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gvfgal · 21 days ago

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How to Fall in Love in 10 Days

+18 series, minors DNI!

A/n: I’m ashamed for how long this took to come out 😣 no excuses necessary! Sooo because of my slacking, I’ll be posting a little something extra for this story in the coming weeks (more than likely after finals). BUT ALAS, here we are at the last chapter of HTFILITD 🤍 Thanks for sticking with me, and as always, enjoy!

Content Warnings: lots of fluff, allusions to sex

Word Count: 6.1k

Day 10: The Promise

The morning sun filtered gently through the windows, casting a soft, golden glow across the dining room as you took your seat at the breakfast table. It was the last morning you would spend with your family before they returned home, far away to your native country, and the thought filled you with both warmth and a twinge of melancholy. Reconciliation had come the day before, smoothing over long-held grievances, and though you would miss them dearly, your mind was already wandering to thoughts of more private moments with Daniel. After all that had transpired, the idea of an extended honeymoon now seemed not only possible but utterly necessary.

Your mother, ever the epitome of grace, sat across from you, her napkin placed neatly in her lap as her eyes darted between you and Daniel. There was a glint in her eye, a familiar spark of expectation as she silently sought evidence of the three little words she was convinced you ought to have spoken by now. You could feel her gaze, though she remained composed, searching for any subtle hint, any unspoken exchange between you and your husband that might betray the feelings she so dearly wished you would confess aloud.

Across the table, Archibald, true to form, was speaking through a mouthful of toast, his usual lack of propriety on full display. Delilah, your ever-poised sister-in-law, cast him a look of mild reproach, though she, as always, handled it with the grace of a saint. Daniel, on the other hand, seemed content to observe the lively scene before him, quietly taking in the animated conversations and the familial banter. It had been some time since he had experienced such a gathering, and though it was a slight adjustment to be amidst the delightful chaos of your family, there was a softness in his eyes that suggested he found it endearing.

You caught Daniel’s eye and shared a knowing smile, the ease between you a testament to the bond that had been forged in recent days. You knew, as much as your mother did, that the words remained unspoken. But they were there, hovering just beneath the surface, waiting for the perfect moment.

“I must say, dear,” your mother began, placing her teacup down with the delicate grace she always employed when she had something important to say, “it has been such a delight to see you and Daniel… so close during these days. It must be such a comfort, finally settling into… well, everything.” Her smile was warm, though the mischievous twinkle in her eye hinted at the question lingering just beneath her words.

It didn’t take long for the Duke to catch on to your mother’s not-so-subtle hints. You had warned him briefly before descending for breakfast, preparing him for the relentless scrutiny that was bound to unfold.

You lifted your teacup to your lips, hoping to mask the grin threatening to escape. “Yes, Mother, it has been truly wonderful to have you here,” you said, feigning innocence. Deflecting, of course, but you knew better than to believe such a simple evasion would deter her.

Your mother flushed ever so slightly but, as the tenacious woman she was, pressed on with renewed determination. “Well, my dear,” she began, her tone light but with the precision of an archer honing in on her target, “there is nothing quite as beautiful as two young souls coming together, is there? All the love that grows between them, blossoming into something truly magnificent. After all, what is a marriage without love?” She practically caressed the word ‘love’, giving it such weight that you almost dropped your teacup.

Delilah, seated beside Archibald, hid a delicate giggle behind her hand, clearly amused by the spectacle. Even Roslyn, busying herself with the servants in the far corner, was biting back a grin. Your brother, however, remained blissfully unaware of the tension rising around him, reaching for another slice of bread with no mind to the emotional sparring occurring over his breakfast.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake, Mother,” Archibald muttered between bites, waving his butter knife lazily in her direction. “They’ve only just figured out how to converse without biting each other’s heads off. Must we suffer through this? Let them eat in peace. Let us all eat in peace.” He shoved another piece of bread into his mouth with a casual shrug, entirely missing the point.

You bit your lip to stifle the laughter threatening to bubble up as Delilah shot her husband a sharp, disapproving look. “Archibald,” she chided, her voice smooth and poised, “must you always eat like a farmhand? Not all of us wish to hear you chew.”

Archibald raised a brow, unfazed. “This is how we eat in the country, my love. Would you have me dine with a monocle and cane next?” he quipped, entirely oblivious to the ongoing conversation.

Your mother, undeterred by her son’s antics, waved him off with a roll of her eyes. Her focus was solely on you and Daniel, and she leaned forward, her expression softening as if she were imparting some great wisdom. “What I’m simply saying, my dear,” she continued with all the grace of a seasoned diplomat, “is that it’s a beautiful thing to see love flourish between husband and wife. And, well, one must express these feelings, mustn’t they? Aloud, preferably.”

“Mother,” you protested with a laugh, though your cheeks were aflame. Daniel, sitting beside you, was quietly shaking with laughter, struggling to maintain his composure as he dabbed at the corners of his mouth with a napkin. “We’re perfectly happy, I promise you.”

Ever the diplomat, Daniel cleared his throat, shooting your mother a charming smile. “Indeed, we are most happy. And we do express ourselves—” he paused, a teasing glint in his eye as he glanced at you, “in our own ways.”

Archibald groaned, tossing his napkin onto his plate with exaggerated frustration. “I did not sign up for such tedious conversation when my sister got married.” He shot you a playful glare before turning to your mother with a sigh. “For pity’s sake, could they not just say the three words you’re so desperate to hear and spare us the agony of your pointed hints for the remainder of breakfast?”

Your mother gasped, her hand fluttering to her chest in mock outrage, while you and Daniel exchanged a look of mutual amusement. The absurdity of it all had you biting back more laughter as you reached for your teacup once again, trying to preserve what little decorum remained at the table.

“Archibald, do compose yourself,” Delilah chastised with a light swat to her husband’s arm, her tone laced with fond amusement. “Words of such gravity should not be hastened. Surely, your sister and her husband will know when the appropriate moment presents itself.” She turned to you and Daniel with a gracious smile, her gaze warm and approving, before casting a sharper, more playful glance in her husband’s direction. “And I daresay, that moment is not at the family dining table, with all of us as eager witnesses.”

Archibald, ever the dutiful husband when Delilah was involved, conceded with a half-hearted nod. Truth be told, he had no desire to prolong this conversation, particularly with such a captive audience. But as Delilah’s eyes drifted once more to the radiant expressions you and Daniel shared, she could not help but allow her heart to soften further, her lips curving into a contented smile.

“Oh, but how it delights me to see you both so enraptured with one another,” she cooed, her voice laced with affection. “I remember well how you trembled with uncertainty on the morning of your wedding. In truth, I spent many a night afterward fretting over your well-being.” Her gaze, tender and wistful, returned to Archibald as she laid a gentle hand upon his. “It reminds me so of us when we were first wed.”

Archibald, though feigning a sigh of exasperation, could not resist the fond recollection of their own early days of marriage. Their union, much like yours, had been one forged under the weight of expectation, yet they had found contentment far sooner. He could not resist making this point known.

“Ah yes,” he mused, his voice laden with playful nostalgia. “But we declared our affections within the first few days. I dare say we were remarkably ahead of the curve.”

You, ever Archibald’s match in wit, rolled your eyes. “Not all of us are bound to your rigid timeline, brother.”

The room hummed with the familiar banter of siblings, and just as Archibald’s mouth opened to fire back a retort, your mother intervened with a well-practiced sigh. It was clear she had spent many years reigning in such familial sparring.

“As long as you both understand the depth of what you mean to one another,” she interjected, her eyes glistening as she turned her gaze toward you and Daniel, “that is all any mother could ever wish for.”

Her words, though simple, carried the weight of maternal love, and they hung in the air like a blessing. Before the sentiment could deepen further, the arrival of the servants with the main course shifted the moment, bringing the conversation to a merciful close.

“At last,” Archibald declared with exaggerated relief, “I was beginning to think we’d never be fed.”

As the dishes were laid before you, your eyes met Daniel’s once more, and a smile passed between you—intimate, knowing, and full of the unspoken promises that had blossomed between you. The meal began, but the quiet connection between you lingered, a bond growing stronger with each passing moment.

After a leisurely late-morning stroll through the sprawling Sterling grounds with your family, the inevitable moment of farewell arrived. Their journey ahead was long and arduous, and lingering further would only serve to delay their progress.

Truthfully, you found yourself grateful for the reprieve. The walk had been less than idyllic, with your mother scrutinizing you and Daniel as though you were two rare creatures in the wild, while your brother’s relentless teasing provided an endless stream of exasperation. Though you loved Archibald dearly, and even found some amusement in his antics, you couldn’t deny the relief of a quiet household once he was gone. Still, as you stood in the grand foyer, the servants bustling about with trunks and valises, a faint pang of sadness began to take hold.

Your mother approached you first, her arms outstretched as she pulled you tightly to her chest. “Oh, darling,” she said, her voice thick with emotion, “I shall miss you terribly.”

Nearby, Daniel had stepped away to share a few final words with Archibald, leaving you alone with your mother’s fervent affections.

“Do promise me you will write often,” she pleaded, pulling back to look at you with tearful eyes.

A mischievous smile tugged at your lips. “Well, I shall certainly try,” you replied with a teasing lilt, “but you must remember, Mother, I am a duchess now. My duties shall surely occupy much of my time.”

Her brows furrowed, and for a fleeting moment, you almost felt guilty. But as soon as her expression began to falter, you couldn’t keep up the charade. Chuckling softly, you clasped her hands in your own.

“I’m jesting, Mother,” you assured her, your smile warm and genuine. “Of course I will write. Likely more letters than you will know what to do with.”

Her face softened, and she gave a small laugh, bringing a gloved hand to your cheek. Her gaze, filled with pride and tenderness, lingered as though she were memorizing your features. “You make the perfect duchess,” she said softly. “Your people are fortunate to have you. And your husband… he is luckier still.”

