This Would Have Been My Dream As A Kid, I Love This So Muchh

i think a LOT of you with chronic conditions should learn this one magical phrase to get your hospital doctor to shit his entire pants, which is leaving the room and saying "im going to go discuss your behavior with the ethics committee, i think you might need a reminder of what your job is"

pls rb if you think cuddling doesn't have to be s3xual

im tryna prove a point to my bf's mother help me out

Percy, in the middle of battle: goddess, save us all.

Someone: don't you mean gods?

Percy: nope. Most of them are unreliable. I only pray to Hestia, and when I asked she said that she preferred she/her pronounce.

I'm desperate

Ahhh this is so good! I know this is just a two part one shot, but if you ever consider making it into a larger series PLEASE add me to the tag list.

I love reading daredevil x reader writing but the angst in this is fantastic! Frank Castle has me in a chokehold I swear.

Now That We Don't Talk | Frank Castle x F!Reader

BONUS FIC

See this post for more information on my Valentine's Day Special & Follower Celebration, but these fics can be read separately!

Read Is It Over Now? for better clarity.

Pairing: Frank Castle x F!Reader (past Matt Murdock x F!Reader)

Summary: You go home with the guy from the bar, and he makes you forget about your ex.

Warnings: SMUT (18+ MINORS DNI), oral f!receiving, use of "attagirl", slight Dom!Frank, song references, unprotected p in v, dirty talk

Word Count: 2.9k

A/n: You wanted a part 2, so you're getting a part 2! Anyway, I don't write Frank often, so I hope it isn't too bad. It's also not as spicy as you probably expected, but I wanted this to fit the vibe of the previous fic (link above). You don't need to have read it to understand this, but it is highly recommended because some references might confuse you. Thank you all for taking part in this event!

You believed that your life had ended when you lost him. He painted your world in the brightest colors, but by breaking your heart, he took them away. All that was left to see was a boring shade of gray in a sea of sadness. 

Matt told you from the start that being with him wouldn’t be easy. You were willing to try. He needed someone, and you wanted to be that someone to him. You accepted him unconditionally. 

In the end, giving everything wasn’t enough. He chose her over you, and the castle you two had built came crashing down on you while he stood idly by. 

You’re not a bitter person, you have never been, but he made you fall for him; he made you believe that there was hope for the future and that you would grow old together. He stole years of your life in which you were trying to save him from himself. In return, he took the best care of you, but that doesn’t matter much now that he has taken your heart and shattered it like a glass of red wine on a white cloth. 

When you left him, you thought the distance would kill you. You truly believed that this was the end of everything, not just your relationship with the man you thought was the one but yourself as well. “This isn’t what it looks like!” he said the day you found out the ugly truth.

“I trusted you,” you remember saying. You couldn’t even cry. The pain burned brighter than the sun, and it dried your eyes before they could even shed a tear.  

He argued with you that, “It was just a kiss,” but you not once believed him. 

“Are you sure about that? ‘Cause if I ask Elektra, I’m sure she will tell me the truth.”

“No.”

It was at that moment you lost all of your trust in him—in what could have been or should have been the two of you, forever—and it was also the moment that Matt realized he had lost you. 

You believed that he took everything you ever were that day because your life revolved around him, and only him. 

You remember him opening his mouth, having the audacity to apologize. “I’m sorry,” he said, begging you not to leave. 

“Fuck you!” you had never sworn at him until that day.

You still remember the way the necklace with his initial felt when you tore it off your neck and tossed it at his feet. He knew you better than anyone, and you felt like you finally belonged somewhere. That necklace was a symbol of your undying love, or so you thought, anyway. Now you know that he may have known you to some extent, but you didn’t matter enough for him not to climb into bed with his ex-girlfriend.

You couldn’t even look at the necklace. He told you, “This is a piece of my heart,” when he gave it to you on a snowy Christmas Day three years ago. You cherished it the same way you cherished his soul. He was broken, but he was your broken man. He was everything to you. 

Matt Murdock was your moon, your son, and your entire universe. It all seemed far away that you could ever feel about anyone this way again. 

You saw a future with him. Married, a house in the suburbs, and working with Foggy and Karen in their new law office after everything they’ve been through. You were a hopeful person back then.

Karen told you that he went to a party a couple of weeks after you separated. He didn’t look like himself. You wonder if he felt anxious, knowing his only source of comfort was no longer there. You wouldn’t know until you asked him, but you refused to answer his calls.

Part of you felt euphoric, knowing that he was broken too, but you also felt angry because he was the reason you found your heart beyond repair as he stepped on it like a burning cigarette, and in your mind, he had no right to feel this way.

You’re a fucking traitor, Matthew Murdock! I wish we’d never met.

“Another one for the lady,” a voice says beside you. 

Your empty glass of tequila disappears and a full one slides in its place. In your drunken haze, you see a head of brown hair, and his smirk makes you wonder if there’s more to him than he lets on. 

“Thank you,” you murmur, tipping your glass to the stranger. 

“Nah, don’t thank me.” He gets up from his seat and sits down on the empty bar stool next to you. “You look miserable,” he says.

“What if I am?”

“I’d tell you I know the feeling.”

You huff but offer the stranger your hand. You introduce yourself. 

