, “So, you sought to ensure that I was… ready?” She tried to confirm, licking her lips slightly.

“If you are not, I completely understand.” You responded, your body relaxing slightly now that you were comfortable in the conversations. 

The woman in front of you thought for a moment, “I shall be honest, this is all so-” Her words were interrupted when the doors broke open, shocking the both of you. Violet let out a small surprised gasp and you clutched the side of the couch in shock of the sudden interruption.

Hyacinth rushed in, looking around before locking onto her mother, “Mama! The noble brought gifts!” She announced, looking behind her and running when Benedict came to collect her. 

“Hyacinth!” Benedict spoke through gritted teeth before giving you both a sweet smile, turning to grab his little sister.

Due to the interruption, everyone filed back in, as did carts and carts of presents for the Bridgerton family.

Violet stared, wide eyed, at the collection of different items, some of which she had never seen sell in their town. “This is too much!” She spoke, standing, hand over her chest as she watched more gifts appear. 

You stood as well, dancing on your heels slightly, “Having developed an interest in you and your family over these past few years, it only felt appropriate to present gifts.” You expressed, looking to make sure everything was there.

“You neglected to mention that you brought gifts.” The woman told you, an unexplained feeling being expressed on her.

“I will be honest,” You began, chewing the inside of your cheek, “your family is beautiful as well as intimidating.” You breathed out a chuckle, looking to the floor before looking over at Violet, “I did slightly forget.”

The woman couldn’t hold back her laughter at your words as she placed a hand on your shoulder, “This is all so beautiful.” She told you, watching as the children all went to separate carts before she herself walked forward to one filled with flowers. “These are gorgeous.” She told you, hand gently running over the petals of them.

“I did not know which were your favorite.”

She turned to you, “Hyacinths are my favorite.” 

“I shall note that.” You told her gently, standing back as they all admired the presents.

Eloise stumbled upon a cart filled with books, strange material dawning the bindings, “I’ve never laid eyes on such books before.” She commented, mostly to herself. 

You overheard her musings to herself and spoke up, “They are from my expeditions. Journals penned by philosophers and doctors I have encountered.”

She spun to face you, “Oh, how delightful. More men regurgitating the same ideas they’ve echoed for ages.” She spoke sarcastically, sighing as she returned her attention back to the books.

You nodded a bit at her blunt response, “Most of the writings are by women from different cultures.” You responded, walking over to where Benedict was eyeing another set of gifts.

Eloise watched you walk off and tilted her head thoughtfully, “Oh.”

Benedict lifted a polished wooden box, opening it to reveal a spectrum of vibrant paints within it. “These paints…” He began, marveling at the richness, his gaze shifting to the other boxes, a few engraved with his name, “They’re extraordinary!” He complimented with a smile, examining all the different shades and colors. 

Hearing footsteps approaching him, he assumed it was a sibling and turned to tell them about the paint sets with enthusiasm, but it was you. You grinned at him and asked, “Do you enjoy them?”

Surprised, Benedict responded with, “How did you know I like to paint?”

“I’ve seen your pieces.” You responded simply, not elaborating further.

Benedict scoffed within his laughter, “Where on earth-”

“I cannot divulge that information, unfortunately, I do hope you like them.” You interrupted gently, walking over to the others, leaving the conversation to hang.

This is the way that most of the conversation went, from the sweet treats for the children, the jewelry for the women, the saddles for the men. When you reached Francesca, on the other hand, she wasn’t drawn to any of the items necessarily.

You stood next to her, “Do none of these catch your eye?” You asked, gaze fixed forward rather than towards her.

The girl looked over at you briefly before returning forward, “Everything is lovely,” she replied in a soft voice. 

“None of them catch your eye?” You repeated, your tone calm, almost peaceful.

Francesca shook her head, “They do not.”

Acknowledging her response, you nodded. Leaning forward to one of the carts, you picked up a rather thick box and handed it to Francesca. 

“I do not paint.” She informed you, anticipating what was inside of the wooden boxes due to Benedict's reaction.

Leaning closer to her you whispered, “They are not paints,” before walking back over to Violet who was still looking over everything, unsure of how you were able to get so many items into her home in a short period of time.

When you walked away, Francesca sighed and settled at the piano bench, opening the box you had given her. She was surprised at the sight, they were indeed not paints. A smile broke out onto the girl's face as she eagerly scrambled through the wooden box. It was paper, they weren’t blank sheets, but they were intricate piano compositions. They hailed for composes she had never heard before, but they seemed just her pace, she couldn’t wait to try it out.