The sincerity of her words touched you deeply, and for a moment, you felt like a little girl again, basking in the glow of your mother’s approval.

“Thank you,” you whispered, the lump in your throat making it difficult to speak. “I love you.”

“I love you more,” she replied, pressing a gentle kiss to your cheek before stepping back.

Next came Delilah, her warm embrace and soft-spoken words leaving you with a sense of calm. “Until we meet again,” she murmured, her graceful demeanor unwavering even in farewell. You smiled at her, grateful for her kindness and steady presence in your brother’s life.

With the women escorted to their carriage, Archibald lingered behind, exchanging a final word with Daniel before approaching you. For a moment, he said nothing, his expression contemplative as he studied you.

“You know,” he began at last, his voice low and uncharacteristically serious, “I shall miss you.”

You raised an eyebrow at him, tilting your head with mock suspicion. “Will you now?” you asked playfully, crossing your arms as though you didn’t quite believe him.

His lips quirked into a faint smile, and before he could muster a witty retort, you stepped forward and wrapped your arms around him, squeezing tightly. He froze briefly, caught off guard, but quickly returned the embrace, his large hands patting your back with a tenderness that made your chest ache.

“I’m going to miss you too, Archie,” you admitted, your voice muffled against his shoulder. For just a moment, you allowed yourself to be the little sister once more, seeking solace in the protective embrace of her older brother.

When you pulled away, there was nothing more that needed to be said. Archibald gave you a fond nod before making his way to the carriage, pausing only to exchange a final look with Daniel.

Together, you and your husband stood on the front steps of Sterling House, watching as the carriages rolled away. Your mother blew you a kiss from the window, her face radiant with love and pride until she disappeared from view.

As the sound of hooves faded into the distance, Daniel’s hand found yours, his fingers intertwining with yours as he looked down at you. “Alone at last.”

“Alone at last,” you repeated with a sigh, a mischievous smile playing at your lips as you squeezed his hand. Daniel’s answering smile hinted at his knowing exactly where your thoughts wandered—truth be told, his own mind had strayed there as well. Yet, ever the man of propriety (when he chose to be), he seemed determined to make the most of the daylight hours before indulging in more intimate pursuits.

His gaze shifted toward the estate’s tranquil pond, its surface shimmering beneath the soft light. On its edge, the pristine rowboat—a recent addition to the grounds—sat beckoning, its varnished wood gleaming like a jewel amidst the reeds. Daniel tilted his head toward it, his tone casual but with a hint of anticipation. “Why don’t we take to the water for a time? That rowboat has yet to see its maiden voyage.”

You followed his gaze to the boat, your curiosity piqued. Truthfully, you had been admiring it for days, its charm a delightful curiosity each time you passed by the pond. Yet, you had hesitated to bring it up, unsure if the Duke would find the idea of rowing whimsical or downright ridiculous.

“Are you certain?” you asked, feigning an air of doubt, though the excitement in your voice betrayed you.

He raised an eyebrow, his expression playful. “Do I not seem certain, my love? Or is it my skill as a rower you doubt?”

“Perhaps it is both,” you teased, your laughter light and melodic as it reached his ears.

Daniel chuckled, gently tugging you toward the path that led to the pond. “Well, there’s only one way to lay your doubts to rest, isn’t there?”

The two of you made your way to the water’s edge, the fresh scent of grass and the gentle rustling of leaves providing a serene accompaniment to your conversation. Daniel, ever the gentleman, steadied the boat as you stepped in, offering his hand as you settled onto the cushioned seat. The moment felt oddly thrilling, as though you were embarking on an adventure, however modest.

As Daniel took up the oars and began to row, the boat glided smoothly across the pond, creating ripples that danced in the sunlight. You leaned back, allowing yourself to relax in the moment, the gentle rocking of the boat and the rhythmic splash of the oars lulling you into a blissful calm.

“You seem rather adept at this,” you remarked, tilting your head to study him. His sleeves were rolled up slightly, exposing his forearms, the muscles flexing with each pull of the oars. You couldn’t help but admire the sight, your husband in his element.

He cast you a sly grin. “Did you doubt me so greatly? I’ve done this before, you know. In fact, I used to row quite often at the summer house.”

You smiled at the mention of the summer house, imagining the Duke as a young boy, carefree and full of life. The thought warmed your heart. “Well, your skills are most impressive, Your Grace.”

“And your approval is all the reward I need,” he quipped, his voice light but sincere.

The two of you shared a quiet laugh, the harmony between you as natural as the gentle ripples on the water. Time seemed to stretch endlessly as the boat drifted, and you felt a deep contentment settle within you.

As Daniel paused to let the boat float idly in the center of the pond, he leaned back slightly, his gaze fixed on you. The intensity in his eyes made your cheeks flush. “Do you know,” he began, his voice soft, “I could spend every moment like this—with you—and never tire of it?”

Your heart swelled at his words, and you reached out to brush your fingers against his. “And I with you,” you whispered, the truth of it so profound you could scarcely speak any more.

The moment lingered, perfect and timeless. The boat rocked gently beneath you, the pond reflecting the world in reverse, and you knew that this quiet harmony was a treasure you would hold forever.

Roslyn and Sebastian stood by the window overlooking the pond, their expressions warm with quiet amusement as they observed the scene unfolding before them. There, on the gently rippling water, you and Daniel seemed completely enraptured with one another, the cares of the world swept away like leaves on a stream.

The Duke, having abandoned all formality, had shed his shirt and plunged into the water moments earlier, showing off his prowess as a swimmer. Each powerful stroke was accompanied by your exaggerated cheers, your laughter ringing out in a melody that seemed to echo across the estate grounds. Daniel, ever the showman when it came to earning your attention, swam circles around the boat, grinning like a schoolboy.

And then, as if emboldened by his infectious energy, you had allowed yourself to be coaxed to the edge of the boat. Shoes discarded, you stood hesitantly, your toes curling over the edge as Daniel beckoned you with an encouraging smile. Finally, with a playful shriek, you took the plunge, the cool water enveloping you as you resurfaced with a gasp, your laughter mingling with his.

Roslyn exhaled softly, a wistful smile tugging at her lips. “I haven’t seen His Grace like this in years,” she murmured, her gaze fixed on Daniel as he splashed you lightly, his boyish laughter filling the air. “He’s like a child again—so carefree, so alive.”

Sebastian crossed his arms, leaning against the windowsill with a satisfied grin. “I always knew that spirited young man was still lurking beneath the surface. It merely took the right person to draw him out.”

Roslyn nodded, her voice touched with emotion. “And the right person she is, indeed. They bring out the best in one another.”

Sebastian chuckled in agreement, his eyes glinting with pride. “Indeed, Roslyn. It does my heart good to see him so utterly content. She is exactly what he needed.”

The two of them lingered at the window for a moment longer, watching as Daniel lifted you effortlessly out of the water, spinning you in the air before plunging you back into the pond with a playful splash. Your laughter echoed louder than before, filling the space with joy.

Roslyn sighed once more, her smile widening as she turned away from the scene. “Perhaps now Sterling House will no longer feel so heavy. It is as though the sun has finally returned to this place.”

Sebastian glanced back at the window one last time, the sight of the two of you locked in such unbridled happiness warming his heart. “Aye, and may it shine for many years to come.”

After hours of carefree frolic upon the water, you and Daniel at last guided the boat back to shore, both of you still dripping from your escapades. The golden light of the late afternoon danced upon the rivulets cascading down his bare skin, glistening like liquid gold against the taut contours of his form. It was a sight that did little to steady the flurry of emotions already stirring within you. The closeness shared between you over the course of the day had set your heart alight, and you felt as though you might burst with the energy coursing through you.

Daniel stepped onto the shore first, extending a hand to help you disembark. As your feet touched the soft grass, the damp fabric of your gown clinging to you, you glanced up at him, your cheeks flushed with a mixture of exhilaration and mischief.

“Let us dry off and retire to bed,” you murmured with a hint of a whine, your tone laced with playful impatience.

Daniel chuckled, his deep laugh resonating through the air as he arched a teasing brow. “To bed, you say? Already, my love? The sun has not yet set.”

“Daniel,” you began, exasperated by his teasing, though your lips betrayed a smile, “there are certain thoughts that have lingered in my mind since this morning—thoughts I am quite eager to… address.”

His smirk deepened, his hand still holding yours. “Is that so?” he drawled, his tone rich with amusement. “And here I thought the day’s rowing had thoroughly worn you out. Yet, it seems my dear wife possesses a boundless reservoir of energy.”

You tugged at his hand, attempting to guide him back toward the house with determined fervor, but he resisted, halting your steps with gentle resolve. His laughter warmed the air between you as he took a step closer, his free hand brushing a damp strand of hair from your face.

“Patience, darling,” he murmured, his voice low and teasing, though his gaze was laced with adoration. “We mustn’t allow haste to rob us of the delight in the anticipation.”

“Have I not endured enough anticipation already?” you teased, your tone laced with mock indignation. “Does it bring you such delight, husband, to make your wife wait so cruelly?”

Daniel’s rich laughter resonated through the air, a sound as warm as the setting sun. “Patience,” he countered, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “I assure you, your concerns shall be thoroughly addressed—and at great length, I might add. But first, there is something I wish to give you, something I hope will heighten your delight rather than prolong your torment.”

“A surprise?” you asked, your brow arching in curiosity.

“Indeed,” he replied with a sly grin.

“You do spoil me, Daniel,” you said, though your tone carried no hint of complaint.

It was then that Roslyn appeared, her indulgent grin already betraying that she was privy to whatever scheme Daniel had orchestrated.

“Roslyn will escort you to your room,” he informed you, his expression turning conspiratorial. “And I shall meet you downstairs once you are ready.”