He smiles. Your name rolls off his tongue effortlessly. “Frank,” he introduces himself in return. “Castle.”

“Nice to meet you,” you say. 

You thought nothing and no one could pull you out of the dark hole your breakup tossed you into. You believed yourself dead and long beyond the point of redemption. You accepted it. You swallowed in your misery, giving up on finding a new purpose in your life because the one great thing you had was no longer yours. He fell into a grave that he dug for himself, and he dragged your relationship down with him.

Looking into Frank’s eyes now though, you no longer feel like a corpse. And you realize that you are not dead, not at all—you are very much alive. 

The door almost breaks off its hinges when Frank shoves you into his apartment and back against it. The decision to come back to his place was fueled by a lot of alcohol and the way he looked at you. You were desperate to feel something other than the hollow ache that has consumed you every day for months. His eyes told you that he may be able to give you just what you need, no strings attached.

The way he kisses you breathes new life into your mangled soul. He swallows your mouth and your needy moans with his own, and his tongue forces itself down your throat as your teeth clash in a fight for dominance. You’re both tipsy, but he seems to know just what he’s doing.

His calloused fingers burn against your skin. In the back of your mind, Matt is still so present. His hands are the ones you can’t help but compare him to. 

The way he used to kiss you before fucking you into the mattress for hours on end, switching between tasting and fingering you until you were whimpering and begging him for release might have screwed you up forever. He told you one night that he wanted to ruin you for any other man. Back then, you both still believed that you would grow old together.

It is truly ironic how fast things change when you are truly happy and believe that nothing can burst your bubble.

Frank’s large hands brace against the door on either side of your head. His lips disappear from yours. “Who is he?” he asks, his voice rough like gravel.

You meet his eyes, unsure of what to say. Your mind is everywhere but here, and yet it is right with him. Whether it is alcohol or self-loathing, you’re not sure. 

“What?” you whisper.

“You’re trynna forget someone. Who is it?”

He is a lot more perceptive than you thought.

You swallow, blood rushing to your head. “I’m sorry, I didn’t–” you didn’t what? Think? You feel utterly pathetic.

Instead of throwing you out though, like you expected he would, he reaches out to caress your cheek. His eyes soften as they gaze at you. “Whoever he is, he obviously didn’t treat you right,” he says. “If you want to go, I’m not stoppin’ you, but if you wanna forget whoever is fuckin’ with your head, I’ll make damn sure you forget his name by the end of tonight.”

There is something excitingly terrifying about the look in his eyes. A shiver runs down your spine, and your thighs clench at the thought of feeling his hands somewhere other than your face. Somewhere other than your hips and thighs. His kisses knocked the air out of your lungs. You want more, you need more, but you don’t know if you can take it. Not him—even though you’re also not quite sure if you can take him—but also the offer he is presenting to you. As lucrative as it sounds, fuck, you are not over Matt. And you’re not sure if you can ever forget him.

You want to though. You have to. And you want to be thoroughly fucked into the next day and forget the name of the man that makes you so fucking angry.  

“Talk to me,” Frank coaxes your head toward him. “Do you wanna forget the useless bastard that made you feel this way?”

“Yes,” you manage a breathless whisper.

“Did he hurt you? Break your heart?”

You nod.

“You deserve better.” His grip tightens, and his hand slowly slides to your neck. “I’m not, but I’ll fuck you so hard, you’ll forget his name and scream mine loud enough for this fuckin’ city to know who’s making you feel good. ‘s that what you want, hm?”

He’s dangerous, but that has never turned you off, even when it should have.

And when you finally open your mouth and tell him, “Yes, please. Make me forget,” the switch inside of him flicks completely.

He takes his time to worship between your thighs. His tongue buried in your pussy, his lips sucking on your clit without mercy. He eats you out roughly but sensually, keeping you spread wide open for him with both of his hands and a force unmatched—like a five-course meal, and he has all the time in the world for you. 

You’re lost in the throes of pleasure. You want to buck your hips against his mouth because no matter what he does, you’re on fire and you just can’t get enough, but he is so powerful that you can’t fight him. He has you at his mercy, your body in his hands, and all the control in the world over you. 

You pull at his hair, moaning helplessly as he feasts on your pussy. You’re going mad, you’re sure. He’s doing this on purpose, driving you to the edge before stopping the wave. Frank waits until your orgasm is just far enough for you to last a little longer, kissing the inside of your thighs, and then he dives right back into your wet folds. He thrusts his tongue into your hole, licks up to your clit, and then sucks on the swollen bundle until your legs are shaking in his hands. 

“Jesus, Frank!” you moan out. A trail of sweat runs from your temple down to your breasts. 

Your hands search for something to hold onto, tangling in the sheets and the pillow behind your head before pulling at the fabric. You tried pulling at his hair, but he wouldn’t let you. 

“That’s right,” he growls. “Come for me.”

Your back arches off the mattress. His name leaves your lips in a desperate shout as your orgasm crashes into you. 

“Attagirl.”

Your brain is hulled into an endless fog, but Frank doesn’t stop. 