Once you finally reached Violet again, the woman seemed calmer than her originally nervous stature. She met your eyes and thanked you over and over again for the gifts, she spoke about how happy her children looked, she spoke about all the beautiful things you brought.

You looked at her with a gentle light in your eyes, not speaking over her, simply listening. When she finished her thankful rambles she awaited you to speak but you gently took her hands and kissed them, almost feather-light. 

Your eyes flicked up to her and stayed in her gaze as your head lifted to its original position, “Please, do think about it.” 

That was the final thing you said to Violet Bridgerton before you took your leave, removing yourself from the Bridgerton home, your mark being made on the family.

The Bridgerton home was now filled with conversation about the almost mysterious noble who filled their drawing room with gifts, and basically asked for their mothers hand. The only topic of conversation at dinner was everyone expressing the presents they had been given, their reviews, how interesting they all were, and more. The only person eating in silence was Violet herself.

After dinner Violet found herself in front of her mirror, brushing her hair quietly as she prepared herself for bed.  A knock sounded at her bedroom door gently, almost too quietly. She rose from her seat in front of her mirror and opened the door, greeted by the face of her eldest son, Anthony, who appeared troubled..

“Anthony, darling, is something the matter?”

Anthony had a deep frown on his face when she asked such a question, “I should be asking you that.” He told her, silently seeking permission to enter the room. 

Violet opened the door wider and walked into her room, sitting on her bed as Anthony closed the room door quietly, opting to stand rather than sit. 

His mother hummed quietly, “Something seems to be wrong.”

The eldest son huffed as he looked at his mother intently, “How do you feel about this?”

She blinked, slightly taken aback, “Whatever do you mean?”

“I mean,” Anthony began, sitting next to her, “the noble asked to court you.” He reminded her, looking at her a bit confused on how she would have forgotten. “It doesn’t matter how they’ve charmed the family, they’ve asked to court you, personally.” He told Violet, crossing his arms slightly, “How are you feeling about that?”

Violet turned her gaze to the wall in front of her, contemplating. She had thought the initial shock had settled when you had left, but it was evident that it was still there. She gently placed her hand over her heart as she took a deep breath, “I find it quite flattering, unexpected, but flattering.” She whispered, avoiding her son's gaze.

“But, are you going to accept their request to court you?”

There was a pause as Violet pondered deeply, “I do not know.” She admitted honestly, shaking her head as she imagined the possibility, “I do not know if I can.”

Anthony sighed, gathering his thoughts. “What do you mean, if you can?”

Violet shook her head again, her hand still pressed against her chest, it suddenly felt painful to breathe. “I do not believe I am allowed to.”

“Allowed?”

“Am I able to just…” She took a breath, tears welling up unexpectedly. “Am I able to just move on like that, so easily?” She asked, her vision fogging as a sob quietly choked out. “Would Edmund ever forgive me?” She covered her mouth with one of her hands to stifle any further cries but it proved ineffective.

Anthony had witnessed his mothers vulnerable moments and it had always been difficult. After his father's passing, he had assumed the role of head of the household, yet he had never seen his mother so distraught.  She was giving birth to his youngest sister, and she was devastated at the mere idea of his father not being there. Anthony froze in the moment, he didn’t know what to do, he didn’t know how to be there for his mother…and he realized that now, he still didn’t.

Seeing her cry over the guilt of moving on from her first love, questioning if she deserved to be loved by someone new, shattered Anthony's heart into pieces. He slowly wrapped an arm around his mothers crying figure, letting her lean into him as she wept. He smoothed her hair with one of his hands, cheek to the crown of her head as he slowly rocked them both. 

She had every right to feel this way, he just never expected it to hit her all at once. It must’ve been overwhelming, so Anthony just held her quietly, smoothing her hair until her cries quieted down to small hiccups.

“Mama,” He whispered to the woman, waiting for her to respond.

She hummed to let him know she was listening, but she couldn’t find the strength to say anything more in that moment.

Anthony nodded, still holding her close, “I think father would just…” he tried to speak but the words caught in his throat as he thought about his father. 