Though curiosity burned within you, you nodded, hopelessly in love and willing to indulge him in whatever plans he had concocted. After stealing one last kiss from your husband, you allowed Roslyn to lead you away, your steps light with anticipation.

When you reached the door to your chamber, Roslyn paused dramatically, her hand on the knob as she looked at you with a twinkle in her eye. “Prepare yourself, Your Grace,” she said, before opening the door with a flourish.

Your breath caught in your throat. Hanging from your wardrobe was an exquisite white gown, shimmering faintly in the evening light. The fabric was fine, yet its design was simpler than your wedding gown, more understated in its elegance but no less breathtaking. The bodice was adorned with delicate embroidery of golden thread, forming intricate floral patterns that seemed to bloom across the fabric. The sleeves were light and ethereal, made of a sheer material that flowed like whispers of air. A satin ribbon cinched the waist, and the skirt cascaded down in layers that pooled gently at the hem, designed to glide with every movement.

“It’s beautiful,” you breathed, stepping closer to admire the handiwork.

“It should be,” Roslyn said with a knowing smile as she came to stand beside you. “The Duke had it made especially for you.”

Your heart swelled, and you brought a hand to your chest as you turned to her. “He had this made for me?”

Roslyn nodded, the affection in her expression clear. “He wished for something that would suit you perfectly. Something that was you, not just a duchess’s gown.”

You felt your eyes sting with unshed tears but quickly blinked them away, unwilling to ruin the moment with unnecessary sentiment. Roslyn, ever efficient, ushered you to sit as she began to ready you. Unlike your wedding day, the preparations were far less cumbersome, yet Roslyn still managed to transform you into something radiant. Your hair was arranged in soft curls, pinned back delicately with pearl-encrusted combs, leaving a few tendrils to frame your face. A simple golden bracelet adorned your wrist, and your satin slippers completed the ensemble.

When Roslyn stepped back to inspect her handiwork, her smile grew wider. “Perfect,” she declared. “You look divine.”

You smoothed the skirt of your gown, marveling at its softness and the thoughtfulness behind it. “Thank you, Roslyn,” you murmured, your gratitude encompassing far more than just her efforts this morning.

“Now,” she said, holding out her hand, “let us not keep the Duke waiting.”

She led you from your chamber and down the grand staircase, your heart thrumming in anticipation. You scanned the foyer, expecting to see Daniel waiting for you, but to your surprise, he was nowhere to be found.

“Where is he?” you asked, glancing at Roslyn with a puzzled expression.

Her smile turned enigmatic as she gestured toward another corridor. “Why don’t you follow me to the chapel?”

The chapel? Your breath hitched as a mixture of confusion and intrigue coursed through you. Without a word, you followed her lead, your footsteps echoing softly against the marble floors. The realization began to dawn on you as you neared the chapel doors, the faint sound of organ music drifting through the air. Whatever awaited you on the other side, you knew it would be unforgettable.

The sun was beginning its descent, casting a soft golden glow across the horizon as you approached the chapel with Roslyn by your side. The faint warmth of the setting light bathed the stone facade in hues of amber, and through the slight crack beneath the chapel doors, you could see a soft radiance spilling onto the path—a welcoming glow that seemed to call to you.

Roslyn paused at the heavy wooden doors, turning to you with a knowing smile. She reached for the handle, her movements deliberate, almost ceremonial, as though she were unveiling something truly sacred. With a creak, the doors swung open, and what lay beyond took your breath away.

The chapel, though familiar, had been transformed. Garlands of fresh flowers in delicate whites and blushes adorned the pews, their fragrance filling the air with a subtle sweetness. Candles, their flames flickering like gentle whispers, were arranged throughout the room, casting a dreamy glow over the intimate setting. A single violinist stood to the side, bowing her instrument with quiet reverence, the melody tender and romantic.

But the space was otherwise empty, save for three figures: the priest, standing silently at the altar, the organist, playing gentle music on the massive instrument, and Daniel, resplendent in a dark coat trimmed with gold, waiting for you at the very center of it all.

Your breath caught, your feet rooted to the floor as your gaze met his. The emptiness of the chapel struck you—it was a stark contrast to the grandeur of your first wedding day. Gone were the throngs of nobles, the towering floral arrangements, the pressure of hundreds of watchful eyes. Here, in this quiet, sacred space, there was only Daniel. Only the two of you.

As if sensing your hesitation, Daniel extended his hand toward you, his gaze steady and unwavering. The invitation in his eyes was unmistakable. Swallowing your surprise, you took a tentative step forward, then another, until you were making your way down the aisle to meet him, your heart thundering in your chest with every step.

When you reached him, his hand closed around yours, warm and reassuring. You tilted your head to look up at him, your voice soft and uncertain. “Daniel, what is this? What are we doing?”

He smiled—a smile that held all the affection you had come to recognize in him, yet there was something more, something deeper. “I feel,” he began, his voice low and earnest, “as though we didn’t do it right the first time. Everything was so rushed, so mechanical. A union of titles, not hearts. But now…” He brought your hand to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to your knuckles. “Now, we have found what we lacked that day—what truly matters. Love. And I wish to marry you again, properly, as the man who loves you beyond measure.”

Emotion welled within you, stealing your words for a moment as you gazed at him, your heart so full it ached. Finally, you managed, “Daniel…”

He cupped your face with one hand, his thumb brushing your cheek. “Shall we begin?” he asked softly.

The priest stepped forward, offering a gentle nod, and Daniel turned fully to face you, his other hand taking yours.

“I, Daniel Robert Wagner,” he began, his voice steady yet thick with feeling, “vow to cherish you, not as the Duchess, but as the woman who has claimed my heart. You are my partner, my confidante, my greatest joy. With every sunrise, I promise to honor you, to protect you, to grow with you. Whatever trials may come, I will stand beside you, unwavering. My love for you is endless, and I will spend my life proving it to you, every single day.”

Tears blurred your vision, but you blinked them away, your heart swelling with every word he spoke. When it was your turn, you inhaled deeply, steadying yourself as you met his gaze.

“I, your Grace,” you began, a teasing smile breaking through your emotion, earning a soft chuckle from Daniel before your tone turned tender, “promise to be your partner in all things. I vow to support you, to trust you, to nurture the love we have found and never let it falter. You have shown me a world of possibility, of passion, of joy, and I will spend my life ensuring that you never doubt how deeply you are loved. My heart is yours, wholly and without condition, now and forever.”

Daniel’s eyes glistened as he whispered your name, his voice breaking with the weight of his emotion. The violinist began to play softly as the priest declared your renewed vows sealed, and Daniel wasted no time pulling you into a tender kiss, his lips conveying all the promises he had just spoken aloud and more.

The room was cloaked in the soft, silvery glow of moonlight streaming through the gauzy curtains. The fire in the hearth had dimmed to a faint amber glow, its warmth lingering in the quiet intimacy of the room. You and Daniel lay side by side in the grand canopy bed, the canopy draped low, creating a cocoon-like haven for just the two of you.

It was well into the early hours of the next morning, but you hadn’t and idea of the minute. You and the Duke had lost track of time due to the way you hadn’t been able to unwrap yourselves from one another.

You turned on your side to face him, resting your head on your folded arm as you studied his features. The harsh edges of his face softened in the low light, and his dark curls framed his profile like a crown. His eyes, heavy-lidded but bright, gazed at you with an affection so profound it made your breath hitch. His bare skin was warm against yours, still flush from the way you’d made love just minutes ago.

“Are you not tired?” he asked, his voice low and laced with amusement as he noticed your unwavering gaze.

“Not yet,” you replied softly, a smile playing at your lips. “I am afraid I do not wish for this day to end.”

Daniel reached for your hand, threading his fingers through yours, his touch warm and grounding. “Neither do I,” he confessed. “Today felt like the closing of a chapter—and yet, the start of another. It is strange, is it not, to think how much has changed in so little time?”

You nodded, your thoughts drifting to the whirlwind of the past ten days—the arguments that once defined your relationship, the vulnerability you had both dared to show, and the undeniable love that had grown from it all.

“It feels as though I have lived a lifetime with you already,” you murmured, your voice tender. “And yet, I know there is still so much more to come.”

Daniel’s thumb brushed lightly over the back of your hand. “A lifetime with you,” he echoed, his tone soft but resolute. “I never imagined such a thing could feel so… right. I fought it at first, as you know. I resisted it with all my might. And yet, here I am, unable to fathom what my life was before you—or what it could ever be without you.”

You swallowed hard, his words wrapping around your heart like a warm embrace. “I feel the same,” you admitted. “I fought you, too—stubbornly, foolishly. But now I see it all so clearly. The arguments, the misunderstandings—they were but stepping stones to this, were they not?”

“They were,” he agreed, his gaze steady and filled with a depth of emotion that left you breathless. “And I would not change a single moment, for every one of them led me to you.”

You smiled, blinking back tears that threatened to fall. “Do you think it will always be like this?” you asked quietly. “Will it always feel so… extraordinary?”

Daniel’s lips curved into a small, knowing smile. “I do not doubt there will be trials, my love. But so long as we face them together, with the same passion and fire that brought us here, I believe our love will always be extraordinary.”

You shifted closer to him, resting your head against his chest, where the steady rhythm of his heartbeat soothed you. His arms encircled you, holding you close as though you were his most precious treasure.

“Do you remember,” you began, your voice muffled against his chest, “how much we argued in the beginning? How insufferable we were?”

Daniel laughed, a deep, rich sound that rumbled through his chest. “How could I forget? You were absolutely maddening.”

You swatted him playfully, lifting your head to look at him. “And you were impossible.”