Soon, you’re on your stomach, gripping the headboard as he pounds into you from behind. He is long and thick, and with every thrust, he forces your face deeper into the pillows. Your eyes have rolled back into your head. He hits that spongy spot inside of you whenever he pleases, and the gurgled moans from the pit of your throat spur him on to speed up, change the angle and thrust even deeper. 

He pulls out all the way, thrusting back into you with full force until he is completely sheathed in your pussy. Your heat consumes him, and he sees red. But so do you. He has reduced you to a few incoherent thoughts, babbling his name in the wake of the drool that is dripping from the corner of your mouth. 

And when you come this time, it is pulled back straight against his chest with his fingers rubbing circles over your already abused clit. You come with a scream of his name, and nothing else matters but his cum in your cunt and the unbelievable depth of the feelings he is eliciting within you. 

You drop to the mattress like a wet towel, covered in his and your cum, and your sweat that has mingled with his. His smell lingers in the sheets as you bury your nose in it. He collapses on top of you. The crushing weight of him offers a sense of comfort that almost makes you cry. And he holds you as though you mean more to him than a One-Night stand he picked up to help forget a man who broke her heart. 

“What’d he do?” Frank asks into the silence later that night.

You are lying on his bed, covered by only his thin sheets. He’s sitting on the other side, nursing a glass of Bourbon. He held you, he cleaned you up, and he offered you some clothes, which you denied. He is kinder to you than you thought he would be, and it warms your heart in a way you can only deem utterly dangerous with how vulnerable you are. Broken people make dumb decisions, and you do not ever want to go through the same pain again. 

At least you know that you are still desired. That you’re not dead. Perhaps, there is still hope for a better future. You made Matt Murdock your life for the longest time, and maybe, as you realize now, that was a mistake. There is more to life than him, and you can live without him. That it took fucking a stranger after weeks of being miserable baffles you, but some things are just meant to happen. Maybe it was destiny, after all. 

You look at him when Frank repeats his question. “What’d the bastard do, hm?” he asks.

Where do you even start? 

When you last checked in on him through your mutual friends—you know it wasn’t the best choice, but you couldn’t help it—they told you that grew his beard, and he last had a haircut when you were still together. It suits him, apparently, but you couldn’t bring yourself to look at a picture of him.

Foggy told you that he isn’t taking home girls when they go to a bar, even though he could have all of them. He’s sad. He drowns himself at work and beats his fist bloody every night. The old you would have jumped up to help him. And it is true that you will probably always love him, in a way, but you refuse to crawl back to him.

The more you gave, the more he took, and at the first chance at getting a woman he claimed to no longer love when she came back into your lives, he took her. He couldn’t have wanted you as badly as he claimed if that was enough for him to flush years of loving each other and going through hell together down the drain, knowing it would break your heart into a million pieces. That is probably the worst part about all of it.

You take a deep breath. Frank is still staring at you intently, waiting for an answer. “He fucked his ex,” you finally confess. “Four years of being together and it still wasn’t enough.”

His grip tightens around his glass. “Want me to pay him a visit?”

You chuckle, but you know that he would. “No. But thank you.”

Matt was fading long before you left. Even if you did choose to forgive him, you couldn’t be his friend, so things are better the way they are now. You paid the ultimate price for sacrificing your heart to a man who had too many struggles to deal with himself.

In the silence, you find a little light. “At least I don’t have to pretend to like Jazz anymore,” you say. 

Frank takes another sip, asking, “Jazz?”

“Yeah, Jazz. He loves it. He…He’s special. Well, he was to me, anyway.”

“Special? Fuck, the guy did a number on you, huh?”

You scoff. “You have no idea.”

The only way back to your dignity is to learn how to be without him. You have to turn yourself back into a mystery and learn how to trust someone again before your fragile heart breaks again.

“You still talk?” Frank asks.

You shake your head. “No. It’s over now,” you say. “We don’t talk anymore.”

“Told ya. You deserve better.”

“Nah.” You reach for his glass, taking a sip of the bitter liquor that you used to despise. Looking up at him through hooded eyes, you stretch his leg toward him. 

You need to keep forgetting Matt’s name, no matter what it takes or the reminiscing will surely kill you.

“Right now,” you murmur with an irresistible smirk that makes him leap at you as soon as the words pass your lips, “I just need to forget he ever existed by screaming someone else’s name.” 

Frank captures your lips in a bruising kiss, leaving you speechless and breathless all the same. 

Matt chased you, he caught you, and then he lost you. And now that Frank has you, you never want to look back. 

Now that you don't talk.

I don't have a tag list for Frank, so I'm just leaving this here.

I absolutely adore the way you write Emmett!! You represent his character very well while giving him (in my opinion) more dimension than he was ever given in the original books. He's meat headed but is almost always well intentioned and trying to have fun. I don't know if he has the capacity to hate anyone lol.

This story is one of my favorites to read, and every post is a treat, thank you Author!

Also your new cat is super cute <3

Bound | Chapter 6

Word Count: 4.5K

Summary: Rosalie always carried the resentment of not being able to fulfill the image of the perfect family she had in her head. But the universe had set out to grant her everything she could’ve hoped for in the most unconventional way and in the form of a witch. Can their love withstand the promise of forever or will Rosalie and (Y/N) succumb to the grapples of time?