He remembered how kind his father was, how he wanted nothing but the best for all of their family, how he was never a man to raise his voice. Anthony considered a world where he could speak to his father one more time, where he could ask one last question. He wouldn’t ask if he missed them, if he wanted to be with them, because Anthony knew he would want to. He would ask if his father would truly forgive his mother, and after a moment of contemplating the idea, Anthony believed he knew the answer.

“I think father wouldn’t forgive you.” He suddenly declared, feeling his mother shift her head to look up at him. He knew she would try to speak, but he stopped her with a gentle hand, “I think he wouldn’t forgive you, because there’s nothing to forgive.”

“What do you mean?” She asked, her voice trembling.

Anthony blinked back his own growing tears as he spoke about his father, it was always hard, it would never become easier. “Father always wished for us to be happy, to live, to love, to enjoy ourselves…” He trailed off, trying to find the courage to continue.

“He did always want us to enjoy ourselves, what does that have t-”

“I believe father would want you to remarry if you were ready to love again.” Anthony interrupted, his words were rushed and emotional. It almost seemed as if he struggled to get the sentence out, as if it were hard for the reality of the situation to be accepted.

Violet blinked at Anthony, taken aback “Pardon?”

“Father would want you to live happily; he always wished for it.” He spoke, looking at the floor as he cradled his mother, “I believe…no…” Anthony interrupted his own thoughts, “I know he would want us to remember him fondly, but he would never want to be the reason we hold ourselves off from moving on.”

“Anthony, I am happy with all of you…”

“If you truly had no intention of accepting, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.” Anthony stated firmly, pulling back from his mother to look her in her eyes. “If you really weren’t considering it, you would have declined the noble’s offer.” 

The words rang in the air for a moment and Violet found herself unable to respond. She couldn’t articulate her thoughts because Anthony was right, she wouldn’t be agonizing over Edmund if a part of her didn’t yearn to accept the courtship.

Seeing as his mother wasn’t ready to reply, Anthony gently withdrew himself from her embrace, “Think about it a bit more, Mother.” He urged gently, walking to the door, “Goodnight.” He bid her, closing the door behind him and leaving Violet Bridgerton alone in her bedroom.

The only thing the woman could think of as she laid her head on the pillow were her son's words, “I think he wouldn’t forgive you, because there’s nothing to forgive.”

A week later, and there had been no sign of you. Violet seemed quieter than usual, but the children didn’t necessarily comment on it, neither did Anthony as he had seen how conflicted his mother was.

In the drawing room, only Violet sat, she would sit alone for a few more moments, even after her family had left. No one questioned her sudden solitude or asked if she wished to join them, they knew she would in due time

Lost in thought, Violet was absently playing with her fingers. She gazed at the windows where she could see people walking the streets, the sun shining on them heavenly. After a while, she stood and brushed herself off with a soft smile, making her way to the door to rejoin her family.

She would’ve continued had the footman not arrived at the door, hands at his sides when he entered. “My lady, you have a caller.” He announced, awaiting her response.

Violet straightened, her eyes widening briefly before she composed herself, “Yes, of course.” She mumbled slightly. “Please, send them in.” She told him quietly, standing in front of the entrance. 

You entered with a warm smile on your face, holding a bouquet of the most exquisite flowers Violet had ever seen. 

Violet curtsied graciously, “Good day, Noble.” She greeted, looking up nervously, her demeanor resembling a debutante in her first season.

You bowed in return, “Good day, Viscountess Bridgerton.” You replied, standing tall as you approached her, gently presenting the bouquet. 

“My favorites…” Violet whispered, observing the Hyacinths with lightly sparkling eyes.

“I took note.” You responded quietly, admiring her reaction.

Violet lightly laughed in response, turning to arrange the flowers in a vase. “Um, do you have time for lunch?” She asked somewhat hastily, attempting to be welcoming, but she was overall fairly nervous.

You shook your head regretfully, “Unfortunately not, I’ve come to bring you a gift and thank you for accepting my invitation.”

“Oh, well, you’re welcome.” She spoke a bit solemnly.

You stepped closer, gently taking her hands in yours. “I have business this morning, but I would like to return tomorrow. Perhaps we could take a walk in the afternoon, if you would enjoy that?”

The woman gently nodded, a stray curl from her pinned up hair gently escaping, “I would enjoy that…” She responded, her voice falling off as you tucked the curl back into place.

“I shall look forward to it then.” You said, bowing gracefully before making your way out of the Bridgerton estate.