“And yet,” he said, cupping your face gently, his expression turning serious, “it was those very arguments that showed me who you are. Strong, passionate, unyielding—a force to be reckoned with. I knew then that I needed someone like you, someone who would challenge me, who would hold me accountable, who would stand beside me as an equal. You are everything I did not know I needed.”

Tears slipped down your cheeks, and Daniel brushed them away with his thumb. “Do not cry, my love,” he whispered. “This is a happy ending, is it not?”

You nodded, your smile breaking through the tears. “Yes, it is.”

He pressed a tender kiss to your forehead, then to your lips, sealing the moment with a quiet reverence. You curled into him once more, your bodies entwined as the silence settled over you like a warm blanket.

As the night stretched on, you drifted closer to sleep, your heart full and your mind at peace. Beside you, Daniel whispered softly, as though speaking the words only to himself:

“I love you.”

Though your eyes were closed, a soft smile graced your lips. “I love you too, Daniel,” you murmured back, your voice barely above a whisper.

And with that, you both succumbed to the embrace of sleep, your hearts beating in perfect harmony, ready to face the lifetime of love and adventure that awaited you.

Taglist: @jakekiszkashangnail08 @josh-iamyour-mama @freyjalw @gvfsstardust @peaceloveunitygvf @positivegvfthings @traffic-was-a-b1tch @heheheheheheheurmum @musicislove3389

#greta van fleet #gvf #greta van fic #greta van fleet smut #gvf fic #greta van smut #greta van fleet fic #daniel wagner #danny gvf #danny wagner fic #danny wagner smut #danny wagner #greta van angst #greta van fluff #greta van fleet fan fiction #gvf fanfiction #gvf imagine #daniel gvf

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theodork · 1 year ago

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Loveless Saiki x fem! reader

Hey team, I'm a college student so I've been busy.....but here is something I've been working on... angst and all that ya know....

(Y/N) was a fellow psychic at PK Academy, and she developed a close bond with the Pinkette boy. In fact, they had been in a loving relationship for a whole year. Feeling a sense of restlessness, she decided to pay a visit to Kusuo's house. Her steps were filled with joy and anticipation as she happily skipped along. Her affection for him was so intense that it colored her perception of everything, casting a rosy glow on her surroundings.

(Y/N) approached Saiki's residence, knocking on the door, humming a love song to herself. The door swung open, revealing Ms. Saiki with a warm smile. "Oh, (Y/N), come in! Kusuo's been waiting for you," she said, her voice dripping with maternal affection. As you stepped inside, the smell of freshly brewed coffee and Kusuo's unique presence enveloped (Y/N), making your heart flutter. (Y/N) loved Ms. Saiki dearly, and Ms. Saiki loved her, though, of course, Ms. Saiki would love Kusuo's adoring girlfriend. If it were up to her she would have Y/N move into the guest bedroom. As (Y/N) made her way to Kusuo's room, she couldn't help but notice how tidy everything was. It was as if the room itself reflected his meticulously organized mind. Kusuo, however, was not in his room at the moment.

Though that was no problem for the young girl, she sat on his bed and waited for her precious boyfriend to return. A few minutes passed, and just as (Y/N) was about to drift off into a blissful nap, the sound of the front opening and closing snapped her back to reality. Kusuo had arrived home, his footsteps growing louder as he approached his room. "You're here," he spoke quietly, his voice reverberating in.

The girl smiled at him. Kusuo watched her with curious eyes.

"Why are you in my room?”

"Because I missed you..." Her voice was soft.

“So you’re here just because you missed me..?” It was clear that the only emotion he felt towards this situation was bewilderment. And even that was faint. He looked at her with a blank expression, as if he had no idea why she was there. This did not dishearten the girl.

"Am I not allowed to miss you, Ku?" she said in a low teasing voice. Ku’s expression didn’t change, but his gaze softened and paused before shrugging in response, which was his way of going: ‘Sure, whatever.’

"So... you were bored and decided to nap in here?”

"Yes," (Y/N) said. Slowly nodding.

"Interesting..."

He remained standing, as he looked around his room for a moment before glancing down at his hands. Once he did that, he took his right hand out of his pocket and used the fingers to motion to (Y/N)

“Come here.”

She got off the bed and walked closer to him.

Now that (Y/N) was in front of him, he placed his hand on her cheek and tilted her face up slightly, staring at her. Once he was done looking at you in this way, he leaned forward for a moment before suddenly speaking into your mind again.

“You’re quite pretty.” (Y/N) was like a shield to most of Saiki's powers. He couldn't really read her mind, nor could he use his X-ray vision. His mind control was also pretty useless. Not that he tried to use it, but she was the only one who questioned his appearance. Which was probably why he started dating the girl. His powers, to him, meant he could find anyone attractive, but with this restriction gone, he pursued a relationship with her. His face remained blank throughout this interaction. She looked at him lovingly. She'd have heart eyes if that were physically possible.

"I think you are pretty too,"

"Hmm. Really?” Her words seem quite strange to him. He raised his eyebrows slightly. His face still seemed to be void of emotions.

"May I kiss you?”

"Yes, of course, you don't have to ask."

Kusuo was silent for a moment before he suddenly leaned down and gently kissed you on the lips. In spite of this, his expression was still devoid of any emotion.

"Is that okay?”

He continued to stare down at her. She nodded, slightly blushing.

“Okay.. good. Hm.” he paused, “..There isn’t much for us to do here.”

Kusuo’s hands went back into his pockets, his head turning to watch his girlfriend.

"Yes but I like just being around you, even if we are just sitting in silence" (Y/N) truly loved being around him. He was her everything.

Kusuo raised his eyebrows a bit and nodded.

“..That’s sweet...May I hug you?” Kusuo asked.

"Yes of course, but you don't have to ask to touch me"

He did know this, but he was really asking because he was a bit hesitant himself. He wrapped his arms around her gently

“I'm just making sure you're comfortable with it.” she wrapped her arms around him in return. “May I pick you up?” he asked. She nodded. He picked her up, moving over to the bed and sitting down with her in his lap.

“This is comfortable?”

“Yes” with that his grip tightened around her.

“May I touch your face?” (Y/N) asked. She knew the answer, it would be a yes, but she didn't want to overwhelm him either as this was his first relationship.

“Sure” he moved his face closer, not objecting. (Y/N) cupped his face, stroking her thumbs over his cheeks, softly smiling. He didn’t react, perhaps a small untouchable blush.

“Are you comfortable?” she asked.

"Oh... yes," Kusuo replied, his gaze fixed on her, but his face remained as emotionless as ever.

"If there's anything else you'd like to do, I'm open to it," she said, trying to break the silence.

"Okay, Ku, I have to say, you're incredibly handsome," she continued. Kusuo raised an eyebrow in surprise.

"Do you really think so?"

"Like a statue... you were carved by Aphrodite herself," she complimented him. He blinked, unsure of how to respond. Then, he studied her more closely.

"Really? You think that highly of me?" Kusuo appeared genuinely confused, and his blank expression started to soften.

She nodded, planting a gentle kiss on his forehead. "You're quite the flatterer, you know?"

Kusuo continued to gaze at her, his blank stare slowly transforming into a faint smile. She felt a sense of accomplishment, as if she was finally able to help him express his emotions. It may not have been much, but she could make him smile and even crave physical affection.

"I might be a smooth talker, but I truly adore you," she confessed.

"I've noticed. Do you flirt with other guys often?" Kusuo asked, still observing her, his smile growing wider.

"Not at all. They don't even register on my radar," she shook her head. No other guy could compare to Kusuo, not even her celebrity crushes.

"Really?" Kusuo seemed pleased by this revelation, his smile growing even more. He clearly enjoyed the attention. Perhaps his love language was words of affirmation, but who really knows? He's an enigma.

"They can't even hold a candle to you," she assured him.

Suddenly, he leaned in and gently kissed her cheek. "Hm. I'm glad to hear that."

He continued to gaze at her in silence, his smile still genuine.

"I only have eyes for you," he whispered.

Then, he leaned forward and kissed her, his expression still filled with sincerity. The silence lingered between them as he settled back, gently placing her on his bed.

"Am I... a good kisser?" Kusuo's voice echoed in her thoughts.

She nodded, a small smile playing on her lips. "I'd say you're becoming quite skilled."

"Thank you." Another moment of silence followed, but (Y/N) didn't mind.

"Should we... do it again?" Kusuo's voice was tentative, uncertain.

"Ku, if I ever turn down a kiss from you, I want you to shake me," she whispered, leaning in to kiss him once more.

Kusuo reciprocated the kiss, his silence speaking volumes. When they finally broke apart, he gently placed his hands on her cheeks.

"Can I ask you something personal?" His voice was soft, but his eyes held a hint of nervousness.

"Yes," she replied, her voice filled with warmth and affection.

"Do... you love me?" Kusuo's question hung in the air, his hands still cradling her face. His smile was mixed with anticipation and vulnerability.

"There aren't enough words to express how deeply I love you," she confessed, her eyes shining with sincerity.

"Is this genuine... or just flattery?" Kusuo's voice remained within her mind, his gaze searching her face.

"Can't you tell?" She gently guided his hand to her chest, letting him feel the rapid beat of her heart.

As Kusuo felt her heartbeat, a brief pause ensued. His gaze met hers again, his expression becoming more neutral, yet filled with understanding. The silence between them carried a profound connection, reaffirming their love.

"I need to tell you something," Kusuo said, his hands tucked into his pockets, his gaze fixed on (y/n).

"What is it?" (y/n) asked, a hint of concern in her voice.

Kusuo hesitated, his face tinged with sadness. "I've been lying to you," he admitted, his voice resonating in her mind. "I've never experienced emotions. I've never felt love or affection towards anyone."

Her eyes widened in surprise. "Do you not love me?"

Kusuo struggled to find the right words to respond. After a moment, he let out a sigh and looked away. "I want to," he confessed, his voice still reaching her thoughts. "But I may be incapable of it."