A/N: I have had 0 inspiration to write, but I've been working on a couple of new things, especially an avatar request that came in last year 👀👀

<- Previous

Two years had passed since the night that should have been her last, and Rosalie had felt it. Now that she truly had forever to look forward to, it should have felt like the blink of an eye. But she couldn’t help but feel like life had decided just to drag her along. 

It had been two years, and she still didn’t feel quite part of the family. She enjoyed Esme’s company and valued Carlisle’s mind, but Edward was worse than a weed that wouldn’t stop growing. No matter how many times you plucked it, it simply grew back. He was irritating and insufferable, and it made Rosalie’s just that much irksome. 

They hadn’t been able to remain in Rochester for too long due to the girl’s victims, and he never failed to mention it. It was as though he would find any moment he could to bother her. And his mind-reading powers didn’t help to subside his already massive ego, believing that just because could listen to the thoughts of others that he knew everything. 

But he didn’t know the true pain and sadness that lived deep inside Rosalie. If he had, she was sure he’d beg for a way to shut her mind off. There was dread and despair like no other, carried from years long before she had died. It was a darkness that she carried all by herself. 

More often than not, Rosalie kept to herself. Other than her sporadic afternoon chats with Esme or Carlisle—often both—she truly didn’t do much else. School didn’t interest her yet, especially not when her only company would be Edward. She’d rather stay home and read. Morning, noon, and night, she was found with a book in her hands. There was nothing else that interested her, not even the Cadillac that had traveled with them all the way from New York. 

It had lain untouched in the garage of their Tennessee home, a thick layer of dust covering the baby blue of its lacquer. As much as it tempted her to get her hands dirty and fix it up until it came roaring back to life, Rosalie found that there was no point to it. She would never need another set of wheels in her life—at least, not really. 

Even when it came time to feed, Rosalie would prefer her own company. When the other three would go out together to hunt as a family, the blonde remained at the house, waiting for their return. Once they had eaten, then and only then would she go out herself. There were times when Edward would extend the hunting trips just to see how far she would push things, how long she would go while she was hungry. But if he thought she’d ever give in, he was dumber than he looked. No matter how long she had to wait, she would go on her own terms. Clearly, the boy had yet to grasp how stubborn she could be. 

 Much like she had done before, that morning, Rosalie had escaped into the mountains of Tennessee to find an animal to feed on. The family had just come back from a weekend-long trip that the girl had refused to join once more. Unfortunately, she still had to feed, and the moment they were back, she was gone. 

It was a rather cloudy morning in the state, and the mist from the morning felt heavenly on her skin. She breathed in the smell of dew, pine, and soil, reveling in the senses she still had available to her. But as she walked deeper into the woods, the scent transformed and set off the dangerous hunger that she had. 

She knew the smell well but had stayed away from its taste since her turning. Iron filled her nostrils, making her stomach rumble with a dizzying need. It blinded her to all reason, and all she desired was the crimson liquid. Rosalie had never taken a drop of blood, but she could imagine how the warm fluid would feel going down her throat, coating her mouth in a flavor unlike anything she had tasted before. She could feel her fangs sinking into soft flesh, her mouth filling with the venom that coursed through her veins. It was a feeling like no other, and it terrified her to how quickly her mind turned to a primal state. 

Until she saw where the smell was coming from. 

As she came upon the scene before her, all need for the taste of blood vanished, replaced by the need to save the boy she had come upon. There, in the middle of the woods, a man who looked shockingly similar to Henry, Vera’s son, was losing a fight with a black bear. He was on the ground, covered in slashes and bites, blood clinging onto his skin like it was meant to be there. And even as the bear towered over him, claiming his life as its own, the boy kept laughing and taunting it. It seemed if he was going to go down, he’d be doing it on his own terms. 

Rosalie knew there was no possible way that the boy being attacked could ever be Henry. The babe had all but celebrated his second birthday, and there was no reason he’d be fully grown and in Tennessee. But she couldn’t help the protective instinct that took over her when she saw the man being attacked. Where she would normally allow life to take on its course, she could not stop herself from getting involved. That boy deserved to live; something deep inside told her so. 

Without another thought, she sped out of her hiding place and pounced on the bear, breaking its neck in one swift move before sinking her teeth into its neck. The smell of blood had already made her stomach turn, her mouth salivating like it had never before. Yet, her resolve was stronger than her hunger. She allowed the bear’s warm blood to coat her mouth, satiating the desire for feeding before turning to the battered man. 

“I’m dead, aren’t I?” he questioned with a smile on his face. “There’s no way I’d meet an angel on Earth.” 

“You’re not dead yet,” she said. “And you won’t really be if I have anything to do with it.” 

“An angel in real life,” he muttered. “How great my luck?” 

Rosalie took the boy in her arms like he weighed nothing. She sped through the woods with a newfound resilience. He wasn’t Henry, of course not, she kept telling herself. But she had stumbled across him for some reason, and something told her she had to save him. 

The smell of his blood taunted her as she sped through the woods to where the Cullens resided. She could feel the warmth seeping through her fingers, coating her skin and her clothes. And though she had satiated her hunger with the bear, she couldn’t help her new nature. But, the look on the boy’s face stopped any urge she may have had. 

