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deliciousangelfestival · 1 month

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The Lady - 2

Character: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader, Eddie Horniman x Female Reader

Summary: After fifteen years away, a step-daughter returns for her Duke step-father's funeral, only to inherit a staggering 8 million pound debt and strike a risky deal with a criminal underworld figure.

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Chap 1, Chap 2, Chap 3 , Chap 4 , Chap 5 , Chap 6 , -

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Bucky leaned back in his chair, studying her reaction keenly. "I understand your concerns," he said, his tone surprisingly understanding. "But trust me, this is a business matter. We're not in the business of hurting innocent people."

"If someone died, I'd probably get deported," Bucky added casually, his tone belying the seriousness of his words.

"You're American too?" you blurted out, your voice tinged with disbelief. It was only now, under the stress of the moment, that you noticed Bucky's lack of a British accent.

"Yup. Just like you. So we have something in common," Bucky replied, his smile masking the underlying tension between you.

Leaning back in your chair, you feigned deep contemplation, buying yourself time to process the weight of Bucky's request. "After thinking thoroughly, it's not gonna happen," you finally declared, your words a thinly veiled refusal.

Bucky's easygoing demeanor vanished instantly, replaced by a steely resolve that sent shivers down your spine. Drawing closer, he rested both arms on Rupert's study table, his gaze piercing you unwaveringly.

"Your Grace, because of my friendship with Rupert, I'm giving you this last chance," Bucky declared, his voice low and commanding.

With a swift motion, he produced a business card from his suit pocket and slid it across the table towards you. "I'll be waiting for your call."

As he retreated, you couldn't help but feel a sense of foreboding creeping over you. The stakes had never been higher, and you knew that the choices you made in the coming days would shape the course of your future in ways you couldn't yet comprehend.

The weight of the situation pressed down on you like a suffocating blanket as you surveyed the room, your eyes landing on the familiar photos adorning the walls.

Among them, a small picture frame caught your attention, capturing a moment frozen in time: you and Rupert, smiling at a polo game.

Your voice faltered as you addressed the silent figure in the photograph. "Why did you choose me?" you whispered, the weight of the unspoken words hanging heavy in the air. "Dad."

Feeling lost and overwhelmed, you pondered your next move. Should you confront your mother, who seemed to have kept secrets hidden all along?

Or seek answers from the twins, who had already distanced themselves from the burden?

After careful consideration, you decided to turn to your childhood friend, Eddie, for guidance. With a sense of determination, you grabbed the car keys and set off for Halstead estate, hoping that Eddie might offer some much-needed clarity in this sea of uncertainty.

As you stepped onto the familiar grounds of Halstead estate, memories of summers past flooded your mind. Despite the initial awkwardness of being left behind by your mother, the warmth of Eddie's family soon enveloped you in a sense of belonging.

The memories of summers spent here flooded back. Your mother left you behind, as the twins didn't want you to join the holiday. So, your mom left you here since Eddie's manor was closer to you.

Initially awkward, but it became enjoyable with Freddie always cracking jokes and Eddie, the adventurous one.

Reminiscing about fishing trips, horseback riding, and clay shooting, you couldn't help but smile at the fond memories made in this idyllic setting.

Suddenly, a familiar voice broke through your reverie, and you turned to see Freddie, Eddie's brother, approaching with open arms. Despite the passage of time, Freddie seemed unchanged, his jovial spirit shining through.

"Y/N! Come here. Give me a hug."

You embraced him. It had been 15 years, and he seemed different, almost radiant.

Freddie said, "I'm sorry about Rupert. I lost my dad last year too."

You replied, "I'm sorry too."

"So, it's obvious you're not here for me. You want to see Eddie?" Freddie asked.

"I am," you confirmed.

"He just finished a conversation with a guest. Let me take you there," Freddie offered, leading the way.

When you walked into the study room, you heard an elegant female voice saying, "I'll give the info later."

As she walked out, you noticed her stylish demeanor and sensed a mysterious aura around her. There was a hint of leadership in her presence, but what struck you as odd was the faint smell of weed lingering in the air.

She smiled at you before departing.

"I didn't expect you to come here so soon," Eddie remarked with a smile as you turned to face him. Seated in a leather chair, he exuded the air of a true duke.

"I didn't know where else I could go," you replied.

Freddie cleared his throat. "I'll leave you two alone."

Eddie offered you a seat and poured a drink, which you gratefully accepted.

"I heard you got the title. Congrats," Eddie said, raising his glass in a toast.

You chuckled softly. "The title is useless when all I've got is debt."

Eddie fell silent for a moment. "I went through a similar situation myself. What kind of problem are you having right now?"

"Do you know Bucky Barnes?" you asked.

Eddie clicked his tongue in response.

Crossing your arms, you continued, "So you know him. That means you knew about my stepdad's weed business."

Eddie leaned back in his chair, thoughtfully swirling the amber liquid in his glass. "Rupert got into the business earlier than me," he began, his tone reflecting a mix of resignation and regret. "The woman you saw before is Susie Glass."

"He had a business with her," Eddie continued, his voice tinged with disapproval.

You clenched your jaw, the realization sinking in.

"I didn't know much about the details, but your father was on the list that worked with the Glass," Eddie explained, his expression troubled.

"He wanted out," you interjected, your voice firm with determination.

Eddie nodded grimly. "And that's where Barnes came in. He's a syndicate, setting up a branch in the UK from New York. His business was unique and deadly."

The dimly lit study seemed to take on a more sinister atmosphere as Eddie spoke, shadows dancing across the walls like flickering flames. The air was tense, each word carrying the weight of unspoken truths and hidden dangers.

"Rupert owes Barnes 8 million pounds," you stated, the gravity of the situation sinking in.

Eddie hesitated for a moment before responding, his expression thoughtful. "That's..."

"I know, it's insane," you interjected, your voice tinged with frustration.

Eddie met your gaze, his eyes reflecting a mix of sympathy and determination. "I could pay off your debt," he offered quietly.

You recoiled slightly, taken aback by his proposal. "Then what? I'll still in debt. It never ends," you countered, a note of bitterness creeping into your voice.

You sighed, the weight of Rupert's decision heavy on your shoulders. "Why did Rupert choose me?"

Eddie nodded in understanding, his expression reflective. "I asked the same thing when my dad chose me instead of Freddie."

Your brow furrowed in confusion as you looked at him, prompting Eddie to chuckle softly. "Problem solver," he explained simply.

You nodded slowly, considering Eddie's words. "Both of us did join the military. Is it because we went through difficult situations?"

Eddie leaned forward, his gaze unwavering as he locked eyes with you. "Probably," he agreed, a reassuring smile playing on his lips. "But I'm sure you could handle it. If not, I'll be here to help you."

A warmth spread through you at his words, and you felt a slight blush creeping up your cheeks. "Thank you," you murmured gratefully, appreciating his caring demeanor.

You nodded firmly. "I've got all I need. I'll go now," you declared, trying to maintain composure as you turned to leave.

Eddie nodded in response. "Sure. I'll see you next time," he replied, his tone gentle and understanding.

As you walked away, you couldn't help but feel a swirl of emotions inside, like a whirlwind of conflicting thoughts and feelings. You tried to keep a cool facade, but deep down, your heart was racing.

Meanwhile, Eddie watched you go, a flicker of concern crossing his features. Then, a voice interrupted his thoughts.

"Did she notice?" someone asked quietly.

Eddie glanced over, meeting the gaze of the speaker. "Not yet," he responded softly, his expression thoughtful as he contemplated the situation.

You drove for what felt like an eternity until you finally arrived back at your own manor. As you stepped inside, you noticed Hugo playing in the living room with Susan. Ignoring your mother, your focus was solely on your little step-brother.

You were just ten years old when you first met Rupert, and he had quickly become the best father figure you'd ever known. During the eight years you spent here, you learned to appreciate Rupert's love for his legacy and the history of the manor.

Sighing heavily, you knew you were about to make a risky decision.

Heading to Rupert's study again, you picked up Bucky's business card and dialed the number. After just two rings, his voice filled your ears. "I've been waiting for your call, Your Grace," he said smoothly.

Rolling your eyes at his confidence, you replied, "Just one job and you clear the debt?"

Bucky chuckled, his tone dripping with assurance. "It would be a big explosion. They'll think it's a terrorist attack. But no, Your Grace. Five small explosions, and we're done."

Bucky's voice crackled through the line, his tone both humorous and tinged with an unmistakable edge. "Think of it as fireworks, Your Grace. Except instead of pretty colors, we'll be making a statement."

You couldn't help but let out a nervous laugh, the gravity of the situation juxtaposed with Bucky's nonchalant demeanor. "And what kind of statement would that be?" you asked, trying to match his casual tone.

"The kind that says, 'Don't mess with us,'" Bucky replied, his voice dripping with a dangerous charm. "We'll leave 'em scratching their heads and scrambling for cover."

Despite the seriousness of the conversation, you couldn't deny the thrill of adrenaline coursing through your veins. "And you're sure this will work?" you inquired, a hint of skepticism creeping into your voice.

Bucky's confidence was unwavering. "Trust me, Your Grace. When it comes to making a scene, I'm the best in the business."

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ramzawrites · 1 year

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ARIA - Autonomous Research Interactive Assistant | AI!Reader in the Krang Apocalypse

Gen

Part 2

Pairings: None

Characters included: Future!Donatello, Future!Michelangelo, Future!S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N

Warnings: n/a

Series: Part 1

Summary: Donnie is stretched thin in the apocalypse. Everyone needs the help of the genius but there is always so much to do, even with the help of his family and Shelldon.

But luckily Donnie is a genius inventor. Might as well create a robot that is simply there to answer everyones question.

Thus the Autonomous Research Interactive Assistant, aka ARIA, was born.

Word count: 2539

Authors Note: This is just a personal project I will work on in between Dream World and my college work. I just love the idea of Donnie creating a second AI and Shelldon immediately taking the mantle of the older brother. I just wanna write the robot siblings causing chaos while Donnie scrambles behind his robot kids to make sure no one dies. Also i just wanted to take the chance to maybe write in the future Casey jr and Shelldon hang out bc you can't tell me those two wouldn't kinda think of each other as cousins lmao

Also I gave Reader a name (Aria) in this one but Y/N will be used sometimes at some point in the future.

In the apocalypse Donnie’s mind has probably become one of the most important assets. He provides clean water, weapons, protection, and intel. And he makes it look so easy. You had a problem? He probably has multiple ways to solve it for you.

The thing was everyone had some kind of problem.

“Hey Donatello, we have problems with this water purifier. We can’t find the correct replacement parts, do you know what we can do instead?”

“Oh, Mister Donatello! We are trying to bioengineer crops that work well with the destroyed soil here somewhat. We need your expertise!”

“Aha, Donnie! Our weapons seem to be less effective against the Krang. Got something to juice our weapons up more?”

“Donnie, we really need you for this recon mission to determine what the Krang are building there.”

“Donnie, how is your research going into reversing the effects of Krang infection?”

“Donnie, we need more prosthetic limbs.”

“Donnie, medical supplies are running low. We need a proper substitute if possible.”

“Donnie, you really should sleep more.”

Hah, sleep.

Sleep felt like it was only a distant memory at this point.

He wanted to help! He really did but it was just impossible to follow every inquiry with the same priority. Either because some things were frankly impossible at the moment, they didn’t have the correct materials for the project or there just wasn’t enough time.

There was always so much to do and never enough time.

Even with the help of his brothers and sister. The work seemed never ending.

So, as a way to try to mitigate it, Donnie decided to upgrade Shelldon. Over the years the bot made great strides when it came to learning more about behavior and seemed to get better at interacting with people. His rebelliousness faded over the years. Understanding that there were more important things to do and if he can help his creator, or father as he began calling him over the years, then so be it.

That said he still acted often more like a young teenager than the recon bot he was supposed to be. Frankly Donnie giving Shelldon proper limbs like legs, arms and of course hands seemed to have enabled him more when it came to his mischievous behavior. Now being able to interact better with the world around him.

Still, he was reliable and was able to assist with recon missions and relay important information from one point to another in record speed.

Besides, Donnie would never admit it out loud, but he did appreciate Shelldon’s attitude somewhat. Somehow his mischievous behavior brought him a sense of normalcy. Something that survived the start of the apocalypse. Sure, he was an AI and part of this could be then attributed towards Donnie’s programming but still. A lot Shelldon learned himself. Even more he seemed to have picked up from Donnie’s family to his chagrin.

As much as Shelldon helped him out though it never seemed enough. Shelldon was meant more for recon rather than as an information bank to help other parts of the resistance.

There was a knock on the door to his workshop. Donatello didn’t even bother answering already knowing it was Mikey who would just let himself in. If Leo, Raph or April did that he’d make an annoyed comment. Mikey had the younger brother privileges. Not at all times but most times.

Enough to particularly annoy Leo with that fact.

“What can I do for you, Mikey?” Donnie asked as he hurriedly continued to type on his computer. New lines of code appearing on the screen in a scarily fast tempo. His battleshell was laying on the ground against the desk. The design having become more sleek over the years. Though even in the apocalypse Donnie couldn’t help himself adding a few LED lights for the aesthetics.

The Krang were the absolute worst thing that ever happened to the world and the universe but when they do manage to liberate a Krang labor camp they did get access to interesting Krang materials that he didn’t hesitate to use for his own projects.

One such project was currently sitting on a workbench on the side connected to his computer with a ton of cables. Charging as he worked on upgrading the programming of his new invention.

Mikey was now standing behind his chair “We haven’t seen you longer than a few moments the last few week. We’ve been worried about you. Gotta eat and sleep, Donnie.”

He wanted to roll his eyes but his eyes were too busy scanning his code since there seemed to be some kind of mistake. Probably a missing semicolon.

“I am eating and taking rests. Don’t worry. Besides once I’m finished with this I will hopefully have an easier time taking breaks.”

This obviously piqued Mikey’s interest “Oh? Why is that? What are you working on?” He finally moved to his side, his eyes now scanning the code as well which was amusing to Donnie. Mikey probably tried to gleam any kind of information from it while barely know anything when it came to programming. Not that Donnie hasn’t tried teaching him. He never got past the basics with him.

But this was way past the basics. This was genuine GeniusTech programming that can create a sentient AI.

“I’m making an assistant.” He simply stated.

Mikey paused “What like… what? Isn’t Shelldon already kind of filling that role?”

Donnie tilted his head to one side and back, as if he was mulling this statement over “No. I want to create an assistant that can store a vast amount of information on all kinds of subjects while being able to autonomously do research shouldn’t the correct answers be there.”

“So, we don’t have to bug you anymore when asking you how god and the world work, eh?” He didn’t need to look at his younger brother to know that he was smirking. At this point this has been one of his biggest grievances after all. Sure, he loved infodumping but topics like the filter of a water purifier weren’t exactly on the top of that list.

“But more importantly.” Mikey drawled out the last word “Does that mean Shelldon will have a sibling?”

Donnie bristled at that, as well as a turtle can bristle “No! This is just my Autonomous Research Interactive Assistant. Nothing more. I’m building it to give us room to breath to work on more projects at the same time.”

His brother chuckled at his response “You say that but you aren’t even correcting Sheldon anymore when he calls you dad.”

He couldn’t even respond before Mikey spoke up again “Anyway, is that them?” Probably pointing to the slumped over robot on his workbench.

The robot was just like all his tech purple. The head was more humanoid in nature with a screen for where the face would be. They also had a shell on the back. Knowing Donnie there were probably a ton of hidden compartments that held all sorts of interesting gadgets. It was probably only around four feet tall which would put it around the same height as Shelldon.

This actually felt rather short even for Mikey nowadays. All the Hamato brothers have had growth spurts over the years. All but Mikey were almost towering over other humans at this point. This just seemed to be one of the other effects of originally being created to be soldiers to fight in a war against humanity.

It was a bit ironic and almost heartbreaking that this gave them now an edge while warring against the Krang. Even though Draxum created them for this reason he still seemed somewhat sad about that fact now. Though Mikey was sure he was the only one who noticed that about the goat yokai. He was probably the only one who could read the yokai almost like an open book at this point.

Donnie’s gaze flitted over to his workbench, looking at the robot that Mikey was now closely scrutinizing without actually touching it “Yeah, yeah. That’s the Autonomous Research Interactive Assistant. Or will be.”

Mikey furrowed his brows, his hand running through his short black hair that he was slowly growing out, mostly on Donnie’s orders since he was still a bit perplexed by his sudden hair growth “Why not just call them Aria. Seems easier than to say the whole name out loud.”

“Yeah, yeah. Sure. Aria.” Donnie sighed.

“Shelly knows about them, right? Like he has to since you work on them in the open like that.”

Donnie scoffed at that “Of course he knows. He helped assemble the pieces and calibrated the joins while I worked on other things or the code.”

“That might explain why he has been more high energy than usual.”

“I swear if Shelldon touched one of the Krang energy cells again-“

Mikey laughed “Nah, I think he is just excited at having another robot around soon.”

Donnie didn’t respond to that. He was too busy adding more lines of code. Everyone seemed somehow way more excited at his new invention than he anticipated. Aria, as Mikey had dubbed it now, would be hopefully a big asset in the base.

“Anyways. Stop working on them. It’s Hamato dinner time. I was supposed to just grab you. Let’s go Donnie, we actually scrounged up some nice ingredients for once. Come on, come on. I cooked real food after ages.”

The prospect of honest to god real food sounded fantastic. It sounded so good after months of just military rations that he immediately saved his project and got out of his chair to put on his battleshell. It was just dinner with the family but especially nowadays he despised walking around without his artificial shell.

After being caught in a fight without it he almost glued the piece of tech on him. He even slept with it on for a while. His brothers had to practically peel him out of it. Leo then had to take care of any chafing on his soft shell. This whole experience was unpleasant enough that he learned to at least take it off again when he sleeps or when he is hunkered down for days in his workshop.

“Food sounds good.” He agreed as he followed his brother out towards where his family was undoubtedly waiting for them. If they started without them Mikey would probably beat them all up. Knowing him he probably wanted to see everyone’s reaction to his cooking after such a long time.

It took a good while longer for the work on Aria to progress. A lot came in the way of that but Donnie tried his best to work on this project whenever he could.

Donnie was currently working on Shelldon’s left arm that got a bit jostled during his last recon mission. He had to admit he always felt a few trepidations when he sent out Shelldon with others for missions. This time it seemed somewhat warranted since a Krangified human apparently got close enough to get ahold of him to pull his arm out of its socket. Were he a living being trying to set the arm back in would be painful as all can be but luckily for Shelldon this was mostly a thing of moving it back in and just repairing and fastening screws to hold it in place.

Maybe he should upgrade Shelldon again and give him even more defensive capabilities even if it’d slow him down.

A metallic scratching sound pulled him out of his thoughts “Shelldon. What are you doing?”

Shelldon was using his other arm to look at the exposed wiring and exoskeleton of the robot next to him. Aria was still sitting on the workbench slowly collecting dust.

“Just seeing if I can do something while you work on me, dad. I wanna see them finally come online.” He simply replied.

Donnie pulled one small screw tighter “If you want we can work on it more once I’m done with your arm.”

Even if Shelldon was incapable of an actual smile due to his build, Donnie swore he could see him do so in his own way. He obviously perked up at the prospect.

And as promised as soon as the arm worked again and was calibrated to Donnie’s standards, which took way longer than Shelldon would have liked, they jumped at completing the chassis.

Completing the code took longer than that. It took a couple more weeks between missions and work for Donnie to feel confident enough in his work to try to activate the robot for a test. He just wanted to see if his code started up correctly.

Shelldon was at Aria’s side while Donnie worked on the computer side of things. Starting up multiple of his analysis programs to record how the technology worked with each other. If there were parts that unexpectantly heated up for example.

He pressed on his enter key to start up the Aria program. Immediately turning around to see his GeniusTech logo appearing on the screen of Aria’s face.

A few commands appeared. Showing him exactly what programs started and loaded up only to disappear again and a pixelated face in a neutral expression appeared. Huh, he swore he designed it in such a way that it should start with a resting expression.

Aria blinked.

“Hello. I am your Autonomous Research Interactive Assistant. How may I help you?”

Donnie couldn’t help his glee as he yelled out “By Galileo! It works!” It loaded up and reacted just how he wanted when being approached by someone else. There was definitely too much static in their voice and there was a weird echoing effect on it. Something he will have to work on.

But now to test its capabilities.

Something easy to test the waters.

“At what temperature does water boil?”

The response was immediate “Water begins to boil at 99.97 °C, 211.9 °F and 373.15 Kelvin.”

Ah just as precise as he had hoped.

“Explain to me what the measurement of metal strength is.”

Once again, the response was fast “Tensile strength is a value that indicates a metal's ability to resist deformation and failure when loads are applied that pull it apart. Tensile strength is typically quantified through units of pounds per square inch, PSI, or pascals, Pa.”

Perfect! Now what else should he ask to really test their ability to pull the correct knowledge out. What would be a complicated enough question?

“Brah. Come on. They just came online! Do you just want to quiz them?” Shelldon whined. Sometimes Donnie was really confused where he got his attitude and speech pattern from. Then again Leo did sabotage him years ago.

Sighing, he relented “Alright. Autonomous Research Interactive Assistant. Register an alias for yourself.”

They tilted their head to the side to look at him inquisitively “What name do you want me to register?”

Shelldon’s head snapped up to his creator. There was something pleading in the way he acted and looked at him. Donnie nodded.

The turtle robot walked in front of the new one “Aria. A-R-I-A.”

“Aria.” They repeated. “The name has been registered as an alias. You may refer to me now as such.”

#rottmnt #tmnt #rottmnt x reader #rottmnt reader insert #tmnt reader insert #tmnt x reader #reader insert #rottmnt donatello #rottmnt shelldon #rottmnt michelangelo #future donatello #future michelangelo #ramza writes

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rosetheex-editor · 5 months

Text

[Begin transcript audio.]

[Rhythmic metallic banging is immediately heard. These noises continue for an extended period of time]

[Distant, but apparent footsteps approach, until the banging is suddenly stopped and replaced with a more muted, thudded noise]

?: What?

[Voice identified: Rose.]

?: Would you mind not slamming your head into my hand. I am trying to prevent you from further damaging your forehead.

[Voice unidentifiable.]

[The thudding stops.]

R: Dude. Move your hand please?

?: Your forehead is bleeding. I see no reason to allow you to continue this self-destructive behavior.

R: Reason one. Gets me out of the mall fast.

?: Death is not an escape. That is a coward’s way out. You are better than that.

R: Debatable. But I'll hear you out.

?: Glad to hear it. What is that, a metal implant in there? How much can you feel there?

R: In my head?

?: Your forehead in general. Showfall sometimes half-asses implants.

R: It's from the doctor's. But to answer your question, the nerves in my forehead… And like top of my head in general are dead because Mai was a dumbass. You could rip my hair out and I wouldn't feel shit.

?: I see. Very interesting.

[There is a momentary pause.]

?: I am sorry about your arm. Was it your dominant one?

R: Yeah um… Yeah.

?: Shame. You know, I was taught to be ambidextrous. I can try and help with some basic exercises, if you would like.

R: Uh sure… So how are you?

?: I survive. Do you have a pen and paper with you?

R: I uh… Yeah?

?: Good. We can start with the training then. Your handwriting was semi-cursive, correct?

[Rustling of papers]

?: Start with a simple “O“

R: Ok?

[More papers rustling, seemingly as Rose draws what W asked.]

?: Good. Now can you try an “R”

[Rose does the same thing.]

?: Good. It probably feels weird not being able to hold the paper down, so try and use the flat end of your palm, or the bottom of your wrist, to make sure the paper doesn’t drag.

[Rose can be heard doing that as well.]

?: You should work on straight lines, yours are a bit sloppy. Hesitate less, move quickly and with intention.

R: Why are we doing this now? Like… Why today?

?: I would like to imagine that keeping you occupied will prevent self harm in the future. It is a trick I learned myself. Practicing this will help your mind above water.

R: Dude… Why me? Why are you helping me?

?: Why not. I can stop if you would prefer.

R: No it's fine… Just confused is all.

?: I too yearn for answers. But sometimes life is unfair. Sometimes the truth is obscured, and we must depend on ourselves to fill in the blanks. But in all honesty, I am slowly accepting this reality. The confusion of it all. Does that make sense?

R: Yeah… Yeah kinda.

?: Good. You always had a knack for understanding others. Never lose that. It is a trait I wish I had possessed many years ago.

R: Yeah uh… Can I ask you something?

?: Truth is the currency of tomorrow. Ask away.

R: Have you ever wished for a different life? One where things weren't so difficult? Where those you love are alive…

[Papers are put away.]