He turned his gaze back to her. "I'm sorry."

Confusion filled her eyes. "What does that mean?"

"It means," Kusuo explained, his expression blank again, "I can't return your feelings."

His words pierced her heart, and she choked on her words. Kusuo stepped closer to her, embracing her gently, his voice echoing in her mind once more. "Please don't cry... I don't want to see you cry."

She let out a bitter laugh, her heart aching. Kusuo paused, his eyes meeting her tear-stained face. Then, he glanced at her chest, as if searching for the source of her pain. "Are you hurt?" he asked, his voice filled with concern.

"I feel like I'm burning alive," she confessed, her voice trembling.

"I apologize," Kusuo replied, his face still devoid of emotion. It was hard to tell if he truly felt regret or not. "Is there anything I can do to make you feel better?"

"No, I don't think so," she replied, her voice filled with resignation.

Silence enveloped them. Kusuo continued to hold her, but his embrace lacked the warmth she longed for. "I really am sorry," he repeated.

"I know," she whispered.

"Should I take you home now?" Kusuo asked, his arms still around her.

"I think I'll go home on my own," she replied.

"Alright," he conceded, another silence stretching between them. "Do you think you might be able to forgive me one day?"

"That's the funny thing," she said, a hint of sadness in her voice.

Kusuo raised an eyebrow, curious. "And what is that?"

"I forgive you now," she admitted, her voice filled with a mixture of heartbreak and understanding.

Silence hung in the air once more. "You do?" Kusuo asked, his grip loosening slightly.

"Yeah," she affirmed.

"I'm absolutely heartbroken, but I don't think I'm able to be mad at you," she added.

Kusuo remained silent for a moment, his voice now tinged with sadness. "You're very caring," he remarked, his face still blank.

"To a fault," (y/n) dryly chuckled.

Kusuo stayed silent, a small smile playing on his lips. "Will you promise me something?" he asked.

"What?" (y/n) inquired.

"Promise to find someone else and give them all the affection I was unable to return," he requested.

"I don't know if I'll be able to keep that promise," she confessed. "That's the only thing I can't grant you."

Kusuo paused, his voice turning serious for a moment. "Alright," he said.

He released his hold on her and seemed lost in thought. "I'm going to leave now," he finally said.

"I'll walk you out, if you'd like," (y/n) offered.

"No, that won't be necessary," she quickly corrected herself, her voice breaking.

"Are you sure?" Kusuo asked, glancing at her with concern.

"Very sure," she replied.

Kusuo moved toward the door, stealing glances at her to ensure she was okay. She left in a hurry, barely holding herself together. Kusuo watched her exit, his face showing a genuine concern that had been absent before. He sighed and closed the door.

(Y/N) made her way home, shutting the door behind her and collapsing in front of it. Her world crumbled around her, but she couldn't find the tears or the screams. Kusuo, on the other hand, leaned against the wall outside his room, lost in thought as he stared at the floor. Guilt washed over him, along with a sense of emptiness that was all too familiar. After a while, he opened his door and returned to his room.

(Y/N) slowly rose from the floor and made her way to her bedroom. She wanted to cry, to scream, but the emptiness inside her stifled any outward expression of pain.

#fanfic #creative writing #kusuo saiki #saiki k #saiki kusuo no psi nan #saiki no psi nan #saiki x reader #the disastrous life of saiki k #angst

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the-maddened-hatter · 22 days ago

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Had some more ideas for Hazbin/Helluva Ocs!

Spitfyre having two older twin brothers, Aykay & Ryfell (maybe now going by Raphael? at the very least pronouncing it less like Rifle). Aykay did assassin work for years until a very recent more severe injury left him aware of just how much he'd been risking for the squabbles of richer higher-ups, and Ryfell/Raphael never cared for it, leading to a rift with some of his family that's just now closing after the death of their overbearing father. He works in either Greed or Envy as a fashion designer for a luxury-ish department store chain. They're both intersex and it affects their hair and horns predominantly.

BeeBee (also sometimes called BabyBeeBee or Bee-bee-bee-bee by her older brothers) is Spitfyre's "baby" sister who revels in assassin work and the bloodlust of it all. She and Spitfyre use the same sort of manic attacks in combat, but it's less of a potential liability for her than him because she's a much smaller target, relying largely on her speed.

Spitfyre & siblings' paternal grandmother, Cast-Iron. She's old and tough, seemingly unkillable having worked as an assassin and outliving her son. For all her ruthless power she was kinder than him, being one of the few things that stood between him hurting Ryfell/Raphael and Spitfyre too badly for their ineptitude at the family trade. She sent them off as apprentices in more suitable trades, but it can't be said it wasn't out of love for them. It's never confirmed to be the case, but while she tells people her son died botching a job, she may have finally killed him for his cruelty to his children and what he may have been planning to do to his grandchildren. She is very stoic, saying and moving very little, but enjoys visits with her great grandchildren and watching different programs on television.

A Goetia hybrid of some kind (maybe half Hellhound?) to be Starlight's partner. She was raised hidden away in a palace by her Goetia mother. Her mother loved her dearly and kept her safe as long as she could, only letting her walk about at night and bringing her all the books and toys she could want but never companionship. Her mother was killed when her indiscretions were found out shortly after she had another hybrid child, a half sibling. Her mother was able to get them both out of the palace, the baby early on, her daughter only last minute on the night she was to be killed, taking her place. She was given some money but is not overly well versed in survival outside of keeping very quiet. She and Starlight bond over their love of art, with the Goetia hybrid sneaking into museums to stare longingly at art and finery, all she used to know, now forbidden to so much as touch.

And some potential kids for Spitfyre to adopt:

A Hellhound toddler pup that Bonemeal just brought back home with him one day, howling and hungry. Attempts to contact worried parents or Hellhound Shelters missing a pup met with no results, and neither could overly explain what had happened beyond "He's lost. He's hungry. Brought him to you." and "woooooooooouuuuuuuuuuuu!" D: Which did very little to clear up anything. He looks like a wolf and is named MoonPie. Veevee adores him and will often pick him up with her tail to keep him out of trouble while she's working at home

Taffy, a young Imp who he found rummaging in the dumpsters behind one of this shops with chromosomal abnormalities that caused her disabilities and abnormalities in her appearance. If she knew her name she wouldn't tell him so he named her after her favorite candy from the store, Hellbrine Taffy. He likes to think she maybe got lost and went to the safest looking brightly colored building (his shop) and her parents are still looking for her, but this being hell he isn't really quite so naive as to fully believe it. She's extremely large and strong but very very sweet

Konpeito, a hybrid between an Infestor Demon and *something* though the family isn't sure what. Ryfell/Raphael was actually the one to find them, feeling psychically called to investigate a storm drain where they were hunkered down in. He immediately called Spitfyre, being unskilled with children himself. They cannot walk well, being used to an aquatic environment, and sleep nearly constantly, but awake for short periods of time throughout the day. When they wake up off schedule it usually means something very important is about to happen. Their scale patterns resemble a Coelacanth fish. They could not say how they came to be in the sewers, just that the Imp who had been coming to bring them food was no longer coming because someone had badly hurt him. Bonemeal is incredibly protective of Moonpie and Konpeito, often sleeping on the floor in their room to keep watch over them and viciously attacking anyone who attempts to harm them.

@ankouartheadcannons

#hazbin hotel #helluva boss #hazbin hotel oc #helluva boss OC #helluvaverse #hellaverse #hazbin original character #hazbin OC #hazbin hotel original character #hazbin #lol now the real dilemma is who should I try and make on Hero Forge first????

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literalite · 9 months ago

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I remember you saying you liked young justice so I wanted to know who's your favourite character or the one you think is most like you? I've been attached by the hip to this show since I was 13 so I'm a little... not normal about it lol.

also opinions on s3?

YES oh my god it was like formative media for me genuinely and i still love yj dearly i was rewatching it like last month actually along with yaboyroshi's reactions to it 😅 we are both a little not normal about this show dw 🤝🏼 im putting the rest of this under a cut because i start Yapping

my fave characters were dick, artemis, jaime, bart, and zatanna! dick i was Obsessed with from the moment i laid eyes on him in hindsight for gender reasons, probably but artemis always meant a huge deal to me as a kid because she was like the only vietnamese character (and with a skintone like mine!) that i'd ever seen on a screen. i loved everything about jaime's character and personality and arc and i had a really soft spot for bart because characters who are very outwardly upbeat and fun but are going through a lot of shit and hiding it are my favourites ever usually 😅. i also liked rlly them as a duo. zatanna's sort of cool-girl sass was always really fun to see and i think especially in s4 where her sort of less-rigid morality had more room to shine, really made me appreciate her character more. OH also when they introduced cassandra wu-san/orphan in s3 i like literally cheered out loud 😭 shes one of my fave characters from dc comics in general, so i was already biased towards her and i really liked her depiction and the room they made for her arc

i'm actually not sure which character is the most like me... i think because i watched it so young a lot of the characters kind of made their way into my personality in one way or another. i think irl im most like dick but it could be wishful thinking 😅 i'm not as cool as he is for sure

season three.... i'm kind of on the fence about it? i will say though i think it was a little rough with the dialogue especially, and i definitely didn't bond as well with the outsiders as i did with the original team and then the s2 cast. violet was the most likeable of the group by far but i think i was really put off by the fact that they kept killing them 💀 like i get that you guys can do this now with the higher rating but there are better ways to show off your newfound creative freedom than repeatedly brutally killing them. it was offset with the majority of the other characters suffering from basically no visible injuries too- if they'd been hit with bruises or scrapes or broken bones or ANYTHING and reduced the harm dealt to vi then i would've been less urgh by it.