The brunette had fallen asleep in her arms, possibly due to his blood loss. Still, his heart beat in his chest, and in only a few minutes, she’d be in Carlisle’s office, begging him to save him. Her legs carried her forward until she finally arrived at her destination. 

It was Esme who saw her first. She had been tending to the garden when the metallic smell of the boy’s blood hit her nostrils.  “What happened?” the woman questioned. “Who is he?”

“I have no idea,” Rosalie responded as they walked toward Carlisle. “I found him trying to fight a bear. Clearly, we know who was winning.”

“Oh, his pulse is very weak,” Esme said. “You’ve brought him to Carlisle.”

“Yes,” the girl stated. “Something tells me he’d want to live.”

There was no other moment than that when Rosalie understood why Carlisle had decided to change her. Minus the belief that she could be someone’s partner, she could finally comprehend his inability to let a life go to waste right in front of him. She knew she could have left the boy to perish at his own stupidity and face the consequences of his actions. But he was right there, and he looked so much like Henry. The girl knew she’d spend her eternity regretting not saving him. 

Once Carlisle had agreed, noting the desperation in Rosalie’s eyes, she remained by the door of the room they had put the boy in. For three days and two nights, there was groaning and screaming as the pain from the transition took over his body, freezing every inch of his youth and fixing anything that had dared damage his skin. 

Then, on the third night, a perfect-skinned, red-eyed Emmett McCarty—she had finally learned his name— emerged from the room. Rosalie and Carlisle then explained to him about his new existence. He’d taken a second to process the information, but he didn’t grow mad or even think they were mad. Instead, he smiled. He called Rosalie and angel and Carlisle a god. Such a hellish existence could be bearable with people like that on his side. Unlike Rosalie, he didn’t quite mind the vampire life. 

Edward took him hunting first, making it a boys’ trip. He’d been reluctant at first, questioning why Ros wouldn’t go with them. But the second he stepped outside and felt the freedom and power of his new abilities, all was forgotten. 

Rosalie didn’t mind the rest, though. In the first few days of his new life, Emmett had grown rather doting on the blonde. He’d follow her everywhere, filled with questions and gratitude. At first, she didn’t mind the adoration–she was accustomed to being doted upon. But after the 30th hour of his pleasantries, she couldn’t help but remember all the nice words people in her short life had gifted her. All the compliments and accolades she had acquired from them, and how she had believed every single one. She had believed every single one of them until it drove her to her death. So, the second there was a window of silence, she welcomed it. 

In the quiet, the girl felt a surge of inspiration. She headed to the home’s garage and uncovered the beautiful Cadillac that had been buried under a layer of dust for months. It was as perfect as the day Carlisle had brought it home for her. The blue was just as vibrant, the metal perfect and smooth—truly the car of her dreams. The best part? She would be able to bring it back to life with her own two hands. 

Once she opened the hood, she was transported to a time when she was happy. She could hear her father telling her which were the parts that made up the car, hear her little brothers running rampant through the yard as her mother ran behind them. If she closed her eyes, she could almost feel like she was there. 

Suddenly, an overwhelming feeling of nostalgia took her hostage. Though it was impossible, her lungs felt devoid of air, and her heart felt as though it hammered inside her chest. She slammed the hood closed and covered the vehicle once more. She needed to leave. She needed an escape. 

“Is everything alright, Rosalie?” Esme questioned as she came to check the commotion. “What was that noise?”  

“Everything is fine,” Rosalie tried to smile. “I just need to take a walk. Empty my mind.”  

“Do you want some company? I could…”  

“It’s quite alright, Esme. I think I just need some time to myself.”  

Before the woman could add anything else, Rosalie was on the move. Even if she spent most of the time alone, she needed to be by herself. It had only been two years since she had last seen her family, and still, their memory was seared into her brain. 

She wondered if they had given up on their search and declared her dead. Or maybe they were still putting up posters, hoping one day there would be new information on her whereabouts. She wondered if her brothers had begun dating and if they told those girls about the sister they used to have—maybe they hadn’t even cared to talk about it with their friends. But she held onto the hope that they held her memory fondly, that they missed the girl who would oftentimes tuck them into bed and read them a bedtime story or the girl who quietly taught them about cars when they were much too young to be fiddling with the machines. And how she wished she could still be able to do that. 

Now, she could only hope that her parents held them just a little bit closer and didn’t raise them like they had her. They were just as beautiful as her, and they were sure to be able to marry well. But she prayed they were able to simply live and enjoy the fleeting moments that made up their existence. She pleaded for them to grow up to be kind and decent men who held her memory alive. 

Knowing her family would one day grow old and pass made her heart hurt. She couldn’t withstand the thought that they’d live an entire life and simply disappear–not that she’d wish for them her immortality. They would be on earth for a moment, and the next, they’d be gone. And she would never know when or from what. That was the curse of her existence. Everyone she knew and loved would one day be gone, and she was meant to live on and on and on and on….

Not seeing her family was the worst part of it all. And that’s all she could think of as she walked back to the house. Night had come and gone, and the sun was starting to peek over the horizon. She hadn’t meant to stay out too late, but time had slipped away as she daydreamed of her past and her family’s future. The girl couldn’t help that her mind had trailed on and on, punishing her with memory after memory of the life she was forced to leave behind.