?: I would not be human if I did not hope for betterment. But I do not know what I would do if I ever achieved it. I feel it is part of our human condition. To want more. But do not allow that to blind you to what is truly important. Is that answer satisfactory?

R: Yeah… Yeah um it is.

?: Good. Keep at it then. Keep yourself sane. Is there anything else you would like to discuss, or can I trust you to not deface your forehead any longer?

R: Actually one thing… You like the concept of time?

?: Oh yes, I find it fascinating. Especially when put in terms of how the mind perceives it. Depending on your perspective, time can be fast, fluid, like water, or it can hit you all at once, like a brick. It marches forward towards eternity, but as it does so, never once have I felt left behind. I have had good times, and bad times, but there is always a time to be had. I learn, I grow, I mature, I die. Life repeats. It is a source of comfort.

R: Hm… Interesting, there have been times I have felt… Left behind, I have to remind myself time waits for no one… To keep going, or try… The concept of eternal time has always fascinated me.

?: Mechanical hands are the ruler of everything. You must learn to continue on, no matter what. Go slow if you would like, but never stop.

R: Yeah… God I've been saying that alot.

?: You are tired. Get some rest. Continue practicing handwriting. Survive. I will be where you would expect. Oh, and probably turn off the recording device on your phone.

[Footsteps echo in the opposite direction.]

R: Showfall I hate you so much.

[End transcript.]

#((OOC) TW unreality.)#showfall ask blog #encoreverse blog #rose

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secretlessonnews · 9 months

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Why does everyone want me to fail?

Why does everyone want me to fail **The Grand Enigma: Why Do My Supporters Want Me to Fail?"** "Everyone" is often invoked when things do not go our way, yet is that really the case? If you find yourself asking "Why does everyone want me to fail," then now is the time to disprove that myth and explore reality. **Mirror, Mirror on the Wall: The Perception Dilemma** When we ask ourselves why others want us to fail, the first thing to keep in mind is our perceptions. People can often be their harshest critics when judging themselves - leading us to magnify failures while underestimating achievements - leading us to assume others wish for our downfall too. But is this really the case? **Peeking into Others' Perspectives: Why It Feels Like "Everyone Wants Me to Fail"** Keep in mind that everyone is the star of their own show; most people tend to focus on themselves and their struggles first and foremost. If you feel as though everyone wants you to fail, that might more be your own insecurities and fears than an accurate reflection of other's sentiments. **Sol Johnston: Your Partner in Overcoming Failure** As you consider why everyone wants you to fail, Sol Johnston offers valuable insights that may reshape your perspective, encourage celebration of successes and teach how to navigate failure with grace. Applying Sol Johnston's Wisdom: Answering, "Why Does Everyone Want Me to Fail?"** As you explore Sol Johnston's inspiring literature, you may come to find answers to the question "Why does everyone want me to fail?" His work encourages a shift away from negative self-perceptions and fear of failure to positive self-belief and resilience - and can change your perceptions about others' reactions towards your successes and failures. **Breaking Down Myth: Not Everyone Wants Me to Fail** As previously discussed, our beliefs that everyone wants us to fail are often more of an internalized reflection than an accurate representation of reality. By altering our perspective and accepting our insecurities while celebrating successes we can begin to see that not everyone wishes for our failure. Overcoming an Attitude of Fear for Failure"** As we look toward the future, our aim should be to continue expanding and reframing our perspectives and thought processes. Led by Sol Johnston's insights, we can learn to see fear and failure as opportunities for growth rather than signs of people's misdeeds against us. Every time you ask "Why does everyone want me to fail," remember that you hold the power to change the narrative. Recognize your worth, appreciate your journey, and keep working towards reaching your goals no matter the perceived obstacles. **The Plot Thickens: Exploring "Why Everyone Wants Me to Fail?"** Assuming everyone wants you to fail can feel isolating and defeatist, yet this narrative, this belief, is just that - a perspective. Let's delve deeper and uncover ways of turning over a new, more encouraging chapter. **Overcoming Fear and Turning Around the "Everyone Wants Me to Fail" Script** Feelings are powerful, yet not always an accurate reflection of reality. If you find yourself struggling with feelings that "everyone wants me to fail", it is essential that you recognize these feelings within yourself and start actively reframing them. Author Sol Johnston offers invaluable wisdom for combatting negative thinking patterns. His teachings encourage readers to replace fear of failure with resilience and determination; his works help readers switch from thinking "everyone wants me to fail" to believing "I have the power to succeed". Empathy and Understanding: Seeking Perspective** Realize that most people are preoccupied with their own lives, challenges and ambitions; when we feel as though everyone wants us to fail it's often due to self-doubt or fears about ourselves rather than any real-life intentions from those around us. Sol Johnston teaches us the value of empathy and understanding in shaping how we interact with one another. His lessons remind us that although our journey may differ from theirs, each individual's journey is equally significant to them both. **Growth Through Adversity: Discovering the Good in "Everyone Wants Me to Fail"** Thinking that everyone wants us to fail can be emotionally draining, yet also an opportunity for personal growth. By learning how to navigate these feelings, we can build resilience, harness our determination, and reframe our narrative of success. Sol Johnston's works offer us guidance in this transition, teaching us to use adversity to our advantage and turn failure into an opportunity for success. His insights can help us abandon the narrative that "everyone wants me to fail", replacing it instead with resilience and triumphant victory stories. **Letting Go of the Past: Confronting "Everyone Wants Me to Fail"** Doing away with the idea that "everyone wants me to fail" is like unburdening ourselves of an oppressive burden: It enables us to move forward unburdened by assumptions about other's intentions and negative assumptions about their motives. Sol Johnston teaches us the power to shape our narratives in ways that empower rather than disempower us. Through his wisdom, we gain an appreciation of how much control we have over how our stories unfold; how resilient choices are preferable over fearful ones and that success should always be pursued no matter the obstacles thrown our way. His teachings serve as a reminder that each story we choose will impact both us and those we care for deeply. **The Power to Overcome the Desire for Failure** At its core, the belief that "everyone wants me to fail" is often more of an expression of our fears and insecurities than an accurate representation of reality. By confronting our feelings head-on and employing empathy when responding to success-related feedback from peers or our environment, this belief can become an empowering catalyst for growth. Sol Johnston's insightful literature gives us all of the tools needed to navigate this journey successfully, by shifting negative assumptions away and adopting a narrative of resilience and success. So the next time someone tells you they want you to fail, keep in mind you have power to alter their expectations by championing your own success story! If it seems as though everyone wants you to fail, take a deep breath and revisit your narrative. You have the strength and resources available to you to transform this belief, push past fearful feelings and embrace a future filled with success. Don't allow that feeling "everyone wants me to fail" hold you back; use it instead as motivation on your journey toward greatness! **Embracing a Brighter Outlook: Dispelling Mystification about Why Everyone Wants Me to Fail?"** Understanding why it may feel as though everyone wants you to fail can open the way to a brighter and more optimistic view of life. Draw on Sol Johnston's wisdom as your guide through life; every stumble is an opportunity for success and remember that everyone cares primarily about their own story. As you continue navigating life's ups and downs, remember that your worth doesn't depend on perceived failures or other people's opinions of you. So when it seems like everyone wants me to fail - that isn't necessarily true! Here's to an inspiring future filled with resilience, growth, and success! Failure is in the words you speak and know. Find out the secret for success and overcome the programming: ==> Read the full article

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chronicparagon · 2 years

Note

(I have seen your answer! The next four days will be very chaotic for me, so if possible I'd like to start talking about it from Friday onwards?)

There is a deep, throaty laugh coming from the masked man in a full suit, tuxedo jacket hanging from his shoulders and the belt being replaced by simple, black suspenders. They grey mask doesn't allow any features to be discerned behind it, except for the raven black hair that's kept short, neatly brushed backwards.

"A heart of fire. Little darling, you are becoming more and more alluring... But that's not always a good thing."

The man stands tall before Harmony, having to lean down to be at the same level at her. "It is not these scars that make me terrifying." Yet that didn't mean he didn't wish to hid them. "It is what I can do with a simple order. How I make myself untouchable to anyone who would attempt to stop my plans and how much power I hold over those who work for me." The man stands straight, holding the lower part of his mark with a gloved hand.

"It is not how I look that brings terror in people, but rather how I am known." He lifts the mask just a little bit with his thumb, tilting his head to the side to watch the woman with an eye as red as a sunset, revealing part of his scarred cheek. "And you are strong - strong through your kindness." The scars are deep, as if they have been carved in, dragging along towards his jaw in long streaks. The corner of the eye elongated beyond normal and little remains of his outer left ear.

He lets go of the mask, both of his hands now behind him as he circled Harmony once. "And you do not deserve to be filled with fea." In front of her again, this time he crouches to be on the same level as her. Reaching out to touch her scar with the back of his glove, he pauses to wait for permission. "Yet I cannot allow for anyone to see me as anything less than a threat." His voice seems to have gone a little bit softer. "Not even yourself, little darling."

[ Yeah, that sounds good! We can wait until Friday. I'm looking forward to that.]

The man dresses well and has an air of confidence about him. She watches him, taking each of his words. There is far more to him. He says his orders bring fear in people. Silver eyes widen to see the red eye and the scar. Curiosity plagues her mind, wondering how he got the scar. It's hard to say, but he is certainly not an ordinary man. She's unnerved, but Harmony doesn't turn away. Slender fingers idly stroke and play with the lock of hair over her shoulder. Her gaze follows the mystery man who slowly walks around her before lowering back to her level.

He can't allow anyone to see him as less than a threat? In a way, she can understand if he is a powerful leader or businessman. She's certain they have quite a few enemies. Even so, she is not sure why he would with potential partners. Harmony isn't sure if that will change in the future, but...perhaps things will be different if she pursues this relationship.

She hesitates for a minute before giving him a small nod, a silent gesture allowing him to touch her.

"I’m...I’m not sure what to say to that.” She admits with a small shrug. They just met so it’s hard to know how he is really like. Yes, Harmony is a bit worried, but she is not scared. At least, not so scared that she feels she needs to run. “I think I should get to know you more. What is your name or what do you want me to call you?”

#Strawberry anon #anonymous #anon #answered #thank you!!

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forever-rogue · 3 years

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hi! if you’re accepting requests from prompt list #2, does angst to fluff count lol. 5 from angst, 49 from fluff lists! with reader thinking din loves someone else 🥺 i like mando x omera but.. reader who perhaps doesnt have the skills omera has and sees how din looks at her… THE ANGST 😌🤌

AN | Me, writing some Din? It’s been a hot minute, but here we are. I miss him 🥺

Warnings | None

Pairing | Din x Fem!Reader

Masterlist | Din, Main

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

A small sigh, a wistful little thing, escaped your lips as you studied the gently lapping water of the lake. It was calm here, a peaceful, tranquil place that served as a welcome refuge after all that you'd been through in the last few years. Sometimes it seemed almost too good to be true. The distant sounds of laughter met your ears as children ran around and played, carefree as could be. Sometimes you wished you were that young again; innocent to life’s darker sides. Unfortunately that wasn’t a possibility, but for now you’d take the peace and stillness you could get.

Pulling off your boots and socks, you quickly tossed them to the side. The water was warm as you relaxed and leaned back, closing your eyes and soaking up the warmth of the summer sun. It wasn’t until you heard the familiar voice that your eyes slowly snapped back opened. Your heart constricted slightly as you spotted Din nearby speaking to Omera. He seemed so happy, in a much better mood than you’d seen in a long time. It was all her, and you remained invisible. Which, when it came to most things wasn’t too bad, but sometimes you wished he would see you.

“Is somebody jealous?” you hadn’t even heard the bounty hunter walk over; you supposed that’s one of the many reasons he was the best in the galaxy. Boba offered a small grimace before sitting down next to you. You shrugged him off staring back into the water. You were not about to get into anything with Boba; that man was insufferable and usually right.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you brushed him off, trying desperately not to look back at Din. Instead, you focused on the water and watched the tiny fish whiz through the water; a few of them brushed by your feet, sending a ticklish shiver up your spine, “I’m just...enjoying the calm afternoon sun and soaking up as much peace before we inevitably leave again.”

“That’s how this all works,” Boba sighed as you nodded in agreement, “you knew that from the day you became my apprentice.”

“I know,” you whispered, “but I hoped at one point I could...walk away and have a normal life. Like this.”

“Normal is all relative,” he had a point as you huffed lightly and stood up, brushing off your pants and reaching for your boots, “but if this is what you want, what you truly want, you know you’re welcome to leave whenever. I would not hold you back from the life you wanted.”

“I know, Boba,” you put your hand on his shoulder and gave it a light squeeze, “the problem is that I don’t really know what I want...I think I know but...it’s more than that.”

“Of course,” he agreed, casting a quick glance at the object of your affections before turning back to you, “I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”

“Either way, it will work out, just as it always does,” you swallowed the lump that had welled up in your throat, “Boba, why are you doing this?”

“I just want to make sure you’re happy - that you know that you have choices in what you’re doing,” he said like it was no big deal, but to you it meant so much. This hardened, sometimes gruff man really did have a heart of gold underneath it all, “should you want to part ways, I would understand. Should you want to stay, I’d be more than happy to have you with me. I don’t know what the future holds for myself, Fennec, or Djarin, but you know it will not always be easy. But sometimes you have to decide what’s most important.”

“Yes,” you answered softly, “thank you, Boba.”

He remained silent as you laced up your boots before padding away, back towards the village. You knew you had a lot to think about and if you wanted things to change at all, you’d have to figure out something. You cast a glance over your shoulder and you were almost positive that you’d spotted Din looking in your direction. But it was all a trick of the mind; it had to be. Why would he spare you more than a passing thought anyways?

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

It was late by the time he found you; much later than any reasonable person should have been outside, but you couldn’t sleep. There was too much on your mind to silence, and if you managed to, it was short-lived and another thought came to replace the previous one. Eventually you’d given up and wandered out of the small hut home that had been acting as your own home for the last couple of months. You knew the area was safe and wanted to enjoy the temperate night air before it turned to a crisp fall breeze, or worse - you’d be gone.

Small bugs chirped happily along with the soft songs of nightbirds as you walked around the sleeping village; you weren’t scared here, you felt safe and at home. But as you rounded a corner, a gloved hand reached out and grabbed your wrist. A small yelp of surprise left your lips as you pulled into a wall of cool metal - beskar.

“Shhh,” Din placed a finger to his lips as you relaxed when you realized it was him, “you’ll wake everyone up. It’s just me.”

“Dank Farrik!” you hissed at him, “how was I supposed to know that? You could have been a murderer!”

“Well….you should be in bed sleeping.”

“So should you!” your arms crossed over your chest as you stared him down, and eventually he huffed in defeat, realizing you were right. He couldn’t sleep either, plagued by the choices he knew that he had to make sooner rather than later. He hadn’t expected you to be out as well, “what are you doing anyway?”

“Couldn’t sleep,” he admitted, scratching the back of his neck nervously, a flash of...something in his dark eyes, “I thought that some fresh air would clear my head.”

“Same here,” you admitted reluctantly, leaving the two of you in an awkward silence. You wished you had enough bravery (or perhaps even stupidity) in your body to just say something to him then and there. At least it would be out of the way; but you weren’t feeling anything but nervous butterflies fluttering in your tummy, “I...umm...I guess I’ll get back. Try and sleep.”

“Hey-” he reached for your arm gently before you could get too far away. You turned around and raised an eyebrow as he opened and closed his mouth a few times, “d-did I do something wrong?”

“What? What are you talking about?” the question caught you off guard, but judging by the look on his face, you could sense that this was something he had been thinking for some time.

“You’ve been different lately...it almost feels like you’re avoiding me.”

“Oh DIn, you’re being ridiculous,” and yet the accusation was very true.

“You’re fine around Boba, Fennec...everyone else. But every time I’m around it feels like you can’t wait to get away,” you should have known that he would have noticed sooner or later. The man was more observant than you’d cared to admit, “if I did something, please tell me.”

“You can’t be serious, Djarin. There’s nothing wrong…”

“Then why have you been avoiding me?”

“I haven’t been doing anything. You’ve got too much free time and your mind is running wild.”

“Tell me it’s not true then.”

“Din-”

“Tell me.”

“The problem is that you’re in love with someone else,” the words were out of your mouth before you even contemplated them. You were mortified and in some ways you were relieved. At least it was all out in the open now and you were able to let the chips land where they may.

“Oh,” was his only response as his head tilted to the side and he looked at you in confusion, “what?”

“I...kriff,” you sighed, “I shouldn’t have said that. Sorry - forget I said anything.”

“Who am I in love with?”

“What do you mean?” tears welled up in your eyes at his response; almost like a cruel joke, “you know, everyone knows! Omera; and why wouldn’t you be? She’s wonderful - kind, smart, beautiful … everything. Part of me wants to dislike her, but I can’t because she’s such a good person but it kills me a little bit to know that you love her and you’ll never even think twice about me. I know that’s super selfish but it’s the way I feel; and judging from how this is going I think I’m making the right decision by leaving. By myself.”

Din said nothing as a few tears rolled down your cheeks. You laughed bitterly at yourself before realizing that this might have been the best decision after all. You couldn’t stay after this.

It wasn’t long before Din came to his senses and ran after you, calling your name and catching up with a few easy strides. You came to a reluctant stop as you sniffled and waited for him to say something, despite the fact that you weren’t sure you wanted to hear whatever he had to say.

“I-I-I’m not in love with Omera,” he insisted as it became your turn to look at him in bewilderment, “I’m in love with you.”

“What?”

“I’ve been talking to her about you,” he confessed, “about how to do...this sort of thing. But then you started avoiding me and I wondered if maybe I’d read the signs wrong and you didn’t like me at all. At least not in that way.”

“I don’t….what?” you heard his words but weren’t able to fully comprehend them. This had to be some sort of weird fever dream. Din sighed - his trademark sigh - before ripping off his gloves and gently putting his hands on the sides of your face. He was hesitant at first, to see if you would stop him. But you didn’t...instead you relished in his touch, the feel of his bare skin on yours sending electric shivers throughout your whole body.

After a few moments of quietly studying your features, he leaned in and slowly pressed his lips against yours. It wasn’t a proper kiss by any means, hardly more than a ghost of one, but it felt...strangely wonderful. You looked at him in disbelief as he pulled back; was this really the same man that you’d met all that time ago that wouldn’t even tell anyone his name or let them see his face?

“Oh.”

“Can we go inside?” he whispered softly, “can we talk?”

“Yeah,” you agreed gently. He reached for your hand but before he could take it in his, you stopped him and pressed another sweet, barely there kiss to his lips. A tinge of pink colored his cheeks as you beamed at him, “now we can go.”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Pedro Character Taglist (strikethrough means I couldn’t tag you - please check your settings. Strikethroughs will get removed if not taggable)

@qhbr2013 @greeneyedblondie44 @dodgerandevans @cannedsoupsucks @april-showers-and-flowers @klaine-92 @softboiipascal @rpcvliz @im-an-adult-ish @dobbyjen @thevoiceinyourheadx @niki-xie @jediknight122 @xxlovingfandomsxx @mrpascals @startrekkingaroundasgard @welcometothepedroverse @ilikemymendarkandfictional @actual-spawn-of-satan @wanderlust69 @lazybeeches @beskarboobs @someday-when-you-leave-me @leaiorganas @salome-c @rosiefridayrogersunday @madslorian @artsymaddie @haildoodles @windfallss @spookispunk @nikkixostan @edencherries @stillshelbs @djarinbarnes @alyispunk @ayamenimthiriel @gallowsjoker @its–fandom–darling @star017 @amneris21 @empress-palpat1ne @cable-kenobi @gooddaykate @princeofdorne @natthebattygeologist @riddikulus-obsessions @sleep-tight1 @mamacitapascal @14mcmd1122 @leaiorganas @hoodedbirdie @kenzieam @dobbyjen @jedi-mando @milkxxkookies @lazybeeches @general-latino @jediknight122 @cosmoschick @recklessworry @jaime1110 @thorins-queen-of-erebor @thatnerdwriter @bestintheparsec @pascalisthepunkest @kristeng42 @rosie-posie08

#din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin x fem!reader #the mandalorian #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #the mandalorian x reader

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todoscript · 4 years

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coming home and finding out you fell asleep with lingerie on

characters: bakugou katsuki. todoroki shouto. genre: smut. warnings: 18+. very heaty moments. katsuki and shouto have no restraint. author’s note: This came out of nowhere, but I had an urge to write some spicy stuff so this is what happened. I was going to add Izuku too, but these things became longer than I thought they would (sorry baby). I’ll probably post his version of this with another character in the future though! The actual steamy stuff is written underneath the bulletpoints & read more! ;-)

bakugou katsuki

isn’t surprised to see you passed out on the couch with a small blanket over you, being that he arrived back at your shared apartment late at night due to another full day of hero work

cue his expression softening to those secret endearing eyes of his he never shows in front of you as he watches you for much longer than necessary, breathing in and out evenly in your sleep

but hey, can you blame him? you’re pretty damn cute when you’re so sound asleep like that—word by word thoughts going through his head right now

he knows you can’t stay here for long though. it gets pretty chilly in the living room and he doesn’t want you to catch something, considering how flimsy the blanket is that’s covering you. the material barely reaches to your ankles.

“Babe. Hey, babe. I’m home, c’mon let’s sleep on the bed,” he says low in his gruff voice, running a hand up your arm that’s clad in the blanket.

shakes you a bit to stir you awake so you can both walk to the bed together, but you don’t budge the first couple of times, only humming in your sleep

so he takes it upon himself to carry you to your room and properly get you to bed

however, when he moves the thin blanket off of you, that look of surprise slowly envelops his face when he sees inches of bare skin unveiled the more he pulls the sheet down

- - - - -

You’re practically naked aside from the sheer, wine red lace that only covers your most intimate parts, and even that isn’t enough to keep Katsuki’s eyes from wandering and his thoughts from wandering further.

With the blanket drawn off you, there isn’t a barrier to keep the cold from nipping at your skin—a sensation that agitates you awake as you stretch out your sleepiness on the couch. You’re still unaware of the lecherous eyes that stare at every angle you offer them. Spreading your body out like that, where the fabric clings to you, accentuating all your curves right in front of him? You may seem half-asleep, but there has to be a vixen at work inside that mind of yours. There’s no way you can’t be aware of what you’re doing to him.

It’s not until you rub away some of your drowsiness that you finally perceive the blonde kneeling before the couch. The surprise at discovering his attentive, red eyes glaring at you startles you to attention. You fix your hair, moving the strands out of your face and cleaning off the invisible marks of drool that might have abided your lips.

“Oh, welcome home, Katsuki,” you manage to greet, but Katsuki does not return your welcome. Instead, you feel his large calloused palm run up the length of your legs, and you realize the situation you’re in—how you decided to surprise him that night, wearing a new matching set of dark red lingerie, only to end up dozing off on the couch waiting for him. Though it seems it wasn’t all for naught. With the carnal expression he gives you in your most vulnerable state, he’s more than surprised alright. He’s absolutely thrilled.

Katsuki’s hands explore across your skin, mapping through every expanse despite being more than familiar with the territory. But in actuality, he’s paying all his attention to the lace—the fabric seeming so flimsy, so obscenely indecent on that figure of yours, yet at the same time, equally exquisite. You don’t wear lingerie often, but when you do, it always spurs something to tighten down in his pants, seeing you like this.

His hand trails up the material, tracing the texture before slowly inching his fingers beneath the waistband. “Mm, babe, were you planning something? Looking all sexy, wearing this—” he snaps the elastic against your bare skin, stinging any sleepiness lingering in you away as you wince at the sensation, “skimpy thing while I was gone? You must be desperate to get fucked, right?”

Even if you want to answer, he doesn’t let you. Any words desiring to leave stay trapped in your throat when Katsuki suddenly leans in to fervently capture your lips.

Despite the usual rampant pace of his actions, you soon adjust into his air of lust like it’s second nature. Your tongue mingles against his through each succession of your lips locking together, your hands twining into his ash blonde hair. Katsuki gets to work at removing his shirt with one hand, but remains mindful at busying the other by palming at the lace, gathering your flesh in his grasp before the other joins in on the ministrations.

He finally makes his way onto the couch with you, towering over your body and revels in the noises sounding past those pretty lips when his fingers find your center. All the sensations pile in your body, making you tremble in waves. The wetness already seeping through your delicate panties becomes slicker at his touch.

“Barely even did anything and you’re already this fucking wet? You really do want to get fucked don’tcha?”