Once you were gone, Violet couldn’t help but gently smell the flowers you had gotten for her. You were quite thoughtful and she recognized that early on, but the flowers only reinforced the sentiment.

The brown haired woman smiled to herself, “Maybe this really will be good for me.” She whispered, walking out of the drawing room to join her family.

The beautiful hyacinths rested on the ledge amidst the family portraits, appearing as though the space there was meant for them all along. As though they belonged there.

[infiniteimaginings]

Training and Realization (Naruto Uzumaki x Male!Reader)

Summary: Naruto is feeling conflicted because he thinks he likes you, but is sure it's just a mix up, because he likes Sakura. Right? He realizes the truth during a training session, and he just knows he has to get to you. Pronouns: You/Yours, He/Him Warnings: None Word Count: 3.1k Request: Little Naruto Uzumaki feeling confused because he thinks he is in love with his male best friend but he insists that he likes Sakura, during his training with Jiraiya he realizes that who He truly loves is his mbf and in Naruto Shippuden he confesses. With a happy ending please 🙏 A/N: Requested by @teamavatar13 ! I haven't watched Naruto in a minute so I hope my memory of his attitude proved well.

Naruto was acting strange. 

Well, if you were to ask anyone he was around, they would say he seemed perfectly fine. He was his cheerful self, always encouraging his friends to push themselves, asking to go out for dinner, or to just overall be together. He was optimistic, playful, and with a typical high energy.

The only person who thought Naruto was acting weird, was Naruto himself. He was sure since he noticed it, everyone else noticed as well, they had to! They didn’t.

Why was he acting so strangely? That’s the question he kept asking himself. Was he overworking? His training sessions didn’t seem to shift in difficulty recently, and he still had the energy to do any other tasks like usual. It couldn’t be that he was overworking himself, his friends would notice that. Did he eat something bad? This didn’t feel like some sort of food poisoning or just bad ramen, it definitely wasn’t bad ramen because there’s never bad ramen.

If there was nothing wrong with him, why did he feel his heart pounding through his chest, why could he hear it so prominently in his ears? His whole body felt hot, he almost wanted to pass out. His stomach felt weird, like it was shifting, or just moving, he felt sick. 

Everytime he would have such symptoms, he would look to meet your eyes. When you noticed his gaze, you would look over. For someone who has the symptoms of an illness, he didn’t look very sick.

Naruto would quickly look away, trying to find anything to distract him. His face felt even hotter after the sudden eye contact and his hands would begin to fidget, why was he fidgeting? Why did he suddenly feel nerves shooting up his body? Why is it always with you?

You chuckled when Naruto looked away and shook your head, “We’re still waiting for Sakura, I really don’t know why she’s late.” You suddenly spoke, putting your arm around Naruto to pull him in a bit, “So, don’t look so sad.” You told him, pulling at his cheek gently with a teasing smile.

The two of you were sitting on the floor on one of the walls across from the famous ramen place, ‘famous’ because it was the only place you guys really ate anymore. It was going to be you, Naruto, and Sakura meeting up after training and tasks, but Sakura was keeping you both waiting.

Naturo groaned and pulled your hand off his cheek but he smiled when he rubbed at the sore area. “I’m not sad!” He defended, unconsciously leaning into your side, “I’m just hungry.” He excused, unsure if that was the true reason.

“You’re always hungry.” An annoyed voice called out from in front of the two.

You looked up lazily, arm still around Naruto's shoulder, your body nearly hunched over. “You’re late.”

“I was helping villagers.” Sakura explained with a playful roll of her eyes, crossing her arms. “If you guys were so hungry you could’ve just gotten your first bowls, you know you would’ve gotten more anyways.” She expressed, moving a bit of her hair out of her face.

With a sigh you stood up, hands in your pockets. “Little Naruto wanted everyone to be here first.” You teased, walking into the ramen restaurant, not giving the other two a chance to continue the conversation. 

Sakura stuck her tongue out at your back, “He’s such a jerk.” She mumbled with a small smile, looking back at Naruto who was still sitting. “Come on, we’ll get you two bowls to start with!” She told him with a gentle smile, holding out her hand to the blonde.

Naruto didn’t realize he had been staring at your retreating figure until Sakura's hand reached out to him, blocking his view. He shook his head gently to focus and took hold of Sakura for assistance before letting go, following you in. He put a skip in his step before grinning, “I’ll keep you to that promise Sakura!” He yelled out before rushing inside, finding a seat near you.