But one thing kept her afloat: the thought of Vera and Henry living a happy life with a man who truly seemed to adore her. She’d get to live everything they had both dreamed of, even if she wasn’t there to see it. And that was all she could have asked for. If Rosalie wasn’t able to have what she wanted, she was glad Vera did. 

The men had returned from their hunt. Carlisle was with Esme in the garden, telling her how it had been a success, but it would take Emmett some time to fully acclimate to their lifestyle. It was to be expected that the newborn vampire would struggle with blood lust–not that Rosalie faced much of that problem. 

 “Are you feeling better, Rosalie?” Esme asked as the girl neared the house. “You had me quite worried.” 

“Much better,” she said. “It’s just what I needed.” 

“I saw that you uncovered the Cadillac,” Carlisle mused. “Were you able to work on it?” 

“Not this time,” she responded. “I don’t think I’m ready yet to do so.” 

“Well, maybe one day.” 

“Yes,” she smiled softly. “Maybe one day.” 

She walked into the house, crossing a smug-looking Edward but giving him no mind as she headed toward her bedroom. He was the last person she wanted to interact with after the night she’d had–or anytime truly. So, she ignored his wisenheimer gaze and disappeared down the hall. 

It didn’t take long to figure out why he wore such a sly expression. Right on her dresser, a crystal vase rested, filled with blooming red roses and dazzling violets. At any given time, she would have swooned at the beautiful bouquet. But that specific arrangement made her blood boil in a way it hadn’t for two years. Anger surged from deep within her core, bubbling to the surface as destructive rage. 

Her hands wrapped around the vase as though it weighed no more than a piece of paper and smashed it to the ground, watching it explode into a million glimmering pieces. The crash resounded through the house like clapping thunder, alerting all of the vampires about her ire. 

Those flowers represented the worst part of her life and the person who had taken everything from her. Royce had showered her with them the whole time they were courting, and she had grown to despise those otherwise beautiful stems. They brought back every single memory that had soured with time, festering anger and disappointment in her heart. The last thing she wanted was to be gifted another bouquet of roses and violets that reminded someone of her eyes. And the only person who could have ever known how much she hated them was Edward. 

But she did not want to give him the satisfaction of a bigger reaction. The smashed antique vase was enough answer to his callous idea of a prank. Instead of chewing his ear off with another loud, angry rant, she remained in her room, sitting by her balcony and dreaming of a time when she was still happy. 

Rosalie couldn’t have known how much time had passed before she heard crunching behind her as someone dared to enter her room, and she knew exactly who it was.

“I take it you didn’t like the flowers,” Emmett said, chuckling with every ounce of his boyish charm. “Edward said they were your favorites. I can see now he was just wanting to get a rise out of you.” 

“I swear that boy’s only reason for existing is to try my patience,” she scoffed. “But I understand it wasn’t your fault. The flowers are beautiful, truly. They just remind me of some horrible things in my past that I would much rather leave there.” 

“Well, then, what flowers could I ever get you?” he mused. “You know if I ever wanted to make you another gift of gratitude that won’t end up shattered on the ground.” 

“Any other flower is fine,” she smiled softly. “Except for sunflowers.” 

“Another bad memory?”

“No,” she said as she wrapped her arms around herself. “They remind me of the best times in my life. But it’s a flower that can only belong to one person.” 

“Can I ask who?” 

“You will look at me differently,” she sighed. “It’s not something I’ve truly shared with anyone. And it’s not something I want someone like Edward to know.”

 “Well, it’s a good thing we can get away from him really fast,” the boy grinned. “And I promise you there is nothing you can tell me that will ever change what I think about you.”

Rosalie battled with herself. She could feel it in her gut that Emmett was true to his word and that she could trust him. But she had trusted before, and it had ended with her life. Although there was nothing more she could lose, not anymore. 

“Alright,” she said as she dug through her bedside table and pulled out a leather journal. “Let’s go.” 

The two of them left through the back door of the house and ran into the neighboring woods, getting as far away from Edward’s peering ears as they could. They made sure he had not followed before stopping by a nearby creek and sitting on a boulder. Their ears could only hear a soft stream of water and the chirping of some nearby birds, and they weren’t going to spill her most close-kept secret. 

“I’m sure you already know what happened to me and why I ended up a vampire,” she said. Her fingers ran through the notebook's cover, her eyes trained on the carved details rather than the red of Emmett’s eyes. “I trusted the wrong people back then, thinking they were the ones who could give me what I wanted out of life. I never thought I would ever lose any of it. “Royce, my ex-fiancée, used to always bring me roses because of my name. Then, he started giving me violets as well because he said my human eyes reminded him of them,” the blonde explained. “I can’t look or even smell those flowers without remembering what he did to me, Emmett. And, I guess I let that thought slip by with Edward present. That’s why he told you I liked those flowers—to get a reaction out of me.” 

“It sounds to me like you don’t really like Edward,” he chuckled. “Am I right?”

“I already spent enough of my life having to stand an egotistical man who thinks he’s better than everyone just because he has some kind of upper hand,” she scoffed. “I’m done pretending I can stand that kind of behavior. Now, I put up with him for Carlisle and Esme’s sake, but I can only take so much of him. He also said I wasn’t his type. And I’m everyone’s type.”  