“God, yes, please Katsuki. Please fuck me, I want you to fuck me so bad,” you whimper, not sugarcoating your words. You need him right now. Need him so much you’re willing to beg for him without restraint, dropping every ounce of your dignity if it meant he’d pound into you and relieve you of that ache building in your lower-half. It’s to the point where just the sound of his belt unbuckling around his pants is enough to delight and send tingles of anticipation to your cunt.

“Oh, don’t worry, babe. Waiting on me all this time? I’ll make sure you’re taken care of. All. Fucking. Night. Long.” The tone his timbre descends toward incites a whine past your lips, and he smirks at the desperate sound.

“But on one condition.”

“W-What?” You’re quick to reply—anything to lessen the delay and continue the heat of your passion. However, you’re hesitant at what this condition might entail, especially when Katsuki’s grin widens further. His hands do not relent in pulling and pressing against you through the red material of your lingerie.

“I get to fuck you in this thing.”

todoroki shouto

grumbling on his way home because of how late it is and how long you must have been waiting for him

his old man just had to drone on and on at him when the former pro hero visited his agency that night

because of that, he enters your shared space where the silence and dimness of the apartment are what welcome him

he wishes you were the one that would greet him instead, arms open for him as you ask about his day

but he’s more than aware you fell asleep waiting for him all this time

especially when he strides into his bedroom and beholds you laying on your large bed with a fluffy robe wrapped and tied around your body. your eyes are closed in slumber and you’re curled up atop the sheets

you look so precious to him, he can’t stop an adoring smile from finding his lips

he slightly nudges you. when you slowly rouse awake, your small, dozy movements add to his endearment for you that spurs his lips to your forehead while you adjust to your surroundings

“Love, I’m sorry I kept you waiting. Let’s get to bed.”

you hum a pitched “alright” in reply that comes out in a whine while you rub your eyes, saying you should get changed then

he sits on the edge of the bed, watching you saunter to the bathroom as you untie the sash of your robe along the way

just before your figure disappears inside however, he catches your skin, decorated in intricate black lace when you let the fluffy material fall below your shoulders

- - - - -

Shouto can’t help the look on his face while he unknowingly ogles you, eyes growing lidded with every peek of your body shown through the sizable crack of the door. He almost releases a groan when the long robe obscuring him from the rest of you finally piles in a heap on the floor and catches the full appearance of your body covered in the enticing black set.

The way it enhances your curves and brings out the beauty of your skin tone is beyond sinful in his eyes. He’s wondering how something so dainty can incite such a hardened reaction from him so quickly, and why he can’t seem to tear his gaze away at your mussed form still ridden with bits of sleep. You must be a succubus, right? Because how can you look so innocent, yet so tempting at the same time?

His attention on you leads to him lifting off the bed and striding to the bathroom, still trained on your figure with only lascivious thoughts running through his mind. He wants to touch you, squeeze you, feel the elaborate, lacy texture of your lingerie as he presses your soft lips on his, and hear all your lustful cries in the course of his insatiable greed.

Utterly devour you.

You have absolutely no idea what’s going through him right now, too occupied tidying bits of yourself in the mirror with a set of sleeping clothes lying on the counter, waiting to replace your beribboned attire. You wore this with the idea of wanting to treat Shouto to a good night of passion, but considering the time and how he must be tired after a long day at his agency, you figure it’s too late for such desires now. Oh, how wrong you are.

Undoubtedly so as the moment your fingers find the clasp on your back holding your bra together, they’re thwarted by a hand wrapping around your wrist and moving them out of the way. Within that instance, you’re also spun around. Your back presses against the sink counter as you come face to face with the sensual glint in Shouto’s gray and blue eyes.

You feel small underneath his unwavering, heavy gaze, squirming in place while his hands still grip your wrists that subdue any thought of you getting away from him. “Shouto, I need to get changed so we can go to sleep—”

“How long have you been wearing this?” he interjects, ignoring your plea and slipping a finger beneath the satin strap of your bra. Meanwhile, the other hand caresses up your warm, bare thigh until it arrives at your panties’ lace. The gestures leave the air hitching in your throat. You have to swallow down a gulp in order to reply to him amid his methodical strokes and caresses.

“I had it on all evening…” you admit, voice becoming quiet. Shouto hums at your answer, leaning into you and pressing your back further against the counter. He traces up your form with not only his hands but also his eyes, committing your bewitching state to memory, familiarizing himself with the intricate patterns of your lingerie.

“For that long, love? You expect me not to appreciate the effort and thought you put in, bearing your pretty body in this—” he palms at your breast through your underwear, rousing a moan to slip from your lips, “and waiting for me this entire time?”

“I-I thought you’d be too tired to—ah—t-to do anything so I figured we should go to sleep now, mm—” You find it hard to keep your voice steady. Not with Shouto’s ministrations descending to your cunt, stroking the wetness gathering at your center that saturates the crotch of your black panties. He captures the slickness around his fingertips and earnestly licks it off with his tongue, admiring your taste while keeping such intense eye contact. It makes your cheeks burn and your arousal heighten.

“On the contrary, baby, seeing you in this just riles me up even more. Makes me want to ravage you while you’re wearing it,” he tells you with an edge in his tone that reduces you to whimpers. Before you can come up with any coherent thought, he hoists you up onto the bathroom sink, effectively spreading you open in front of him as he kneels eye level toward your clothed pussy.

“And that’s exactly what I intend to do. So sit there and let me admire you as I appreciate everything you have to offer.”

#bnha x reader #bnha smut #bakugou smut #todoroki smut #bnhabookclub #bakugou x reader #todoroki x reader #katsuki smut #shouto smut #bnha imagine #bnha scenarios #bakugou katsuki x reader #todoroki shouto x reader #bakugou imagine #todoroki imagine

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duckprintspress · 3 years

Text

How to Edit an Over-Length Story Down to a Specific Word Count

One of the most wonderful things about writing as a hobby is that you never have to worry about the length of your story. You can be as self-indulgent as you want, make your prose the royalist of purples, include every single side story and extra thought that strikes your fancy. It’s your story, with no limits, and you can proceed with it as you wish.

When transitioning from casual writing to a more professional writing milieu, this changes. If you want to publish, odds are, you’ll need to write to a word count. If a flash fiction serial says, “1,000 words or less,” your story can’t be 1,025 and still qualify. If a website says, “we accept novellas ranging from 20,000 to 40,000 words,” your story will need to fall into that window. Even when you consider novel-length works, stories are expected to be a certain word count to fit neatly into specific genres - romance is usually around 80,000 words, young adult usually 50,000 to 80,000, debut novels usually have to be 100,000 words or less regardless of genre, etc. If you self-publish or work with a small press, you may be able to get away with breaking these “rules,” but it’s still worthwhile to learn to read your own writing critically with length in mind and learn to recognize what you do and do not need to make your story work - and then, if length isn’t an issue in your publishing setting, you can always decide after figuring out what’s non-essential to just keep everything anyway.

If you’re writing for fun? You literally never have to worry about your word count (well, except for sometimes in specific challenges that have minimum and/or maximum word counts), and as such, this post is probably not for you.

But, if you’re used to writing in the “throw in everything and the kitchen sink” way that’s common in fandom fanfiction circles, and you’re trying to transition only to be suddenly confronted with the reality that you’ve written 6,000 words for a short story project with a maximum word count of 5,000...well, we at Duck Prints Press have been there, we are in fact there right now, as we finish our stories for our upcoming anthology Add Magic to Taste and many of us wrote first drafts that were well over the maximum word count.

So, based on our experiences, here are our suggestions on approaches to help your story shorter...without losing the story you wanted to tell!

Cut weasel words (we wrote a whole post to help you learn how to do that!) such as unnecessary adverbs and adjectives, the “was ~ing” sentence structure, redundant time words such as “a moment later,” and many others.

When reviewing dialog, keep an eye out for “uh,” “er,” “I mean,” “well,” and other casual extra words. A small amount of that kind of language usage can make dialog more realistic, but a little goes a long way, and often a fair number of words can be removed by cutting these words, without negatively impacting your story at all.

Active voice almost always uses fewer words than passive voice, so try to use active voice more (but don’t forget that passive voice is important for varying up your sentence structures and keeping your story interesting, so don’t only write in active voice!).

Look for places where you can replace phrases with single words that mean the same thing. You can often save a lot of words by switching out phrases like “come back” for “return” and seeking out other places where one word can do the work of many.

Cut sentences that add atmosphere but don't forward the plot or grow your characters. (Obviously, use your judgement. Don't cut ALL the flavor, but start by going - I’ve got two sentences that are mostly flavor text - which adds more? And then delete the other, or combine them into one shorter sentence.)

Remove superfluous dialog tags. If it’s clear who’s talking, especially if it’s a conversation between only two people, you can cut all the he saids, she saids.

Look for places where you've written repetitively - at the most basic level, “ ‘hahaha,’ he laughed,” is an example, but repetition is often more subtle, like instances where you give information in once sentence, and then rephrase part or all of that sentence in the next one - it’s better to poke at the two sentences until you think of an effective, and more concise, way to make them into only one sentence. This also goes for scenes - if you’ve got two scenes that tend towards accomplishing the same plot-related goal, consider combining them into one scene.

Have a reason for every sentence, and even every sentence clause (as in, every comma insertion, every part of the sentence, every em dashed inclusion, that kind of thing). Ask yourself - what function does this serve? Have I met that function somewhere else? If it serves no function, or if it’s duplicative, consider cutting it. Or, the answer may be “none,” and you may choose to save it anyway - because it adds flavor, or is very in character for your PoV person, or any of a number of reasons. But if you’re saving it, make sure you’ve done so intentionally. It's important to be aware of what you're trying to do with your words, or else how can you recognize what to cut, and what not to cut?

Likewise, have a reason for every scene. They should all move the story along - whatever the story is, it doesn’t have to be “the end of the world,” your story can be simple and straightforward and sequential...but if you’re working to a word count, your scenes should still forward the story toward that end point. If the scene doesn’t contribute...you may not need them, or you may be able to fold it in with another scene, as suggested in item 6.

Review the worldbuilding you’ve included, and consider what you’re trying to accomplish with your story. A bit of worldbuilding outside of the bare essentials makes a story feel fleshed out, but again, a little can go a long way. If you’ve got lots of “fun” worldbuilding bits that don’t actually forward your plot and aren’t relevant to your characters, cut them. You can always put them as extras in your blog later, but they’ll just make your story clunky if you have a lot of them.

Beware of info-dumps. Often finding a more natural way to integrate that information - showing instead of telling in bits throughout the story - can help reduce word count.

Alternatively - if you over-show, and never tell, this will vastly increase your word count, so consider if there are any places in your story where you can gloss over the details in favor of a shorter more “tell-y” description. You don’t need to go into a minute description of every smile and laugh - sometimes it’s fine to just say, “she was happy” or “she frowned” without going into a long description of their reaction that makes the reader infer that they were happy. (Anyone who unconditionally says “show, don’t tell,” is giving you bad writing advice. It’s much more important to learn to recognize when showing is more appropriate, and when telling is more appropriate, because no story will function as a cohesive whole if it’s all one or all the other.)

If you’ve got long paragraphs, they’re often prime places to look for entire sentences to cut. Read them critically and consider what’s actually helping your story instead of just adding word count chonk.

Try reading some or all of the dialog out loud; if it gets boring, repetitive, or unnecessary, end your scene wherever you start to lose interest, and cut the dialog that came after. If necessary, add a sentence or two of description at the end to make sure the transition is abrupt, but honestly, you often won’t even need to do so - scenes that end at the final punchy point in a discussion often work very well.

Create a specific goal for a scene or chapter. Maybe it’s revealing a specific piece of information, or having a character discover a specific thing, or having a specific unexpected event occur, but, whatever it is, make sure you can say, “this scene/chapter is supposed to accomplish this.” Once you know what you’re trying to do, check if the scene met that goal, make any necessary changes to ensure it does, and cut things that don’t help the scene meet that goal.

Building on the previous one, you can do the same thing, but for your entire story. Starting from the beginning, re-outline the story scene-by-scene and/or chapter-by-chapter, picking out what the main “beats” and most important themes are, and then re-read your draft and make sure you’re hitting those clearly. Consider cutting out the pieces of your story that don’t contribute to those, and definitely cut the pieces that distract from those key moments (unless, of course, the distraction is the point.)

Re-read a section you think could be cut and see if any sentences snag your attention. Poke at that bit until you figure out why - often, it’s because the sentence is unnecessary, poorly worded, unclear, or otherwise superfluous. You can often rewrite the sentence to be clearer, or cut the sentence completely without negatively impacting your work.

Be prepared to cut your darlings; even if you love a sentence or dialog exchange or paragraph, if you are working to a strict word count and it doesn't add anything, it may have to go, and that's okay...even though yes, it will hurt, always, no matter how experienced a writer you are. (Tip? Save your original draft, and/or make a new word doc where you safely tuck your darlings in for the future. Second tip? If you really, really love it...find a way to save it, but understand that to do so, you’ll have to cut something else. It’s often wise to pick one or two favorites and sacrifice the rest to save the best ones. We are not saying “always cut your darlings.” That is terrible writing advice. Don’t always cut your darlings. Writing, and reading your own writing, should bring you joy, even when you’re doing it professionally.)

If you’re having trouble recognizing what in your own work CAN be cut, try implementing the above strategies in different places - cut things, and then re-read, and see how it works, and if it works at all. Sometimes, you’ll realize...you didn’t need any of what you cut. Other times, you’ll realize...it no longer feels like the story you were trying to tell. Fiddle with it until you figure out what you need for it to still feel like your story, and practice that kind of cutting until you get better at recognizing what can and can’t go without having to do as much tweaking.

Lastly...along the lines of the previous...understand that sometimes, cutting your story down to a certain word count will just be impossible. Some stories simply can’t be made very short, and others simply can’t be told at length. If you’re really struggling, it’s important to consider that your story just...isn’t going to work at that word count. And that’s okay. Go back to the drawing board, and try again - you’ll also get better at learning what stories you can tell, in your style, using your own writing voice, at different word counts. It’s not something you’ll just know how to do - that kind of estimating is a skill, just like all other writing abilities.

As with all our writing advice - there’s no one way to tackle cutting stories for length, and also, which of these strategies is most appropriate will depend on what kind of story you’re writing, how much over-length it is, what your target market is, your characters, and your personal writing style. Try different ones, and see which work for you - the most important aspect is to learn to read your own writing critically enough that you are able to recognize what you can cut, and then from that standpoint, use your expertise to decide what you should cut, which is definitely not always the same thing. Lots of details can be cut - but a story with all of the flavor and individuality removed should never be your goal.

Contributions to this post were made by @unforth, @jhoomwrites, @alecjmarsh, @shealynn88, @foxymoley, @willablythe, and @owlishintergalactic, and their input has been used with their knowledge and explicit permission. Thanks, everyone, for helping us consider different ways to shorten stories!

#writing advice #duck prints press #original content

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marwritesgood · 3 years

Text

Peach | S. Basett

Pairing: Simon x WOC!Reader

Timeframe: Season One AU

Summary: Y/n tries to ignore her aunt’s words, while Simon prays he is not yet out of time.

PART ONE // PART TWO

masterlist

A/N: This fic is just over 8K words

I cannot thank you enough for receiving this mini-series with so much love and support! I am so grateful that so many of you have enjoyed reading this as much as I have enjoyed creating it.

I hope you like this ending <3

Philippa was still standing on the steps outside her home when Simon arrived.

He raced through gates atop his horse but, when he quickly realised Y/n was nowhere in sight, he came to a halt. A worker appeared beside him as he came down from the saddle, guiding the horse away so that Simon could approach Lady Bennet.

“Lady Bennet-”

“I take it you hesitated to come here?” Philippa questioned bitterly. She had made it quite clear to the Duke that time was of the essence. Yet, he stood, dishevelled and panting because he was late, despite his delayed best efforts.

“Lady Bennet, please help me,” Simon exhaled, taking his hat off swiftly and holding it to his chest. Philippa had begun walking towards her home before she turned around again.

“Grant me one reason as to why I should help you, your grace,” she sneered. “Did you not possess every available opportunity to make amends with my niece ever since her arrival in London?”

“I did,” he cried, desperate to obtain Philippa’s assistance. “I had every opportunity but, like the fool I am, I took each one for granted. I have been far too preoccupied with affairs I do not care for; I have stupidly disregarded that which matters most to me; my relationship with Y/n.”

He grew quiet for a moment, during which the only sound heard in the cortile was that of Simon’s panting, a consequence of his frantic outburst. Philippa’s cold and glaring expression remained unfazed. She could not yet decide whether she trusted him.

Simon waited until he caught his breath to speak again.

For any other person in the world, he would uphold his reputation of being reserved and brooding. However, Y/n was not any other person in the world to him. She meant a great deal to Simon, and he was willing to disregard his typical persona, stoicism and all if it meant fixing things between them.

Even if it meant a vocal revelation of how he truly felt.

“I... I love her,” Simon admitted, the crinkle between his brows a confirmation of his sincerity. Philippa’s scowl faded. “I know I am undeserving of your ladyship’s help... just as I am unworthy your niece, but I can no longer deny the true nature of my feelings for her. Nor can I begin to describe the regret I have for not being here sooner so that I could confess this to her.”

As silence filled the courtyard once more, Simon glanced at the floor beneath him, overcome with regret and sorrow. Had he reached the Bennet home quicker, it would have been easy.

“Well then... you ought to begin thinking,” Philippa stated flatly, inciting confusion upon Simon. She smirked, amused by Simon’s response. He always was slow to catch on. “Your grace, if I am going to help you reach my niece, the very least you can do is think of what you will say to her.”

A wide grin slowly made itself apparent on Simon’s face. Suddenly the sorrow he felt previously was beginning to be replaced with a newfound hope- one he would, this time, indulge in and act hastily upon. He was not going to allow himself to repeat his same mistakes.

“Alright now,” she smiled. “I presume you have a plan in mind?”

Simon thought for a moment. While he feared he would miss Y/n’s departure, Simon, unfortunately, did not consider what he would do. He began panicking, straining his train of thought as he sought for even a scrap of an idea.

Then Simon remembered how he found himself in this position. He recounted all the times in his past, where he hesitated. Where became so enveloped in all the matters that burdened his mind, he lost sight of what mattered most to him.

He refused to fall subject to that mentality again.

Therefore, for the first time in his life, Simon turned to his instincts. Not his desire for perfection. Not his pride or his arrogance or his vengeance. What mattered most at that moment was how he could best apologise to Y/n and prove that he loved her dearly.

“Do you know the man whose proposal she is to accept?”

Philippa nodded. She narrowed her eyes at Simon, curious as to what he intended to do. Lady Bennet knew she would inevitably agree, no matter how strange the plan turned out to be, but she was still greatly curious and the slightest bit concerned.

“Can you delay him?” Simon asked. “By the time Y/n’s carriage reaches her home, it will be dusk; thus, I presume she will plan to meet with her suitor in the morning. I need you to delay that from happening.”

“And what will you do?” Philippa questioned. “Would it not be wiser for us both to leave immediately?”

Simon shook his head. He thought of the right way to phrase his answer. If Simon revealed his plan to Lady Bennet, he knew she would support him wholeheartedly. However, he thought it best to keep the better part of it concealed. It would have more effect that way, he believed.

“There are a few places I must visit beforehand,” he explained.

“You are asking me to delay Mr Graham so that you can visit a few places?!”

“I am asking your Ladyship to have trust in me,” Simon pleaded. “Hurting your niece is my biggest regret. I intend to atone for my mistakes, not repeat them.”

Philippa stared intently at the Duke. It was a massive ask of her; to leave her family momentarily and interfere with Mr Graham’s pursuits. However, every instinct she possessed led her to believe that Simon was sincere. The confidence he held gave her hope that his plan would work. She sighed.

“Then you must leave immediately,” Philippa ordered him. “Visit the places that say you must visit and then race hastily to my sister’s home. I will do my best to delay Mr Graham until then.”

“Thank you, my lady,” Simon cheered before doing just as he was told.

He raced towards his horse and climbed atop the saddle. Philippa dashed inside to organise yet another carriage headed to her hometown. Both equally determined to keep their beloved Y/n from accepting Mr Graham’s proposal.

***

The Y/l/n household was, needless to say, very much hectic. Y/n had arrived home the night before, hoping she would, at the very least, be able to have some sleep before the next morning. That proved to be impossible.

The words of her Aunt Philippa haunted Y/n during her journey home. Then, just as she feared, it continued to do so as Y/n tossed and turned in her bed. Once she finally began to settle, her mother barged in with sever different dresses for her to try on.

“Sit up straight, dear.”

Y/n flinched at the sudden sound of her mother’s orders. She reluctantly obeyed and straightened her back. When Mrs Y/l/n turned back around, Y/n sighed exasperatedly, slumping her shoulders ever so slightly. Her hands curled into tight fists as she tried to keep herself from dozing off yet again.

“I do not understand,” Mrs Y/l/n agonised as she paced the sitting room. This was an all too familiar situation for Y/n. “Mr Graham is known for being punctual, yet he is running terribly late.”

Y/n could care less that Mr Graham was late. Not while she was living off of less than an hour of slumber.

“You don’t suppose I could have a scone while we wait, mama,” Y/n mumbled. She was not particularly hungry so much as she was desperate for some energy.

“Do not be silly, Y/n. You mustn’t risk staining your dress,” Mrs Y/l/n replied. Eager to make sure everything went perfectly, she sat beside her daughter and asked the same question she had asked every hour previously. “Now, have you prepared what you will say?”

“Yes, mama, for the fifth time, yes,” Y/n droned. Her exhaustion only intensified her irritability which her mother seemingly lived to test continually. “I don’t understand your concern with how I respond. It matters not how I respond but that I simply remember to say ‘yes’?”

On any other given day, Mrs Y/l/n would have scolded her daughter. However, for reasons unknown to Y/n, she simply sighed and took hold of her hand.

“Words hold great power, dear,” Y/n’s mother explained simply. She glanced down at her daughter’s hand momentarily before meeting her gaze once more. “They are a valuable indicator of one’s character. How Mr Graham proposes to you will tell you of his attitude towards you and your future marriage. How you respond will do the same to him.”

Y/n nodded, knowing first-hand the amount of truth in her mother’s statement.

She did not care for her response to him as she did not care for him or their future marriage. Y/n simply wished to move past what had happened with her and Simon. This was beginning to become clear to her.

“I will respond to him properly, mama,” Y/n assured.

Mrs Y/l/n smiled, lifting her hand to cup the side of her daughter’s face. It was slowly dawning on her that in only a matter of time, Y/n would be married. When Mrs Y/l/n sent Y/n her letter, she knew the issue of her daughter being unwed would resolve itself in one way or another. However, Mrs Y/l/n was taken by complete surprise when Y/n came home on her own accord.

It was far too out of character for her.

She tried her best to look past it. Mrs Y/l/n rushed to get everything in order for Mr Graham’s arrival. However, it was becoming clear to her that she had been too preoccupied with doing so.

As Mrs Y/l/n struggled to find a way to question Y/n about her behaviour, Mr Graham’s carriage arrived outside her home. Y/n looked out her window and jumped to her feet. Before she could race to the door, her mother held her back.

“Before he comes in, dear,” Mrs Y/l/n began. “Are you... Are you sure you are ready for this? Is this truly what you want?”

Y/n scoffed. Her previous concerns about accepting Mr Graham’s proposal suddenly became easy to look past. Y/n’s resentment for her mother began to surface, adding much to her motivations to go through with marrying.

“Mama, please do not pretend to care about what it is I want.”

Mrs Y/l/n had not expected her to react in such a manner. She was not prepared to have her mothering methods confronted. Y/n’s mother’s primary concern had always been ensuring her daughter marries. It gave Mrs Y/l/n significant discomfort to realise how this resulted in her overlooking what should have mattered more.

Not to mention how she only came to realise this just as her daughter was about to agree to marry a man she expressed great disinterest in just weeks before.

Y/n rushed out of the room before her mother could say anything further. As she reached the hallway, Y/n watched the doors burst open. Much to her surprise, it was not Mr Graham alone who walked through. Instead, Mr Graham was with her Aunt Philippa, who relentlessly attempted to guide him in the opposite direction.

“Mr Graham, please, I must show you-”

“Lady Bennet, you have shown me enough gardens,” Mr Graham insisted, trying his best to contain his annoyance. “In fact, I am quite certain you have shown me almost every garden in town.”

“All except the best one, sir, which is located just outside the-”

“- Aunt Philippa, enough!” Y/n shouted.

Mrs Y/l/n reached the hallway just as Y/n called her sister’s name. Mr Graham exhaled tiredly before holding his hands behind his back and regaining his composure.