Sakura tilted her head at the sudden energy boost from her friend. It wasn’t unusual for him to be excited about such a thing, but it wasn’t usual for him to just drop her hand immediately. She wasn’t necessarily upset with it, but she still found it strange. If she were to do that any other time, Naruto would’ve squeezed her hand, or he would’ve gotten extremely nervous, but he didn’t do that. He took it for help and dropped it to run inside. 

After a moment of thinking about it she decided to shrug the thought off, she wasn’t worried about it. Even if her thoughts were along the lines of their process, she should be appreciative either way.

Inside the restaurant, the blue eyed ninja found himself more comfortable with Sakura there. He didn’t know why he had to feel more comfortable, but his heart slowed, his palms stopped sweating, he felt cooler. He felt as if he could enjoy the night, like he didn’t have to think, so he didn’t.

That night was the last night all of you had eaten together. That night was specifically the last night that Naruto stopped eating with you, stopped being around you completely. 

You didn’t show much of a reaction to it at first, but Naruto wouldn’t have known, he hadn’t seen you since you all were together. Sakura, on the other hand, knew exactly how you felt. You may have kept a straight face and shrugged her off every time you asked, but she was still your friend.

The pink haired girl noticed your furrowed brows and slightly shaking iris’s when she told you that she was going to lunch with Naruto. You were so confused because you always heard of the plans from Naruto directly, when you asked Sakura she told you that “Naruto didn’t mention you.”

At those words you turned around and walked off, raising your hand in a half-hearted wave. You didn’t care, or at least that’s what you wanted everyone to think because Sakura could see the reality. Anyone would be able to know how you felt….your best friend just disregarded you, and hasn’t asked about you since. Anyone would be hurt to come to that conclusion. 

Naruto thought that his nerves were because he had missed Sakura dearly, he was only really nervous when she wasn’t around. He came to that conclusion because of the way her presence calmed him, she brought him peace and he adored her for it. He adored her, that’s why everything felt wrong, because it got stronger so he needed to be near her.

He needed to be near her so he started inviting her to eat more often just with him. He began complimenting her more when there wasn’t a need for it, he tried to think of her more, he overexerted himself with energy to show Sakura that he wanted to be around her more. Naruto did all of this because he wanted the feelings to grow stronger, he wanted to ignite more passion. He wanted to be with her and feel more because of her.

So, why wasn’t he?

Eating with her is nice, it always is, but it feels like the usual. It’s peaceful, he eats and talks with her about their day, it’s just food with a friend. He didn’t feel any rush of emotions, he didn’t feel anything actually. 

That realization hit him one day when he was walking with Sakura, he was dropping her off to her tasks while he was going to keep going to the forest, he had training to do. Sakura waved him off when they reached her destination with a smile, Naruto reflecting it a bit wider with a thumbs up.

He continued to walk, releasing a breath he didn’t actually know he was holding. “I don’t get it.” He muttered to himself, scratching the back of his neck once he reached the training area. He decided to get his head spun straight and focus, this would be a good distraction for him, a good time to get away from any feeling.

Barely an hour into the training session, Jiraiya was standing in front of him with a blank expression. His arms were crossed against his chest as he stared at Naruto, a bit of concern sparked in his eyes. The man sighed and ran a hand through his white hair, “You’re distracted.”

“What makes you say that?”

The mentor stared down at the boy who was drenched in water from the exercise he failed to execute, causing him to sink. Naruto was currently drying himself off, and was asking what made it look like he was distracted.

Jiraiya tilted his head with a raised brow, “What’s with you today?”

“Nothing!” Naruto answered, springing himself up from the ground, small droplets of water shaking from his hair. “I’m super focused!” He claimed with a smile, ready for the next exercise to try.

There was silence in response and Jiraiya didn’t even try to make a movement.

“Okay, I’m a little distracted.” He finally admitted, dropping back to the ground with a small frown.

The white haired man sat in front of Naruto, crossing his legs. He smiled, relieved that Naruto was being truthful. “What’s on your mind?”

Naruto huffed out a breath, running a hand through his wet hair as he hunched over. “It’s…” He paused, hissing through his teeth, “complicated.”

“Try me.”