i also wish they'd introduced victor a bit earlier into the season instead of spending sooo much time with brion because cyborg's story felt a little tacked on at the end, and um i was annoyed by brion from the jump 😭😭 tried so hard to sympathise with him because to be fair he went through a Lot but he just kept being such an aggressive ass to like everyone. which i guess was the point.. didn't make it any more fun to watch though.

i do like that they kept with the huge mass of entangled threads of the plot that were to me the hallmarks of the earlier seasons, picking apart scenes to try and work out how things interconnect was always my favourite part. i think the cast of the show at this point for what they were trying to do and focus on may have exceeded the show's bounds though- it was still a compelling narrative but i imagine for a casual watcher who isnt as meticulously invested in who is who and can recognise adaptations of arcs from the comics it can get very confusing or frustrating. its hard because i Love the og cast too but i think with s3 they couldn't decide on letting them go or letting their new characters shine and it ended up muddying the waters a bit, with the outsiders suffering the most from it due to no nostalgia or prior narrative heft to keep them from looking secondary to the original members of the team.

with s4 they chose to throw their lot behind the old team, which i appreciated and it neatened the rough edges of the show more, but i do still miss the s2 cast quite badly so i actually kind of wish they'd kept expanding the cast but just narrowed focus onto the new characters for every season. the title of the show is young justice, so i personally would've liked to keep seeing a focus on the newer and rising heroes of each successive generation as opposed to returning again and again to the originals

sorry that this is such a wall of text 😅 but i think this is one of the shows that i could genuinely just like sit and talk about for ages and ages... even the characters i dont like at all have a fair amount of gravity and heft to them that i love. wally is still alive btw i will never stop believing 😤 get that man out of the speed force!

#sorry that i talked so much here ive been losing my mind to assignment stress all day so writing about something i actually give a rats ass #about is such an. air being let out of a balloon noise moment idk im tiiired but we move 😤#ask #reply #bonneblah #TYSM FOR THIS BY THE WAY! slightly off topic but i was making the og team in cas the other day but i never finished 🤔🤔 I SHOULD FINISH

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adrunkskeletonsduck · 2 years ago

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Could I request a neytiri x fem reader from the first movie?? The reader is falling in love with her a similar way as jake. Maybe she doesn’t allow them to destroy the tree? That would be so great!!! I just love your writing!!! <3333 Thank you!!

“Tʜᴇ Lɪɢʜᴛ Sʜᴏᴛ Dɪᴀᴍᴏɴᴅs Fʀᴏᴍ Hᴇʀ Eʏᴇs”

➜ Pairing: Neytiri x fem!reader

➜ Summary: You reflect on the past few months under The Tree of Voices, regretting the lies you'd fed the girl who lay next to you.

➜ Warnings: Guilt, light angst, fluff

➜ Word Count: 1.5k

➜ Notes: This took me an ungodly amount of time to write, my apologies.

A liar.

That’s what you were. There was nothing about the past three months that hadn't been a lie, and this was by far the cruelest one you’d ever told, because this lie would destroy everything The People had ever known. They’d been rightfully skeptical about you, shunning you and casting you glares for the first few weeks, but as your lessons progressed, they’d warmed up to you and slowly you’d gained their trust. Just like you’d been sent to do. Well not all of them, mostly the children, but most of the older Omitikaya still resented you.

Neytiri had been the former, warming up to as you learned, and you wished she hadn't. Now you wished so badly that she’d never began to trust you. Maybe then it would save her the betrayal.

The People didn’t deserve this – Neytiri didn’t deserve this.

You deserved to be beaten until you were bloody and bruised for the façade, you’d put on for all these weeks, not smiled down upon by an angel such as herself as she led you through the most beautiful of places on Pandora. Your heart was heavy with guilt as you watched her in front of you, the knowledge of the evils you were about to bring upon her and her people burning it.

Neytiri was bright, she was brilliant and beautiful. She loved her people dearly, they were family, her fortress. She loved the animals and the forest, she had a deep bond with Eywa, and her love for the Great Mother only seemed to grow by the day. She was adventurous, basking in the thrill of a close call just like you. She was empathetic and caring. She was skilled with a bow, being able to shoot an arrow like no other, and she was proud. So very proud, and you could only predict that it would get her into trouble one day. The thought made you laugh a bit. She didn’t like the thought of being bound by responsibility, simply wanting to live her youth. She was everything you could've have asked for and more.

She deserved the world.

But you couldn’t give it to her. Only destroy it.

You supposed not everything was a lie. At least not anymore. Your love for the forest wasn’t. Neytiri had grown and nurtured it, showing you every beautiful detail in the endless landscape of vines and trees that were home to amazing species of animals, decorated in bright colors and stripes. There was nothing that she had missed to teach you about when it came to the forest and her people. She would go on and on about networks of energy that flowed through every living thing. She spoke about the value of every life, no matter how small or large, sophisticated or crude. At first, you’d discarded her words, nodded absent mindedly and internally scuffed at their teachings. Day after day she spoke of it though, and slowly you began to see the forest through her eyes. Slowly you understood.

You understood the way the Na’vi lived was beautiful, something that you’d never realized you’d earned for until you’d come here. You admired the lack of industrialization and the simplicity of their way of life. The harmony they lived in with the animals, the value they placed on life – something that had somehow slipped from the hands of humanity. There was nothing savage about these people, quite the opposite in fact. They were honest and kind. They viewed each other not as simply neighbors, but as family. The only crime they had ever committed was not allowing humanity to walk over them.

Neytiri had opened your eyes, taught you how to see. Now you’d pay her back with the blood of her people and the sting of betrayal.

Much like the forest and Pandora, every little thing about her had become beautiful to you. The sparkles in her eyes as she spoke about something that excited her and the way her voice rose a pitch higher, her words becoming faster ever so slightly. The subtle sway of her hips as she walked, or the way her braids moved delicately with each step. The way her skin shone as the light hit it and her lips that stretched into a wide smile when you’d say something not so funny, but she’d laugh anyway. Her voice, smooth and sweet. You could listen to her talk for hours.

Every moment with her had been magical, each one more rose tinted then the last as you fell harder and harder. Archery lessons would make your stomach burst into butterflies at the close proximity the two of you shared as she made sure your form was proper and bow was lined up with the target properly. At first, she had kept the contact at a minimal, jumping away from you as if your touch had burned her, but now she would take her time, easing into your presence.

Ikran riding was one of your favorite pass times with her. Watching as the window blew through her hair, the light cascading down on her skin, casting a beautiful – almost angelic – glow as she maneuvered through the sky. Language lessons were hard, but she made it all the better, and despite your frustration you couldn’t help but grin as she shook her head at your stupidity.

There was a pond not too far away from Home-Tree that Neytiri would drag you to before dinner, but after it had gotten dark, leading you into the water with her for a nightly swim. The water was always a lukewarm temperature, and it was always refreshing after a long day tracking through dirt and mud in such a warm climate. Sometimes the two of you would only stay in the water for a short while, getting out before even thirty minutes had passed. Other times you’d stay in for an hour or more, only getting out when your fingers began to prune or you were sick of watching fish dart through the water, their underbelly's illuminated in greens and purples from the luminescent pond floor. Then when you’d get out, you’d dry yourselves and help Neytiri squeeze the water out of her hair, insisting that she never got all the water out and you’d do it for her. Just another excuse to be close to her.

But today, today held all your favorite moment with her by far. You’d officially become part of the people that day, and the already high tension between the two of you had risen even higher, like water boiling over as she painted you with white lines that ran from your head to toes. Each delicate drag of her fingers setting your skin ablaze under them. The scene had felt intimate, maybe more than it was, but to brief for your liking before you had to step out and presenting yourself to the rest of the clan. Her mother had placed a hand over your chest, her father to your side and Neytiri to your left. She’d beamed up at you, smiling with what could only be describes as pride and it made your chest warm to know you’d made her proud.

That night she’d dragged you away from Home-Tree to, Utral Aymokriyä, The Tree of Voices. You’d pretended to be reluctant to go with her, trying to hide how eager you were to get a moment alone together. She’d run through the forest with such energy and excitement to show you this place that was so sacred to her people it was you’d hardly been able to keep up. That’s when the tension had broken between the two of you, under the purple and pink lights of Utral Aymokriyä and you were so glad it did because whatever new found thing you had now was so much better than the dancing around your feelings had been. It was real, and beautiful, genuine, and pure.

Well as pure as it could have been with the type of secret you were keeping.

“What are you thinking about?�� Neytiri whispered, pulling you from your thought, her eyes scanning your face tiredly as she lay against you. Her legs were tangled between yours, one arm slung around your neck and the other by her head on your chest as she lay on your chest. You looked down at her.

“You,” your answer made her lips stretch into a small smile, a soft giggle escaping her. The sound made your heart flutter.

“What about me?” She pressed. You grinned, leaning down to press a kiss to her forehead with a thoughtful hum, pretending to take a moment to think.

“Everything I love about you,” you finally said after an exaggerated pause. Her sleepy smile only widened.

“What are those things?” her eyelids begin to slip shut as she finishes the question, the smile on her face beginning to fade as exhaustion takes hold of her.

“The list is to long to start now, we’d be laying here all night if I was to begin,” you whispered to her, raking a hand through her hair soothingly, lulling her to sleep. A moment later her chest began to rise and fall in a steady rhythm, her breath evening and her face relaxing, the peace of sleep pulling her under.

“Get some sleep my love,” you whispered to her sleeping form, “tomorrow's going to be a long day.”