Philippa sighed. Her attempts at delaying Mr Graham by badgering him to stop at all 9 gardens on their way to her sister’s home all appeared to be in vain. Simon had yet to arrive, and it was clear they were out of time.

“Philippa?” Mrs Y/l/n said in shock. Her sister had always made an effort to give notice before visiting.

“Hello, sister,” Lady Bennet replied awkwardly, trying her best to force a smile.

Y/n had been glaring at her aunt.

She was furious that after she made clear her intention countless times to Philippa, her aunt still chose to meddle. Y/n felt more adamant than ever to go through, even if to simply spite her aunt. It was due time that they learned to refrain from making her decisions for her.

Even if it meant marrying a man she did not particularly care for.

She forced herself to appear alright, mainly in the hopes that it would influence her feelings. That it would obliviate her concerns. It was her last resort at being ok with what she was about to do.

“Mr Graham,” Y/n called out. The man stood tall, prompting Philippa to grimace. “You may join me in the sitting room.”

She walked ahead of him, guiding Mr Graham to the room. Once he walked in, Y/n turned around and closed the door before returning her attention to him. She fiddled with her hands while he cleared his throat.

Y/n was fixated by the words of both her mother and her aunt. She kept asking herself the same question Philippa had. Could she be happy? Could she possibly find any enjoyment in marrying a man like Mr Graham? In living an inevitable future with him?

Mr Graham was exhausted from the long journey he was forced to take with Lady Bennet. For the most part, his mind was blank, aside from his impending desire to return home.

“Is there anything you wish to say, Mr Graham?” Y/n asked. Mr Graham was taken aback. “Before I give you my response, that is.”

Y/n was resorting to humouring her mother’s advice. She wanted to see how Mr Graham was going to ask for her hand so that, this time, she could identify his intentions. Y/n wished to put aside the conclusions she reached about Mr Graham; he was arrogant and ignorant.

She hoped he could prove that he had one if any, good qualities aside from possessing wealth.

“Uhm-” Mr Graham coughed. “You will remember my father is the primary supplier of livestock commodities in our town.”

“Yes, I do remember-”

“By livestock, I am of course referring to domesticated animals raised in agricultural settings,” he continued, despite Y/n’s best efforts to get a word in. It seemed Mr Graham believed he had reason to take her for someone simple-minded; reasons Y/n did not care for but absolutely resented. “And by commodities, I mean the products-”

“-Yes, I am aware of what words mean, Mr Graham,” Y/n retorted.

“That you are,” he smiled, patronising her even more.

Outside the sitting room, Philippa and Mrs Y/l/n stood with their ears pressed against the door in the corridor. The more they heard Mr Graham speak, the more concerned they became for Y/n. Philippa’s stomach churned as she thought of her poor niece being wed to such a man. She could hardly believe she managed to last the journey there with him and not be at her wit’s end.

“I was recently made aware of the amount your father is offering for your hand,” Mr Graham stated, wincing as he did so. Y/n knew how small her dowry was, and she was annoyed that Mr Graham unnecessarily reminding her. “And you will be pleased to know that I am willing to look past it.”

“How charitable of you, sir,” Y/n muttered. Mr Graham did not catch on to her sarcasm. He was an easily distracted man, Y/n concluded. One need only groom his ego, even sarcastically, for him to be oblivious.

Y/n was reminded again of what her Aunt

“Yes, it is quite charitable of me,” Mr Graham remarked, smiling as he felt pleased with himself. “In fact, that is the very reason I first asked for your hand. Father believed it a grand idea that I marry a woman of your kind. Should attract a different demographic to choosing Graham as their supplier.”

“A woman... of my kind?”

The Grahams were the primary supplier of livestock. However, the few other families in Y/n town, who were not white, found livestock commodities elsewhere. It was clear Y/n that they viewed her as a pawn in their pursuit of broadening their clientele.

Y/n could already foresee where the conversation was headed, and suddenly her aunt’s questions held all the more weight.

‘Do you truly believe you will be happy?’

It took her only a moment to think it over. There was no denying that Mr Graham possessed all the ignorance and arrogance Y/n suspected he did, so she considered if it was worth bearing. Would a mediocre future with him be worth having to endure his jabs at her identity, her class and her family?

Mr Graham and his father dealt with domesticated animals for a living. It was clear that they viewed Y/n just the same.

Thus, her mind was decided.

“I expected you to be grateful,” Mr Graham commented, confused as to why Y/n was not flattered that of all the two women who made eye contact with him at the town ball. It was she who received a proposal from him. “You do not exactly have an abundance of suitors lined up at your door. Not to mention, I was generous enough not to withdraw my proposal after you asked for... time to consider your answer.”

Out in the corridor, the two sisters exchanged glances. Philippa and Mrs Y/l/n both argued quietly over who was to barge in and reprimand Mr Graham.

“That is quite enough, Mr Graham,” Y/n hissed, beating both her mother and her aunt to it. Her mind was, after all, decided.

Y/n had struggled for most of her life with control in that she had little of it. If it was not society dictating how she was to live and breathe, it was her mother. This time would be different, Y/n decided.

This time, she would be taking control and making decisions based solely on her own input.

“Thank you for expressing your feelings, your family history and your intentions with such candour,” Y/n began sweetly. Just as she expected, Mr Graham took nothing but pride in what he believed was sincere gratitude. “And thank you for being so charitable as to offer a lowly woman such as myself a proposal of marriage.”

Philippa and Mrs Y/l/n listened in with concern. They both knew Y/n too well to believe that she send Mr Graham off with civility and decorum. Y/n was the least bit concerned for either.

“You have been so generous with your time,” Y/n continued. “Therefore, I will not keep you waiting any longer... Mr Graham, I will not be accepting your proposal.”

Y/n took great pleasure in rejecting his proposal. Mr Graham grew pale as he quickly realised what her answer was. He stood on the opposite side of the sitting room, yet Y/n was desperate to further away.

“You... You mustn’t be serious,” he exhaled dumbfounded. The man possessed a great ego when he first enters Y/n’s home. Thus she was determined to shrink, if not demolish it.

“On the contrary, sir,” Y/n smiled, this time genuinely. “I am perfectly serious.”

“S-surely you have not considered the ramifications of denying my proposal,” Mr Graham reasoned.

Y/n was far too accustomed to being lectured by white men on not considering her actions’ consequences. They, of all people, she believed, were the least bit qualified to talk another on such matters. Not when they are granted every luxury and advantage at birth.

“Miss Y/l/n, you must know, after two seasons of rejected proposals, it is doubtful you will receive another after me,” Mr Graham explained. He was merely adding insult to injury. “And with a dowry as small as yours, I predict your future will be bleak.”

“Perhaps you are right,” Y/n replied, her head held high as she knew Mr Graham was expecting her to be grovelling. “Perhaps I will not receive another proposal after you. Perhaps I will be doomed to live a life of struggle and severe austerity, but make no mistake Mr Graham. I would sooner commit to the life of an impoverished spinster than I would, ever again, entertain the prospect of being your wife.”

Y/n marched towards the door and swung it open, revealing Philippa and Mrs Y/l/n eavesdropping on their conversation. Y/n hoped that would be the case, as an audience’s presence prompted Mr Graham’s mortification to increase tenfold.

“I must ask you to leave immediately.”

Mr Graham did not wait another moment. He just about sprinted out the door, determined to never step foot in the Y/l/n home again. Y/n stood in the hallway with a smirk and a proud glimmer in her eye. If she felt as a result of taking control, her only regret was not doing so sooner.

Perhaps Y/n would regret her decision later in her life. Maybe she only created more issues for herself than anything else. However, all that would be affairs she would attend to last, in the far off future. For now, she was happy.

Y/n headed towards her bedroom without saying a word to her mother nor her aunt. She had not done so on purpose. She was simply desperate to change out of her corset and resume resting her fatigued body. Once Y/n was altered, she sat on the edge of her bed. As she let out an audible sigh, Y/n slumped her shoulders and fell back.

She had never been so grateful for her mattress.

Y/n closed her eyes momentarily. She was very sleep-deprived, yet she was on an incredible high from the adrenaline of rejecting Mr Graham so explicitly. Before she opened her eyes, Y/n felt the mattress sink at her sides. As she opened her eyes, she realised both her mother and aunt were lying beside her.

“I must apologise to you both,” Y/n explained, reach her arms out to hold each of their hands. “I have caused you both a great deal of grief. And it all appears to be in vain now that I have rejected Mr Graham.”

Philippa and Mrs Y/l/n turned to face Y/n, both with the same expression.

“You may be sorry for many things in life, dear,” Mrs Y/l/n began. “But you mustn’t dare apologise for denying Mr Graham’s hand... you mustn’t ever.”

Y/n smiled. She was unsure what motivated her motivated to have such a change in character. However, she was far too pleased with it to question it.

“Any thought as to what you will do now, dearest?” Philippa asked. She looked over to her niece with her brows raised, and her sister followed suit.

It was clear that neither of them could keep Y/n from doing what she wanted. Therefore, it was decided that both Philippa and Mrs Y/l/n would simply stand aside and hold her hand throughout it all. Y/n thought for a moment.

“Perhaps another season?” Y/n answered.

In an ideal world, Y/n would have opted for something different. Perhaps she would have embraced the idea of being a spinster. In perfect world, such a fate would not be so grim. However, that was not the world Y/n lived in.

And so she opted to embrace the best and only option she had.

“Truly, dear?” Mrs Y/l/n exclaimed. While she was overcome with excitement, she wanted to ensure it was her daughter’s genuine desire.

“Yes, mama,” Y/n insisted, smiling weakly. She hoped in time the prospect would become more appealing to her. “-and it will be much different this time, hopefully for the better, as I am now willing to comply with you and your rules and your overprotective nature. I want it all.”

Mrs Y/l/n did not take offence. Instead, she simply laughed and leaned her head in to kiss Y/n’s temple. She had raised a mighty blunt and greatly opinionated daughter.

Mrs Y/l/n was most proud of it.

“I must excuse myself,” Y/n’s mother said. She placed her arms behind her and lifted herself off Y/n’s mattress. “Your father will be delighted to hear the news, I am quite sure.”

Y/n laughed at her mother’s excitement. Once Mrs Y/l/n left to recount the morning to her husband, it was just Y/n and her aunt.

“I hope you won’t mind me asking, dear,” Philippa whispered, inching closer to her niece. She feared the next subject of conversation would strike a chord with Y/n. “Has any of this changed your feelings... towards Simon?”

“No,” Y/n answered shortly, her voice neither louder nor quieter than previously. “He will soon be a married man, so it is most appropriate I refrain from paying him any mind so as to not remind myself of my feelings for him.”

Philippa huffed, torn as to whether or not she should tell her niece. Would doing so disrupt the duke’s plans? Would it not be better for Y/n to hear the truth from Simon himself when he eventually came? Would he ever arrive?

“I, however, must admit- whatever rage and anger I once held against him has since passed,” Y/n sighed. “You were right in what you said before... Although it will not be me who marries Simon, I do hope to marry someone like him.”

Someone like who he was before he became Duke Hastings, Y/n thought.

“You do?” Philippa smiled. She decided not to reveal anything to her niece quite yet. Lady Bennet was confident such a task should be carried out by Simon and him only.

“Hmm,” Y/n nodded. “Someone of good character and of a kind heart. A man who does not resent me when I raise arguments but rather engages in them.”

“It is the least of what you deserve in a husband, my dear,” Philippa replied.

The two of them shuffled to the top of Y/n’s bed, where her pillows laid. Both were exhausted from travelling in from London and enduring what had been a most eventful morning.

They both remained silent to get some sleep in before Mrs Y/l/n would eventually call them down for breakfast. However, just as Philippa began to drift off, his niece disrupted the quiet.

“Aunt Philippa,” she murmured. “I never did ask you what exactly compelled you to come... let alone badger Mr Graham as a means of delaying his arrival.”

Y/n was unsure what she was expected her aunt to reply. Philippa grew nervous as she tried to respond in a manner that would not reveal the real reason she came to her sister’s home.

“I-I,” Philippa stammered quietly. “-I simply could not sit idle... and let you accept Mr Graham’s proposal.”

Y/n hummed before turning to her side. It was a predictable answer, yet it left her with a bitter feeling of disappointment. She slept without

Philippa sighed in relief before hoping that wherever Simon was, whatever it was he was doing that moment, that it would not hinder him any longer from finally reaching the Y/l/n home.

***

Y/n awoke from her nap to an empty bed and an open room. She was curious about where her aunt had gone, not to mention why her mother did not wake her for breakfast. The sky had darkened significantly since she first fell asleep, though Y/n was sure it was not yet evening.

She climbed out of bed and donned a simple dress. Y/n could hear the faint sound of her parents talking, so she suspected they were with Philippa. Afterwards, Y/n wandered down the steps of her home and headed to the dining room. The conversation grew quiet, prompting her to call out.

“Have you truly begun eating without me?” Y/n laughed as she pushed the doors open.

As she stepped inside, a man stood from his seat- across the table from Philippa and Mr and Mrs Y/l/n. He turned to face Y/n with his hands held behind his back.

“Simon.”

Y/n was awestruck. All she could say was his name, and after muttering it quietly when he stood, she found herself left speechless. What could motivation could he possibly have to travel there from London.

“His grace will be joining us for dinner,” Mrs Y/l/n explained, refuting Y/n’s last hopes that it was not yet evening. “It will not be ready for a small while, so perhaps you could walk him to the garden in the meantime.”

“‘Tis the best one in town,” Philippa commented, a reference to the wild goose chase she led Mr Graham on just earlier that day.

Y/n remained quiet, unsure as to what was happening. She expected her mother to be repulsed by the sight of Simon. Y/n had, after all, rejected countless marriage proposals for reasons involving him. However, she was not repulsed.

She was smiling. Glowing, rather. Even Philippa and Y/n’s father seemed to be beaming despite sitting in silence. Y/n could not decide whether that should comfort her or worry her.

“He requests a private audience with you before dinner is served,” Mrs Y/l/n continued.

“H-He... does?” Y/n stuttered, looking at Simon in confusion. He appeared to be avoiding her gaze, which further provoked her curiosity.

“I do,” Simon replied shortly.

Y/n turned to her mother in confusion. Indeed, she would not send her unmarried daughter off, with an available man, on an unchaperoned walk without explanation nor context.

“I cannot possibly leave you to make dinner alone, mama,” Y/n stated. The thought of walking with Simon, especially after the nature of their last conversation, left her much unsettled.

“Nonsense, I will offer my assistance,” Philippa responded. Y/n narrowed her eyes at her aunt. She had always avoided being in the kitchen with her sister by all means necessary.

“It is decided then,” Mrs Y/l/n cheered, guiding Simon and Y/n towards the door that led to their garden.

“Mama, it looks as though it will begin to rain,” Y/n whispered, hoping to stop her mother but to no avail.

“You will not be far from the house, dear,” Mrs Y/l/n replied, opening the back door and guiding the two outside. “Should that be the case, you need only take a short walk back.”

Before Y/n could think of another way to avoid the walk, her mother rushed inside, slamming the door close behind her. There was no more avoiding, it seemed. Y/n sighed before reluctantly walking towards her mother’s botanical garden.

He was initially quiet. Simon had rehearsed what he was to say several times before he arrived. However, it was not until he saw Y/n again that all his prepared words vanished from his memory.

Y/n was conflicted. She was overcome with a myriad of emotions, which always seemed to be the case for Simon. While she was still very hurt by his actions and was determined to voice her feelings, Y/n felt it necessary to first break the ice with civility.

“How long will you remain in town?” Y/n asked.

“I have not yet decided,” Simon answered, after a moment of deliberation. He believed it wise to tread lightly in their conversation, though he too was determined to let his feeling become known.

His answer left Y/n’s curiosity to grow.

“Why not?” She queried. “I suspect Miss Bridgerton will be eagerly awaiting your return to London.”

Simon smirked. He missed her witty remarks terribly, just as he missed her company. Y/n had not intended for her response to land with such snideness. However, it was clear to her that Simon did not resent it.

“You suspect wrong,” he answered gleefully, catching Y/n off guard. Simon took amusement in her confusion but did not hesitate to clarify the situation. ��She has already promised her hand to another... His royal highness Prince Friedrich. I was informed of the news this morning.”

“You do not seem upset,” Y/n commented as she studied Simon carefully.

“That is precisely why I wished to speak with you,” he explained.

Simon stopped walking, prompting Y/n to do the same. They stood by her mother’s hyacinths, specifically the purple ones. Simon took inhaled deeply as he prepared to explain himself and as he hoped, with all his might, that she might forgive him.

“I lied to you,” he began.

“Yes,” Y/n muttered quickly before Simon could continue. Had he genuinely come all this way just to recount their argument, she wondered. “I remember our conversation vividly.”

“No,” Simon cried. “What I meant to say was that I lied to you... when I told you that I was courting Miss Bridgerton and that I intended to marry her.”

Y/n remained silent, allowing Simon to continue.

“She approached me earlier this season,” he explained. “- with a proposition that I pretend to court her. She needed more suitors, and I sought to improve my public image.”

Y/n recalled the countless articles written about Simon, painting him as a stoic and brooding snob. It made sense that he wanted to change this portrayal, Y/n, though.

“I tried my best to put an end to our pretence earlier... on the day you approached me at Hyde Park, in fact,” Simon said. “However, Miss Bridgerton was adamant that it continues until she could attract the attention of Prince Friedrich. And I had already given her my word not to reveal our ruse to another soul.”

Y/n remained quiet as she took in his revelation. The more Simon spoke, the more Y/n understood why he acted so cold to her. He was always most irritable when he was hiding something.

“Peach,” Simon sighed. He reached out for Y/n’s hand, and, to his surprise, she did not pull away. “For all the pain and sorrow I caused you that night at the gala, I am so sorry.”

She squeezed his hand tightly as a way of comforting him. Y/n knew the way Simon could be so cruel to himself. Considering the impossible position he was placed in, she could only imagine the extent to which this had been burdening him.

“While I wish I had been spared from getting hurt,” Y/n began. Simon winced but nodded. He, too, wished she had not been caught in the middle. “I do understand why you had to lie to me... and I think it unfitting if I were to continue to hold that against you.”

Simon exhaled in relief.

Y/n smiled, comforted by his reaction. She, too, was relieved. After the gala at the Danbury estate, Y/n deemed Simon a stranger, someone she could no longer recognise. Yet, as they stood opposite each other in her mother’s garden, Y/n felt she knew exactly who the man that stood before her was.

The two continued walking across her mother’s garden. After Simon thanked Y/n several times for being so understanding, she recounted her morning to him. Simon struggled to contain his laughter when Y/n explained the 9 gardens Philippa forced Mr Graham to stop.

“So what will you do now?” Simon asked curiously.

“I will have to endure another season,” Y/n replied. “I have already promised mama I would comply with her this time around. Hopefully, my luck has not yet run out."

Simon nodded, though he resisted the urge to frown. She appeared to be excited. Hopeful, even. He worried this indicated a change in her affections for him. Nonetheless, he cast his worries aside for a moment. Y/n’s happiness was his primary concern.

Simon thought back to the story Y/n told of her rejecting Mr Graham’s proposal. In particular, he remembered the comment Y/n said he made regarding how dowry.

“If that is the case,” he began. “Then I insist on making a donation... to contribute to your dowry.”

Y/n’s feet came to a halt as she furrowed her brows in both shock and confusion. Instinctively, she began devising a way to reject his offer without offending him. Y/n was never oblivious to the significant difference in her financial standing to Simon’s, but she certainly never wanted to take advantage of it.

“It can remain anonymous,” Simon insisted. He knew his offer was far from appropriate as a woman’s dowry was her family’s responsibility. However, that was precisely what Y/n was to him: family. “If you are concerned about what others might say, I assure you I will personally see to it that the donation remains private.”

“Simon, no-”

“- Please, I insist,” he held firmly. Y/n continued to shake her head profusely, but Simon refused to give in. “It is the least I can do after playing such a significant role in hindering you from marrying these past two seasons.”

Y/n paused, taken aback by the fact he knew that.

“Simon,” she began. Her tone was neither shocked nor angry. “You mustn’t hold yourself accountable for a decision I made. Yes, you may have been the reason for it, but it was I who ultimately made a choice... And I take full responsibility for the position I am now in as a result.”

Simon nodded sheepishly.

“Regardless,” he said softly. “I still insist... You mean a great deal to me, Peach. Ensuring you have a befitting dowry is the least of what I owe to you, particularly after all our years of friendship.”

The grey clouds grew darker as the weather turned sour, and the day slowly came to an end. However, that quickly became the least of Y/n concerns. Her lips parted briefly, but she struggled to say anything.

Simon let out a heavy exhale before reaching his hand into the pocket of his coat. He looked at Y/n and smiled. She still appeared adamant to deny his offer of making a donation to her father.

“Do you remember the story,” he began, “- of the first time we played in the maze at Lady Danbury’s home?”

Y/n chuckled, unsure whether he was serious or if the question were rhetorical.

“Of course you do,” Simon continued, laughing all the while. “You recount it at every available opportunity.”

His laughter was disrupted by Y/n’s fist, gently colliding with his shoulder.

“Please allow me to finish, Peach,” he cried as he rubbed his shoulder. Y/n rolled her eyes playfully but allowed him to continue nonetheless. “You recount it at every available opportunity, but you always failed to include the part of the story I favoured most.”

Y/n raised her eyebrows in surprise.

“After I found you in the maze- crying hysterically, I must add,” Simon quipped. As Y/n raised her hand to repeat her previous action, Simon caught her fist in his hand. Their eyes locked as he did so, and the tension between them grew this. Y/n lowered her hand coughed awkwardly, prompting Simon to continue. “I took you to see Lady Danbury’s fruit orchids.”

Simon’s smile grew remarkably wide. He had purposely refrained from retelling his favourite part of the maze story to Y/n. He was most excited to finally do so.

“You ran straight for one tree in particular,” Simon said. Y/n’s brows snapped together as she tried to remember. “I picked some fruit, and we ate it beneath that tree. However, you were still quite upset, and that was when I assured you I never would have left you behind... Do you remember which tree we sat beneath?”

After giving it a moment of thought, Y/n gasped quietly when she finally remembered. She looked back to Simon and smiled. In a quiet whisper, she answered his question.

“Peach.”

Simon nodded. It was after that day that he refrained from calling Y/n by her name. After they left Danbury’s orchids when he chose to instead call her ‘Peach’ to remind himself of that day on of his promise not to leave her behind. Despite falling short on that promise, Simon was determined to fulfil it.

He took a step towards Y/n and slowly replaced his grin to express both sincerity and fear. Y/n studied him in anticipation of what he was to say next. Simon seemed greatly troubled by something, she thought.

“If you wish to find another suitor next season,” Simon started, unable to hide the sorrow he felt at imagining it. He inhaled sharply and, in doing so, forced himself to remain composed. “I will do everything in my power to help you in your pursuits. Whether that be in the form of financial support or advice. Whatever it is you may need from me, Peach... my answer will always be yes.”

Y/n’s eyes widened, and her mouth curled into a frown. She could see right through Simon’s attempts to his sadness.

“But if there is any chance,” he question, his tone frantic and desperate. He inched forward slightly and deepened his gaze at Y/n before he continued. “If there is even a fleeting chance that your feelings towards me are... are as they were before, then please tell me now.”

Just as he finished speaking, droplets of rain began to fall. They grew bigger and more rapid as time went on, but neither Simon nor Y/n noticed. Both were far too concerned with the affairs of their affections for one another.

Y/n held her breath as she looked at Simon. Earlier that day, she decided to enter her third season. She had finally come to terms with knowing that casting aside her feeling for Simon would be her best method of moving forward. Yet as they stood in her mother’s garden, she found herself with no choice but to confront them.

“They are,” she confessed, her voice almost overpowered by the sound of the rainfall, though just loud enough for Simon to hear. “My feelings for you, they... they have not changed.

Her words were music to his ears. Simon reached his arm out and took hold of her hand. He felt his heartbeat rapidly against his chest. Despite the cold and wet weather, Simon felt a warm sensation in his chest.

“I must assure you,” he spoke, glancing down at the sight of her hand in his. “This is not a result of impulse or of the heat of the moment. Rather, this is something I have anticipated doing, I... I have desperately hoped to be able to do for quite some time.”

“Simon,” Y/n quavered. “W-What are you referring to?”

Simon looked up at the sky. He laughed as the heavy rain showered over his face, and then he turned back to Y/n. She did not move from where she stood but, instead, studied Simon closely. Her mouth fell agape when, without a moment’s notice, Simon knelt down.

Y/n gasped. There was a loud slushing sound made as Simon’s knee sunk into the mud. He was unfazed by it, which made Y/n shock only grow. He couldn’t be, she thought. It was not possible. And indeed, if he intended to do as she suspected, he would live to regret it.