There was another portion of silence until the blonde took a deep breath and let go. “I’ve been feeling overwhelmed?” He questioned his own words, putting his face into his hands, “That’s not right, I mean my stomach’s been twisting and turning, I’ve been feeling hot, I just…”

“You don't look sick.” Was the response to Naruto's words, Jiraiya looked the boy over, he looked fine. His complexion was normal, he was able to move, he just looked like he had a lot on his mind.

Naruto shook his head, “I’m not sick, I don’t think…” He trailed off, groaning as he grasped his hair, “It’s so complicated! I don’t know why my heart keeps beating faster, why my body feels like it can’t work, why my face gets hotter every day, I can’t figure anything out anymore!” He ranted out, leaning back so far to the point he was splayed out on the ground in frustration.

His mentor gently laughed and patted Naruto on his knee, “Ah, Sakura, huh?”

“What?” Naruto asked, sitting up halfway, supported by his elbows. “What about her?”

“I mean, you’re feeling this when she’s around, right?”

Naruto shook his head, “I thought it was because I missed her, but…I don’t really feel anything like that when she’s around.” He shrugged, “It’s like when I’m talking to you, I feel fine.”

The older man's brows furrowed, “But…when do you feel like this?”

“I don’t know! It just happens.”

“Are you sure you’re not around anyone else?”

Naruto tried to think, staring out to the water as he did. Everytime he felt that way, it disappeared as soon as Sakura got there, but why was he feeling it in the first place? Was there anyone else there when he felt that way? It was always him…and…you.

“I mean..I guess so.”

“Who?”

Naruto said your name with a small tilt of his head, “But, I don’t know what he has to do with anything, he was always there, we all hang out.”

The elder man scratched his head with a sigh, “Okay, hold on.” He paused, trying to find the right words to say, “You like Sakura?”

“Yes! Well, no! It’s.. I don’t think I ever really liked her like that.” Naruto stammered, sitting up fully as his face scrunched a bit in thought.

Jiraiya waved his hand, “Continue.”

Naruto hummed as he tried to think of how to word his thoughts, “I just admired her, I mean I still do.” He told him, “She’s one of my greatest friends.” Naruto explained with a small grin, “She’s intelligent and determined with everything she does, and I always want to be there for her to help her with whatever goals she has.”

There was a bit of silence, so Jiraiya pushed a bit, “But?”

“But that’s really it, I don’t feel anything else.”

His mentor nodded and adjusted his shirt, “What about…him?”

“You know, when I call him a friend I don’t mind but…something hurts.” Naruto answered honestly, bringing his hand up to clasp his chest.

“Hurts?”

Naruto nodded, “Like a pain in my chest, it just doesn't feel nice.” He answered, frowning a bit. 

“Are you sure what you’ve been feeling isn't because of him?” The white haired man asked curiously, seeing no other option for the situation.

Naruto laughed a bit, letting go of his chest, before he could answer he thought about it for a bit. He did always feel his heart beating faster, his face flushing, and his body beginning to shake every time you were near him. He did sometimes look at you a bit longer, or want to be around you longer, but he’s always felt like that. Naruto shook his head, “No…” He trailed off as he continued to think about it, “I mean, he’s been there, but we…”

Jiraiya began to frown slightly at Naruto’s sudden spike of confusion. The man scooted forward and placed a hand on Naruto's shoulder, “Naruto, it’s not unusual to feel strongly about someone you’re close to, but sometimes those feelings can be more than platonic.” He spoke slowly, gently rubbing at his shoulder.

Naruto was silent, his head downcasted. Before Jiraiya could speak anymore, the boy stood and began to walk, “I’ll be back for training tomorrow, I swear.” He spoke before walking through the trees back to the village. 

Jiraiya chewed the inside of his cheek before clapping his hands on his knees, “Hopefully that turns out alright.” He mumbled to himself before standing and brushing himself off.

You were currently meditating at the edge of town where anyone could find you if they needed you, you’d been doing it for a bit since you had no one to really be around for anything other than tasks. You took deep breaths, feeling your chest rise and fall, feeling your blood circulating through you. You were aware of your surroundings even though your eyes were closed, you were aware and alert.

When you heard footsteps, you didn’t think much of it, it could be a passing villager, they never bothers you. Since they never bothered you, you didn’t bother to open your eyes, they would pass and you would return to your sense of peace. Unfortunately, you couldn’t return to peace because the person stopped right in front of you.

You began to open your eyes, “What can I help wi-” Your question was partially cut off when you saw Naruto Uzumaki dripping with water in front of you. “You’re wet.”