Taglist: @cherridile @aonungmybf @aurora-starwars

#adrunkskeletonsduck #asks answered #avatar requests #neytiri #neytiri x reader #neytiri x you #neytiri x y/n #neytiri x fem!reader #neytiri sully #neytiri te tskaha mo'at'ite #avatar 2009 #avatar imagine #neytiri imagine #avatar 2 #avatar 1 #avatar fics #avatar way of water #avatar fanfiction

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forgedbondspod · 7 months ago

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Speaking of our crowdfunding campaign, it's time for our next cast and character shout out! Yesterday we journeyed to the Underworld to meet Persephone; today we shall meet with her husband Hades and his incredible voice actor Khai Truong!

Like with Persephone, you likely are already fairly familiar with Hades and the mythology surrounding him. He is the eldest of the Olympian gods, the first of his siblings to be eaten by Kronos, and the god of the Underworld. This is different than being the god of death (that's Thanatos) but he still is heavily associated with death. He's seen as an opposite to his wife- she's spring and life and light, he's death and darkness. But he loves her dearly and she loves him in return. We're leaning heavily into them having a healthy and supportive relationship because I think they deserve it

Hades is being voiced by the wonderful Khai Truong! I was introduced to Khai's work with his audition for the show and instantly loved the soft kindness he brought to Hades. There's a lightness in Khai's performance that breathes so much life into Hades as a character and I knew I'd regret it if I passed up on the opportunity to explore and expand on that type of performance. You can hear more from Khai in Breathing Spaces and be sure to follow him so you can see what the next thing he's doing is. I have no doubts it'll be incredible!

If you would like to support Khai and the rest of our fantastic cast, you can visit our indiegogo campaign! We're just over a week in and would love to have your support

And to Khai specifically: Everything that you've submitted so far has be more than I ever could've dreamed for Hades and I know people are going to love your work. Thank you for coming along with us on this journey, I couldn't imagine a better Hades and can't wait to share it

#pines notes #forged bonds #crowdfunding shenanigans

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whiskeysmulti · 3 months ago

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Perfectly Imperfect (KHR Flufftober)

Fandom: Katekyo Hitman Reborn Ship: 6996 (Mukuro Rokudo/Chrome Dokuro) Wordcount: 1,005 Prompt: Left! No, other left! Event Host: @flufftober

Battle was hard enough, but to make matters worse, Chrome was facing the inevitable now, she may never get her sight back in her right eye. Nagi had perfect vision once, but Nagi was gone. In her new life as Chrome, it was hard enough getting used to illusion organs and now she had to learn how to read and see all over again. However, in spite of all of this, it made her happy. She finally had a place in the world where she belonged, where she was loved even if some of the guys picked on her, it was still better than going back to the biological mother who almost let her die.

In fact, Nagi as she'd been known was dead now, Chrome was all that remained and it was honestly how she wanted it. She had found her place in the world with Kokuyo and found love in the most unexpected place. A dream world where she thought she'd died. In a meadow stood a boy, a boy who looked oddly familiar to her. Chrome had survived the car accident and found her place in this world and now all that was left was to start her training. However there was just one little problem, she needed to get used to using only one eye now as her other was lost in the accident.

That's where Mukuro stepped in. He couldn't let anything happen to her and if Chrome couldn't figure out how to navigate her visual impairment in battle that would make her an easy target. He refused to lose her, even if he had to take her out to spar every day, Mukuro was determined to help her learn to cope with her newfound disability.

"I'm ready, Mukuro-sama!" She called out and it began.

Mukuro instantly used an illusion technique on her casting a flock of crows towards her from her blind side. He wouldn't go easy on her, he had to know if she could protect herself or not against powerful real illusions like these still. He wouldn't let he become a sitting duck so to speak, paralyzed with fear and unable to fight back. She needed to learn now, so he sent a crow towards her right and hoped she could dodge.

"To the left, Nagi and you'll be able to escape it!" Mukuro called out. His hand smacked his forehead in a facepalm as he watched her jump right into the line of sight of the crow. "Other left, damn it!" He yelled out and dismissed the crow for now. They could work on training more later. He didn't want her pushing herself too much since she was still getting used to this. "Let's take a break. I don't want you pushing yourself too much."

"Yes, Mukuro-sama!" She called out, feeling slightly sad at the training ending so easily. Chrome put her trident down and walked across the training room to pull out a picnic lunch she'd prepared herself just for the two of them. "Would Mukuro-sama like to eat with me?" She blushed, it was no secret she loved him and he loved her dearly, the two were practically soul mates and two sides of the same person when you studied their bond.

Chrome might still be having trouble telling her right from left just yet as the injury did cause her a little confusion as well as the sight problem, but there was one thing she wasn't confused about whatsoever. She loved the man sitting next to her with all her heart and honestly thought of him as her savior.

As she got out the sandwiches and fruit she'd prepared she thought about what her future would be like and something in her told her she wanted him in it no matter how it was, as a husband one day, as her leader in the gang, as a friend for the rest of her life, Chrome was just happy as long as Mukuro was there. She finally found her place in this world and it would always be with him. She might not quite know her right from left yet, but she knew she loved him and always would.

However, that left her to question. How did he feel about her exactly? It's painful when someone you love so dearly and practically idolize doesn't see you in the same light. If she felt he was her left half and she was his right, but to him she was merely a fellow gang member, a friend or god forbid even a burden, Chrome would be absolutely devastated.

However for a guy like Mukuro who had never been shown kindness and love in his entire life, expressing love and tenderness was something hard for him. It was much easier to protect and serve her than to actually say those three little words be it a simple sparring like they had today or swapping places with her on the battlefield so she was safe, Mukuro would never let harm come to her. They loved and needed each other desperately, neither of them could afford to lose the other, it would prove devastating.

They both had their own flaws they needed to work on, neither was perfect and that was how they both wanted it. "Nagi, can you pass me a napkin?" Mukuro asked. "They're to your left." He smiled.

Chrome turned red with blush and reached for the right.

"Other left, Nagi." Mukuro chuckled.

They were two halves of the same soul and couldn't live without each other, even if it meant going to extreme lengths to protect one another, even if it meant risking everything for the other and even if it was just a simple training to help the better recover from an injury and adapt to a newfound disability, Mukuro and Chrome would always love and support one another.

It wasn't a perfect romance if they were both being honest. It was perfectly imperfect, and that was exactly how they wanted it to be.

#flufftober2024 #KHR fanfic #day 2 #ship; 6996 #prompt: left! no other left!

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coco-bean-1218 · 1 year ago

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It was requested that I make a part 2 for this post

Here is the chaotic ending me and @xxluckystrike have been talking about. I can also make the wholesome ending if anyone wants that instead!!

The inspiration

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The September sun poured through the stained glass windows of the quaint Louisiana church, bathing the aisle in a kaleidoscope of colors. Arm in arm with her father, Claire glided between the pews like a vision from an old Hollywood film. Her brown hair, set in soft waves, framed her face—a visage of quiet strength honed from her time as a combat medic with Easy Company. Her glasses caught a glint of sunlight as she took each step with poise, her tall figure draped in ivory lace.

"Look at her, Grant. Ain't she something?" Talbert whispered, his dark blue eyes focusing on Claire's graceful advance toward Eugene, who stood at the altar with an air of dignified anticipation.

Grant felt the words catch in his throat, unable to tear his gaze away from Claire. His best friend was right; she was a sight to behold. But it wasn't just her outward appearance that captivated him—it was the way her brow would furrow in concentration or the slight crinkle by her eyes when she laughed.

"Beautiful," Grant finally managed to say, but the word seemed insufficient to describe the torrent of emotions he felt. His blue eyes, usually so calm and serene, blazed with an intensity that betrayed his stoic exterior.

"Easy there, Romeo," Liebgott chided softly from Grant's other side. "You're gonna burn a hole through the bride with that stare."

Grant offered a weak smile, trying to mask the inner turmoil that was threatening to spill over. He could feel the heat of the Louisiana afternoon seeping into the church, or perhaps it was the heat of his own inner conflict.

"Can't help it," Grant muttered, almost to himself. "She was always..."

"Meant for Eugene," Talbert finished the sentence with a knowing look. He placed a hand on Grant's shoulder, grounding him. "You know that, right?"

"Right," Grant said, but his voice lacked conviction. He watched as Claire reached the altar, her father lifting her veil before placing her hand in Eugene's. The two exchanged a look that spoke volumes—their shared history, their bond forged in the crucible of war, their future laid out before them.

"Should've been me," Grant breathed, so faintly that only Talbert, leaning in close, could hear.

"Hey," Talbert said, squeezing Grant's shoulder a bit tighter. "We all have our paths. Yours is still unwinding."

Grant nodded, knowing his friend was right, but feeling the weight of what could have been pressing down on him. He forced his attention back to the ceremony, to the moment unfolding before him, but the image of Claire walking down the aisle was etched into his memory, as indelible as the scars they all carried from the war.

The organ's solemn hum filled the small church, casting an almost ethereal veil over the congregation. Grant's hands were clasped tightly in his lap, knuckles whitening as he fought a tumultuous battle within himself. The scent of lavender and old hymnals mingled with the whispers of fabric as people shifted in their seats, all eyes forward on the bride and groom standing before the altar.

"Dearly beloved," the reverend's voice resonated through the silence, "We are gathered here today to join this man and this woman in holy matrimony."

Grant's throat tightened at the words. He could feel Claire's presence, an invisible force that seemed to draw him in, even as she stood at the altar ready to pledge her life to another man. His jaw clenched, blue eyes flickering with emotions he was struggling to contain.

"Love is patient, love is kind," the reverend continued, unaware of the storm brewing within one of the guests.

"Damn it," Grant muttered under his breath, his gaze fixed on the wooden pattern of the pew in front of him, as if it held the answers to the turmoil inside him.

"Easy, buddy," Talbert whispered from beside him, sensing the struggle within his friend.

"Feels like I'm being torn apart," Grant confessed softly, just as the reverend's voice reached the pivotal moment.

"If there is anyone present who has cause to believe this couple should not be joined in holy matrimony, speak now or forever hold your peace."