In a swift motion, she too fell her knee. Standing up while Simon knelt before she felt all too overwhelming. Y/n was confident he was not serious, despite him expressing profusely that he was. Simon’s eyes grew wide as he looked down and noticed the mud-splattered across the hem of Y/n’s gown.

“Peach, your dress-”

“Never mind my dress,” Y/n croaked. “Simon, what are you doing?”

“What I should have done two years ago,” he replied instantly.

Y/n clasped her hand over her mouth. Her hair and her clothes were drenched from the rainfall, as was Simon’s, yet neither seemed to notice. He reached out and took hold of her free hand.

“I know I am the least bit deserving of your hand, as well as of course your forgiveness and your friendship,” Simon began. “However, these past years away from you, and these past two days in particular... They have been pure torment. And I have since realised that I would be a fool not to make an offer of marriage to you and hope that you would be so kind as to accept it, because... Well, because I love you, Peach. Fervently so.”

“What... What about your vow to never marry?” Y/n asked.

Indeed he had not thought this entirely through, she wondered. This was the moment, she believed. The moment he would take back his proposal.

“You said before that I have the luxury to choose while you do not,” Simon answered. Slowly, he let go of Y/n hand and lifted it to her face, holding the side of her cheek tenderly. “Well... I believe it’s due time that my choices begin constituting to my happiness... and that of the only woman I love.”

Tears welled up in Y/n’s eyes and began to trickle down her face as she wept. She felt it surreal, the fact that Simon was offering his hand to her. And as it appeared, she had run out of reasons to argue against it.

“I know I have caused you much suffering,” Simon sighed, rubbing his thumb gently across Y/n’s cheek, wiping her tears away while doing so. “But I am determined to spend the rest of my life atoning for it by doing everything in my power to ensure your happiness... That is if you will have me?”

Y/n thought of her mother’s advice earlier regarding how one’s words indicate one character and their intentions. She thought of how all her past suitors made proposals from a place of arrogance, how they all made the argument that their financial standing was reason enough for her accept.

That was not what mattered most to Y/n.

Love and happiness; that was what she sought most from marriage. After years of being told that to do so was naïve and pointless, Simon was offering precisely that.

“Yes,” Y/n answered, laughing beneath her breath as she exhaled. She stood up and planted her feet firmly in the mud before reaching her hand down to help Simon do the same.

“Yes?” Simon repeated in disbelief.

Y/n chuckled and helped him to stand, after which she reached her hands out and placed them on the sides of his face. Even in the pouring raid and even covered in mud from the waist down, he was still so beautiful, she thought. Simon precisely the same of her

“Yes! I... I will marry you,” Y/n declared, her smile growing wider as she spoke. She could not make that statement repeatedly when she would eventually share the news.

Simon wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her closer to him. He leaned closer to her slowly and kissed her sweetly. Y/n held the sides of his face firmly, pulling him even closer to her, causing him to smile against her lips. Shortly after, Simon slowly pulled away, leaving Y/n gasping for air.

“I am sorry it took me so long to do this, Peach,” he said softly, gazing apologetically at the woman he could finally address as his fiancee.

“It does not matter anymore, Simon,” Y/n replied, pressing her temple against his.

He grinned before leaning in to kiss her once more. Y/n lowered her hands and left them placed against his coat’s lapels. She wished for the moment to last a lifetime. However, as the rain grew heavier and the sky grew darker, Simon pulled away again.

“Perhaps we should return,” Simon suggested, despite much enjoying being alone with Y/n. She immediately groaned at the thought of going back. “I imagine your mother will be quite cross if we miss dinner.”

“Simon... I have waited a very long time for this moment,” Y/n began. “I will not be rushed by you or my mama.”

Simon laughed before kissing her once again.

When they finally walked back to the house, Simon continued to glance over at Y/n and at the sight of their hands intertwined. He thought of all the different ways things could have ended between them.

What would have happened if she had accepted Mr Graham’s proposal or even that of her previous suitors? What would have happened if he did, in fact, marry Miss Bridgerton? What would have happened if he had just proposed to her when she first confessed her feelings to him?

Simon wondered how many times things could have drastically been made different between them. He thought of how many choices, events and actions dictated whether they would ever be engaged.

And all he could do was smile at his beautiful fiancee and be completely and utterly grateful that this was how their story concluded.

@fuckoffthanos @awesomebooklover17 @shadowfoxey @eternallyvenus @smol-grandpa @deakesthegreatest

#simon basset x reader #simon basset imagine #duke hastings x reader #bridgerton imagine #bridgerton x reader #Bridgerton #simon basset #duke hastings

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animefanwrites · 3 years

Text

brother’s best friend [F] | pt. 3

b. chan x reader | brother’s best friend au

synopsis: “what happens when your brother invites over his (hot) best friend but forgets to even inform you about it? And what happens when you walk out of your bedroom and see him in your house with no sign of your brother in sight?”

word count: 1.9k

genre: brothers best friend au, teen rom-com

warning: fluff, language, tiny bit of angst

a/n: sorry i took so long for chapter 3! things have been quite hard for me this whole time. i hope you like it!

chapters: 01 | 02 | 03 +

status: on-going series

The night was quiet and almost no cars passed by while you looked outside. Seeing your reflection on the window, you carefully moved your gaze towards Chan, trying not to be so obvious. He was smiling slightly, hands holding the wheel. You smiled softly and turned to look at him.

“So, what’s this studio?” you questioned with a raised brow. Chan chuckled slightly but before he could answer you added “You said I can’t know where it is not what it is.”

“You got me there,” he replied while pushing some of his hair back. “Well, it’s a music studio. I don’t know if you’ll be interested,” Chan sounded quite hesitant as if you’d make fun of him for creating music. Instead, he was met with an enthusiastic gasp.

“You’re a musician?” you asked, eyes sparkling and lips formed into a beautiful smile. Chan was slightly shocked — he wasn’t exactly waiting for that reaction. He smiled and nodded his head, chuckling in the process while becoming embarrassed. “Jisung never told me anything! Will you show me what you have made?”

“S- Sure!” Chan internally cursed himself for stuttering. “Though, I don’t think you’ll like it. We’re not making anything big, it’s just silly lyrics with beats we make...” he added, wanting to warn you in case you had imagined anything big.

“If they’re original then I’m sure I’ll like it,” you assured him making a blush spread across his cheeks. He laughed and you could feel your heart flutter. Spending time with Chan was something that felt unrealistic but a dream coming to life at the same time. You didn’t even know the man for that long and you just wished you could sit down and talk about him for hours.

The car soon stopped outside a building and you quickly walked out slightly hopping from excitement. Chan walked beside you and opened the front door of the building for you, letting you walk in first with a “ladies first”. You thanked him and slowly followed behind him as you both skipped to the so-called studio.

He quickly opened the door with a key that he had in his pocket and walked inside, your eyes glowing with happiness as you looked around at all the different microphones, computers and speakers. It looked like they had paid a lot to get all that expensive stuff “just for silly lyrics” as Chan had mentioned earlier. Maybe he was just embarrassed to say what they were making.

“Well- here it is!” he chuckled and finally broke the silence that was haunting you two for quite a while now. “I can give you some headphones so you can listen, but um- again, I don’t think you’ll like this kind of music,” he muttered slightly and pulled some headphones from inside a drawer.

“Oh, come on, I’m sure I’ll like it if it’s from you!” you pressed and sat down in a chair, sighing at how comfortable it was. While doing the work, Chan was leaning over your shoulder, his head inches away from your neck and his arm extending from behind you to grip on the mouse. You gulped at how close he was — you could smell his cologne and see his pretty eyes from up close.

“This should do!” he smiled and looked at you, eyes staring right into yours. You nodded and immediately looked away to hide your blushing face. Without another word, he slid the headphones on your head and pressed ‘play’, seeing your lips turn into a big grin as you heard the music start. At first, he was hesitant, gripping the side of the desk without really wanting to, out of nervousness. Then, he saw you bob your head and smile up at him with a huge smile.

“It’s so good!” you exclaimed a bit too loud since you couldn’t hear yourself. He gave you a thumbs up and showed you a few more songs where the lyrics made you laugh and others that made you quite upset and almost even teared up. “It was... so amazing!”

“You think so?” he questioned while sitting on the chair, opening a program that you didn’t quite understand how it worked. “Maybe you can sit here too and help me choose beats?” Chan looked up at you with a hopeful smile when you were about to sit on the couch behind him.

Looking around, you didn’t see any other seat that could be moved next to him though. You were about to ask him about it, but he patted his lap which made you burn red right away, eyes going wide and cheeks getting a scarlet shade.

“CHAN!”

“I’m so sorry! I’m just kidding!” he laughed and covered his face in embarrassment. You could hear his heartwarming laugh as he tried sinking in the chair and hide his face. When you both calmed down from lauging, he pulled a stool from under the desk and placed it close to him so you could join in on the fun.

The whole time, you couldn’t easily focus on what Chan was asking you even if he explained it beforehand. You just nodded and randomly picked something that you liked. You were too distracted by the handsome man to pay attention to music right now.

The way he happily talked about how music helped him through his darkest times, how he relaxes while making it and pours his emotions into the lyrics. It made you even more interested in him — if possible. He looked at you and smiled shyly before speaking; " you know, we don't know each other for more than 24 hours but- I feel so relaxed around you, just like when I'm writing."

Once again, you were surprised by his words and were left with a mouth wide open. You sweetly smiled back at him and nodded while looking to the ground out of embarrassment. Finally getting the courage to look up at him, you gently placed your hand on his.

"I feel quite the same way," you replied and watched him blush a bright pink shade before chuckling and scratching the back of his head. You both knew it was quite early to say that you liked each other. But it felt so mutual.

You just knew that you were both thinking the same things, possibly having the same thoughts about the future and whatnot. You were looking at each other by now, his eyes hypnotizing your e/c ones and his hand slightly trembling at the thought of bringing you close to him. Just as he was about to lean in, a loud sound from outside made you both sit straight and come back to reality. You chuckled nervously and kind of awkwardly at the whole situation — you knew what was about to happen and it was rudely interrupted.

Maybe it was a sign that it was too early.

When you looked at the clock you gasped and so did Chan. You had spent two whole hours in there. Maybe they're right, time passes quickly when you're having fun. He stood up and held his hand out for you to hold onto, but even when you were standing, he didn't let go. Your firm palm fitting perfectly into his.

"It's a pretty night outside and... personally I don't feel like returning back yet. What do you say? Drive and go see the stars?" he asked with confidence that made you want to say yes right away. You held back though and pretended to think for a moment — which made him nervous in no time — but let out a soft laugh, in the end, agreeing with him.

“This night has been one of the best I've had in a while," you admitted once in the car. You were driving towards a high cliff that would give you a beautiful view of the starry sky. "Thank you," you smiled and turned to look at him, even if his gaze was at the road ahead.

“I didn't do anything, y/n,” he said and gave you a warm smile, turning to face you for a split second. “I'm just doing what I usually enjoy. Glad we have similar interests and enjoy each other's company!” he looked so happy and excited that you were enjoying yourself, especially if it was with his companion as well. From the start, his whole ‘plan’ was to make you happy, show you what he likes and see if you'll enjoy being with him while doing stuff he likes.

When the car reached the cliff, you both walked out and you sat down first, patting the space next to you. Chan sat down and stretched before one of his hands slid lower, holding your waist and bringing you closer. You bit your lip nervously and scooted closer, head leaning on his shoulder for comfort. That wasn't too much, was it? You soon relaxed and let a soft sigh leave your lips that Chan was looking at for minutes now, wishing he could kiss them soon.

How could someone be as perfect as you? Liking things he liked, a smile so bright he would replace the sun with, eyes that held the stars and all your secrets. He could find a billion reasons to show how perfect you are and they wouldn't be enough. Then it hit him. He could write them. Sing them.

“Chan, you good?” your voice snapped him out of his thoughts as he looked down at you, leaning on his shoulder and smiling slightly. “You were grinning just now, what were you thinking about?” you questioned while your eyes trailed back to the sky and its beautiful stars.

“Just... thinking about something that I can show you soon,” he chuckled and placed a hand on your head, softly. You nodded in response and hummed, which only made him more interested in his previous idea — spending more time with you would only mean more inspiration, more happiness, more... feeling loved and showing love.

He knew he had told Jisung that he would never date his sister, but on the other hand, Jisung told him that he wouldn't mind if Chan had a crush on her. That means he's okay with it, right? Absolutely.

A cute yawn from you made the boy chuckle and slowly stand up to show you that it was about time you head back home. You definitely didn't want Jisung waking up in the middle of the night noticing both of you gone. But, talking about Jisung, he was a heavy sleeper so there was little to no chance of this actually happening.

“Again, thank you for... this,” you chuckled and shrugged your shoulders once outside the front door. “It was a really nice night and spending it with you... made it ten times better,” hearing you say that, Chan blushed and laughed shyly.

"It- it was nothing, I told you,” he replied and his hand reached towards the front door. Before opening it, he turned to face you, a soft smile on his lips and his eyes looking at your figure in the dark with admiration - even if you didn't notice. "I wouldn't mind repeating it again,” he muttered, hoping you heard him.

He opened the door and both of you froze, eyes wide and lips parting as a pissed-off Jisung stood in front of the door, looking at the two of you as if you were criminals breaking in the house.

“Where the fuck were you?!”

#skz #skz series #skz one shots #stray kids #han jisung #bang chan #bang chan x reader #stray kids x reader #stray kids series #brother's best friend #Lee Minho #seo changbin #yang jeongin #hwan hyunjin #kim Seungmin #lee felix #bang chan fanfic

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yetanothergreyjedi · 3 years

Text

What We Might've Been: Part 2

Part 1 Part 1.5

Part 3

Inspired by @liminalhollow 's Spork AU

For @dargeon-lissa @dp-marvel94 @aethtalon

...

“I- Uh- I’m not you- I-“ Danny racked his brain for an explanation that wouldn’t immediately get him killed. He'd entered the ghost's haunt. How had his room become a ghosts haunt?! But the thing didn't attack, didn't possess him, or use some mind altering power. It only tipped its head and watched him flounder for words. It seemed to notice it’s disguise slipping. The light in its eyes faded, leaving behind a dead grey-blue.

It sighed, "Did Vlad do this?"

"W-what?"

"Vlad Masters. Did he do this?"

"Why would Dad's creepy friend send me to the future?" He still didn't think it was the future, ghosts could have some crazy powers but that? No.

"Because he's a fruitloop." It answered immediately, and accurately, the guy from Wisconsin wouldn't leave his mom alone. But why, how, could he have anything to do with this?! The thing stopped, its eyes flashed green again for a moment as it said, "Wait- Future?!"

Danny nodded, he'd barely been sure what was happening but he was certain that's was what the ghost had said. Surely one ghost's explanation would be more accepted than the other?

“Where’s your medallion then?”

“My what?”

“Clockwork’s medallion. I know how time travel works."

Danny opened his mouth, then closed it. Ignoring the utterly bizarre statement. This was a trap, a trick. The ghost masquerading as him either wanted the object for itself or it wanted to remove his only protection against the other one, the one that had frozen him in place without seeming to expend a drop of energy. No, no, it couldn't have it. But there weren't many other options. He should've known better than to bring up the time question! He needed to get out of here!

He threw the first thing he could reach, hoping to catch it off guard and ran towards it— Through it, even better. He sprinted down the stairs. There was a flash of bight light behind him, he dodged low, almost throwing himself down the stairs before he realized nothing had been fired.

"Whoa, hang on!" Its voice echoed in a way it hadn't before. He kept running, not wasting a moment to glance at it, and ran directly into someone.

"Whoa! Hey, Dann-o! You came outa—"

"Ghost! In my room!" His dad didn't miss a beat, the gun was up by the time he finished the word 'ghost' and he was firing by time the sentence was over.

The specter dodged the first blast, made a shield for the second and paused to speak, "So not cool, man!"

His mom heard the commotion and joined the fray, while Danny sprinted to the basement. He needed a weapon, that thing had been mimicking him. He barreled into the lab, to the weapons case. Opened it and—

Crash.

He barely jumped back in time to avoid getting crushed.

What?!

Who filled the case with all this junk?!? The case was the second most important piece of the lab (the portal took first), not even Dad wouldn't do this?!

"Danny?" Sam looked at him from the other end of the room, slightly baffled. Tucker was also staring. "Did you bring it?"

"Bring wha—"

"Dude, what's with the jumpsuit?" Tucker cut him off, "Is it really that dangerous? I thought you said you blasted it?"

"What? We talked about the jumpsuit!"

"Did we?" Tucker looked to Sam.

"No." She affirmed.

"Could you explain it again, then?"

"Its cause of all the ghosts..." Danny said slowly, they should know this, he'd been wearing them since the first ghost attacks... Suspicion crossed both his friend's features.

There was a long pause, the pair shared a look and Sam demanded, "Secret word."

"Uh, what?"

"What's the secret word." Tucker clarified, as if that clarified anything.

"What are you guys- Hey! Whoa!" Three ectoguns were now pointed at him, Sam with twin wrist blasters and Tucker with a laser-y thing that had come out of his PDA (When did he do that? It was a very good idea).

"Who are you?" Said Sam.

"Is Vlad cloning again?" Asked Tucker.

"What? No! I mean I don't know! I'm not impersonating me, the ghost upstairs is impersonating me!"

"Nice try. Now answer."

"Uh... Sam?" Tucker was focused on the PDA screen. She glanced at him, quickly, before focusing back on Danny. She'd used these before, not like Sam... His Sam, who avoided any involvement with ghost hunting, who refused to accept that they were just monsters. "His scans are weird..."

"What kind of weird?"

"He's a level 2.5." Tucker switched to a whisper.

"What?" Sam followed suit, "That's too low for a shapeshifter."

"Uh... that's normal..." Danny lied, well kind of. He normally was a level 1.3 but he'd also just been in a ghost's lair (two lairs if you counted not-future-him's bedroom) and had a ghostly artifact in his pocket. Those things were likely to temporarily raise an ectosignature's power rating. He was 76% sure.

Another pause, Sam tried to gesture something while still aiming, there were some whispers he didn't catch. Then Tucker asked, "Did Vlad... raise you?"

"No!? Why does everyone keep talking about Vlad?! The Fruitloop lives in Wisconsin, I've seen him maybe twice!" The pair shared another look. He had no idea how to read those expressions.

He sighed, "You guys won't believe me."

"Try us."

"Yesterday I was at the—"

"Guys! We have a problem!" His hair stood on end as the ghost dropped through the ceiling. Danny shuttered. It was so much worse now that he got a look at it, it was wearing a Fenton hazmat suit, his suit, no, a mockery of it. The colors were inverted and the FentonWorks logo was replaced with some other symbol. That wasn’t the only thing inverted, twisted, he was staring at his own face only not. It’s tintless white hair stuck up just like his, and it’s eyes burned deadly ectoplasm green. Danny still didn’t have a weapon. “Oh, you found him! We have slightly less of a problem.”

“He’s saying Vlad has nothing to do with this... I’m not sure if I believe him.” Sam lowered her blasters, because he was somehow more of a threat than the monster crackling with unused power.

“Yeah, no... he said something about time travel—“ both of his friends groaned, “Then! He sicced my parents on me,” It turned his attention to him, “which is rude by the way! Honestly, I was getting close to being able to ask about a truce, but now they’re gonna be chasing me around for ‘attacking their son!”

“Oof,” Tucker added, as Sam asked about something the ghost could do to get his parents back on his side. Danny stopped listening and scanned for something useful in the pile of discarded machinery. Weapon, weapon, weapon... this wasn’t promising. There were blenders and half disassembled watches and a few things that looked like they’d been pulled out of a trash fire. The thing that looked the least like junk was probably a scanner, but his parents had started putting tasers in those, so it was something.

“Hey,” too late. the ghost was in front of him, he dove for it. Grabbed it. Rolled with the momentum and brought the scanner up as he got to a kneeling position. The thing came to life with a whirring sound.

The ghost laughed, the sound lasted longer than it’s mouth had been open, “That’s the ghost Gabber.”

“That’s the Ghost Gabber. I am a ghost, fear me!”

“Look, I don’t know what’s up with you, but really it’s better for everyone if you go back to whatever time you’re from.”

“Look, I don’t know what’s up with you, but really it’s better for everyone if you go back to whatever time you’re from. Fear me.”

“Could you please turn that off.”

“Could you plea—“ The sound died as Danny flipped the switch and tossed it back on the pile. Why did his parents even make that?

“Why should I trust you, Ghost?!”

#danny phantom #spork au #my writing #grey writes #what we might've been #chapter 2

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zackcrazyvalentine · 3 years

Note

can i request malleus and reader’s future child time travelling to meet their parents when they still go to nrc pls 🙏 i just really think this is cute eeeEE

Heehee~ This prompt is always a fun one to see in fandoms

-- -- --

A bright light, the sensation of falling, a scream being torn from their throat, and finally, landing.

"U-U… U'cl Lilia..? P-Papa..?" They sniffled, hugging their trusty dragon plush close. "I-I don kno…" Tears stung their big round eyes.

The small one took some shaky breaths, wiping away the tears with their sleeves. This was somewhere unknown, somewhere outside of Valley of Thorns, so they should not let their guard down to cry.

Little feet began to walk, mesmerized by the seven looming figures surrounding them. "Ah! Gweat Wi'ch!" Their pace quickened once the horned figure crossed their line of sight.

Innocent to the onlookers' eyes, the toddler babbled words and letters engraved on the statue's pedestal.

"What is a child doing here?" Ace asked.

"Since when do kids visit this school? Aren't they too young to be on a school trip?" Jack threw the tiny figure a sideways glance.

Deuce was somewhat unsettled, "Are they lost? Didn't they wipe away tears?"

Ace snickered, "Say, Deuce, don't ya wanna be a policeman? They help lost kids~... Why don't you practice for the future?"

The blue haired glared at his friend, but before a retort could be said, Jack parted from the group.

"O-Oi, what do you think you're doing?!" Ace exclaimed in surprise.

However, their whole motions were stopped when a certain pistachio haired boy entered the scene.

"Just what do you think you're doing, child?! Show more respect to the great Witch of Thorns!" Sebek speedwalk directly to where the (now scared) kid stood.

"What are you doing touching her statue with dirty hands?! And reading her accomplishments in disarray?! Were you not taught proper manners, to respect the Great Seven?!" As Zigvolt droned on with his scolding, the child's eyes filled with tears once more.

"U'cl Sebe doodoo head!" They wailed, letting their tears roll.

"What was that?!?!" The irritated first year yelled.

Jack resumed his stride, but stopped a few steps away due to the high pitched cries bothering his sensitive ears. Ace, Deuce and Epel stood in shock at the scene. "U’cl? ...Uncle?"

Running steps interrupted the scene “Sebek, what is wrong with you? Screaming at a small child?!” [Name] rushed in, standing between the kid and Zigvolt.

“M-Mo…! Mo!!” The young one immediately hugged the legs of who was standing in front of them.

“But I simply-!” “Oh, hush now! Stop yelling, lest you wanna upset the kid more.” They quickly interrupted whatever the exalted first year wanted to say.

The [hair color] bent down to lift the toddler, “Uh… Hello there, little one! Are you lost? Did you come here with someone?” They spoke gently after helping wipe the tears away.

“N-No… no lost, Moddy wid me naw. U’cl Lilia…” At the mention of Diasomnia’s vice leader, everyone had wide eyes.

“Lilia? You came with...for Lilia?” They tried to coax more information out, but the little one only leaned onto their shoulder and wrapped the unoccupied arm around the student’s neck.

As if on cue (and spooking all grown ups in the process), Vanrouge appeared. “Mentioned my name?”

Immediately, the infant turned to look at the bat. “U’cl Lilia! Upu upu!” They made grabby hands and, of course, Lilia complied.

“What an adorable whippersnapper! You have such wonderful green eyes! That look awfully familiar…” The fae stopped his tickling to recall where he had seen those bright eyes. A sudden flash of baby Malleus with big tears in his eyes crossed the old bat’s mind.

“Master Lilia, what matters do you have with a child?” Sebek questioned.

“Ah, huh… I’m about to find out.” He answered, turning to walk away, but was stopped by displeased groans. “Mo! M-Moddy!” A sob accompanied the kid’s cries, arms outstretched towards [Name].

Tiny hand wrapped around bigger fingers as the one they called out came closer. Lilia understood, “[Name], can you be a dear and follow me? Seems like our visitor here doesn’t want to let you go.”

They snapped out of it, “O-Oh! Certainly.” There was something about holding that small hand that brought forth warmth in their heart.