“You certainly are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on,” the boy smirked. “But what about sunflowers? Why are those special?”

“That’s what might change your opinion of me,” she said meekly, her voice breaking slightly as she gripped the notebook tighter in her hands. “I need you to promise me, Emmett, that even if you hate me after I tell you this, you won’t even let the thought of it slip. I want to trust you with this because I do feel that you’re different. But I need you to promise me that no matter what, you will keep this secret to yourself.” 

“I promise, Rosalie,” he stated. “Whatever you tell me right now, I will take to my grave… or, well, my mental grave.” 

Rosalie opened her notebook with shaking hands and pulled out two pictures and the scrap of paper she had pulled from her missing poster flyer. She placed them in Emmett’s hands with a soft smile and explained. “That’s Vera,” she said as she pointed at the first paper. “She was my best friend since we were little. Grew up very differently, but we were inseparable. She got married young. Just seventeen. And then she had little Henry,” she smiled as she pointed at the second picture. “They were the closest thing I ever got to the family I had always wanted for myself.” 

“And this?” Emmett questioned as he palmed the scrap paper. “There are people here who love her more than sunflowers love the sun. Who wrote that?”

“Vera did,” she smiled sadly. “She published that on my missing person flyer without signing her name. It was the only way we found that we could tell each other we loved one another in public. Does a sunflower love the sun? That’s what we’d say every time we said goodbye to each other.” 

“But why wouldn’t you be able to tell her…?” his voice droned on as realization donned on him. “Oh.” 

“Yes, Emmett. Oh,” she sighed. “The world has never been kind to us, and we had to find a way to live our lives without people knowing.”

“So, that means you…” 

“Yes, Emmett, I like girls,” she confessed. “And you’re the first person I’ve ever said this out loud to. Now, if you look at me differently, if you think I’m just an abomination and you want to be as far away from me as possible, I understand.”  

Rosalie was ready for the rejection, the anger, the disgust. It was how others had always reacted when spoken about the topic, and she knew it was always coming. She had come to think those things of herself at some point. She believed she was an abomination, she believed she was sin incarnate. But she was not prepared for a smile and a comforting hand. “That explains why none of my flirting has worked,” he chuckled. “Good to know it wasn’t me.” 

“W-what?” she stammered. “You don’t… you don’t mind?” 

“Why would I?” the boy responded softly. “I just recently found out that vampires exist, and I turned into one. I think there are stranger things out there, and love ain’t one of them.” 

“So, you don’t think there’s something wrong with me? That I’m perverse or that I’m crazy?” 

“I could never, Rosalie. I’ve seen girls,” he smirked. “I can understand why you’d like them. I know I do.” 

“The only person that has ever reacted that way was Vera, and that’s because she liked girls too,” she smiled. “I never thought I’d meet anyone else like that.” 

“Well, now you have someone else who will love you no matter what, Rose,” he smiled. “Obviously, I will only be a friend. But you’ll always have me by your side. You saved my life and gave me a chance to experience life in a completely different way. The least I can do is give you my love and understanding.” 

“You know, the only other person that ever knew this thought I was an abomination,” she recalled. “He told me he had taken pity on me when he’d seen us kiss once. I didn’t even know he had seen. We were always so careful. Maybe that’s what got me killed in the end. If it hadn’t…” 

“It is not up to you who you love, Rosalie,” Emmett comforted, squeezing her hand softly. “And there is absolutely nothing wrong with who you love. What that man did has no words, and if he wasn’t already dead, I’d have gone up to Rochester and killed him myself. You should be allowed to be with whoever you want.” 

“But it’s not the world we live in,” she sighed. “And now I have to go through eternity hiding who I am.” 

“Maybe not. Maybe we’ll see a world where you’ll be able to love who you love,” he said. “Isn’t that the beauty of immortality? We’ll be able to see the world around us change.”  

“It could get worse.” 

“But what if it gets so much better?”  

“You’re so optimistic,” she chuckled. “How did you end up this way?” 

“I thought I could fight a bear,” he laughed. “But, really, we won’t know about the future until it happens. So, why would we think up the worst?” 

“I guess that’s one way of looking at it.” 

“It’s better to think that things can get better rather than believing they’ll be worse,” he shrugged. “Now, come here and tell me about Vera and this handsome Henry. He kinda looks like me.” 

With a bright smile, she turned to the picture, “Well, she was the person who taught me what love could be.” 

And at that moment, by that creek, as she told Emmett all about the girl that had stolen her heart, Rosalie felt herself grow light. If someone else could accept her as she was, then maybe she could do the same for herself. And someday, maybe one day, she’d meet the girl who could love her too.

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This is so cute, I love this Bridgerton cinderella story, and I can't wait to see more!

Could I be added to the tag list?

A Cinderella Story || Anthony Bridgerton

-PART FIVE-

Summary: Have courage, and be kind. Words that you tried to live by ever since the passing of your parents. Though your step-mother and step-sisters did everything in their power to hide you and your status away from the rest of the Ton, you never expected to catch the eye of Viscount Anthony Bridgerton himself.