A palpable stillness descended upon the room, every heart seemingly pausing mid-beat. Liebgott turned his dark eyes towards Grant, an unspoken question lingering between them. Talbert's gaze followed, both men holding their breath, waiting for what might come next.

"Grant..." Liebgott began, but his voice trailed off as they watched, knowing the weight of the moment rested heavily upon their friend's shoulders.

Grant's chest rose and fell with a deep breath that he didn't remember taking. His palms were damp, his heart pounding so loudly he was certain the entire church could hear it. He gripped the edge of the pew, feeling splinters threatening to pierce his skin—a sharp contrast to the softness he associated with Claire.

"Stay put," Grant commanded himself silently, every muscle tensed against the urge to rise, to speak, to shatter the silence into a thousand pieces with the truth.

But the moment passed, the reverend nodding slowly, satisfied with the quiet assent of the assembly. The ceremony proceeded, yet Grant remained locked in his internal struggle, a silent war raging as fierce as any battlefield he'd known, his love for Claire, the opponent he wasn't sure he could defeat.

The quiet murmur of the congregation served as a backdrop to the roaring in Grant's ears. His fingers tensed, nails digging into the polished wood of the pew as he rose abruptly to his feet, a statue breaking free from its pedestal.

"Grant, sit down, you're embarrassing us!" Talbert hissed through clenched teeth, his words a sharp whisper meant only for his friend's ears. The dark blue of his eyes flashed with alarm as they darted from one strained face to another, gauging their reactions.

Liebgott, ever the stoic, shook his head slowly, an imperceptible movement to all but those who knew him best. He brought a hand up, pinching the bridge of his nose—a silent testament to the pressure building behind his brow.

"Can't," Grant barely uttered, his voice a ragged thread of sound, barely audible over the rustle of satin and the soft clink of jewelry as people shifted in their seats, sensing the disruption.

"Grant..." Talbert implored again, reaching out to grip his friend's arm, trying to physically anchor him to the reality they were living—a reality where Claire was moments away from belonging to someone else.

But Grant stood there, immovable, his gaze fixed on the aisle, on the woman with flowers in her hair and promises on her lips—his own promise, unspoken, clawing at his throat.

"Sit down, or I'll drag your ass out of here!" Liebgott muttered, more to himself than anyone else, releasing a long breath that did nothing to ease the tension coiled within him.

"Can't," Grant repeated, the word slipping out like a prayer, or perhaps a curse. His heart was a wild thing, pounding against the confines of his chest, threatening to leap out and land at Claire's feet. His mind spun with images of her smile, the sound of her laughter, the way her eyes crinkled at the corners when she was truly happy.

"Jesus, Grant," Talbert groaned under his breath, a mix of frustration and concern etching lines into his youthful face, the church suddenly feeling too small, the air too thick.

"God help me," Grant whispered, not to Talbert, not to Liebgott, but to the part of himself he was about to leave behind. He swallowed hard, tasting the bittersweet tang of regret and longing intertwined.

"Here we go," Liebgott said quietly, giving up the fight to control what wasn't his to command. His hand fell away from his face, and he leaned back, resigned to witness the unfolding drama, the script of which had been written in the hidden chambers of Grant's heart.

In the stillness, the reverend cleared his throat, ready to continue, but the words hung suspended, incomplete. Grant's eyes, bright and fierce, were oceans storm-tossed by love and desperation—a beacon calling out to the shore he could never reach.

The reverend's voice quivered like a leaf in the breeze, words stumbling over themselves as he tried to navigate the sudden tension that had woven itself into the fabric of the ceremony.

Grant sank into the wooden pew, the aged oak groaning under the weight of his decision. Around him, the congregation was a sea of expectancy, the air thick with unspoken questions. Eugene turned to look at Claire, his eyes the color of a stormy sky. Their glance was a silent conversation, a momentary connection that only deepened Grant's resolve.

His heart hammered against his ribcage, a frantic rhythm that threatened to break him. "Claire," her name, was a mantra in his mind, a prayer for courage. He watched her, the brown waves of her hair framing the glasses perched on her nose, a testament to the sharpness and clarity she brought to every battlefield, every challenge, including the one he was about to present.

"My mother's gonna kill me," he murmured. And then, like a man possessed, Grant rose again. The reverend’s mouth snapped shut, his awkwardness transforming into surprise as Grant stepped into the aisleway, his shadow falling across the petals strewn along the path.

"I love you, Claire," he said, his voice steady, cutting through the silence like a knife. The congregation held its breath. "I always have." His eyes locked with hers, willing her to understand the depth of his truth. "I love everything about you. And I want you with me."

The world seemed to stand still, the church’s stained glass windows casting a kaleidoscope of colors over them, blessing or condemning, he wasn't sure which.

"I love you," he repeated, each word a declaration, a vow. "And I think that you love me too. Do you?"

Claire’s brown eyes, wide behind her glasses, were oceans of emotion, a tide of conflict rising within them. Her lips parted, but no sound emerged, the answer hanging between them, unspoken yet deafening. The guests shifted uncomfortably, caught between scandal and storybook, their expressions a mosaic of shock and anticipation.

Grant's plea hung in the air, tangible and raw, a confession carved into the very walls of the church, inscribed in the hearts of all who witnessed it.

The moment stretched, a single heartbeat echoing through the hallowed space of the church. Liebgott's groan was audible, a sound of exasperation that sliced through the tension. He rolled his eyes heavenward in a silent prayer for patience—or perhaps salvation from this social disaster.

"Jesus, Mary, and Joseph," he muttered under his breath, barely moving his lips. His dark hair seemed to absorb the light filtering through the windows, his brown eyes reflecting none of the colors that played upon the faces around him.

"Grant, what are you doing?" hissed Talbert from beside him, elbowing Liebgott as if to jolt him back to reality.

"Wouldn't you like to know," retorted Liebgott, his whisper laced with sarcasm, "Golden Boy, here..."

Meanwhile, Grant remained oblivious, his entire being focused on Claire. The rest of Easy Company, scattered throughout the church, exchanged bewildered glances, their camaraderie fraying at the edges as they tried to make sense of the unfolding scene. Some eyebrows shot up; others' mouths hung agape. They were soldiers who had faced the unimaginable together, but nothing had prepared them for this.

"Can you believe this?" Luz whispered to Perconte. His voice was low, but the incredulity rang clear.

"Never saw it coming," came the equally stunned reply.

"Should we do something?" Webster asked, his hand awkwardly patting the leg of his uniform, searching for an absent rifle out of habit.

"Like what? He's made his bed," Martin quipped, though his tone carried an undertone of concern.

Inside Grant's chest, his heart pounded, each throb a drumbeat calling him to battle. The scent of polished wood and floral arrangements filled his nostrils, but he could only taste the bittersweet tang of vulnerability. He couldn’t look away from her, couldn't break the connection that had suddenly become the axis upon which his world spun.

"Damn fool," Liebgott murmured again, shaking his head in disbelief. "You're gonna regret this."

But Grant heard none of it. All that existed for him was Claire—the way her dress hugged her figure, the slight tremble in her hands that betrayed her turmoil. She was the question and the answer, the beginning and the end of every path he’d ever trodden or wished to tread.

He took a step closer to her, the distance between them closing like a gravitational pull. The sound of his own breathing filled his ears, deafening in the silence of the church. The weight of his words hung in the air, waiting for her response.

Claire's eyes searched his face, searching for something, anything that would give her the courage to speak. Her voice had abandoned her, lost amidst the chaos of emotions swirling within her. She had never expected this moment, never anticipated the unexpected turn her wedding day would take.

The congregation held its breath, suspended in time, as Claire's gaze flickered with uncertainty before settling on Grant's unwavering stare. A flicker of recognition passed between them, a shared memory of battles fought and victories won.

Her heart pounded in her chest, competing with Grant's own wild rhythm. It was as if the universe held its breath alongside them, waiting for Claire's response to unravel the tangled threads of fate.

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Sunlight broke through the stained glass windows, scattering colors across the aisle as the church doors swung open with an urgent creak. The sudden burst of light seemed to ignite a fire in Claire's eyes, and for a moment, it was as if they were the only two people in the world, standing on the precipice of forever.

"Grant, what are we doing?" Claire's voice was a mix of fear and excitement as they stumbled down the steps, her gown billowing behind her like a white sail caught in a tempest.

"Living," Grant said, his words punctuated by their hurried breaths and the rapid drumming of their joined hands swinging between them. "We’re living, Claire."

The outside air hit them, humid and heavy, but it felt like a crisp autumn breeze compared to the stifling atmosphere they had left inside. The old oak trees stood as silent witnesses, their leaves whispering secrets that only the wind could understand.

"Are we crazy?" she laughed, the sound dancing through the air and mingling with the rustling leaves around them.

"Absolutely," he replied, grinning wide enough to feel the stretch in his cheeks. His heart was a tumultuous sea within his chest, waves of elation crashing against the shores of reality.

They reached the bottom step, and Grant paused, looking back at the church. Through the open door, he saw the shadows of figures moving, the murmurs of confusion and disbelief spilling out into the daylight.

"Grant..." Claire's grip tightened, a silent plea for assurance.

He turned his gaze to hers, locking onto the deep brown whirlpools that promised adventure and the unknown. "I've never been more certain about anything in my life," he confessed, and he meant it. Every cell in his body vibrated with the truth of his words.

They ran past the rows of parked cars, past the faces peering out from behind curtains, past the boundaries that society had laid out for them. At this moment, there was no war, no duty, no past or future—only the present, only the wild rush of freedom and the heady intoxication of love unrestrained. Their laughter echoed in the warm Louisiana air as they disappeared around the corner, leaving the church and its stunned congregation far behind.

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WHAT HAVE I DONE??????