Before they tailed the 3rd year, they stopped and whispered to Jack, “Inform the Headmaster. Whoever this child is needs to go back home securely and quickly.” The 1st year nodded.

As they made their way towards wherever Lilia led them, child and [1st/2nd/3rd] year student bonded. Playing hide and seek, singing lullabies, asking questions about the kid’s trusty dragon companion, anything to make sure they were distracted and wouldn’t get scared by anyone or anything around them (especially once arriving at the dark Diasomia dorm).

“Old Man… [Name]-san, and a child..?” Silver greeted the group, perplexed at the scene.

The fae smiled as if there was nothing unusual, "Evening, Silver hair! Do you happen to know where Malleus is?"

"Uh-..huh… I believe he’s in his room." He decided not to ask questions, although his face told of his clear confusion.

"Wonderful! Let us go to our destination, then. [Name], do come with."

"As you say. Keep leading the way, please."

“Shi’va, ba-by~!” Tiny hands waved at the boy who slowly returned the gesture. “What is going on? They knew..my name?”

Once standing in front of Malleus' chamber, Vanrouge knocked on the door. A click of the door unlocking and opening was the only answer. This gesture made the toddler perk up.

"Malleus! How many more times have I need to tell you to signal the visitor they have permission to enter? Don't just open the door with magic." Lilia let himself in, "Apologies for his manners, [Name]. This is the one antic I couldn't drive out of him."

Draconia rolled his eyes as he continued tending to his virtual pet.

"Papa!" Again, small arms stretched towards the figure before him.

The dragon prince became curious at the youthful voice and looked towards the door. He was met with the sight of Lilia carrying a child while [Name] stood beside them.

"Tell me you didn't steal this one, Lilia. I don't want history to repeat itself--"

"Silence, you… No, this one was wandering NRC until Sebek and his friends found them." Pout turned into a smile as the bat took Gao Gao-kun from Malleus' hands and replaced it with the child, "Now I think I've deciphered what happened."

"Papa, papa! Gao!" The little one said, placing their toy on Malleus' face.

He only duck away from the plush, "Papa? No child, I believe you're mistaken."

"Oh no, they're absolutely not mistaken~!" Lilia giggled, "It appears our visitor here is accidentally a time traveler. Probably got in the way of a spell and ended up here."

"Time traveler?" The other two occupants of the room said, startled in their own levels.

"Indeed. Want to know the interesting part of this?" The younger students looked at each other in slight confusion, nodding at last.

"This child… has vibrant green eyes, a head of [texture] [color] hair, and if you touch their crown, you can distinctly feel two little hard bumps…" While the bat described the little one's appearance, [Name] moved to stand close to Malleus and the kid.

"In case that rings no bells," Vanrouge continued, "I shall uncover the truth… Dear [Name], Malleus… I believe with all my mythical intuition that this is a whippersnapper of your own."

“Of our own…?” Draconia echoed.

“Our kid?” [Eye color] looked into two pairs of lime green.

“Papa, moddy! Gao!” As if sensing the mood, giggles escaped their mouth after their parents reunited.

Sparks and butterflies ignited two hearts after hearing their beloved (future) child giggle so merrily.

“I-! I- ugh… ahaha~ Well, would you look at that?” A blush erupted on the [1st/2nd/3rd] year’s face, “Ahem… looks like we’re more than highschool sweethearts, huh?”

The crown prince could only bring his child closer, embracing him tenderly in his warmth. “If… Only if you allow us to be more than that. The future can always be changed.” Malleus looked at them, both of them, with fondness.

“How do you expect me to change opinions when you’re both so darn cute, ya big lizard?!” [Name] internally squealed and aww’d at their future family. Emotions so colorful, they went over and joined the hug.

Lilia smiled brightly at the small family, “My Queen, My King… I know both of you surely are proud of your son, wherever you may be now.” A melancholic sigh left him, “I shall take my leave. Time travel issues can be resolved later, let them bask in happiness.”

[END♡]

-- -- --

OMG HOPE THIS WASN’T SUPER CONFUSING TO KNOW WHEN I REFERRED TO READER AND TO THE KID AAAAA Sorry if many “the child/kid/[X] year student” were used! Was the only way I could think of working around this

Thank you for the request! We all know Silver, Sebek and Lilia will definitely be part Malleus’ kids’ family, so of course the baby here knows their name :b

(lol sorry for the terrible baby talk too, idk with what sounds do kids struggle with the most when learning to talk) (ALSO!!! supposedly “moddy” is a gender neutral term for parents, a mix of “mommy” & “daddy”)

#march 2021 special #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #malleus draconia #malleus draconia x reader #zack writes #soul cuddle #request pavilion

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caretaker-au · 3 years

Photo

CHAPTER 10

Bright light spilled into Chara’s vision as the world manifested around them. Their body—heavy and fragile—struggled and dropped them to their knees.

As they fell forward Chara caught themselves with their hands. They stared out at their small, feeble fingers that were splayed on the lavender colored floor, each digit tipped with a dull, flat fingernail. Where were they? And what was that awful pounding sensation? They pulled a hand to their chest. That’s right. Their heart. No longer made from monster magic, Chara’s human flesh felt comparatively sluggish and dense. The body they were never supposed to return to. Chara crossed their arms and gripped themself tight. Fierce emotion flooded through their body: a touch of grief for their own death, relief for their survival, and most of all, rage.

“Asriel…” they breathed, their voice a shaking whisper, “How could you?”

After everything they had done, after all that they sacrificed for him, Asriel had betrayed them. Again. As he always had. It didn’t matter how hard Chara worked or how many timelines they chased, their wretched partner threw away everything they had to protect accursed humans. This time was the worst, however. Asriel’s betrayal ended in orchestrating a shared execution.

“You really hate me that much?” Chara’s voice was little more than a shaking growl. They wanted to scream, to declare that they wouldn’t allow it, that they would find someone else who would respect them and carry out their plan. But they didn’t believe it.

“Chara?”

A small voice broke through the fury. Chara looked up and saw them. A child hesitating in a stone doorway just ahead of them: Frisk.

The child’s expression relaxed into a smile, “I’m glad you’re okay.”

Anger flashed across Chara’s face. They pulled themselves to their feet, wavering slightly. They staggered towards Frisk with heavy steps, increasing their speed into a run. Frisk’s eyes widened for a moment before they scowled. The child braced themself and held out their arms, “Chara, stop!”

The caretaker grabbed Frisk by the collar and wrenched them up against the doorframe. The kid’s teeth chattered as their skull thudded against the stone behind them.

“Why?!” Chara barked, hatred seeping from their every pore, “You took everything from us! Our lives, our future, the salvation of all monsters!” Frisk turned their head away, clenching their eyes tight as Chara berated them. “Nothing was stopping you from leaving. So why?” Chara demanded, “Why did you return? To mock me? To torment me?”

“No…” Frisk answered quietly, “To save you.”

Their answer didn’t make any sense. Chara stared back, unable to even articulate a response. Instead, they slammed Frisk against the wall again. “Liar!” Chara cried out, “You expect me to believe that?”

“It’s the truth!” Frisk squirmed and pulled on Chara’s hands to no avail, “Escape isn’t worth anyone’s life. Not even yours, Chara!”

Chara’s fists clenched tighter around the slack of Frisk’s sweater. With a heave, they tossed the child to the side. Frisk splayed across the floor with a grunt.

“You are wrong,” Chara huffed, “And you… are a fool. Did you not learn the first time? I don’t care about your mercy.”

Frisk pulled themself to their feet. They straightened and returned Chara’s frenzied glare with a quiet gaze.

Chara continued, “I will not stop. This time I’ll take the souls, ignore you, and escape to the Surface. There, Asriel and I… we’ll…” Chara trailed off as Asriel’s face crossed their mind again. They sank to the floor, the air feeling heavier and heavier. “That traitor… he will never… he will never cooperate.”

The realization was like a knife twisting in their gut. Even with his betrayal, Asriel was always the most devoted. No one would be able to replace him. Despair crept into their heart as Chara realized they needed him more than Asriel needed them back. Chara had considered Frisk their greatest opponent, but it was Asriel who truly stood in their way.

Chara’s vision swam, so they turned their head away from Frisk, their hair falling in front of their face. Knowing the human was seeing them like this made their skin crawl, and they wished the ground would swallow them up. As Chara spoke, they held their breath to keep their voice from shaking. “Leave.”

Frisk hesitated, surely coming up with a response. Mockery? Pity? Chara wouldn’t bear it.

“Out of my sight! Now!” Chara shouted; their roar made the air tremble. Frisk didn’t wait to be told again. The sound of scuffling footsteps faded from earshot, and soon Chara was alone in the silence once more.

Finally, Chara let the tears fall from their eyes. They were disgusted with the way their breath hitched and sobbed no matter how much they tried to stifle it. Asriel did this to them. Asriel would have to pay.

Chara indulged in several minutes of sickening self pity before they finally wiped their face. Looking around, it took Chara a moment before they registered just where they were. They were deep within the Ruins, just outside the chamber Frisk had fallen into. But that didn’t make sense. From Chara’s experience, time could only be turned back to the most recently fixed point. Frisk should have been returned to just before their battle, perhaps in the jail. Instead, here they were, back to the moment they first met. Was Frisk not confined to the same limits of time travel?

Chara shook their head. They couldn't think about this now. Only one thing mattered: Asriel’s punishment. Drawing the will to stand, Chara pushed themselves upright to follow the child.

In one way or another, Frisk had made it past all the traps, through the house, and—presumably—out the exit. It was for the best; Chara couldn’t stand to cross paths with the child again. Inside the house, they paused to collect a large padlock they had stored in a table drawer. It was heavy and nearly the size of a text book with ornate designs engraved across it. The lock was imbued with abjuration magic, made specifically to lock the Ruins after Asriel was nearly killed by the human years ago. The lock would render any door unbreachable by human or monster, and Chara held the only key.

Chara carried the device with them into the basement, down the hall, and to the large exterior doors that lead to the snow draped forests beyond. The doors were slightly ajar, revealing a set of footprints that dotted the snow off into the distance.

Chara sighed, taking one last look at the snowy view, before pulling the doors shut. For decades, the lock had only been placed on the outside, removed only when Chara came through to patrol the ruins or escort monsters between Home and Snowdin. Today, for the first time, the doors would be locked from the inside with Chara within. They looped the padlock through the handles of the door, and when they snapped it into place, the doors shuddered and clamped together with a jolt. Chara traced a fingernail down the seam of the two doors. No one would be passing through without their permission.

Confronting Asriel directly was not an option. After all, any progress made with Asriel could be undone by Frisk. Not to mention they weren’t even sure what they could tell him. Asriel’s traitorous inclinations were buried deep into his core, waiting until Chara was at their most desperate to stab them in the back.

But there was one tactic that Frisk would be unable to interfere with. Silence. If Chara withdrew to the Ruins without a word, Asriel would surely blame himself for Chara’s sudden absence. Chara knew Asriel well: he’d beg for Chara’s return and apologize for things he didn’t do, all the while ignorant of his traitorous compulsions. Cruel, perhaps, but nothing was as cruel as what he had done in those erased timelines.

Chara checked their phone. They already had one message from Asriel inquiring as to when they’d return home. The caretaker marked it as read before slipping it back into their pocket.

---

As predicted, Asriel came to the door and stayed all night long. Knocking, calling, pleading-- Chara relished each pathetic attempt at reconciliation. He deserved to be confused, heartbroken, and alone, just as Chara was. Over the course of the day Chara received messages from Asgore, Toriel, and many other monsters. They all asked the same thing: Are you okay? Do you want to talk? We found this human named Frisk, do you know them? Even Muffet demanded an explanation. Chara would have to deal with her later.

Leaving everyone wondering and begging for answers was the only power Chara had left. Word was getting to the monsters in Home as well, evidenced by the additional messages piling up on their phone. Chara ignored them too. Eventually they would realize they were trapped on this side of the door as well, unwilling hostages in Chara’s scheme.

No matter. The monsters deserved to be trapped. Every one of them was just like Asriel: eager to please and sentimental to a fault. Chara had devoted their entire life to serving them and in return they never offered to help collect the souls that would free them. In fact, Chara had to resort to time travel to push them in the right direction for just an ounce of support. They all deserve to rot in this dark, claustrophobic hell.

---

“So you just let a human walk on by?” Muffet inquired in a sing-song voice, “That doesn’t seem much like the great caretaker at all!”

The two of them were sitting in her parlor, each on a lavish chair. A full tea set complete with baked goods sat on a low table between them, though Chara knew better than to partake in it. Spider legs stuck out of the scones like coarse hairs, and they couldn’t even imagine what the tea had been steeped with.

“Yes. Well.” Chara said, looking down at their lap, “There is not much I can do about it now.”

“Oh yes, I imagine the sweet thing is the new royal favorite, aren’t they?” Muffet’s fanged smile turned up in a mocking grin, “The queen has always had a soft spot for filthy little strays. You know that better than anyone, right, dearie?”

Chara bit back a retort. With time no longer under their control, they had to be careful while inside of her lair. It had been a week since they sealed the Ruins, and Muffet was the only person they had spoken to since. The crime lord wasn’t their first choice of confidant, of course, but she had been insisting on meeting and they knew better than to reject her invitation.

“I suppose so,” they responded softly.

Muffet giggled to herself, then suddenly reached for the plate of cookies between them. It was only after she grabbed a couple treats that Chara realized they had flinched when she moved. They tried to relax but the attempt only made them more tense.

“So, is that why you locked the exit? Had a bit of a falling out with the in-laws?”

“Something like that.” Chara frowned, “I’d rather not talk about it.”

“Oh of course, a lady like me wouldn’t dream of indulging in distasteful gossip! Instead, I have a business proposition~”

Chara straightened. In their current circumstance, they didn’t have much in the way of influence or leverage.

“How can I be of service?” they asked.

“I want to relocate,” Muffet paused to bite into one of her cookies. It sounded... crunchy. “You see, the Ruins are awfully drafty, and the cold isn’t good for my constitution. I was thinking about moving in the next year or so, but now that you’ve so... graciously sealed us all in here, I predict the traffic in my shop will be slowing down considerably.”

“Understood.” Chara nodded, “I will make an exception for you and open the d—”

“I wasn’t finished, Chara.” Muffet said, her voice lowering. There was a tense pause before she smiled again, “I want a limousine~”

“A—A what?” Chara asked, incredulous.

“A heated limousine that will chauffer my employees and I all the way to Hotland,” she gestured to the spiders that skittered between the tea cups, “A necessary luxury to ensure we make it safely through the biting cold of Snowdin. Should be a simple task for a monarch, correct?”

“Of course. Leave it to me.” Chara smiled, “Is that all?”

“Not much for business, are you, Chara?” Muffet smirked, “This is where you negotiate the terms of the agreement~”

“No need. I am happy to do this as a gesture of goodwill.” Chara outstretched their hand—it wasn’t trembling anymore, thankfully—and Muffet gave it a dainty shake.

Once Chara was safely out of Muffet’s lair, they heaved a sigh of relief. Somehow they had managed to leave in one piece despite Muffet’s attempts to bait them. Now they just had to figure out how to serve her outrageous demands. Chara fished their phone out of their pocket, dismissed several dozen missed calls and text notifications, and opened their address book. They were going to need to call in some discreet favors.

---

One month had passed since they sealed the Ruins. It wasn’t easy, but Chara managed to arrange for Muffet’s departure without alerting the Dreemurrs. Eventually, the royals found out the Ruins door had been briefly opened which led to a fresh barrage of calls, messages, and knocking on the resealed door, all of which Chara ignored, of course.

Chara walked the streets of Home late at night, the crystals in the ceiling sparkling above. They could feel the eyes of the monsters on them, but after weeks of Chara ignoring and scowling in return, the monsters had given up on approaching them. Wordlessly, they did their weekly shopping at the local market. As a member of the royal family, Chara had never needed to pay for any necessities, and it seemed the benefits even extended here. It was only fair compensation, of course. After all, Chara was still serving the undeserving monsters by patrolling the Ruins every day for human threats.

---

“Ugh, really?” Chara muttered. They were nearly done with their patrol, having reached the large trap of spikes that was circled with a moat. Chara pushed down on the edge of the spike panel’s pressure plate with their foot, but the spikes failed to retract completely, the deadly points standing out by a few inches. It wasn’t a good sign: the springs inside were starting to give out. And if the springs snapped while Chara was standing above it…

Chara shuddered. They had witnessed that messy result and they didn’t care to experience it first hand. Typically, Chara would order replacement parts and perform maintenance themself, but the machinist that created the pieces was in New Home. Unsealing the door again was out of the question.

“Of course this would happen now,” Chara grumbled. They moved their foot off the plate and the spikes shot back into place. How many more compressions would it tolerate before it broke? Before Frisk came to the Underground, Chara could risk it and undo any unpleasant accidents, but if the past five months were any indication, Frisk was not nearly as eager to manipulate time. In fact, time had been rolled back only two times since Chara let the child go.

It was inconceivable. How could Frisk resist the urge to erase the inevitable little mistakes that ruined every day? Embarrassing moments, broken tea cups, scraped knees… all could be fixed in an instant with the right application of their power. To have such power and yet choose to carry the weight of their failures—it defied reason.

More importantly, if Chara suffered a tragic accident while isolated here, no one would come to their rescue… whether through time manipulation or otherwise.

“Unfortunate.” Chara said to themself with a resigned sigh, “I will have to dismantle them. All of them.” They turned around and headed back home. While they didn’t have access to their machinist anymore, they did have a few hand tools and plenty of time.

---

Eight months had passed since Chara had let Frisk go. As they walked the path of the now defanged Ruins, they revised and repeated their old plan over and over. If they could just get one more soul to replace Frisk, they would have the seven required to break the barrier and purify the Surface. The only thing missing, of course, was a willing monster to absorb them.

They reached the end of their patrol: the entrance to the Underground for lost, unlucky humans. The chamber was empty, as it had been every day since Frisk fell in. Chara walked into the center of the room and stared up into the vacant darkness looming above. One hundred years had passed on the Surface and only eight humans had fallen in that time. How long would it take for another to arrive? Ten years? Thirty? Without the help of their powers Chara could very well die before seeing the next human soul.

Chara turned to leave, but did a double take as they glimpsed a glimmer of gold on the ground. They kneeled and pushed the grass aside to reveal a small yellow bud, barely beginning to open.

“It cannot be…” Chara breathed, “A Golden Flower?”

Golden Flowers were common on the Surface, but had no presence in the Underground. Chara was so sure of this that they had incorporated them into their original plan over 20 years ago. By requesting to see the wild flowers on their deathbed, Chara could ensure Asriel would cross the barrier with their corpse in tow.

Or at least, that was what should have happened.

Chara clenched their teeth at the bitter memory. It was the first of many perfect plans ruined by Asriel’s cowardice. The caretaker grasped the plant and ripped it out of the ground by the root.

Immediately, Chara felt a pang of regret. They stared down at the pathetic thing. Their favorite flower, somehow growing in this dark, sunless prison. When had it taken root? Did some seeds blow in from the Surface? Or were they brought in by a... passenger?

Chara shook their head. Regardless of how it was introduced to the Underground, it was now a part of the Ruins—their Ruins. It didn’t deserve to suffer for Asriel’s mistakes. Reflexively, Chara attempted to turn back time, but nothing happened.

With a sigh, they returned the flower to where it was and buried its roots back into the soil. The stem was bent and it wouldn’t stay upright, but weeds were resilient. With a little help, it might still make it.

---

Chara hesitated before their latest masterpiece, knife in hand. Resting on a serving plate was a beautiful, hand crafted chocolate ganache cake. Strawberries perched on top of the silky dark topping, and the intoxicating aroma filled the house. Somehow, even without their powers, it had turned out almost too perfect to eat.

Emphasis on "almost". Carefully, Chara slid the knife through the decadent construction and placed a slice on their plate. They paused to admire the moist cross section before sliding a fork through the end and taking a bite.

Absolute bliss.

"Not bad for a humble birthday cake," Chara said to themself. They were thirty-seven today. Chara looked across the dining table into the empty living room. The only sound was the fire crackling in the hearth, emitting heat for a one person abode. They wished this house wasn’t nearly identical to the one in New Home; the similarities made it too easy to imagine Toriel in her chair, Asgore in the kitchen, and Asriel leaning on the table with his elbows, big goofy grin on his face. The Dreemurrs loved birthdays, always spending weeks preparing for a large and lavish party.

This was the first birthday they had spent alone since they were thirteen. They had forgotten how miserable it could be.

Chara checked their phone. They had over one hundred notifications that had come in just today. They scrolled through to find the only contact that mattered: Asriel.

“Happy birthday, Chara!!” the message read, “Mom and Dad and I are thinking about you lots! We even got you a gift, so I hope we can give it to you one day! Wherever you are, take good care of yourself, okay?” A line of party and heart related emojis followed.

Chara read the message over and over. Asriel’s texts would always fill them with disgust and hatred, but not today. Instead Chara just felt… lonely. It was a pathetic, shameful feeling, but a true feeling nonetheless. Despite all the ways Asriel had disrespected them, Chara couldn’t hide from the fact that they missed him.

The caretaker allowed themself to vocalize a thought they had been pushing out of their mind for months. “Maybe…” Chara spoke, their soft voice breaking the quiet, “Maybe it is time to go home.”

They sighed, resigning themself. The eternal silent treatment was never a realistic plan, and while Asriel was the intended subject of the punishment, it was unpleasant to Chara, too. Scrolling up through his messages, Asriel had sent hundreds upon hundreds over the past year begging them to “just talk”. All had gone unanswered. The confusion and desperation in those messages were clear; he was perfectly primed for a reconciliation.

But Chara wanted more than reconciliation. More important than companionship was freedom. Freedom not just for undeserving monsters, but most importantly, freedom for themself.

“There is still a way,” Chara muttered to themself, “I simply… pushed Asriel too quickly. Asriel always responded better to a softer approach.” Chara stood, pacing.

“We will delay soul fusion until the end of my natural life. Nothing barbaric or tragic. My dying wish will be to live on within him. He cannot turn down my final request.”

Chara nodded, they could see it now. After a few decades, Chara would peacefully pass from their old, frail body into Asriel’s strong, youthful one, a benefit of his species’ long life span.

“Then we gather the rest of the souls. But not right away. Asriel will need some time to adjust to sharing a vessel with me. But he will with time. Perhaps even the child can be convinced to willingly donate their soul to the cause.” Even though Frisk wouldn’t be a child anymore, it was hard to imagine Frisk as anything but a meddling brat. Honestly, they’d probably still be a brat in thirty years.

“If not, that is... fine. The child can be suffered to live.” The decision was a reluctant one, but giving mercy to such an undeserving creature gave Chara a pleasant feeling of self-righteousness. After all, it didn’t really matter if Frisk lived or died. The important thing was purifying the Surface and breaking the barrier. One human would not make a difference.

“Yes. This will work.” A smile crept onto Chara’s face and their heart thrummed with excitement. They would return to Asriel, who would embrace them with utmost relief and joy. After all, absence makes the heart grow fonder, and Asriel had shown no signs of giving up on them.

Chara would enjoy a long life in the company of their loved ones until the day they would embrace their prophesied purpose as the Underground’s savior.

It would require patience, but their splendid utopia was once again within reach. They began planning their grand return.

chapter 10 // end

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#undertale #chara #the caretaker of the ruins #undertale spoilers #main comic #chapter 10 #story summary #amazing that chapter 1-9 took place in one day #but this chapter is a year long

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revengeisourlullaby · 3 years

Text

If I Never Knew You Pt.3

Pt. 1 Pt.2 Pt. 3 Pt.4 Pt.5 Pt.6

Warnings: 18+, smut in this chapter, unprotected sex, (some dom/sub themes, cunnilingus, squirting, slight breeding/impreg language, creampie, cumplay), some fluffiness follows the smut, secret relationship, angst

a/n: Part 3! This is the smut chapter. This is one of the longer ones. I hope this is meeting everyones expectations from what the first chapter had given off. Very excited to share the rest. As always requests/asks are open! :)

Word count. 3.7K

You were awakened with a light knock on the other side of Loki’s chamber door. You kept your eyes closed not wanting to have to face any conflict fresh out of sleep. Remaining in your same position you heard Thor’s voice informing Loki to feel free to make his way to the dining hall. You kept still, wanting to hear the entire conversation without any disruptions or derailings of what was meant to be said.

“Who's the young lady between your legs, brother?”

“One I’m thinking of marrying. The only issue is her parents' blessing, something she’s yet to ask. The right time’s on the horizon, but not quite within reach.”

“Have you spoken to father about it?”