Authors Note: This is my first Bridgerton series! I had an absolute ball writing this, and I hope you enjoy it! There is a tag list open if anyone wishes to be kept updated for future parts. Gif by @venusianbabie

|PART ONE| |PART TWO| |PART THREE| |PART FOUR|

With the house descending into silence, you allowed yourself a moment to collapse onto the lounge in the living room with a loud sigh. With tired eyes your gaze focused on the ceiling, staring at the crystal chandelier as it glittered brightly.

A small smile crossed your lips, grateful for the peace and quiet. Lady Worthington, Mary and Elizabeth had left for the ball mere minutes ago, all of them excited and nervous about their prospects for the night. You hoped that Elizabeth and Lord Burton would get a chance to speak tonight, she had been so beside herself before she entered the carriage to depart. They had travelled with the Cowper family, who had sneered at your person when you had helped the Worthington’s to the carriage.

The train attached to Lady Worthington’s dress was a nightmare to manage, all bundled up in your arms so as to not drop it in the mud at your feet. You were covered in it now, thanks to a harsh push from Cressida who sent you sprawling onto the ground. Luckily however, you managed to save the train though.

You felt the sting of tears prick your eyes, a sense of sadness overwhelming you. How had you become so unfortunate? To be stuck with a wicked witch for a stepmother, and two stepsisters that laughed at you upon your little trip in the dirt. Elizabeth hadn’t said anything, nor looked your way when Mary and Elizabeth started to cackle loudly. She merely turned away; her eyes downcast as she carried herself into the awaiting carriage.

You missed your father, you missed your mother. Their love and kindness was completely gone from this home, the home you had grown up in as a child. You cried into the cushions, sobbing loudly and desperately. You had never felt so alone, so vulnerable…so lost. You knew that they would want you to be brave, to stay strong, and to have hope that everything will work out in the end. Your mind flickered back to the book you were reading earlier that morning, of the fabled prince charming sweeping the princess off her feet, and living happily ever after.

Perhaps your prince charming was around the corner, perhaps he was waiting for you somewhere to take you away from this now horrid home, filled with heartache and distant memories-

There was a loud knock at the door, so loud that it echoed throughout the foyer and into the living room. You jumped with a small squeak, bolting upright in your position on the lounge. You wiped your eyes, drying your hands on your muddy dress and wiping your nose with your apron. It was unladylike surely, but you were not a Lady anymore. After trying and failing to make yourself look presentable, you hurried towards the door as the knocking sounded again. It sounded desperate, frantic even, your face contorting into a confused expression as you tried to think of who it could be.

It couldn’t be a visitor for Lady Worthington or her daughters, the rest of high society was at Lady Danbury’s ball, and it was way too late in the night for anyone to be here in the first place. So, who could it be? As you opened the door your breath caught in your throat, your heart skipping a beat as you recognised the man that stood before you.

Viscount Anthony Bridgerton smiled, staring down at you with kind and soft expression. His eyes never left yours as he spoke, seemingly examining every inch of your face as he bowed politely.

“Miss Y/n, I apologise for calling so late, would I perhaps be able to come in-“

“Why are you here!?” You found yourself exclaiming, your eyes wide in shock as you felt your heart began to beat wildly. Anthony Bridgerton, one of the most distinguished men on all of the ton was standing on your doorstep. Why?

Anthony chuckled, his charming smile widening as he shrugged his shoulders. “Why not?” he replied lightly, finding amusement in your expression as it changed from shock to pure bewilderment.

“If you are here to see Lady Worthington or her daughters, they are gone” You replied shortly, your gaze falling nervously to the floor as you suddenly became very aware of your current state. You were completely covered in slowly drying mud, bloodshot eyes from crying, you no doubt looked like a complete wreck…wonderful.

Anthony hummed “I’m not here to see then, thank god. They arrived at the ball shortly after I left-“

“Why did you leave? Surely someone will notice your absence, and what will the ton think if you are found here, alone…with me-“

“My brother is good at coming up with excuses, I’m sure he’ll spin some wide tale about my whereabouts”.

“And is that something you wish to deal with?”

“Benedict can be a bit excentric at times, but I trust him wholeheartedly…” Anthony finished, clasping his hands behind his back and standing tall, “..now Miss Y/n, may I come inside? Or are you to leave your visitor out in the cold?”.

It hadn’t occurred to you until now, but as Anthony stood before you, you couldn’t help but notice how tall he truly was. You hadn’t noticed it this morning, but he towered over you, the top of your head just barely reaching his chin. You stared up into his eyes, searching for any sign of jest, that this was all some sort of joke, and a complete figment of your imagination conjured up by your saddened state.

But he was real, and he was here.

You released a short breath, a soft smile crossing your lips as you stepped aside and gestured for him to enter.

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i watched one (1) video on how to draw hands that changed my life forever. like. i can suddenly draw hands again

these were all drawn without reference btw. i can just. Understand Hands now (for the most part, im sure theres definitely inaccuracies). im a little baffled

𝖠𝗋𝗍 𝖻𝗒 𝖠𝗇𝗇𝖺-𝖫𝖺𝗎𝗋𝖺 𝖲𝗎𝗅𝗅𝗂𝗏𝖺𝗇 | 𝖨𝖦: 𝖺𝗇𝗇𝖺𝗅𝖺𝗎𝗋𝖺_𝖺𝗋𝗍