Naruto scoffed a bit in disbelief at your observation, “I haven’t seen you in almost two weeks, and that’s the first thing you say?” He asked, a smile beginning to grow on his face as he pushed his hair back slightly.

You stood up slowly, “Maybe if you weren’t dripping with water I would be angrier.”

Your friend sighed, “I sank in the lake.”

You tried your best not to laugh but your hand covering your mouth proved inefficient. 

Naruto shook his head, “I deserved that, I’m sorry.” He told you honestly, smile dropping, as did his hand in his hair. “That wasn’t fair to you.”

You tilted your head side to side, “I guess that’s a solid apology.” You hummed out, crossing your arms, “I hope your dates with Sakura proved worth it, you’re buying my food for a week.”

“Dates?”

You blinked at Naruto, eye twitching slightly as you walked forward and gently grasped his shirt, “You weren’t ignoring me for no reason, right?” You asked, eyes scarily wide, “You were going on dates with Sakura…right?”

Naruto laughed nervously and you felt your anger shoot into your nerves as you gripped his shirt a little tighter. The blonde waved his hands a bit, “Wait! Wait! I surrender, let me explain!” He pleaded, partially begged.

You let him go reluctantly and crossed your arms over your chest, tapping your foot on the ground. “Okay, explain.”

Naruto put his hand on his chest for a breath and gave you a wide smile. “Well, I was feeling nervous.”

“Nervous?”

He nodded, “My heart was speeding up, my hands were shaking, I was blushing a lot, I couldn’t find words, I couldn’t make eye conta-”

“So, you were just nervous around her and wanted to get over that?” You interrupted, trying to connect what was going on yourself.

Naruto shook his head, holding his hand up to tell you to just wait. “I wasn’t feeling all that with Sakura, I was feeling it when I was around you.” He spoke quickly, not letting you respond before he continued. “I know I’ve been going about it the wrong way, but I really didn’t know until someone basically pried my eyes open to see that I really like you!” He announced,. His voice getting a little loud, his eyes closed tightly. Once he finished his confession his breathing was heavy from all the breath he used up to say everything at once.

You were stood in shock, to the point your hands dropped to your sides. Once you came to your senses you smiled a bit, “Can you open your eyes?” You asked him, and he just shook his head quickly. You walked forward and gently cupped Naruto's face, causing him to screw his eyes shut even tighter.

A laugh escaped you and you gently shook his head with your hands on the sides of his face. When he still wouldn’t open his eyes you leaned forward, gently kissing his eyelids, “Can you please open your eyes?” You asked, pecking the bridge of his nose.

The blonde's face began to flush red as he slowly opened his eyes, his sights filled with you smiling at him. He reached his own hand up and gently cupped your cheek, causing you to lean into his touch, your face was warm. 

“So, you like me too?” Naruto asked, gaze darting over your face for any other reaction from you.

You gently rolled your eyes and pulled Naruto's face closer, “I really like you.” You answered, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. The blonde kept his hand on the side of your face, the other reaching for your waist to pull you closer as he tried to deepen the kiss.

You pulled back, placing your noses together, “You’re still buying my food for a week.” You stated with a nod, rubbing your noses together.

Naruto laughed with a wide smile, “Deal.” He mumbled before pressing his lips to yours once more, he couldn’t get enough of you, and now he could have as much of you as he wanted.

[infiniteimaginings]

Hello love bugs!! Your favorite (constantly) sick author is back with angst in every story they’ve written!

I am still not feeling 100% well (my immune system is pure shit) but to be fair I haven’t been completely resting so it’s also completely on me. (I’m preparing for college, don’t be too mad at me, it’s a lot of paperwork and stuff i’ve never dealt with before lololol)

I’m getting the stories back on track and posting again but you guys probably won’t get little posts like these from me again until July since I’m actually gonna chill and lay off the screens (and I’ll be on a cruise the last week of June) (my last moment of true rest and peace)

The Naruto Uzumaki story will post tomorrow the 12th

The Violet Bridgerton Story will post the 13th

The Penelope Featherington story will post on the 16th (changed from the 14th)

Everything will be back on schedule once the 16th hits

Details changed due to personal reasons.

Everything until like “Reckless” Book!Percy Jackson will be posted on time (on schedule if no technical difficulties) [July 5th] without you guys hearing from me in separate posts, then authors notes will be back after July 7th!

Thank you! Love you!