“I have the feeling that waiting until the last moment will work best for me. A bit of chaos if you will.”

Thor chuckled

“You never change, brother.”

“Why alter something that needs not fixing?”

“That bridge is yours to cross and I will be there for you when it happens. Regardless, food will be waiting for you and your lady when you're ready to come out.”

Loki nodded his head in acknowledgment and Thor left the room. With the door closing, you stretched and turned around to face Loki.

“So, you plan on making me your wife?”

“You were awake?!”

“I had stirred awake when your brother knocked on the door. I wasn’t faking it the whole time. Although I’ll admit, it’s nice to know you’re in this fully.”

You stood up and moved to sit in Loki’s lap, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“Well, since you eavesdropped in on the conversation, are you up to eat?”

You answered, hesitantly,

“Yes...if you’re in it fully and an offer of marriage is in the near future, the least I can do to convey my undying fidelity is to be shared with you in public. I’m ready for it all.”

Standing up, you stepped to the side to let Loki up and lead the way. Once out of his quarters you walked beside him through the corridors of the palace he called home. Arriving in the dining hall to your surprise and relief everyone had already left. The two of you to be left alone. Life felt unusually at ease, anxiety was free from your bones and you had a gut feeling that at least while you were here everything would play out in your favor. It was more than comforting and for once in quite some time you were finally able to eat. A little more than you expected honestly. You hadn’t realized how much you had been depriving yourself of necessary nutrients because eating was the last thing on your mind. Everything had been cluttered for the past year.

It wasn’t until recently that your appetite began to fizzle out. You knew you’d eventually be okay but one meal a day would eventually catch up to you. And right now it was showing.

“Hungry?”

Suddenly aware of your surroundings and Loki’s raised eyebrow you were faced with how much you had actually gone through while being stuck in your head.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t look like a pig did I?”

You shrunk, your shoulders making a poor attempt at hiding your embarrassed face.

“No, Y/N, you did not. Simply wondering how you put it all away.”

You paused wondering whether or not you should expose yourself. Relationships were all about transparency, right?

“I haven’t been eating all that much lately. The mental has affected the physical especially within my own home and I finally felt comfortable within these walls and I completely forgot my manners. My apologies.”

“I never said to stop. Indulge till your heart and well, stomach’s content Y/N. This will be your home, thus you may behave however you see fit. There’s no need for change.”

Looking at Loki through your brow you saw that he meant what he said. The expression on his face silently communicating sincerity to you. Your embarrassment faded and was replaced with affirmation.

Finishing in the hall you and Loki walked back into his quarters. Night had fallen over the sky completely and the hallways of the palace looked more familiar to you now. Entering his room you walked past the bed and went straight for the balcony. You looked up towards the sky, looking for the answer to all your questions to be written in the stars. You failed to hear the footsteps behind you and only became aware of Loki’s presence when his arms wrapped around your waist, his head resting on your shoulders.

“You know, the stars aren’t going to give you the answers with any more ease. Believe me, I’ve tried. You just have to do what you don’t want to.”

“I know I just...I just wish it would be easier. I wish we had the freedoms of the cosmos, being able to travel through the entire mass of space without thought of what's to come next.”

You turned around, resting your back against the railing. You looked down and fiddled with your fingers for a moment before you looked up at Loki. The moonlight was bright and full, casting a white shadow across his features. You were unsure of what to do with your hands so you just placed them by your sides and admired Loki for a little while longer. A small smile subconsciously formed on your face and it wasn't until Loki reached for your hands did the haze in your eyes fade.

“If only you knew the chaos I’d bring upon worlds. If only you knew the hells I’d race through, the agony I’d suffer with if it meant you by my side...it would seem that freedom is already had, my darling.”

“Loki, I-

“-No matter the circumstance, you will be by my side. Whatever the battle is you must face with your parents, I swear to you, you will not bear the burden alone. If you were to, then what would I be here for?”

Your hand squeezed around his own and before you got a chance to respond to him, Loki’s hand slipped from your own and tilted your chin up. Staring into your eyes before capturing you into a searing kiss. It felt warm, comfortable, and fueled by fiery passion all at once. You removed your hand from his and wrapped your arms around his neck, weaving your fingers into his hair. Loki’s hands traveled to your waist but didn’t stay long before they traveled further down and firmly grasped your ass in his hand. The action causing an airy moan to slip from you and tug on his hair tighter eliciting a similar response from him. He slipped away from your lips, smirk all too telling of what was to come next

“Coming alive now that the moon is out? You’re like my own personal bloodsucker.”

You playfully hit his shoulder

“Loki..”

“What it’s true darling. You really do, come...alive at night. It’s not a problem though, I quite enjoy seeing you shed the layers you wear while the sun shines.”

Emphasizing his point he squeezed your ass again and tapped under signaling to you to jump. Wrapping your legs around his slender waist, he turned you around and walked back into his bedroom.

“Now that you are in your element, I take it it's time for that prize you spoke of so arrogantly earlier.”

Your eyes widened realizing what you had just signed yourself up for. Loki placed you gently down on his bed and crawled over to face you directly.

“Unfortunately...for you at least, your choice in waiting will leave you in desperate need of a pillow to keep you from waking anyone important up.”

“You’re so snarky, what if I desire to control this evening, hmm?”

“It will be a dream short-lived my love. You and I both know you have a debilitating tendency to fall weak under my touch. It’s irresistible to you.”

Tangling your leg underneath Loki’s, you flipped yourself over so that you were now on top of him. Desperate in having at least one moment to relish in dominance over him. Situating yourself you ground yourself into his now growing arousal. Planting your hands on his chest you brought yourself forward, leaning down into his ear and rolling your hips into his once more causing him to hiss through his teeth. Licking a stripe up from his neck to his ear you ended your trail with a light nibble on his lobe. In your last-ditch effort of a display of power, you whispered in his ear,

“Don’t be dense, you and I both know you enjoy it with much fervor being like this.”

And just like that, your moment of fame was something of the past. Before you could even register that your moment was gone, Loki was already on top of you, and the dress that once adorned your soft skin was being torn down the middle, exposing your body to him.

“Loki!-”

“-My love, there was no room left for teasing. We already established that did we not? Now, to remind you of your place, I’m going to make sure you never forget it or this night we’re sharing.”

Loki snaked down your body, his hands resting on your hips bones while he nudged your sex with his nose. Squirming your way into a submissive role, you rolled your hips down in need of any type of friction.

“Y/N, unlike some people in the room, I fully intend on giving you what you yearn for. You just have to find the willpower of patience within you. Remember I don’t like teasing.”

“But you do like to lie, which you just did right th-”

Your sentence was cut short cuz Loki had licked a tender stripe between your folds. Sending passion electric through your body. Your head lulled back into the bed fully engaged in Loki’s ministrations to your most sensitive of areas. Losing yourself in the moment you failed to notice Loki’s hands traveling up your sides and resting on your pert nipples. Rolling them between his fingers, your fingers clutched the sheets beneath you, needing something to brace yourself on.

“Shit~ Loki, you're so good! Oh my god, don’t stop, I’m so close!”

Lifting his head up slightly you felt the change in atmosphere waiting for his smart remark to leave his lips.

“You said that with a lowercase g right?”

A little extra air left your nose signaling your light amusement to his statement. Only to follow it with a roll of your eyes still amazed by Loki’s narcissism even in such an intimate moment. The lightness in the air didn’t last long for Loki continued his attack on your cunt without warning. Smirking against your folds, he spoke

“Don’t roll your eyes at me. Unless you’re seeking punishment this evening.”

“Fuck Loki!”

His tongue was something otherworldly, finding all your sweet spots and using it to his advantage. He rolled your nipple once more and this time added a lithe finger inside your dripping heat curling it just right to become acquainted with the cute little spongy spot within you. Your hands found refuge in his black locks, rolling your hips into his face feeling your release begin to peak over the precipice.

“Loki, please don’t stop! I’m so close, I’m gonna cum. Please, Please Loki let me cum.”

A reinvigorated fire was now fueling Loki to help you reach your bliss and with a swift back and forth motion on your now swollen clit your orgasm washed over you in a way you hadn’t felt before. Your back arched and your thighs clamped around Loki’s head being completely overwhelmed with your climax. As your orgasm subsided you brought yourself to your elbows getting ready to return the favor to your lover. But he had other plans.

Grabbing your hips, Loki slid you down the bed closer to him and placed his mouth on your sensitive mound once more.

“Holy shit! Loki, stop, I'm so sensitive.”

Looking up at your through hooded lids, he cocked one eyebrow and questioned

“Do you really want me to stop?”

“I-uhh”

Flattening his tongue against your sex your response was lost in thin air replaced with a cry of pleasure. Loki entered another finger into your fluttering cunt and was determined on bringing you to a second rapture which was not difficult considering the aftershocks of your first one were still running through you. You felt the heat pool in your lower stomach and you began to feel the pressure build somewhere lower. For a split second, you became worried about what was going to happen next and you attempted to push Loki away from you not wanting to lose control, but his other arm kept you in place.

“Loki, please I can’t handle it. Please!”

You weren’t quite sure what it was you were begging for. It definitely wasn’t for him to stop because you were so close but rather to save the embarrassment of what was to come. Unable to ward off your orgasm any longer, Loki’s finger made one final motion and your second orgasm was even stronger than the first. Ruining your vision and making your eyes roll to the back of your head.

“Darling...remind me from now on to never let you writhe out of my ministries.”

Trying to calm down your heavy breathing you looked down at Loki only to be met with the sight of beads of your orgasm trail down his face and your juices glistening on his chin. The sheets beneath you beginning to turn a little cold.

“Loki, oh my-”

Climbing up over your body, he hovered over your face. Somehow while lost in your own euphoria Loki’s shirt was discarded somewhere in the room and you were all but distracted by his toned physique.

“Don’t even think about an apology. Seeing you lose yourself in me like that was more than satisfying and this was just an extra luxury that you allowed me to enjoy.”

He emphasized his point by rubbing his fingers through your weeping pussy causing your body to jerk due to the sensitivity and Loki just smiled at you. Moaning you trailed your hand down to the pronounced tent in Loki’s pants.

“I can’t wait any longer Loki. I need you inside of me. Please.”

Your voice faded into a whimper becoming insatiable with Loki above you. Fidgeting with the button on his pants, it didn’t take you long to have them unfastened, and slipped your hand into his pants, palming his length. Loki dropped his head into the crook of your neck, a low growl escaping his throat. Helping Loki push the fabric down the rest of his legs he positioned himself in between your hips lining himself up with your entrance. Looking up at you, you noticed there was a certain softness swimming in his eyes.

“Y/N, you are so beautiful. Truly you are the most entrancing woman I’ve ever laid eyes on and I’m more than favored to be able to call you mine.”

“Loki, I~oh fuck”

The recurring theme of your sentences being lost in translation continued when Loki prodded his tip at your entrance causing you to suck in a breath of sheer pleasure.

“Don’t tease me, please. Just fill me up Loki, I feel so empty without you.”

A moan and an airy chuckle left Loki’s lips before he fully sheathed himself within your tight core.

“Darling, no matter how many times I have marred your womb you still remain tight as ever. Gods you feel divine.”

Moving at a slow yet devastating pace Loki’s cock was kissing your cervix and sweet spot with every single thrust. Your core clenching around him created a resistance that was licentious and overwhelming for the both of you. Loki pulled himself almost all the way out and then slammed back into your sopping cunt causing a loud high pitched moan to flee from your chords.

“Shit! Loki, do that again.”

Loki repeated the action and your back arched from the bed and your nails dug into his back racking down the length of it. This new pace and pattern of movement were moving you quickly to your third release of the evening.

“You like that Y/N. Like how my cock can make you feel like no one else can. I’m going to make sure that your insides become so familiar with my shape that nothing else will be able to satisfy you.”

Picking up his pace slightly, Loki was still slamming deep inside you. Your eyes were no longer able to stay open while lost in all the pleasure that was tingling your entire body. Quickly though that thought would be eradicated from your mind as Loki’s hand came up to your face squishing your cheeks together forcing your lips to pout.

“Look at me while I fuck you Y/N. I want to watch you fall apart underneath me. I want you to watch as I fill you with my seed, claiming you as mine forever.”

You and Loki had never let him finish inside of you and the idea of him filling you with his seed and becoming swollen with his kid had you squeezing around him tighter than you ever had. Your moans picked up in frequency and you moved your hand up to his neck bringing his face down to your so that you could share a kiss while the both of you were approaching your highs. Loki’s hand snaked down to your core and began lightly rubbing on your clit. The last bit of stimulation fully brings you to the peak of your approaching high.

“Loki, fuck. I’m going to cum. Please don’t stop. Please please please!”

Loki brought his forehead down to rest on yours. A sticky layer of sweat was evident on both your faces. His thrusts became more erratic signaling he hadn’t much time left in him before his high.

“I love you, Y/N. More than you could fathom. And I~ahh”

This affirmation took you by surprise. You and Loki had a strong partnership and you knew that you loved each other mutually but you both had never said it out loud before. Not only did this warm your heart but it also pushed you over your threshold and your climax. Washing over you for the third time that evening. Your fluttering core cutting off Loki’s admirations for you and also sending him over his escarpment.

“I love you too Loki, so much. I~ah fuck you feel so good still.”

Keeping your foreheads still pressed together, you stayed like that until your breathing mellowed out. Waiting for the right moment to speak again. Pulling out of you Loki watched as his seed was spilling out of you due to the aftershocks of your orgasm.

“Now look at that. This is something I could get used to seeing. But more importantly, I want to ensure that your womb takes all of me.”

Taking his nimble fingers, Loki was gently pushing back his cum inside of your cunt. You were so sensitive that each time his fingers grazed your now wrecked hole, your body reacted with a quick shake and the tightening of your stomach. Your eyes kept halfway rolling into the back of your head, the overstimulation turning into something of immense ecstasy.

“Come up here Loki.”

Sliding his way up towards the head of the bed where you were, you nestled into his chest. His skin still tacky with sweat, your bodies melding together like human puzzle pieces. Your hand was drawing mindlessly on his chest and eventually found its way to his face where you were thumbing his cheek.

“Did you mean it?”

“Mean what- of course, I did. Y/N you know that lying to you is something I find absurd. And of the few things, I refuse to lie about, intimacy is one of them. Do not fill yourself with unnecessary doubt.”

Turning his face to yours you shared another kiss with him. Tender and full of passion you were silently telling him that you understood and that the feelings were reciprocated. Pulling away from you he sat up.

“Perhaps we should run ourselves a bath. Clean ourselves up before we grow too tired to think about anything else.”

Sighing you pushed yourself up to sit upright on the bed. Lightly nodding Loki stood from the bed and was waiting for you before moving any further. You looked up at him with pleading eyes

“Carry me?”

With a roll of his eyes and a click of his tongue he begrudgingly picked you up bridal style and walked you to the bathroom of his quarters.

“You are incongruous.”

“Perhaps I am, but for us, it works.”

Setting you down on the edge of the tub Loki began drawing the bath. Steam rising up from the heat of the water. You knew it would sting on the way in but the initial burn would morph into relaxation and ease your now tense muscles. Reaching for the soap on the corner of the bath closest to you, you walked over shakily to the spout of water so that bubbles would form before the two of you got in.

Once the water hit an appropriate height Loki helped you in, already aware of the weakness in your legs. Settling in behind you he began washing you down with one of the many washrags in the bathroom.

“You know, we’re going to have to get this out in the open a lot sooner than we were planning. Especially if you are to have my child.”

“I know. I was thinking about that. Give my silence. Let us wait till morning to run through our thoughts about how to go about this. I want to enjoy this moment with you without the worry of what’s to come next.”

“Understood my love.”

With Loki having the last word, the two of you shared amorous silence while relaxing in the tub. Enjoying each other’s company, the silence between the two of you was necessary to think about what was going to happen next in the chaos of your life. Finishing up in the bath, you two dried off and headed off to bed. Wrapped in each other’s arms, you drifted off to sleep rather quickly. Your body exhausted from the night's affairs. Not knowing that this would be the last night you recognized what peace could ever look like.

#loki #Loki Laufeyson #loki fanfic #loki imagine #loki smut #loki x reader #loki laufeyson fanfic #loki laufeyson imagine #loki laufeyson smut #loki laufeyson x reader #marvel fanfic #marvel smut #marvel imagine #marvel x reader

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shreddedparchment · 4 years

Text

A Wife For Thor Pt.01

10/12/2020

Arrivals and Departures

Pairing: King!Thor x Reader Word Count: 6,990

Warnings: language, talks of death, angst, talks of sex,

A/N: This is seriously...I mean, I don’t even know where this came from. Credits to @darkficsyouneveraskedfor because Roo gave me the idea and I kinda ran with it. Like omg, y’all. Blame Roo. If you happen to reblog, thanks so much for helping me spread my work! xoxo Dialogue from Thor Ragnarok has been used in the beginning of this story.

Please do not REPOST my stories anywhere. Reblogs are most welcome!

He stands with his arms crossed in what appears to be a small sitting room with a large window that opens to the sublime sight of the black space beyond. Sterling silver, radiant red, and brilliant blue stars twinkle into infinity.

This is a sight that Thor had seen many times before and yet, for the first time in an age, he felt hopeful for the future.

His fight had ended. With Ragnarok, his journey had reached an end. Not the end, but certainly that of a chapter I which his battles might rest.

He imagines that this might be how his father felt when he had taken charge of the nine realms.

However violent that takeover might have been, his father had lied about many things—his sister for one—it had been the beginning of a quieter reign. A new formative time for his father. He may not have been a perfect man, but he’d grown wiser in many ways. Still not the best father, but his father, nonetheless.

Thor can almost picture his life on Earth, a time of peace. A time to rebuild. He will be able to give his people a good life there and he’s certain that his friends will appreciate having him closer. Friends from work they may be, but friends.

“Do you really think it’s a good idea to go back to Earth?” Loki asks, standing beside him with his hands held gently at his front.

Thor looks at him, waiting a moment to allow him to finish speaking.

“Yes, of course.” Thor assures him. “The people of Earth love me. I’m very popular.”

Loki takes a breath, looking out the window as he quickly accepts his brother’s reasoning while simultaneously realizing he must word this differently to get his point across.

“Let me rephrase that.” Loki begins, “Do you really think it’s a good idea to bring me back to Earth?”

Thor knows that Loki has a point. His history with Earth is…not perfect. To say the least.

“Probably not, to be honest.” He admits, noting Loki’s apprehension.

Loki smiles, a little knowing.

“I wouldn’t worry, brother.” Thor tells him, both turning back to the void outside. “I feel like everything’s going to work out fine.”

The moment seems endless, the two of them waiting as if the something should or might happen after Thor’s optimistic sentiments.

Then the moment passes and Loki sighs.

“Right, well, I’ll start rounding up the people who will be of the most use once we arrive.”

Thor gives his brother one parting smile but doesn’t watch him leave.

Thor doesn’t know exactly what has changed in him, what makes him so confident in this decision, but he knows it’s the best decision he could have made. And if he’s honest, though he’d never admit it out loud, the possibility of finally being on the same planet as Jane…well, he’d be a fool not to consider the possibilities.

~~~~~~~~~~

Something feels different today.

As you wake, turning onto your side to stare across the small room at the blinking line on the blank word document on your computer screen, you can’t quite put your finger on what is making you nervous.

Your stomach is rolling, making you queasy, despite the fact that you have no reason to be anxious.

Yesterday was like the day before and today will be just like yesterday. Nothing in your life ever changes, and that’s become so much of who you are that whenever you have even a doctor’s appointment your heart begins to race in dreaded anticipation.

With trembling hands you clutch your blanket, trying to find a reason behind this mood. Your breath quickens as your heart panics, your mind scrambling to make sense of these emotions but nothing comes to mind.

So, you get out of bed. You get dressed choosing a simple knee length black dress that fits loose enough to keep you comfortable throughout the day. Then you head into the kitchen and start the coffee pot.

Halfway through the brew you shut the machine off and rush to dump out its contents into the sink.

“Fuck.”

You sigh, realizing you should really invest in decaf coffee for morning just like this.

“Tea. Tea is better.” You rationalize and pull your kettle off the warmer and fill it in the sink.

You replace it in its dock then turn your back to it, hands gripping the edge of the counter as you lean against it.

Your fingers stroke the smooth and unvarnished wooden countertop, suddenly going rigid around the lip as your heart goes frantic again.

The island counter directly in front of you is made of the same unvarnished wood, a slightly mismatched chair on the other side, tucked in beside the open shelving that holds your pots and pans. Along the center of the island sits a small vase with nearly completely withered flowers.

You’re filled with relief as your hands are given new task and you hurry forward and take the clear glass vase, toss the flowers—which crumble as they hit yesterday’s empty cereal box—dump the water in the sink and quickly refill it.

Setting the vase aside, you pull open a drawer and pluck from an array of contents a small packet of flower food, a pair of small pruners, a long piece of twine, and head out the back door to your modest backyard.

There isn’t much in it, and it’s unfenced. A large tree at the back-left corner provides shade and pecans. In the center of the yard sits a set of antique iron work garden furniture. Twisted and shaped into what reminds you of lace. Two smaller chairs and one long bench with curved backs.

You’ve been of a mind to buy cushions for them, but you haven’t found an excuse to justify the expense.

In between the garden set sits an outdoor coffee table made of wood and painted white. It’s fading and will need a new coat soon but again the expense can wait. At least until you sell another story.

Apart from this set and a small wooden shed beside the pecan tree, your yard is mostly overgrown grass and carefully cultivated flowers lining the length of your narrow back porch.

You smile, noticing the length of your grass, grateful for another something to keep you busy today. Something to keep your mind off this mysterious and anxious premonition of something to come.

Quickly you move to a large blooming bush at the end of your porch and cut from it several bunches of pink and blue garden phlox.

You admire the shade of the blue flowers. The color reminds you a pair of blue eyes you’d once seen on a woman who’d come to your school as a child.

She’d been beautiful and kind, but she hadn’t picked you. Still, you’d never forgotten the color of her eyes.

The pink is pastel at the edges of its petals and vibrant magenta at the center.

As you head back in, the kettle only barely beginning to steam, you quickly arrange the bunches you’ve picked and wrap them up with the twine. You set the bushel aside and with the vase pulled close, you tear the packet of flower food with your teeth and pour it in.

Replacing the flowers, you give the kettle one more look before you race back into your bedroom to pick out a more appropriate outfit for cutting the grass.

You decide on a pair of jeans and a plain yellow t-shirt. Pulling them on, you pause with your shirt hooked around your arms as your eyes find your laptop screen, annoyingly black still.

With a groan you pull your shirt on and from the kitchen you hear the whistle.

Breakfast is simple. A store-bought muffin and a cup of breakfast tea do the trick and while you’re still chewing your last bite you head out to cut your grass.

It doesn’t take you too long and you lament the last bit as you cut it, the machine vibrating violently in your nervous grip.

No matter how much you try to distract yourself, this feeling of something terrible coming will not go away and you’re about to go out of your mind when a shout from your back door pulls your mind from it.

Standing there is an older man with an unconventionally handsome face. His lips are thin, cheekbones prominent, brown eyes sunken, and his nose long and defined. His dark hair slicked and parted, neatly kept to match his crisp navy suit.

“Aren’t you a little overdressed?” You shout at him as the whirr of the machine dies into silence.

The man moves towards you, a smile brightening his face.

“I was just at a meeting.” He explains.

“Do you ever stop working?” You wonder, pushing the lawn mower towards the shed as he follows.

“Only when I’m on vacation.” He tells you, amusement in his voice but subdued and you only hear it because you’ve known him for years.

“You don’t take vacations.” You sputter, almost laughing.

“Precisely.” He agrees.

He waits for you to shut the door and when you turn, he greets you with open arms.

“How have you been?” He asks, holding the hug for longer than you’re used to which only adds to the anxiety you’ve been feeling all morning.

What’s going on?!

“Hey, you okay?” You ask him, ignoring his question in favor of satisfying your curiosity.

He doesn’t answer but holds the hug a moment longer before pulling back to look at you.

“We have to talk.” He tells you, making your heart pound.

“Okay. You want some breakfast?” You offer, and swallow hard as your fear mounts.

“Sure.” He says and follows you inside.

You make him a full breakfast. Eggs, bacon, breakfast sausage, and buttered toast with a cup of coffee. Just because you can’t stand the idea of being hyped up on caffeine today doesn’t mean David won’t.

He digs right in while you stand on the other side of the island, sipping on your second cup of tea in hopes that it will ease your frayed nerves.

For a few minutes he gobbles down your food but when you shift on your feet for the fourth time, he clears his throat, takes a drink of his coffee, then puts his fork down.

“It’s not exactly bad news.” He assures you, easing you a little but something tells you that you still won’t like it.

“Just tell me, David.”

“As your lawyer,” He begins, sitting back in your old wobbly chair. “It’s my duty to inform you when there are developments with your family’s estate.”

“Right.” You agree, remembering the day he’d found you when you’d turned eighteen to tell you that you weren’t exactly as poor as you’d thought.

You’re not really rich either. You have a little money that your parents set aside for you. Old money that you hadn’t really touched. You use it mostly for bills when you can’t sell a story fast enough and most of your wealth is in this cottage. A family home that you’d had no idea was yours until David brought you here.

Finally, a home, after living in that school all those years.

“Well, I think it might be time to reveal a little more of that estate’s history.”

“Why?” You put down the floral porcelain cup and wrap your arms around yourself, afraid of what he’ll say.

How did you know that something was coming? What kind of sixth sense do you have?!

“After all this time, why would it matter?” You sigh, moving to pull out the second chair to his right on the shorter end of the island.

“Don’t panic.” He tells you, reaching over to place his hand over yours. “Let’s keep our heads. There’s nothing to be afraid of.”

“You say that, but why do I feel like that’s not exactly true?” You sigh.

He blinks, gathering his thoughts before he nods.

“I think I’ll tell you all at once. Like ripping a band-aid. Might be the easiest for you.” He realizes.

You don’t disagree.

“Your family comes from a very small people in Europe. Their origins are hard to trace but we know that they travelled between France, Norway, Denmark, Romania, Belgium, Sweden, Austria, Greece, and even spent a large amount of time in hiding in the United Kingdom.”

“I get it, they were nomads.” You sigh, your mood taking a turn from the anticipation of clarity.

“Yes. Nomads.” David agrees, patting your hand in an attempt to calm you. “I only mention it because there are many questions as to where they had originated from. No one seems to know. Unfortunately, I don’t think that question will ever be answered as all records before their stint in France have been lost.

“What we do know is that your ancestors, your bloodline are royalty.” David says, as easily as if he were telling you your age. “Even though the titles have long since been lost, you are technically—though you have no country to rule over—a princess.”

Slowly his words sink in and your face begins to relax. You look down at his hand over yours and without warning you laugh once. Then again, and again, until you’re leaning on your chair, head thrown back as your whole body shakes with it.

“What is so funny?” David asks, unamused but he goes back to eating.

“This is a joke, right? You’re pulling my leg.” You gasp, breath shallow.

“Not one little bit.” He shakes his head. “If we knew what country your ancestors came from, you would very much be in some palace or castle, reigning over your people. Your parents, were they alive, would have been King and Queen.

“You may not think it possible, but that is your legacy, Y/N. You are of royal blood.” David insists which sobers you a little, but you think it’s so silly that this is what you’d been so scared of.

This is what you’d been dreading?

“Okay. Fine. I believe you. But what does it matter? You said that if I still had a country then I would be princess, but clearly, I don’t. So, I’m not. What’s the point of telling me this when it makes absolutely no difference to my life?

“I don’t feel any different and it’s not like that makes me any richer? I’m still sitting on a decently sized fortune to assure that I don’t want for anything at least until my forties. What could this possibly change that you felt it necessary to tell me?”

David wipes his mouth with his napkin, finishing up the last bit of his coffee before he gets up and with his dirty plates moves towards the sink.

“Leave it, David. I’ll clean up later.” You watch him, sitting up a little straighter as that anxious feeling begins to grow again with his extended silence.

He washes the plate and as he does, your nerves begin to fray again. You anxiously pick at a small splinter in your island, waiting for him to speak.

He turns towards you as he finished washing his plate, then meets your eyes.

“You weren’t just revealing my heritage, were you?”

“No.” He shakes his head. “I felt I needed to reveal your heritage because someone has reached out with the hopes of setting up a meeting with you.”

“Why would anyone wanna meet with me simply because they know of my lineage?” You wonder, slouched, hands moved to your lap to rest limply as you stare at David, fear increasing with every moment that passes.

“May I ask you a personal question?” He says, moving to stand closer as he dries his hand on your dishtowel.

“David, you know everything about me.” You sigh.

“Why haven’t you ever had a boyfriend? Or girlfriend? I’m not sure I’ve ever asked if you-?”

“To be honest, I don’t know either.” You shrug. “I’ve never really thought about it.”

“Not even as a child?” He wonders.

“I was too busy wishing for parents as a kid.” You clarify. “I didn’t have time for crushes or any of that stuff.”

“Are you opposed to a relationship?” David asks, dropping the towel then moving around to sit back down in his seat.

“Opposed?” You ask, shaking your head. “Not exactly opposed. I’ve just never known anyone worth caring about like that. I’m mainly here at home. I do go into town when I need to get my packages but there isn’t anyone there that…I don’t draw attention like that.”

“You’re a pretty girl.” David tells you, reaching over to tug on your sleeve. “When you aren’t sweaty and covered in grass clippings.”

You scoff, shaking your head.

“It’s not something I really worry about.” You admit.

“Would you ever want to get married?” David asks, and your heart is suddenly pounding.

The idea of being someone’s wife had crossed your mind once or twice. Mostly when you’d been jotting down ideas or plotlines for your books. In the end, because you didn’t think you had enough insight, you’d opted to remove all romance. You write mysteries.

“I don’t know that I’d be any good at it.” You confess. “I’m not…I can’t exactly picture myself being someone’s wife.”

“Why not?”

“Because I…I don’t even know what I’d be like in a relationship, sharing space and time, much less sharing an entire life?” You shake your head. “I’m not saying that I haven’t thought about it but it’s only ever been in passing.”

David goes silent, tapping his index finger against the island.

“David, please. You know I can’t take the suspense.” You plead.

“Yes. I’m sorry.” He nods then reminds himself, “Band-aid.”

You take a deep breath and turn to face him a little more in your seat.

“Well, you are aware of our planet’s newest inhabitants?”

“Th-The Asgardians in Norway?”

“Yes.” David nods. “Well, as a sign of good faith, to ensure that they will abide by Earth’s laws and to assuage any ideas from panicked world leaders that they might try and overtake the planet and make it their own, they have decided that marriage to someone from Earth might be the best way to do that.

“The Asgardian known as Brunnhilde has reached out to all families of royal blood and asked to meet with any eligible women, preferably—as she so tactfully put it—maidens.” He explains. “Which I take it you are?”

You swallow hard, your lungs rubbed of oxygen and yet you somehow manage to quietly acknowledge, “Yes. I’m a virgin.”

How can you not be after spending your whole life unconcerned with romance?

“You don’t have to do it, Y/N.” David suddenly says; however, you can see the ‘but’ in his eyes. “But if you don’t and the Asgardian king cannot choose from the women he does meet, you will probably be hunted down and forced to meet with him anyway.

“All world leaders are in agreement that this is the correct and only way to ensure the safety of the planet. They will not give up until every woman meeting the Asgardian’s requirements have been given the chance to meet with Thor.”

“Thor?!” You gasp, rising to your feet as hundreds if not thousands of images flash through your mind of the Thunder God and the Avengers fighting side by side.

“Yes.” David affirms, rising to his feet with you. “With the death of his father, he is now King of Asgard.”

Of course, Thor is going to be King. You already knew this. It’s common sense.

For some reason though, the confirmation made out loud, vocally…how the fuck are you supposed to marry Thor? An Avenger? That’s not…this cannot be real life!

“David,” You begin, apprehensive.

“I know. I know it is a lot to ask but as I said, I don’t believe we have much of a choice. He might very well not pick you.” David adds, rushing to comfort you and point out how unlikely you’d be the one Thor chooses to wed. “There are plenty of other women that he’s already met with. Women that are more suited to life in a palace than you are. The Hungarian princess is so eager to be Queen of Asgard that she’s been sending the other women bribes to try and convince them to refuse.

“It won’t make a difference, since they cannot refuse should Thor choose them.” David admits.

“A-all I have to do is meet with him?” You stutter, heart in your throat.

“Just a quick one-hour meeting. He’ll ask you questions. Get to know a bit about you. See if you are suited for life as Asgardian queen and then it’s over.” David assures you.

“I’m…There are lots of other women better for it, right?”

“Loads of them.” David promises.

New fears begin to take hold in your heart and mind.

It conjures up the last time you’d seen Thor, strutting from a massive spaceship docked over the ocean by New Asgard. He’d risen from its depths all wide shoulders and biceps. Heavy steps thudding as he’d stopped at the end of the massive ramp, waving at the cameras as his people had filed out behind him.

His hair cropped short as opposed to the long tresses he’d had when he’d last been on Earth, one eye missing with a sleek black and gold metal patch over it the absence.

You’ve never been threatened by him before. He’s a hero. But the prospect of being his wife and having wifely duties...

Your mind flies into panic as it shifts that large body over you, crawling towards you with his hands prying your legs open. The years of sexual experience radiating off of this fantasy Thor and all of his bulging muscles.

You almost want to throw up at the prospect of having to consummate a marriage. You haven’t exactly been eager to be with anyone since you haven’t met anyone special, but you’d at least imagined something more intimate. More personal.

“David I-they won’t choose me though, right?” You reach out for him because your legs are suddenly weak.

He takes hold of your arms and helps you stand still.

“They won’t.” He tells you, sounding convinced. “There are better candidates. Women with actual titles.”

He’s right. Of course, he’s right. He has to be right.

“It’s just a quick meeting.” He promises. “Then it’ll all be over, and you can come back to your cottage and live just as you have been, with no one to bother you.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Leaving your little place is difficult. After spending years without a home to call your own, now that you have your cottage, tearing yourself away from it is like pulling splinters.

You like your little yard. You like your flowers. You love your bed and its white sheets, little pink and yellow flowers printed on the soft fabric.

You’d made it more feminine. You’d brought flowers back and frills and lace. You’d made it everything you thought a cottage at the edge of a wood should look like and as time had gone by you’d brought in more personal touches.

After several years, your home is finally completely you.

This place, this massive Asgardian structure is less gold and more wood, stone, and iron. Silver steel polished so bright it gleams even in moonlight. This place is not you. It’s him. It’s Thor. His home.

Right now, with the day almost over, the palace takes on a warmer tone. The wooden structures and gray stone pillars are bathed in orange light, giving the place a pleasant glow and despite yourself, you can almost picture Thor meandering through these Nordic halls, a long crimson robe around his thick form.

It isn’t an unpleasant image now that you’ve given yourself some time to get used to the idea of him.

When you arrived you were greeted and seated in a large round room, the lower quarter of the sturdy walls made of ornate stone brick, the rest of the wall beautiful dark oak. The floor is also stone, massive carpets underneath several pieces of obviously Norse inspired furniture.

Well actually, the Norse was probably derived from Asgardian styles. There’s a difference in them that you can see but don’t understand. The coffee table in front of you has ornately carved legs, golden embellishments, and a black coat of paint.

The sofa you’re sitting on is mostly wood, painted gold, with plush and soft satin covered cushions in wine red.

There are two other tables around the room, a collection of books on one and an array of fruits, foods, and drinks on the other. There are several different statues and stands. Lamps that look as if they should have flames instead of the electric bulbs they now hold.

Small touches of modern design filter through the room complimenting the more traditional décor.

“Hello there.” Says a lilting voice.

You recognize it and turn to find Loki, slipping through a narrow opening in the large set of doors you’d been escorted through almost half an hour ago.

He’s dressed in a black suit with a plain white t-shirt underneath dressing the look down.

“H-Hi.” You stammer, surprised by his appearance.

You stand, knowing well that he may not be King but for Asgard, Loki is still a prince.

“No, please. Do not get up on my account.” He gestures at your seat and you settle back in as he crosses to the table with all the books. “I forgot some papers in here, I only came to retrieve them. Do not mind me.”

You avert your eyes, afraid to see something you shouldn’t and sit just as stiffly as before, hands fisting the royal purple dress you’d chosen to wear. It’s simple, quarter sleeves, high neckline with a small V at the center. Just above your knees in length, it rises as you grip it.

“Nervous to meet my brother?” Loki asks, stopping by the doors as he eyes your tight grip.

“This whole situation is a little stressful.” You admit. “I’m…I live in a small house in the middle of nowhere. I don’t even know why I’m here.”

“Ah, you’re the one with the lost lineage.” Loki realizes, moving closer with interest. “A hidden princess. You could have refused to come, you know?”

“I would have been forced eventually.” You point out. “There are a lot of people who want this marriage thing to happen.”

“True.” Loki agrees, “My fault, I’m afraid. I make them nervous.”

“You did very nearly destroy New York.” You point out, remembering the carnage reported that day. The aftermath had taken forever to clean up.

“I did.” Loki agrees. “Do you fear me?”

“No.” You admit. “If you weren’t safe, Thor wouldn’t have brought you back here.”

“He could just be too trusting.”

“Maybe.” You agree. “But with the fate of his entire people tied to the successful acclimation of Asgard and Earth, if you were really a threat, I think he’d have cut you out before coming back.”

Loki’s lips slowly curl up into a smile before breaking apart into a toothy grin.

“What is your name again?” He asks, a sparkle of something in his eyes.

“Y/N.” You tell him. “Why?”

“No reason. This has been very illuminating, Y/N. It was lovely to meet you.” Loki says then with a quick bow of his head, he leaves you to your solitude.

Confused, you sit there completely at a loss for what just happened.

Had you taken too many liberties with Loki? What had that smile meant? You’d been made aware that Loki was also involved in recruiting women of royal blood into marriage meetings for Thor, but you hadn’t expected him to know you by the description of where you live.

Maybe because it’s so unlike anyone else’s?

You sit there stewing for another twenty minutes, wondering if maybe you’re being stood up when the large doors open once again.

You shoot up onto your feet, so damn nervous your body reacts without your permission. Through the door this time comes the man of the hour. The massive Thunder God dressed in a pair of dark blue jeans and a plain gray t-shirt crosses over to the table with food and pours himself a stein of what looks like beer from a sloshing brown pitcher.

“Estrid, is this from the new batch of ale?” He booms loud enough that he can be heard even outside of the room as he takes a quick sniff of the liquid.

His voice is so deep.

Licking your lips, you watch him drink the entire stein without taking a breath or waiting for an answer, and then refill it before grabbing it and taking an apple with his other hand.

He turns, holding the fruit up to his mouth and freezes with it pressed to his lips as he meets your eyes, realizing he isn’t alone.

You’re not exactly sure what to say or what to do, completely taken aback by this strange and sudden exposure to candid Thor. Both of you unprepared to see each other despite the fact that you’ve literally been waiting nearly an hour for him.

His confusion mounts as he lowers the apple, looking around as if expecting an explanation or to see if he’s in the correct room.

“What time is it?” He suddenly asks, meeting your gaze again.

“N-Nearly six.” You tell him, and his one good eye goes slightly wide.

“Oh!” His lips curl up into an easy smile. “I did not think it was that late.”

His smile makes you feel a little more at ease, but you’re still on edge.

“You’re my meeting.” He tells you, as if you don’t already know that. “Y/N? Y/L/N, right?”

“Yes.” You nod, then before you can stop yourself… “You’re late.”

Thor blinks. Startled it seems or maybe just surprised, but then he smiles again. “Oh. I’m sorry.”

“I mean, you can be as late as you’d like. This is your meeting. Sorry. I didn’t…I don’t know why I said that.” You rush to say.

“No, no.” Thor turns to put down his stein of beer and the apple replaced in its bowl. “You’re right. I am late. We were supposed to meet at five, weren’t we?”

When he turns back to you, you nod.

“I’m sorry. I’m sure you have much you could be doing.” Thor says, moving towards you and gesturing at the spot you’d been in before sitting down at the other end of the sofa.

“No.” You confess. “Not really. I’m actually one of the only people that probably doesn’t have much to do. Well, I mean, I could be writing. Or cleaning house.”

“They tell me that you had no knowledge about your lineage before Brunnhilde reached out to your lawyer?”

You nod. “It’s not really important. Or…no. That’s not the right-what I mean to say is that it isn’t significant to my life.”

“Don’t you want to know who your family is?” Thor wonders.

“I know who my family is. I had a mom. And a dad. Both died just after I was born. That’s my family.” You explain. “Apart from getting to meet you, the news that my family was once royalty doesn’t change it in any way. I’m still just as insignificant today as I was before.”

Thor narrows his brow, watching you for a long torturous moment as he considers what you’d just said.

“Tell me about yourself.” He suddenly says, turning to lean back against the arm, his own thrown over the back, right leg bent up onto the sofa.

“There isn’t much to tell.” You admit. “I was born, my parents died in an accident. I was taken to a school for orphans where I grew up and aged out. On the day I had to leave, Mr. Valis found me and gave me my inheritance which is a good amount of money and a small house. I’ve been living there ever since.”

“You didn’t take any additional schooling?” Thor asks, relaxing. “All the other young women I’ve met have made it a point to tell me about the universities and colleges they’ve attended.”

“I took a few correspondence classes.” You tell him, “But I’ve only ever wanted to write, and I didn’t feel that I needed a higher education to do it. I mean, it would probably look better on my resume, but my writing should speak for itself.”

You can’t really tell what he’s thinking with the way he’s watching you, his hand playing with a thread on the back of the sofa.

You take it as a good sign that many of the other women have a degree of some sort. They must want someone respectable with a good education, right?

“How do you feel about political marriages?” He asks, and you’re stunned for a moment.

“Um…”

“Be honest, please.”

“I guess I don’t like the idea?” You admit. “Being forced to marry someone you don’t love because duty demands it? Feels archaic. If you love someone, whether they fit into whatever political standards are being demanded or not should not be a reason to get married.”

Thor sits up, shifting a little closer as he leans towards you.

“If you were asked to go along with a political marriage in every way but the heart, could you?” He wonders, much more interested than before.

“What do you mean?” You ask, confused.

“Well, let’s say for example, you and I were to marry. We’d be expected to have children. You’d be bound to do your duties as Queen of Asgard, but you would not be required to love me. Would you be able to fulfill these requirements?”

“You don’t want to do this, do you?” You realize, seeing the eagerness in his eyes. His shoulders slump. “If you don’t want to get married, why don’t you just say something?”

“I must do what I can to ensure the future of my people.” Thor says, sighing deeply.

“I’m guessing there’s someone else you do love that you can’t marry?”

“Not that I can’t but won’t. She isn’t ready for marriage and I don’t feel right making that kind of demand from her when she clearly has other things she’d like to be doing with her life. And…yes, maybe a little bit can’t. A royal marriage would make the most sense. I need a Queen.” Thor says.

You can’t find the words to tell him how fucked up this all is so instead you sit in silence.

“I know this is not ideal. I’ve tried to find other ways of assuring Earth of my commitment to this planet but nothing I’ve suggested is good enough.”

He needs a Queen. This gives you solace. No one is less of a queen than you are.

“I’m sorry.” You finally tell him. “It’s not fair. But I’m sure you’ll be able to find someone who checks all those boxes for you. I hear the Hungarian princess is pretty eager.”

Thor ignores you, stroking his beard as he watches you. “What do you want from a marriage? Let us say it’s many years from now and you have found someone you love beyond all reason. You two decide to get married. What does that look like?”

You’re a little surprised by the question but you humor him and take a moment to really think about it.

The man you picture has no face. There is no one you care enough about to imagine. So…because he’s the only option, you take Thor’s face and give your imaginary husband a face.

“We’d be partners.” You tell him. “Open about everything important. We would respect each other’s individualities. If something is troubling me, I would like to know that I could turn to him and if he had something on his mind, I’d hope that he could turn to me too.

“We’d be honest about even the unpleasant aspects of our life together. If we disagreed, we would talk about it openly. We wouldn’t hide from each other. We’d spend as much time as we could together and always make time for each other.”

You picture Thor sitting at your island in your comfy cottage. He’s so massive that he’d take up so much space. You’d have to squeeze past him, and he’d turn to wrap his arms around your waist as you pass.

He’d trap you there, not letting you move.

“We’d make breakfast together. Cramped up in my little kitchen, it would turn into play.” You smile. “We’d lounge around the house, reading and listening to music. In the evenings we’d move out to the backyard and watch the sun set then watch the stars until I’d fall asleep on his shoulder.”

As if you’re caught doing something you shouldn’t be, you startle yourself out of your daydream and feel your neck heat up.

You’d crossed from rational marriage into sentimental and you’re a little shocked at the detail in which your mind has gone.

You’re also a little startled by the pleasant feeling that picturing Thor in those situations has given you.

For someone who has never had a crush, you’re startled by the butterflies it gives you.

“But I’ve never been into anyone like that before.” You tell him, looking away from his intense gaze. “So, even if that’s what I picture, it’s not like it’s ever gonna happen.”

“It might.” Thor says, sounding as if he might be trying to comfort you.

“It won’t.” You assure him. “I hope your girl changes her mind.”

There’s a bitter ache in your chest as you say it, and you’re certain it’s only there because of the little fantasy you just allowed yourself to have. You should have picture someone else.

“I hope they relax on the royal blood thing and let you marry someone you love instead.” You hope.

“You say that as if you already know that I won’t pick you.” Thor observes.

You smile wide, laughing even as you bite your lip. “Well, I’m nothing like the girls you’ve met with. I don’t have endless amounts of money. I don’t have a prestigious education or extensive family. I don’t know anything about being royalty. The others have been doing it their entire lives. I’m the least likely candidate. I don’t fit the requirements, except for the bloodline thing.

“I only agreed to meet with you because I knew that the likelihood of you picking me was almost non-existent.”

“Ouch.” Thor says.

“No!” You rush to say. “You’re very…I mean, you’re kind from what I can tell and honorable. You’ve saved Earth a couple times and you’re a little self-centered but only in a superficial way that doesn’t change the fact that you’re a good man.

“I honestly don’t know why your girl won’t marry you but I’m not right for this.” You nod. “I wouldn’t make a good Queen for you.”

Thor nods slowly, thinking for a minute before he straightens up and turns to rise, slapping his hands on his knees before he moves back towards the table of fruit and beer.

“You’re probably right.” He agrees, and for some reason, you’re disappointed.

Not so much that he isn’t picking you, but rather that he sees you aren’t enough. You’re lacking in some way. Which you already knew but…knowing he thinks that makes you feel a little lousy despite that being something you wanted.

“I suppose I’ll just have to pick someone more suitable. Someone who knows better about ruling a people. All the same, thank you for coming.” Thor says, dismissing you.

He picks up his stein again and turns to look at you as you rise.

“It was a pleasure to meet you.”

You nod, “Likewise.”

After a moment of hesitation, you give him a wave and move for the doors, trembling hands reaching out to yank the doors open and make your escape.

~~~~~~~~~~

It’s been weeks since you met with Thor and you’ve completely forgotten the whole thing. Life has gone back to normal and even though you now know that you’re from royal stock, nothing, as you expected, has changed.

The only plus that has risen from this whole situation is that you can now picture marriage a little better, however inexperienced and cliché it might be, you can make something up now.

Your little fling with the idea of Thor had given you fuel to slip a little romance into your writing and your fingers are flying across the keyboard of your laptop as you type up a new and promising mystery about a set of lovers and the body they discover in the attic of their new home.

You hate to be interrupted during a writing session, but you must have forgotten that about yourself because your phone starts to ring.

Normally you mute it before you even sit down to write.

With a growl you reach over and take a quick look at the number.

David flashes on your screen and quickly you swipe to answer.

“Hey, can I call you back in like an hour? I’m in the middle of a chapter and I’m on a roll.” You plead, fingers still flying across the keys.

“Y/N, Thor chose you.” David’s voice says and your fingers freeze.

There’s a pounding in your chest and your head is full of white fuzz. Your legs are numb, and your stomach is swirling with both flutters and nausea.

You can’t have heard that right.

“What?” You ask, voice shaky.

“Thor. He chose you. I just got off the phone with Brunnhilde and she wanted to let me know so that I could call you and let you know that she’ll be by tomorrow to pick you up.”

This can’t be happening.

“She said to pack only what you absolutely need. Everything else will be provided for you.”

“David…I…I can refuse, right? I don’t have to marry him.” You plead desperately.

“Y/N…” David sighs. “You agreed to this before you went to see him. I’m afraid the time to back out has come and gone.”

“But I can just not do it.” You argue. “They can’t force me to do it.”

“The government will seize your assets if you refuse.” David explains. “They want this done. I’m sorry, Y/N. There’s no backing out of this now.”

“But…But he loves someone else.” You tell him and even though your mind knows that this should be the last thing to concern you, it should not be the first reason you can think of why marrying Thor is a bad idea, it is.

As your eyes focus on the little blinking line of your word doc, your heart gives a painful ache knowing that your husband will be loving someone else.

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